Conclusion of "The Vanity of Human Wishes"
Conclusion of "The Vanity of Human Wishes"
Samuel Johnson
Back in the days when there weren’t any helpful drugs to clear away the obsessions of a troubled mind, a mountain of a man named Samuel Johnson, as his good friend Boswell once described it, kept them at bay like a gladiator in the arena, fending off the wild animals by the sheer force of his will. But there was more to it than Boswell understood, or perhaps more than what he felt comfortable touching upon, since it was so deeply personal. That is, Johnson was a man of profound faith in God. It wasn’t a sentimental thing, not for Johnson. It wasn’t a matter of good taste in church art or church music. It was a conviction; and sometimes a conscious decision to say to God, “I cast myself entirely upon Thy mercy.” Johnson was the most learned man in England of his time, yet he was usually strapped for money, and not because he gambled or lived the high life — quite the opposite. He made his living by the pen, supporting his dear wife Tetty, who was twenty years his elder, and being as generous with his small means as he could be. That included, once he had gotten on in years and was somewhat more comfortable, taking into his lodgings a Jamaican boy, Francis Barber, who became his manservant and very close friend, to whom Johnson would bequeath most of his earthly goods.
Johnson was a ferocious opponent of slavery, and that was entirely in character for him, because he always did take the part of the underdog. When a friend of his asked him about the poet Christopher Smart, who had been returned to an asylum for the insane, Johnson said it was wrong to send him back, because the man’s quirks weren’t hurting anyone. “He insisted on people praying with him,” said Johnson, “and I’d as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else.” Wasn’t there anything else that got Smart sent to the asylum? Yes — he didn’t care much for clean linen, and, said Johnson, “I have no passion for it.” For Johnson had an immense capacity for human sympathy, and the only fools he did not suffer gladly were the proud and the rich and the pompous, who did not know how foolish they were.
And we are all foolish in our way, he might remind us, and does remind us, in his poem “The Vanity of Human Wishes.” It’s a reworking of the Tenth Satire of the ancient Roman poet Juvenal — that’s the poem from which we get the phrase “a sound mind in a sound body,” the only thing, Juvenal says, that we really ought to pray to the gods for, because everything else we ask for may well come to us to our harm. The rich man, for example, can hardly enjoy his riches, since he is in constant fear of being robbed, while the poor man can walk down a dark street, whistling. Johnson, of course, was a Christian, and that means that although he too saw what Juvenal saw, how all that we most strive for can prove vain in the end, he could see what Juvenal could not see. That crusty old Stoic had nothing to hope for; but the Christian does. And so it’s not just a sound mind in a sound body that we pray to be granted, says the wise man personally acquainted with poverty and suffering. We may pray for love, such great love that not even the whole world could spend it all; for patience, that rises victorious over suffering, and transmutes it into gold; for faith, that looks forward to what Juvenal did not know, the happiness, the peace that passes understanding. You do not find your true happiness here? It is not here to find. Celestial wisdom can show you the way, and prepare you for it.
Where then shall hope and fear their objects find? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, No cries attempt the mercies of the skies? Inquirer, cease, petitions yet remain, Which heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to heaven the measure and the choice, Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious prayer. Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure whate’er He gives, He gives the best. Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resigned; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sovereign o’er transmuted ill; For faith, that panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind nature’s signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of heaven ordain, These goods He grants, who grants the power to gain; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find.
Would that Boswell were half the man Johnson was! His dairies are "honest" I suppose, but he must have shown some virtue that Johnson liked. Perhaps he just amused him out of his depression. I have always had the desire to slap Boswell! Maybe at last he just grew up? (If his debaucheries didn't kill him!)
Your articles are grand, however!
Celestial Wisdom.
Are not these the best of linked words?