“I know
not any thing more pleasant, or more instructive, than to compare experience
with expectation, or to register from time to time the difference between idea
and reality. It is by this kind of observation that we grow daily less liable
to be disappointed.”
Already middle-aged
and accomplished, Johnson had a right to coast complacently on his reputation,
but was too restless, self-doubting, ambitious and penurious to do so. What he
suggests to Langton was his customary practice – life lived attentively and conducted
as a sort of experiment in which the outcome in advance is unknown. Johnson
resumes his letter:
“You, who
are very capable of anticipating futurity, and raising phantoms before your own
eyes, must often have imagined to yourself an academical life, and have
conceived what would be the manners, the views, and the conversation, of men
devoted to letters; how they would choose their companions, how they would
direct their studies, and how they would regulate their lives. Let me know what
you expected, and what you have found.”
What
interests Johnson, beyond his solicitousness for his young friend, is the
process of living and maturing. What do we expect, what actually happens, and what
do we make of the differences? Those who live with an indelibly fixed image of
their future risk disappointment and despair. How well Bennet heeded his friend’s
example is not known. He published little. In his will, Johnson left him a book
and £750, out of which he was to pay an annuity to Francis
Barber, Johnson’s servant. The first identification of Langton in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography
is not as writer or captain in the militia but “friend of Samuel Johnson.”
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