Lexicographer Samuel Johnson: Bookended by Poetry

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), the great lexicographer, wrote three great works that influenced English language and literature even to our own day. The Dictionary of the English Language (1755) served as the pre-eminent English dictionary through the 19^th century. The Plays of William Shakespeare (1765) gathered together and identified all of the plays of Shakespeare into one authoritative edition. And The Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets (1779-81) was the authority on the nation’s poets in the period up to the end of the 18^th century.

That work on the English poets was one bookend of Johnson’s professional life. I found the other bookend, the one from the beginning, while on a visit to the Samuel Johnson House in London.

Like many writers and poets who came to London in the early 17^th century to make a living, Johnson wrote for literary journals, freelanced wherever he could, and generally scrabbled by while he looked for success. His first success was actually published anonymously – a long poem entitled “London (1738),” based on the Third Satire by the Roman poet Juvenal.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Painting: Dr. Samuel Johnson, oil on canvas by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1772); Tate Museum of Art.

Literary Tour: Samuel Johnson’s House, London

leave London’s Circle Line underground train (aka The Tube) at Temple Station, adjacent to The Temple, the legal center of London with two of the four Inns of Court, Middle Temple, Inner Temple, and Temple Church. It’s raining, and I fortunately brought my umbrella. From the tube station, I walk what are essentially back alleys and narrow delivery streets, passing not a few pubs, some older than the United States. Think Pomeroy’s Bar in Rumpole of the Bailey, the pub which provided Rumpole with his “Chateau Thames Embankment” white wine.

When I reach Fleet Street, which becomes the Strand going west and Cannon Street going east, the setting becomes even more Rumpole-like. The front windows of several clothing shops feature the black gowns and white wigs worn by attorneys in court; one is even advertising a special price for the entire ensemble for only 599 pounds (at the time, about US $1,000).

I walk east, and can’t help but notice the huge edifice of St. Paul’s Cathedral dominating the skyline. My destination will stop a few blocks short of St. Paul’s. I’m looking for 167 Fleet, which is the closest address to a meandering alleyway. A small sign at the alley’s entrance contains the words I’m looking for: “The Samuel Johnson House.”

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph: The Samuel Johnson House, Gough Square, London.

He took a word

He took a word, cutting it

carefully from the dictionary,

making sure the edges were

straight and aligned.

He took the word, holding it

gently in his hand, then buried

it as a seed, and waited until

it took root and sprouted.

The word grew. Empires rose

and fell, disappearing into dust

finer than white sand. A thousand

suns rose, set, and burned

themselves to cinders, as planets

journeyed in preordained orbits

until breaking free from gravity’s

pull, moving into darkness.

Still the word grew.

Still the root endured.

Photograph by Ian L via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.