Writings in the United Amateur, 1915-1922 Part 15

McGavack well demonstrates, most of our Anglophobia is manufactured by the alleged "historians" who poison the minds of the young through mendacious textbooks. This species of false teaching, an evil potently fostered by the Fenians and Sinn Feiners who lurk serpent-like in our midst, is one which cannot too soon be eradicated; for the cultural ident.i.ty and moral unity of the States and the Empire make such sources of unintelligent prejudice increasingly nauseous and detrimental. We may add that the textbook treatment of our War between the States is almost equally unfair, the Northern cause being ridiculously exalted above the brave and incredibly high-minded att.i.tude of the Confederacy.

Another delightful prose contribution is "Back to Blighty," by Joseph Parks, a vivid vignette of one phase of military life. "Trinidad and its Forests," by F. E. M. Hercules, is marked by its author's customary ease of expression and felicity of diction; presenting many facts of general interest. The poetry in this issue includes work from the pens of J. E.

Hoag, H. P. Lovecraft, Rev. Eugene B. Kuntz, Beryl Mappin, and the Editor. Dr. Kuntz's lines to the memory of Phillips Gamwell are animated with a n.o.bility which well befits their subject, though the rhyme of =day= and =melody= is not strictly correct. Few amateur poets are able to achieve the sonorous dignity which Dr. Kuntz imparts to his flowing Alexandrines, or to select with equal appropriateness the vivid and musical words that so irresistibly delight the ear and impress the imagination. Miss Mappin's metrical effort, ent.i.tled "Only a Thought,"

betrays some of the crudities of youth; including the attempted rhyme of =alone= and =home=. The metre, phraseology, and plan of rhyming demand extensive revision, the following being a possible amended version of the piece:

As sad and alone in a distant land I sat by the dismal sh.o.r.e, My chin laid pensively in my hand, And my dreams all of home once more; I watch'd and mus'd o'er the sunless sea, And study'd the cruel foam; For the waves bore an exile's woe to me, From my kindred forc'd to roam.

But lo! floating light upon the wind And murm'ing o'er ocean crest, Come the thoughts of those I left behind, Bringing comfort and love and rest.

Only a word--aye, only a thought!

Each speeds like a heav'n-sent dart; Who can measure the gladness and aid they've brought-- These thoughts--to the breaking heart?

The first line of the original, "=Far away= in a =distant= land," is lamentably pleonastic; whilst the ident.i.ty or intended ident.i.ty of the second and fourth rhymes is undesirable. In a verse of this type, it is not well to repeat a rhyme immediately. In the second stanza the first and third lines and the fifth and seventh are unrhymed, a variation from the original design which is not sanctioned by custom. Once a poet decides on his metre and plan of rhyme, he should maintain them unchanged throughout the poem. In the foregoing revised version, all these defects have been remedied. Miss Trafford's poem, "After a Dream,"

shows much promise both technically and in the thought. The final line of the first stanza, "And the joy it contains is much," is very weak; and should be changed to read: "And of joy it contains so much." In writing the definite article, Miss Trafford mistakenly uses the contracted form =th'= when full syllabic value is to be given. This contraction is employed only when the article is metrically placed as a proc.l.i.tic before another word, and is thereby shorn of its separate p.r.o.nunciation as follows:

=Th' ambitious= bard a n.o.bler theme essays.

The ill.u.s.trated bit of humor by George William Stokes deserves mention as presenting one of the cleverest drawings to appear lately in the amateur press. It is difficult to decide in which domain Mr. Stokes shines the more brightly, literature or pictorial art. His heading for =The Little Budget= is a masterpiece of its kind.

=The Pippin= for May brings once more to our notice amateurdom's foremost high-school club, the Appleton aggregation, whose existence is due to Mr. Maurice W. Moe's untiring efforts. "Doings of the Pippins,"

by Joseph Harriman, is a terse and informing chronicle of recent activity. "Once Upon a Time," by Florence A. Miller, is a bit of humorous verse whose metre might be improved by the use of greater care.

"Some Cloth!," by John Ingold, is an exceedingly clever piece of wit; which, though avowedly Irish, bears the characteristic hall-mark of native American humor. The delightful exaggerations recall some of the brightest spots in American light literature. "Speed," by Matilda Harriman, is an interesting sketch recalling Poe's "Mellonta Tauta," in its imaginative flights. "From Over the Threshold," by Ruth Ryan, shows much promise in the realm of fiction. "Once an Amateur, Always an Amateur" is one of those rare bits of prose with which our distinguished Critical member, Mr. Moe, favours us. We are proud of the unshaken amateur allegiance of so brilliant a personality, and trust that some day he may realise his dream of "an attic or bas.e.m.e.nt printshop." "The Press Club," by Ruth Schumaker, is a pleasing sketch, as is also Miss Kelly's "Our Club and the United." We trust that the Appleton Club may safely weather the hard times of which Miss Kelly complains.

THE UNITED AMATEUR for May contains a captivating and graceful sketch by W. Edwin Gibson, ent.i.tled "Beauty." Mr. Gibson is one of our younger members who bids fair to become prominent in the coming amateur generation. Of the month's poetry, we may mention with particular commendation Miss von der Heide's "Worship," though through some error, possibly typographical, the final line of the second stanza seems to lack two syllables. "When Dreams Come True," by Kathleen Foster Smith, is likewise of more than common merit, though the word =hear= in the second line of the second stanza is probably a misprint for =heard=.

"Smile," by O. M. Blood, is ingenious though scarcely novel. Its chief defects are inequalities in the lines, which care should be able to correct. The first line contains two superfluous syllables, while the fourth line contains one too many. The ninth line of the final section contains two syllables too many, as do the tenth and eleventh lines as well. The rhyme of =appear= and =disappear= is incorrect, since syllables in rhyme should be merely similar--not the same. Mr. Blood requires much practice in poetry, but undoubtedly possesses the germ of success. "To the U. A. P. A.," by Matthew Hilson, is acceptable in construction and delightful in sentiment, laying strata on the new Anglo-American unity--the one redeeming feature of the present international crisis. THE UNITED AMATEUR closes with a quotation from Euripides, which we will not attempt to review here, since the author has been receiving critical attention from far abler men for many centuries!

H. P. LOVECRAFT, Chairman.

NEWS NOTES

Maurice W. Moe, Chief of our Department of Private Criticism, is trying a novel experiment this summer for the sake of his health. He has undertaken a labourer's work on one of the new buildings of Lawrence College, lifting planks, shovelling mud, and wheeling bags of cement like a seasoned workingman. While painful at first, the regimen is proving actually beneficial, and Mr. Moe is proud of the physical prowess he is beginning to exhibit. One of our amateur poetasters recently perpetrated the following four lines on the unusual occurrence of a learned instructor working manually upon a college building:

To M. W. M.

Behold the labourer, who builds the walls That soon shall shine as Learning's sacred halls; A man so apt at ev'ry art and trade, He well might govern what his hands have made!

_THE UNITED AMATEUR_

OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE UNITED AMATEUR PRESS a.s.sOCIATION

VOLUME XVII ATHOL, Ma.s.s., NOVEMBER, 1917 NUMBER 2

A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson

Humphry Littlewit, Esq.

The Privilege of Reminiscence, however rambling or tiresome, is one generally allow'd to the very aged; indeed, 'tis frequently by means of such Recollections that the obscure occurrences of History, and the lesser Anecdotes of the Great, are transmitted to Posterity.

Tho' many of my readers have at times observ'd and remark'd a Sort of antique Flow in my Stile of Writing, it hath pleased me to pa.s.s amongst the Members of this Generation as a young Man, giving out the Fiction that I was born in 1890, in =America=. I am now, however, resolv'd to unburthen myself of a secret which I have hitherto kept thro' Dread of Incredulity; and to impart to the Publick a true knowledge of my long years, in order to gratifie their taste for authentick Information of an Age with whose famous Personages I was on familiar Terms. Be it then known that I was born on the family Estate in =Devonshire=, of the 10th day of August, 1690, (or in the new =Gregorian= Stile of Reckoning, the 20th of August) being therefore now in my 228th year. Coming early to =London=, I saw as a Child many of the celebrated Men of King =William's= Reign, including the lamented Mr. =Dryden=, who sat much at the Tables of =Will's= Coffee-House. With Mr. =Addison= and Dr. =Swift= I later became very well acquainted, and was an even more familiar Friend to Mr. =Pope=, whom I knew and respected till the Day of his Death. But since it is of my more recent a.s.sociate, the late Dr.

=Johnson=, that I am at this time desir'd to write; I will pa.s.s over my Youth for the present.

I had first Knowledge of the Doctor in May of the year 1738, tho' I did not at that Time meet him. Mr. =Pope= had just compleated his Epilogue to his Satires, (the Piece beginning: "Not twice a Twelvemonth you appear in Print.") and had arrang'd for its Publication. On the very Day it appear'd, there was also publish'd a Satire in Imitation of =Juvenal=, ent.i.tuled "=London=," by the then unknown =Johnson=; and this so struck the Town, that many Gentlemen of Taste declared, it was the Work of a greater Poet than Mr. =Pope=. Notwithstanding what some Detractors have said of Mr. =Pope's= petty Jealousy, he gave the Verses of his new Rival no small Praise; and having learnt thro' Mr.

=Richardson= who the Poet was, told me, "that Mr. =Johnson= wou'd soon be =deterre=."

I had no personal Acquaintances with the Doctor till 1763, when I was presented to him at the =Mitre= Tavern by Mr. =James Boswell=, a young =Scotchman= of excellent Family and great Learning, but small Wit, whose metrical Effusions I had sometimes revis'd.

Dr. =Johnson=, as I beheld him, was a full, pursy Man, very ill drest, and of slovenly Aspect. I recall him to have worn a bushy Bob-Wig, untyed and without Powder, and much too small for his Head. His Cloaths were of rusty brown, much wrinkled, and with more than one b.u.t.ton missing. His Face, too full to be handsom, was likewise marred by the Effects of some scrofulous Disorder; and his Head was continually rolling about in a sort of convulsive way. Of this Infirmity, indeed, I had known before; having heard of it from Mr. =Pope=, who took the Trouble to make particular Inquiries.

Being nearly seventy-three, full nineteen Years older than Dr.

=Johnson=, (I say Doctor, tho' his Degree came not till two Years afterward) I naturally expected him to have some Regard for my Age; and was therefore not in that Fear of him, which others confess'd. On my asking him what he thought of my favourable Notice of his Dictionary in =The Londoner=, my periodical Paper, he said: "Sir, I possess no Recollection of having perus'd your Paper, and have not a great Interest in the Opinions of the less thoughtful Part of Mankind." Being more than a little piqued at the Incivility of one whose Celebrity made me solicitous of his Approbation, I ventur'd to retaliate in kind, and told him, I was surpris'd that a Man of Sense shou'd judge the Thoughtfulness of one whose Productions he admitted never having read. "Why, Sir,"

reply'd =Johnson=, "I do not require to become familiar with a Man's Writings in order to estimate the Superficiality of his Attainments, when he plainly shews it by his Eagerness to mention his own Productions in the first Question he puts to me." Having thus become Friends, we convers'd on many Matters. When, to agree with him, I said I was distrustful of the Authenticity of =Ossian's= Poems, Mr. =Johnson= said: "That, Sir, does not do your Understanding particular Credit; for what all the Town is sensible of, is no great Discovery for a =Grub-Street= Critick to make. You might as well say, you have a strong Suspicion that =Milton= wrote 'Paradise Lost!'"

I thereafter saw =Johnson= very frequently, most often at Meetings of THE LITERARY CLUB, which was founded the next Year by the Doctor, together with Mr. =Burke=, the parliamentary Orator, Mr. =Beauclerk=, a Gentleman of Fashion, Mr. =Langton=, a pious Man and Captain of Militia, Sir =J. Reynolds=, the widely known Painter, Dr. =Goldsmith=, the Prose and poetick Writer, Dr. =Nugent=, father-in-law to Mr. =Burke=, Sir =John Hawkins=, Mr. =Anthony Chamier=, and my self. We a.s.sembled generally at seven o'clock of an Evening, once a Week, at the =Turk's-Head=, in =Gerrard-Street=, =Soho=, till that Tavern was sold and made into a private Dwelling; after which Event we mov'd our Gatherings successively to =Prince's= in =Sackville-Street=, =Le Tellier's= in =Dover-Street=, and =Parsloe's= and the =Thatched House= in =St. James's-Street=. In these Meetings we preserv'd a remarkable Degree of Amity and Tranquillity, which contrasts very favourably with some of the Dissensions and Disruptions I observe in the literary and amateur Press a.s.sociations of today. This Tranquillity was the more remarkable, because we had amongst us Gentlemen of very opposed Opinions. Dr. =Johnson= and I, as well as many others, were high Tories; whilst Mr. =Burke= was a Whig, and against the =American= War, many of his Speeches on that Subject having been widely publish'd. The least congenial Member was one of the Founders, Sir =John Hawkins=, who hath since written many misrepresentations of our Society. Sir =John=, an eccentrick Fellow, once declin'd to pay his part of the Reckoning for Supper, because 'twas his Custom at Home to eat no Supper. Later he insulted Mr. =Burke= in so intolerable a Manner, that we all took Pains to shew our Disapproval; after which Incident he came no more to our Meetings. However, he never openly fell out with the Doctor, and was the Executor of his Will; tho' Mr. =Boswell= and others have Reason to question the genuineness of his Attachment. Other and later Members of the CLUB were Mr. =David Garrick=, the Actor and early Friend of Dr.

=Johnson=, Messieurs =Tho.= and =Jos. Warton=, Dr. =Adam Smith=, Dr.

=Percy=, Author of the "Reliques," Mr. =Edw. Gibbon=, the Historian, Dr.

=Burney=, the Musician, Mr. =Malone=, the Critick, and Mr. =Boswell=.

Mr. =Garrick= obtain'd Admittance only with Difficulty; for the Doctor, notwithstanding his great Friendship, was for ever affecting to decry the Stage and all Things connected with it. =Johnson=, indeed, had a most singular Habit of speaking for =Davy= when others were against him, and of arguing against him, when others were for him. I have no Doubt but that he sincerely lov'd Mr. =Garrick=, for he never alluded to him as he did to =Foote=, who was a very coa.r.s.e Fellow despite his comick Genius. Mr. =Gibbon= was none too well lik'd, for he had an odious sneering Way which offended even those of us who most admir'd his historical Productions. Mr. =Goldsmith=, a little Man very vain of his Dress and very deficient in Brilliancy of Conversation, was my particular Favourite; since I was equally unable to shine in the Discourse. He was vastly jealous of Dr. =Johnson=, tho' none the less liking and respecting him. I remember that once a Foreigner, a =German=, I think, was in our Company; and that whilst =Goldsmith= was speaking, he observ'd the Doctor preparing to utter something. Unconsciously looking upon =Goldsmith= as a meer Enc.u.mbrance when compar'd to the greater Man, the Foreigner bluntly interrupted him and incurr'd his lasting Hostility by crying, "Hush, Toctor =Shonson= iss going to speak!"

In this luminous Company I was tolerated more because of my Years than for my Wit or Learning; being no Match at all for the rest. My Friendship for the celebrated Monsieur =Voltaire= was ever a Cause of Annoyance to the Doctor; who was deeply orthodox, and who us'd to say of the =French= Philosopher: "Vir est acerrimi Ingenii et paucarum Literarum."

Mr. =Boswell=, a little teazing Fellow whom I had known for some Time previously, us'd to make Sport of my aukward Manners and old-fashion'd Wig and Cloaths. Once coming in a little the worse for Wine (to which he was addicted) he endeavour'd to lampoon me by means of an Impromptu in verse, writ on the Surface of the Table; but lacking the Aid he usually had in his Composition, he made a bad grammatical Blunder. I told him, he shou'd not try to pasquinade the Source of his Poesy. At another Time =Bozzy= (as we us'd to call him) complain'd of my Harshness toward new Writers in the Articles I prepar'd for The Monthly Review. He said, I push'd every Aspirant off the Slopes of Parna.s.sus. "Sir," I reply'd, "you are mistaken. They who lose their Hold do so from their own Want of Strength; but desiring to conceal their Weakness, they attribute the absence of Success to the first Critick that mentions them." I am glad to recall that Dr. =Johnson= upheld me in this Matter.

Dr. =Johnson= was second to no Man in the Pains he took to revise the bad Verses of others; indeed, 'tis said that in the book of poor blind old Mrs. =Williams=, there are scarce two lines which are not the Doctor's. At one Time =Johnson= recited to me some lines by a Servant to the Duke of =Leeds=, which had so amus'd him, that he had got them by Heart. They are on the Duke's Wedding, and so much resemble in Quality the Work of other and more recent poetick Dunces, that I cannot forbear copying them:

"When the Duke of =Leeds= shall marry'd be To a fine young Lady of high Quality How happy will that Gentlewoman be In his Grace of =Leeds'= good Company."

I ask'd the Doctor, if he had ever try'd making Sense of this Piece; and upon his saying he had not, I amus'd myself with the following Amendment of it:

When Gallant LEEDS auspiciously shall wed The virtuous Fair, of antient Lineage bred, How must the Maid rejoice with conscious Pride To win so great an Husband to her Side!

On shewing this to Dr. =Johnson=, he said, "Sir, you have straightened out the Feet, but you have put neither Wit nor Poetry into the Lines."

It wou'd afford me Gratification to tell more of my Experiences with Dr.

=Johnson= and his circle of Wits; but I am an old Man, and easily fatigued. I seem to ramble along without much Logick or Continuity when I endeavour to recall the Past; and fear I light upon but few Incidents which others have not before discuss'd. Shou'd my present Recollections meet with Favour, I might later set down some further Anecdotes of old Times of which I am the only Survivor. I recall many Things of =Sam Johnson= and his Club, having kept up my Membership in the Latter long after the Doctor's Death, at which I sincerely mourn'd. I remember how =John Burgoyne=, Esq., the General, whose Dramatick and Poetical Works were printed after his Death, was blackballed by three Votes; probably because of his unfortunate Defeat in the =American= War, at =Saratoga=.

Poor =John=! His Son fared better, I think, and was made a Baronet. But I am very tired. I am old, very old; it is Time for my Afternoon Nap.

DEPARTMENT _of_ PUBLIC CRITICISM

=The Dabbler=, for September, in the entire unexpectedness and splendor of its appearance, must be counted as one of the most effective of recent rebukes to the pessimists. There have been several such rebukes, and those who had already prepared themselves for another barren year in amateur journalism are beginning to realize that even history cannot be relied upon to repeat itself indefinitely. =The Dabbler= is issued by H. L. Lindquist of Chicago, and contains 16 pages, exclusive of the covers. The initial letters and a few incidental adornments are printed in green, and the t.i.tle-page, with its harmonious arrangement of type and decoration, is a delight to the eye. The typography, throughout, is almost flawless, and the contents, in general, are worthy of the care with which they have been presented to the reader. Paul J. Campbell, in his article, "What Does Amateur Journalism Mean to You?" once again defines the peculiar benefits and pleasures to be derived from our hobby, and warns away all those who come to it because of an idle curiosity, or a vain desire for self-glorification, or any motive other than a true impulse toward mental development and literary culture. "A Critical Review," by Frank C. Reighter, is devoted to the July =Brooklynite=, and subjects that publication to a well-nigh exhaustive a.n.a.lysis and criticism. The article is both interesting and instructive and reveals Mr. Reighter as an acute and capable critic. The verses with which he concludes his remarks are particularly clever and melodious, and furnish an excellent example of light verse when it is written by one possessing a natural apt.i.tude for that form of expression. Jennie M.

Kendall, in her fragment, "The One Thing Needful," makes a modern business woman give her opinion of idle wives, which she does in forceful, although not always accurate, English. "U. A. P. A. Convention Echoes," by Litta Voelchert; "The Old-Timer's Comeback," by L. J. Cohen; and "The Only Hope of A. J.," by W. E. Mellinger, consist of reminiscence, a.s.surance and advice, from three well-known amateur journalists. The articles were obviously written somewhat hastily but are, nevertheless, very interesting and suggestive. H. L. Lindquist, in "At It Again," tells how he severed his connection with amateur journalism six years ago--being occupied with several professional ventures--only to find that the old pa.s.sion would not die and finally compelled him to return to his early love. Those who have seen the result of Mr. Lindquist's acquiescence in his Fate will gain some idea of what his activity must have meant in other days.