Another foul-tempered screed written by someone unhappy with – well, everything. His tantrum is omnidirectional but his favorite punching bag seems to be children and the family. You know, “sentimentality,” “bourgeoise values.” I’ll speak as one man, for no one else: without my wife and sons I too would have drifted selfishly, uncommitted to anything, terminally ungrateful, making others miserable, contributing nothing, not even to myself. I need an implicit vow of responsibility to others to keep me focused. I thought of Dr. Johnson writing in his diary:
“March 28, 1753. I kept
this day as the anniversary of my Tetty’s death, with prayer and tears in the
morning. In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful.”
That Johnson loved his
wife, Elizabeth Porter Johnson (1689-1752), known to him always as “Tetty,”
seems indisputable. When they married in 1735, he was twenty-five and she was
forty-six. Tetty is said to have told her daughter after first meeting Johnson,
“That is the most sensible man I ever met.”
Sniggering began almost
immediately after the wedding. In his biography of Johnson, W. Jackson Bate
notes that when older women married younger men in eighteenth-century England,
the male partner was judged “an unaggressive type of man—rather mousy, dependent,
perhaps slightly infantile. Certainly the idea of such a marriage did not fit
one’s notion of Johnson, with his huge, unwieldy frame, his immense physical
strength, his courage and rhinocerine laughter, his uncanny incisiveness of
mind.” Yet Johnson told his friend Topham Beauclerk: “It was a love marriage upon both
sides.”
Macaulay’s portrayed Tetty
as “a short, fat, coarse woman, painted half an inch thick, dressed in gaudy
colours, and fond of exhibiting provincial airs and graces.” His verdict was
influential and remains so, particularly among those offended by Johnson’s
eminence. Defaming a man in matters of love and sex is a favorite tactic of the
petty and unimaginative.
Johnson composed the
inscription on Tetty’s tomb: Formosae, cultae, ingeniosae, piae
– “beautiful, elegant, talented, dutiful.” John Hawkins says in his 1787
biography of Johnson: “The melancholy, which seized Johnson, on the death of
his wife, was not, in degree, such as usually follows the deprivation of near
relations and friends; it was of the blackest and deepest kind.” In 1764,
twelve years after his wife’s death, Johnson wrote in a diary:
“Having before I went to
bed composed the foregoing meditation and the following prayer, I tried to
compose myself but slept unquietly. I rose, took tea, and prayed for resolution
and perseverance. Thought on Tetty, dear poor Tetty, with my eyes full.”
The closing phrase in the
excerpt from Johnson’s diary quoted above, “If it were lawful,” Is explained by
John Wain in his Johnson biography:
“Johnson’s version of the Christian religion did not admit of any notion of rushing naked and howling into the presence of the Creator. He seems to have envisaged a majestic decorum even in one’s supplications for mercy. The Church of England dis not have a precise ruling on whether the dead could still benefit by the prayers of the living or whether, having lived their lives and reaped their reward, they were beyond reach. And since there was no definite line laid down by orthodoxy Johnson declined to take the decision on himself. His prayers for Tetty, though doubtless fervent, were ‘conditional.’”
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