The Johnson Society (Lichfield)

Frank Delaney was born in southern Ireland and has lived in the UK since 1978. Familiar to listeners with such programmes as "Bookshelf", "Word of Mouth" and, currently, "Poetry Please" and to viewers of BBC1 and BBC2 for  such series as "The Celts" and "Frank Delaney on BBC2". He has published eight novels (one under a pseudonym) and several works of non-fiction, including, books on James Joyce, Doctor Johnson and early Europe. His latest novel, "At Ruby's" was published in June 2001. He lives in Somerset.

The Presence of Doctor Johnson (2001)

My Lord Mayor, Mr president, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. May I first respond to this honour? That I should have been invited to commemorate for a full year the life, work and memory of Samuel Johnson is something I take as a pleasure and an award. Thank you for it: I mean to wear it well.

His possible response to your invitation also interests me: would he say I was "Worth seeing but not worth going to see", perhaps like the Giants Causeway? Or would he find me a very fair man, were he to hear me never speaking well of my fellow countrymen? My quickest hope would be that he paid me that great compliment which I have always envied James Boswell. When Boswell passed his exam for the Scots bar, defended his thesis (in Latin) and became an advocate, Johnson wrote to him one of the most tender and elegant compliments I know: he said to Boswell, "You have done exactly as I wished when I wished you the best."

In the past I've placed on record how much I had disliked Johnson before I began to take an interest in him. (Indeed, I wonder how true such general uninformed response is, across all our lives.) Subsequently, I also placed on record how comprehensively I altered my opinion. True, he would still intimidate me; and true, he might still utter sentiments from which I would have to separate - but my affection for him would not, I feel sure, be dimmed.

Therefore, I am delighted to be your President of this Society for the coming year and I do so out of a kind of affection which he acknowledged when, "Natural affection is nothing. But affection from principle and established duty is sometimes wonderfully strong." And we as an English-speaking people owe Doctor Johnson so much I believe we have a duty to honour him.

May I draw your attention to two points arising from all I have just said? First of all, in that quotation regarding affection, Johnson shows himself as the man with whom it is possible to agree and disagree all at once - maddening of course, but stimulating. How can he say, "Natural affection is nothing"? I wondered whether he was using the old causal meaning of affection - but in his dictionary he acknowledges that particular usage as discontinued and considers "affection" principally as meaning goodwill, love and so forth, in the way in which we mean it. So, to call it "nothing"? As I say, maddening.

And the second point - note how I speak of him: in the present tense. I don't adopt the present tense on account of the convention we employ when considering a long-dead artist: I use it because of my sensation of Johnson's continuing presence.

I don't want Doctor Johnson dead - I want him here, now, among us, striding the planet. I think it was Robert Louis Stevenson who said that Johnson, as he put it, "had retained after death, the art of making friends". I want that friend - I want to be part of his college of men who enjoyed his company, who sat at his feet and learned about life. But almost above all, I want to see how he would fit into out society, contribute to our debates. Sound, perhaps, on Monarchy versus Republic? Unsound, maybe, but very compassionate on foot-and-mouth disease? Deeply unreliable, I should think, on race.

It feels greedy to want him now; it feels greedy because he already has a mighty presence among us - he is after all one of the two or three most quoted figures in the English-speaking world. His standards and his energy and his range still inspire those of us who write for a living - once we recover from feeling puny, we are provoked by his example to do more.

And those two considerations - the presence he still enjoys and the presence I would wish him to have today were he here among us - they comprise what I want to talk about this evening: "The Presence of Doctor Johnson".

To the fountainhead, first, his Dictionary, to find how he defined the word, "Presence" - and to discover that he gave it no fewer than eight definitions.

Definitions of the word "presence":

Number one

"State of being present": and listen to this for economy - "Contrary to being absent".

When I first began to write professionally, I realised very soon that being unable to write was a daily threat. Therefore, against the day when I would find myself dangerously unable to write, I devised a method of snapping myself out of it. I worked out that were I to take down from my bookshelves the work of a favourite, not to say revered, author and copy-type some of what they had written, I might see that they too had known a slippage in syntax, or cadence, or force. This works beautifully - I do commend it: our heroes are indeed mortal, by and large; even Joyce, even Dickens, even the woman Samuel Beckett used to call "the blessed Jane", Miss Austen of Hampshire.

They're all human, that is to say they all could have done with some editing here and there. Except one. You cannot get a razor blade between Samuel Johnson's sentences. Never wrote more than he should have done. Never wrote more than he needed for the conveyance of the thought or the idea. At least in my presumptuous experience of trying to edit him.

Number two:

"Approach face to face to a great personage".

Number three:

"State of being in the view of a superior".

Number four:

"A number assemble before a great person".

Number five:

"'Presence' means 'port', a word no longer in use to convey bearing, or 'air', 'mien', 'demeanour'".

Number six:

"Room in which a prince shows himself to his court".

Number seven:

"Readiness at speed; quickness at expedients".

Number eight

"The person of a superior".

Almost any or all of these definitions work for my purposes this evening. We are gathered before the person of a superior. How superior? He died at seven o'clock of the evening of Monday, the thirteenth of December1784, and yet here we are tonight commemorating him.

Run through some of his other definitions of "presence". Johnson certainly had readiness of thought at speed. He might not have been a prince in the royal sense, but he was a lord of language - and, as we know, he held court. As for presence - without doubt he had great and significant bearing, an unforgettable demeanour, an outstanding 'port', to use his good word. Thos who met him never forgot, for many reasons - never forgot having met him: that good word "egregious" fits him competently: no man could have been more outside the herd. And as for being in the presence - what, I repeat, are we doing here, what have we been doing all day but being "in the presence"?

Johnson's dictionary definitions are my way into an examination of the presence he still has. It is not a general presence: that is to say, if you stop someone in the street - not in Lichfield perhaps, but somewhere less vested - and ask them, "What does the name 'Samuel Johnson' mean to you?" you will not necessarily find many who will know. "Is he on television?" might be one reply. "Plays for Middlesborough?" Or, "Is he the black actor in 'Pulp Fiction' with John Travolta?" You remind them gently that this was Samuel L Jackson. But - where he is known in the particular, Doctor Johnson is very well and very particularly known. First and foremost, obviously, he has a presence here in Lichfield: but present company is always excepted. Next, he is deeply and richly known by those who specialise professionally in the mapping and tracking of the English language. Last week - it's repeated tonight at 11.30 -I broadcast an edition of "Poetry Please" from George Herbert's little church at Bemerton, now a house drenched satellite of Salisbury. Herbert had been rector of Bemerton for only three years before he died of consumption in 1633.But in this encroached-upon pocket of Wiltshire, his successor, the incumbent, who preached of him, referred to him as "George". It is unaffected affection, remembrance of a predecessor who was wonderful at what he did.

Likewise, when lexicographers speak of Johnson, they do so with a similar affection - they use his name to suggest a standard, a pathfinding, a gratitude: "Without him, no us," they seem to imply (though that, of course is both unlikely, and philosophically impossible to measure). "Johnson gives it as such and such" they say of a word's definition; or, "Johnson, of course, didn't include it", or "Let's see what Johnson defined it as" - and so on.

Let me quote to you from one of my favourite books - "The Oxford Companion to the English Language" edited by Tom McArthur. Not infrequently, books about language are notable more in the omission than the inclusion: Dr McArthur's book is a kind of quiet glory. This is one of the many things he says about Johnson who, we mustn't forget, wasn't the first harmless drudge to compile a lexicography, he came after Robert Cawdrey and Nathan Bailey: "Johnson," writes McArthur, "commonly surpasses his predecessors in the elegance of his definitions:" and he gives examples -enchant, "to subdue by charms or spells"; graceful, "beautiful with dignity"; insinuative, "stealing on the affections" - note the "stealing on" the affections.

(Please bear in mind, by the way, that I have deliberately chosen a positive direction towards Johnson tonight - this is not the case of, as he put it, "He who praises all praises none": rather it is a case of not wishing to begin my twelve months of this honourable Presidency by biting the hand - or indeed the paw of the Great Bear.)

What I am really saying here is that for anyone who takes more than a cursory interest in the English language, Johnson is a fixture: he remains a true and major presence. I'm unaware of any serious etymological adventure, on this side of the Atlantic at any rate, that did not, or would not include him and the fact of his dictionary. That's presence for you.

And think of this: - think that form few, or almost no, conventional materials he built such a significant edifice -lighthouse and monument all in one. Johnson remember, had little to go on but his scholarly inclination. He wasn't in a university post. Nor did he have access to a profession with auspices that might have protected him, such as law or medicine. He was a jobbing scribbler, crabbing around, over, under, sideways and down across the world of words and print, turning what he could get into what he could earn.

We are, today, gently awash with dictionaries. We have dictionary-dictionaries, compact, concise, shorter and longer dictionaries, teaching English as a foreign language dictionaries, reference dictionaries, Co-Build dictionaries, pocket dictionaries, big, little and small dictionaries, reference dictionaries, classical dictionaries, dictionaries of etymology, writer' dictionaries, editors' dictionaries, wordmasters' dictionaries, pronunciation dictionaries, rhyming dictionaries, womanword dictionaries, dictionaries of English usage, dictionaries of literary terms, dictionaries of quotations, French, Italian, German, Irish dictionaries - all those are on my own shelves. There is even a dictionary of sexual terms and positions- or so I'm told. I don't have that on my shelves and if it has been compiled by Masters and Johnson, I'm sure there are people under the impression that the Johnson was our Sam.

The point is: Doctor Johnson didn't invent the dictionary in principle or in practice, but he did create our great awareness of the dictionary as a cultural element and tool; he gave the dictionary personality and I'm certain that was because he himself had such a distinctive personality. I'm certain that's why a great number of books call themselves "dictionaries" even when obviously they're not. Dictionaries are supposed to be about words. Encyclopaedias are about things. And Johnson's Dictionary became part of the culture of English language - and so, indeed, did the very word "Johnson". I cannot think of another single name in the arena of English which carries so much freight.

Let me remind you of another gentleman associated with another powerful and related cultural English-language implement. Doctor Peter Mark Roget of the indispensable Thesaurus, a hundred years or so after Johnson's dictionary, never achieved anything like the same prominence.

In all of this I'm not saying that unless Samuel Johnson had occurred we would not have had dictionaries. Of course we would. They had already started - and sooner or later we seem to get around to providing, by and large, what we need, especially in matters of the intellect. What I am saying is that the dictionary industry, already in motion, was given a booster shot by Johnson - a boost so strong that two hundred and fifty years on the dictionary engine is roaring louder than ever. That, by any measure, is a kind of presence.

And there's also the presence brought about by his sheer aphoristic power. Think of how much we still remember so much of what he said. We all know, " "No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money." "I knew almost as much at eighteen as I do now." My favourite is his advice to writers: "That which is written without effort is in general read without pleasure." Heavens, does it apply1 He is generally in the very top rank of writers included in dictionaries of quotations. In my standard Oxford Dictionary of Quotations he comes after Shakespeare, the Bible, the Prayer Book, Milton and Tennyson - and Johnson was neither a religious foundation stone nor a vastly prolific poet -and he's ahead of Dickens, Coleridge, Blake, Eliot, Byron, and on and on, and so on.

We repeat very often what he said because what he had was a wisdom we still want and I, to earn my living, still need. "A man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it." Note the kick in that sentence - the word, "doggedly". And he's so of human nature: "A man should keep his friendship in constant repair." He's so comforting: "A man ought to read just as inclination leads him: for what he reads as a task will do him little good." He's so refreshingly discriminating: he knew the difference between a good enough dinner and a dinner to ask a man to (I'm so pleased your society has been guided by that tonight); he knew, " that most schemes of political improvement are very laughable things"; he knew about the insolence of wealth, the art of getting drunk, the difference between a lord and a wit, or between a dancing-master and a whore, and he was familiar with the uselessness of cucumber. That, by any measure, is some man.

Let me turn now to the second point of this discussion - a contemplation of his presence among us today. Wouldn't he have fun? Just in passing, think of Johnson on, say, our political leaders? "No man is a hypocrite in his pleasures" perhaps?

Let's try and bend our minds to what Johnson would be doing today. Now to accomplish this, we need to consider his position in his own time. He strode his own life and the life of others hugely - he was quoted, observed, ridiculed, attacked, lampooned, sought, discussed, reviled, hailed, admired, loved by his friends, rarely forgiven by his enemies, pensioned by the King, cooed over by pretty women, fed and found by lords of the land, accompanied by sweet and interesting companions and had almost every word he uttered taken down and made immortal.

Can you see anyone similar today? Look across our landscape, where public life has never been more public, and where public life has more people in it than ever before, and tell me if you see one figure even remotely in Johnson's league? Germaine Greer? Would you not adore to be the impresario who arranged a meeting between those two? My guess is that she'd fall in love with him. Jeremy Paxman is, in a sense, in a kind of Johnsonian role, except that he is more political but he seems as fearless. I thought for a time that Paul Johnson might take that direction. Or Bernard Levin - who was well on the way before he retired.

There is no one of Johnson's sheer stature, no one who seems to believe in the power of self-education. Anthony Burgess was on the scale, in terms of intellectual capacity and sense of adventure and occasionally in terms of expression.

There's no one in politics, not even remotely, made on Johnson's template. Michael Foot nudged it - but I doubt that Johnson would have liked him and can't you just hear Johnson of the famous Foot manifesto that became the longest suicide note in history.

Is there anyone comparable in industry? Richard Branson has something of the size of personality. He also has something of the size of brain, no matter how much he tries to conceal it in the interests of populism whence he derives his markets. The Stage? Olivier, Guinness and Richardson, the men who brought powerful thought to bear on theatrical interpretation - they're gone. The film industry? No - one or two entrepreneurs have great stature and presence - but not, sadly, the intellectual couth or cultural depth. The world of computers? It should be fertile ground - but it is the kingdom of the introvert.

No. Quite simply, I cannot see anyone on the landscape of Johnson's size and scope. Not only that - think now for a moment on what he might be doing were he some how transplanted here, in all his gifts and accomplishments. And let's ask ourselves whether our society would allow him to flourish. Would he simply not be too large for it, for us? Would he not simply be too uncomfortable for us to cope with? What in heaven's name would we do with him - while trying to subdue and reduce him?

I find it amusing to imagine his role among us today. This game insists that he come amongst us as we know him - perhaps with Boswell, who wouldn't do at all well amorously in these days of political correctness. Nor, I reckon, would Johnson. He wouldn't get away with, "You must not mind me Madam; I may say strange things but I mean you no harm." And he certainly would not get away with, "A woman's preaching is like a dog dancing on its hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find that it is done at all." Let him try to tell that to the Church of England.

Therefore, when he arrives among us in his brown coat of many pockets and all his books in there, we have to advise him of political correctness, tell him that in some cultures he no longer rates - because he is a DWEM, "a dead, white, European male." But let me not dwell on the negative - let me try and think what we do with him, this man of capacious mind and great humanity.

Do we put him on "Parkinson"? Probably, because Michael is one of the very few people now working in television with brains and wisdom enough - indeed with brains and wisdom at all. He'd cope with the Great Bear. Do we give him a column in a newspaper? If so, which newspaper? It has to be the Telegraph, doesn't it? Or the Spectator. No, no, this won't do - he can't be a columnist, he has to be an editor. In fact we have to give him his own publication - restart the Rambler for him. But who's to fund it? Rupert Murdoch? But given Murdoch's other publications, wouldn't Johnson speak to him, as he worried to David Garrick, about bosoms, silk stockings and excited amorous propensities?

Could we give him his own television programme? "The Samuel Johnson Show." Or, "Sam's the Man." Or, Johnson's Club." Might he not be paid a stipend by the authorities just to keep him quiet? It happened to him before - he'd be familiar with that concept. Could he become Chairman of the BBC? Perhaps I'll steer away from that possibility as there's just been an appointment. Give him a documentary series on the state of England today? No need to film anything - plonk him down in front of a camera and let him talk.

Beneath the fun I am making a serious point and I am sure you have already got there before me. The point is this. Were Doctor Samuel Johnson to return today he would be too large for us. His spirit, his brain, his presence - the presence I so long for - he would not fit in. We could not cope with him. In that respect our advance has retarded us: like the wonderful elk he was, he would be pulled down and devoured by the Hounds of mediocre. Television, which has now so failed us in its refusal to lead taste, would see him only as a freak show. Radio might serve him better. Print, newspapers and periodicals, would not work with him for long because, unable to cut his prose, they would dispense with it.

And therefore, to wish for his presence would be to do him harm and we can't have that. Such a shame. On a selfish level, I want to see him walk through that door in this building in the streets of his youth. I want to see him walk up this room with that lugubrious, great head, this big, stout, stooped man with his appalling grey wig with so many scorch marks, because his short-sighted peering took him too close to his reading candle, and his bulging eyes and his smallpoxed and scrofulous neck and cheeks, and his constant chewing, his dirty hands, his dirty shirt - as we well know he had no passion for clean linen- and he would pick up his knife and look around the room with down its blade at each and every one of us. And we would tell him why we were here and I hope he would smile. He would smile in pleasure at his own commemoration; at the endurance of his achievements and his memory. At the man speaking about him who originally came over here from Dublin, a place Johnson once called much worse than London "though not so bad as Iceland".

And I hope he would smile at something else - at the civilisedness of our being here, at this cultivated oasis you, the Johnson Society, have created and maintained, so fitting to him. And I hope he would nod in agreement when I say, as I do now, that witnessing the appalling events in the English-speaking United states, and as a result trying not to check every few minutes whether the very earth has begun to shake beneath our feet - we need such gatherings as we have tonight. We need them because we have to remind ourselves that there was a time when we knew how to look after our culture, our civilisation and our planet and we must do all we can, in such warm gestures as we can invent, to make sure we retain as much of that impulse as we can - and perhaps even to bring it back.

My Lord Mayor, outgoing President, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for inviting me to be President of the Johnson Society. I shall do all I can to bring it grace.

Top of Presence

The Johnson Society, The Birthplace Museum, Breadmarket Street,
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