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‘In Awe of Nature’: Samuel Johnson and Joseph Wright of Derby 1Stefka Ritchie The year 2005 marks the two hundred and fiftieth-anniversary
of the publication of Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language
and four years thereon we shall celebrate the tercentenary of his birth. Born on
7 September 1709 in Lichfield, Staffordshire, Samuel Johnson died on 13 December
1784 in London. Thus, his life spans the major part of the eighteenth century
which is often referred to by critics as the Age of Johnson. The portrait of
Johnson by Sir Joshua Reynolds, dated 1756, and now in the National Portrait
Gallery shows him at forty seven years of age Johnson was at the prime of his prolific writing career as his so called ‘middle years’ are connected with the publication of the Dictionary in 1755; that was preceded by his periodical essays in the Rambler of 1750-52 and the Adventurer of 1753-54; still to come were his imaginative pieces in the Idler between 1758-60 and Rasselas in 1759. Throughout his writings Samuel Johnson insisted that in order to evaluate the history of mankind, one would have to look attentively at the peculiar character of each age:
These words of Johnson in Preface to Shakespeare confirm the importance he places upon the significance of anyone’s achievements measured against the historical milieu of the intellectual and spiritual forces that shape one’s being. Furthermore, knowledge of primary sources when studying ‘the great masters of ancient wisdom’ is identified by him as a vital step in the critical process, a view clearly elucidated in Rambler 154:
This is to say that if we accept that the reader’s encounter with a primary source is a journey of individual experience as Johnson insists, we must also recognise that better knowledge of the period will provide us with some clues helping to facilitate our interpretive skills when reading his literary works. * * * * * However, when Johnson appeals to the judgment of his readers, be it as a poet, writer of periodical essays and dedications, book reviewer or lexicographer, he is invoking common principles and shared expectations. But the modern reader, separated by well over two centuries from the Age of Johnson, is faced first with the task of identifying and secondly, recognizing the significance of predominant ideas that shaped the general outlook of eighteenth century thought. One must be also aware that at the time of Johnson’s death, a new era was breaking on the horizon, setting the scene for great strides in many key areas of scientific development. And if in his day ‘science’ meant learning or knowledge, and was part of Bacon’s and Newton’s natural philosophy, in the nineteenth century, the inevitable increase of experimental and theoretical knowledge was already leading to their segregation. From the improved steam engine of James Watt to Thomas Young’s longitudinal waves theory of light, Lamark’s zoological philosophy and Cuvier’s fossil theory of catastrophism, to Faraday’s demonstrations on electrical forces, Schwann’s cell theory and Darwin’s theory of evolution - new discoveries were enlarging human knowledge of the workings of the universe. And as various disciplines of science were becoming more narrowly defined, so was the artist’s outlook in the nineteenth century - a far cry from the vast embrace of the early to mid-eighteenth century poetic vision of Pope, Akenside, Addison, Thomson, Savage and Johnson, among others. (3) Sadly, due to an inevitable specialization ever since, it is an outlook that has persisted also throughout the twentieth century. This, to a great degree, continues to restrict our critical vision, and may well hinder our appreciation of Johnson’s keen interest in the whole gamut of natural philosophy - a stand he firmly upheld in his writings. Insisting on cross communication in the popularization of knowledge, Johnson often rejected the narrow confinement of separate disciplines. This is clearly articulated in the plea he makes in the Rambler 121 in that those ‘in possession of inexhaustible diversity of intellectual interests, kindled by the inexhaustible variety of the physical phenomena, should endeavour constantly to approach towards the inclinations of each other, thus able to fan every spark of kindred curiosity’ (iv: 282). Indeed, ‘the first qualification of a writer is a perfect knowledge of the subject which he undertakes to treat’, is how in the Adventurer 115 Johnson determines succinctly the foremost priority of anyone who wishes to become a writer. For him it is inadmissible to ‘teach what we do not know’ and irresponsible to ‘instruct others while we are ourselves in want of instruction’ (ii: 460). Johnson’s understanding of the role of the writer is truly captured in the Rambler 4 in that theoretical and practical knowledge should always go hand in hand:
Moreover, it was the consciousness of science as a body of related knowledge that had guided Johnson in 1746 when he embarked upon his monumental project of the Dictionary. In his Plan to an English Dictionary he stated that his objective was a dictionary ‘designed not merely for critics but for popular use’ and that ‘it should compose, in some degree the peculiar words of every profession’(4). This meant that together with the terms of philosophy were to be included those of ‘merchandise and mechanical trades so far as they be supposed useful in the occurrences of common life’. The ensuing nine years of painstaking work made the lexicographer realize how extensive were the fields of art and manufacture and in 1755 in Preface to the Dictionary he admitted a failure of his original intention: However, in the last twenty years of his life Johnson was able to enlarge his notions by courting living information. Whether he was visiting the salt mine at Nantwich or the silk mills at Congleton and Macclesfield, testing the medical water in Buxton or investigating the limestone cavern at Poole’s Hole, he was taking stock of the changes that were taking place. Johnson’s recorded travels in the Diaries present the reader with an account of visited places and observed processes of production. These sketchy notes reveal that he was equally amused by the ingenuity of the human spirit as well as by the physical beauty of nature. Furthermore, they throw light upon two points: his unremitting desire for learning through observation and personal experience; and (b) and his keen interest in the practical methods of applied science. Looking through his correspondence, one cannot fail to notice particularly Johnson’s yearly visits to Lichfield and Ashbourne after the mid-1760s which lasted until the end of his life. For example, on Thursday 29 August 1771 he wrote to his young friend Bennett Langton: ‘I am lately returned from Staffordshire and Derbyshire. My summer wanderings are now over’. We see him setting off on his journey from his letter to Hester Thrale on Wednesday 3 July: On one hand, Johnson’s tone betrays a deep bond with his native land. On the other hand, his description is an example of the exhilarating progress that was taking place outside of London. One detects also a sense of pride on his part at the sight of the Staffordshire canal. As far back as 1758 the Derbyshire born canal pioneer James Brindley had surveyed a route estimating the cost of building at £10,000; the project was revised again in 1763-4 with the involvement of Josiah Wedgwood and the Lunar men Erasmus Darwin and Matthew Boulton, among others. And while the Lichfield canal remained stillborn, a wider project for a canal linking the Trent and the Mersey was conceived. A labour of the ingenuity and hard work of his countrymen, the canal ran from the mouth of the river Derwent in Derbyshire to near Stone in Staffordshire as part of the Grand Canal from the Trent to the Mersey.(7) Johnson’s description of his native plain conjures up the vivid imagery of the bridge and the canal – those manmade structures, visible and lasting, they represent the two sides of precisely the same act of human capacity. Like lines stretched between two points prescribing security and direction, the bridge and the canal resemble finite pieces of space brought together; at the same time, separated from Nature’s infinite whole - they unite water that Nature had divided, and divide lands which Nature had united. The way in which the description of Johnson’s ‘native plain’ lends itself to visual representation suggests a close link between literature and painting.(8) This noted affinity between text and image, a prominent feature of eighteenth century art, is well expressed by Johnson in the Idler 34: Of the two parallels which have been drawn by wit and curiosity, some are literal And he goes further to clarify his point in that: The scope of this paper does not allow for much elaboration on this matter but what is perfectly clear is that Johnson was fond of the arts and was keen to support them. He was member of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce from 1756 to 1762, proposed for membership by the architect James ‘Athenian’ Stuart (1713-88). Founded by William Shipley, a drawing master, the organisation was supportive of the arts and boasted many prominent members from across the whole spectrum of the arts - Garrick, Reynolds, Burney, Gibbon and Goldsmith to Hogarth, Ramsay, Sandby, Stubbs; the architects Adam, Mylne and Chambers; the sculptors Nollekens and Roubiliac; the musician Thomas Arne and the writers Samuel Richardson, Lawrence Sterne, Elizabeth Montague and John Wilkes amongst many others. It is known that Johnson followed keenly the exhibitions of the artists and wrote letters and prefaces to the exhibitions catalogues. A letter dated 1 May 1780 to Hester Thrale reads: ‘The exhibition is eminently splendid. There is contour and keeping and grace and expression, all the varieties’. It was an interest that continued to the last days of his life, evident from another letter to Mrs Thrale of 29 November 1783 in which he mentioned proudly how he had run up the stairs of Somerset House to see the pictures without catching his breath.(9) * * * * * Someone who first exhibited paintings in 1765 and
continuously thereafter, sometimes with one or two pictures and in 1771 as
many as eight, was Joseph Wright of Derby, the Philosophers’ Painter. Regard a
self-portrait of Joseph Wright in a black feathered hat of 1767, now in Derby
Art Gallery that proudly carries the name of the artist [Image 2]. Wright’s clearly expressed affinity to nature and his diverse interests may have well been reinforced by the fact that he lived most of his life in Derbyshire, one of the few English counties which combined industry, agriculture and the type of mountainous scenery which was beginning to attract the eighteenth-century traveller.(10) The Derbyshire historian Henry Kirke was perhaps not exhibiting an excessive degree of local pride when he wrote that ‘we might claim Johnson as a Derbyshire man’(11). Johnson’s father and grandfather came from Cubley; Johnson married at St. Werburgh’s Church, Derby on 9 July 1735 and after Tetty’s death the most plausible candidate for the role of his second wife was the Derbyshire lady, Hill Boothby. There is also the suggestion that Johnson may have contributed to the Derby Mercury, which began its publication in 1732 and was among the most sophisticated provincial newspapers’; if so this still remains unexplored by the Johnsonian scholar.(12) There is no written evidence that Wright and Johnson ever met, but there is no reason why their paths would not have crossed. More importantly, they both shared an affinity for Derbyshire - a county with a wide variety of human experience contained within its borders, which may well have contributed in no small measure to the ‘extensive view’ of mankind that is evident in Johnson’s writings and Wright’s paintings. Johnson’s Diary of the Tour to England and Wales with the Thrales in 1774, a source unavailable to Boswell, begins with an account of Chatsworth, Matlock, Ashbourne, Derby and Dovedale. And although Dovedale did not answer Johnson’s expectations, his observation that ‘he that has seen Dovedale has no need to visit the Highlands’ does not suggest that the mountains and rivers of Derbyshire paled into insignificance beside the Scottish scenes which he had witnessed the previous year with Boswell (vol.i :169). Wright, too, often depicted the topography of the Derbyshire landscape. His View of Dovedale (1788) – is a landscape inspired by the scenery of the Derbyshire landscape. The artist concentrates on singular features of it, such as rocks of wild and grotesque variety of height and shape. By using bold brushstrokes, Wright conjures up a vivid picture of nature, demonstrating how in certain conditions of light, the Derbyshire hillsides can become coral, pink and magenta; and the greens are intensified by the day-long built-up heat in the valleys. It is important to remember that Derbyshire at the time stood at the forefront of those technical and commercial developments sometimes termed the ‘Industrial Revolution’. Lombe’s water-powered silk mill at Derby, established early in the eighteenth century was the subject of admiration in Defoe’s time well before Johnson’s visits with the Thrales in 1774 and with Boswell in 1777. Richard Arkwright’s water-powered cotton spinning mills at Cromford, proudly restored today, are commemorated by Wright in a couple of paintings. In 'Arkwright's Cotton Mills at Night', dated 1783, all the lit up windows capture powerfully the awesome sight of the mill at night(13). Derby was also an important centre for the manufacture of porcelain; but above all water power meant that the mass production of textiles was becoming a major feature of the Derbyshire countryside by the seventeen seventies.(14) * * * * * Undoubtedly, curiosity was a feature of the times and it ran from the theoretical explanation of the workings of nature to the mechanical application of it. It was a new liberated outlook, questioning and appraising that required active, curious and disciplined engagement of the mind in the study of Nature and its laws. It was a spirit that kindled the thinking of Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, and equally that of Benjamin Franklin and Joseph Priestley. It was a new way of thinking that bursts like fireworks across the social, geographical and political boundaries of the Western world. ‘The age is running mad after innovation; all the business of the world is to be done in a new way’, remarked Johnson in 1783 in a conversation with Sir William Scott(15). Indeed, a new era was breaking out on the horizon, setting up the scene for great strides in technological advancement in many key areas of industry. The steam engine of James Watt, capable of turning a wheel and using fuel, was the first modern device that could take energy as it occurred in nature and apply it to the driving of machinery without relying on the uncertainty of wind and water power. And it is to be remembered that a great part of the discoveries made at the time of Johnson were due to the curiosity of the ingenious and inquiring amateur rather than the efforts of the professional man of science. Furthermore, science had actualised new sets of potentials for art. It can be said that as an artist, Wright epitomises the curiosity of the eighteenth-century intellect in the field of painting as Johnson does in his literary works. Their curiosity about natural phenomena and their strongly empirical bent and creative imagination allowed them to produce works of art in which art and science are confounded. More importantly, their pragmatic stand may well have been nurtured in their native Midlands where they would have had the chance of a first- hand experience from a visit to the shop of the artificer - a place where a ‘transformation of raw materials into objects’ took place. In the Rambler 137, Johnson describes it as ‘a journey of discovery’ in that Moreover, as true popularisers of science, Wright and
Johnson were both keen to make the theoretical laws of nature and their
mechanical applications accessible to the lay person. Here is Wright’s
picture, The Blacksmith’s Shop of 1771
displayed proudly now in Joseph Wright’s Art Gallery in Derby.
‘Then I saw a bar of about half an inch or more wire, cut with sheers worked by water and then beaten hot into a thinner bar’, continues Johnson his recollections. And he notes how in the whole operation, the power of adjoining water is used in which the motion of the water wheel ‘causes the hammer to be jerked up against the rabbet. It then falls on the anvil with its own weight’. The detailed manner of reporting betrays Johnson’s lifelong interest in the mechanical processes. ‘I then saw wire drawn, and gave a shilling’, he ends succinctly his personal experience from the visit to the forge, revealing also his ability to tailor his literary style accordingly (vol i: 187). It must be remembered that at the time the forge was a
place where the impurities which iron had acquired during the process of
smelting were being diminished, so that the metal could withstand the force of
the hammer;
* * * * * In the Idler 37 referring to the prime importance of iron, Johnson rightly observes that the abundance of iron in nature is ‘everywhere to be found’ and not just in the caverns of the earth, and the skilful extraction of it by the artisans has contributed ‘so much to supply the wants of nature’. He compares iron to the ‘necessaries’ of natural and moral life, and gold to its ‘superfluities’. Thus, for Johnson, it is not to gold but to iron that humanity owes the civilized state of its society as gold ‘can never be hardened into saws or axes; it can neither furnish instruments of manufacture, utensils of agriculture, nor weapons of defence’. Acknowledging the versatility of iron, Johnson compares vividly its processing potentials to the various stages of human development that constitutes ‘the difference between savage and polished life, between the state of him that slumbers in European palaces, and him that shelters himself in the cavities of rock from the chillness of the night, or the violence of the storm’ (vol. ii: 115). That Johnson spoke openly of the practical benefits of iron in real life, a good example is his defence of John Gwynn’s design for Blackfriars bridge in London.(16) ‘That iron forged is stronger than iron cast every smith can inform him [Mylne]’, begins his letter of 8 December. Indeed, since ‘the first excellence of a bridge is its strength’, in his view, ‘every judicious eye will discern it to be minute trifling, equally unfit to make a part of a great design’ and cast the bridge in individual pieces. Johnson’s defence of wrought iron in preference to cast iron comes from the fact that cast iron then was not malleable in the normally accepted sense and its brittleness was often viewed as a hindrance to its use. More importantly, the resolute tone of his approval of Gwynn’s design confirms his clear stand of the foremost ethical goal of science and technology in the improvement of human life. Against this background, the theme of blacksmiths and iron forges in Wright’s paintings and Johnson’s own visits to them is not coincidental. It is likely that in his forge scenes in spite of the differences in subject matter, science and industry were linked in Wright’s mind as part of a general pattern of change. The workmen in Wright’s pictures are fit and heroic in aspect - perhaps the artisan foundation of the industrial, economic and commercial wellbeing of a nation dedicated to progress and improvement. The reviewer of the Society of Artists exhibition of 1772 in the Morning Chronicle (29 May 1772) remarks that ‘the face of the principal figure has the Apollo and Hercules as truly blended as we have seen and the child is a model of prattling innocence’.(17) Indeed, the presence of the blacksmith’s wife and children in Wright’s pictures may well suggest the recurrent theme of a three generations motif. But the frequently depicted gentleman leaning over his staff and the women and young children present too, are they merely a suggestion of a three-generation motif? Or is the old man in pensive mood a philosopher, thinking of the theoretical implications of the mechanical processing of iron; or may he be generally reflecting on the vicissitudes of life? A degree of mystery lends an enigmatic tincture to the overall tone of the pictures – there is something unresolved, or perhaps a degree of nostalgia for days gone by. Whatever the answer, Wright’s paintings cannot be viewed merely as an idealized historical account of the processing of iron. Notably, the figure of the philosopher is always present in Wright’s pictures, inseparable from those of the mechanical workers – a stand shared by Johnson and well articulated in the Rambler 9. pronounces Johnson his balanced approach to learning; and at the same time reminds the mechanical worker that ‘without theoretical reasoning, dexterity is little more that a brute instinct’ (vol. iii: 49). No doubt, the historical perspective is an essential tool in restoring our eighteenth-century knowledge of the successive advances of science and art, and good knowledge of the eighteenth-century Midlands would enrich our interpretive potentials when looking at the works of Samuel Johnson and Joseph Wright of Derby. And if we accept that science then had the blood and flesh to excite the artistic imagination, we must also acknowledge that it carried with it something deeply enigmatic which is reflected in the multiplicity of voices of the seemingly simplistic artistic depictions. If later artists noted the intoxicating din and grime of working condition, the sublimity of the iron works inspired Wright before the mass production age, and in his pictures he pays tribute to the enterprising spirit of human ingenuity. More importantly, they are recognition of this shift in the attitude of mind of ordinary people in the advancement of knowledge that Wright and Johnson set out to communicate. Their works ought to be studied for the questions they pose, as they can enrich our intellectual imagination and diminish the dogmatic assurance which closes the mind against speculation. In turn, their figures will emerge more vibrant and complex - more akin to the ‘real’ Johnson and Wright who truly shared the sensibilities of their Age. Illustrations
1. A longer version of this paper was read at the AGM Meeting of the Johnson Society on Wednesday 17th March 2004 at the Guildhall, Lichfield. This article is also an abridged version of my paper under the same title, featured in the BMI Journal, BMInsight (issue 5, 2003), pp. 45-56.2. ‘Preface to Shakespeare’ (1765), vii: 81. Unless otherwise specified, all subsequent quotations from Johnson’s writings are taken from the Yale edition of his works and will be only noted with the relevant volume and page number(s) in brackets. Full bibliographical details of the edition can be found at the end of this article.3. You can find a fuller reflection on various past critical trends in my article ‘Johnson’s Reputation. Some Aspects’, featured under ‘Papers’ on the webpage of the Johnson Society, Lichfield.4. Samuel Johnson, ‘Plan to an English Dictionary’ in The Works of Samuel Johnson, ed. Arthur Murphy, 9 vols. (London, 1825), vol. v: 5. Subsequent quotations from this edition will be referred to as Works.5. Ibid. ‘Preface to the Dictionary’ in Works, v: 44. 6.The Letters of Samuel Johnson, ed. Bruce Redford, vol: i: 366-67; 381-82. Unless otherwise specified, subsequent quotations from Johnson’s correspondence will be from this edition, abridged to Letters.7. A map of the Grand Canal together with a description of it appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine in the year of Johnson’s travel to Staffordshire under the title ‘Description of the Plan of the Grand Canal from the Trent to the Mersey’ (GM, 1771, 296). It reads: ‘This canal was began in the year 1766, by virtue of an act of the reign of George III, and is now nearly completed from the mouth of the river Derwent in Derbyshire, to near Stone in Staffordshire, which is about forty-five miles, and is passable for barges of thirty tons…’The map is reproduced in Chapman’s edition of the Letters, i: 256-7.8. In his painting Bridge through a Cavern, Moonlight (1791) and Landscape with a Rainbow (1794) Joseph Wright of Derby explores various effects of the physical silhouette of the bridge against the dramatic setting of natural phenomena. Both pictures are in Derby Art Gallery. 9.Letters, iii: 250, 271.10. In his invaluable article ‘Dr Johnson’s Derbyshire Connections’, G M Ditchfield observes that ‘Derbyshire might fairly be described as Dr Johnson’s second country’, and provides useful information about Johnson’s close links with some of the local dignitaries. See The New Rambler (1992-93), 30-42; 30.11. Henry Kirke, ‘Dr Johnson in Derbyshire’, Journal of the Derbyshire Archaeological and Natural History Society (cited as DAJ), xxxii (1910), 113.12. In view of this, curiously enough Ditchfield writes that ‘the Derby Mercury could well be used to supplement Helen Louise McGuffie’s, Samuel Johnson in the British Press, 1749-1784’, 38.13. The village of Cromford, with its lower half resting by the gently flowing River Derwent and the upper climbing steeply up Cromford Hill to Black Rocks, impresses the visitor with its outstanding views and majestic scenery. And it is at the end of the dale where Richard Arkwright’s two cotton mills of 1771 can be seen.14. For more on the industrial past of Derby and the region of the Midlands in general, you may wish to refer to the website of Revolutionary Players, a project supported by the New Opportunities Fund focusing on the history of the Industrial Revolution in the West Midlands in Britain between the years 1700 and 1830. See www.revolutionaryplayers.org.uk. The website contains digital images of many primary resources from museums, archives and libraries representing the history of the period. There are four main ways of accessing this material: Time, Place, People and Theme. My contribution to the website titled ‘Samuel Johnson, Practical Science and Industry in the Midlands’ can be found under ‘Time’, in the section of ‘Culture and Society’. 15.James Boswell, Life of Johnson, ed. G B Hill, rev. L F Powell, 6 vols. (Oxford, 1934; rept. 1971), iv: 188. In any further quotations, this edition will be referred to as Life.16. See Johnson’s ‘Consideration on the Plans offered for the construction of Blackfriars Bridge, In Three Letters, to the Printer of the Gazetteer’ (1,8, 15 December 1759) in Letters, ed. Chapman, i: 446-452. The three letters were written in support of Gwynn’s project which had been short-listed but lost to Robert Mylne’s innovative bridge design featuring elliptical arches. For more on Johnson’s acquaintance with Gwynn, the self-taught carpenter who successfully transformed his skills to become an architect in the course of a long career, I refer you also to my article ‘Samuel Johnson, Practical Science and Industry in the Midlands’. See n. 14. 17.See Benedict Nicolson, Joseph Wright of Derby, 2 vols. (London: The Paul Mellon Foundation for British Art (1968).
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The Johnson Society, The Birthplace Museum, Breadmarket
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