The Works of Samuel Johnson, in Sixteen Volumes. Volume 04 — Reading Notes

Recurring Images of Time and Memory

Throughout these essays, Johnson returns to the image of time as a force that both supplies and poisons recollection. In Rambler 203, he writes that “the time present is seldom able to fill desire or imagination with immediate enjoyment,” forcing us to borrow happiness from the future or the past. Yet memory itself is treacherous: “every source of pleasure is polluted” by the recollection of disasters. Johnson repeatedly contrasts the youthful rush toward possession with the aged retreat into narrative, but notes that even that retreat is embittered by the loss of companions. The figure of the solitary scholar or trader who “looks round in vain” for old friends recurs across several essays, creating a cumulative sense of isolation that is structural rather than incidental.

The Movement from General to Particular

Johnson’s essays typically begin with a universal proposition—such as “the majority are wicked” (Rambler 175) or “the prohibition of revenge justifiable by reason” (Rambler 185)—and then narrow to a specific case study. This movement from abstract to concrete is not merely rhetorical; it mirrors Johnson’s conviction that moral truths must be tested against lived experience. The histories of Dicaculus, Leviculus, and Turpicula serve as negative exempla, while the Greenland story of Anningait and Ajut offers a rare positive model of fidelity and endurance. The shift between essay types—from direct admonition to embedded narrative—keeps the reader oscillating between principle and particular, preventing either from becoming abstract.

The Social World as a Stage for Self-Deception

Johnson’s satirical portraits in this volume often hinge on a character’s inability to see themselves as others do. The fortune-hunter Leviculus, the legacy-hunter, and the young nobleman who pursues “politeness” are all driven by a desire for social approval that blinds them to their own absurdity. Johnson’s method is to let these characters reveal themselves through their actions and reported speech, rather than through authorial condemnation. In Rambler 176, he advises authors to expect criticism, but the advice applies equally to social life: the “various degrees of critical perspicacity” that readers bring to a text are analogous to the varying judgments that society passes on its members. The result is a world where reputation is fragile and self-knowledge rare.

The Role of Chance and the Limits of Human Agency

Several essays in this volume explicitly address the role of chance in human affairs. Rambler 184 argues that “chance” is as prevalent in moral and social life as it is in the choice of essay topics. The history of the adventurer in lotteries (Rambler 181) dramatizes the folly of relying on luck, while the story of Seged, emperor of Ethiopia (Rambler 204–205), shows how even a planned pursuit of happiness can be thwarted by unforeseen events. Johnson does not deny the power of fortune, but he insists that the wise person prepares for disappointment. This theme is reinforced by the recurring image of the “fallaciousness of hope” and the necessity of finding “consolations in futurity” when present enjoyment fails.

Readers approaching this volume will benefit from attending to the way Johnson builds his arguments through accumulation rather than linear progression. The essays reward rereading: a moral point made in one number often echoes or complicates a point made several essays later. The histories of Misargyrus, which span multiple Adventurer numbers, are best read as a continuous narrative. Johnson’s prose, though formal, is precise and varied in rhythm; reading aloud can clarify his shifts in tone from ironic to elegiac.

That gray afternoon, Johnson’s words on how hope feeds on disappointment lingered, heavy as the rain against the glass. I set the book down, unsettled by his clarity. My hand drifted to a different shelf, pulling out the Literary and Philosophical Essays: French, German and Italian — A Closer Reading, almost without deciding. There, Goethe’s voice seemed to answer the old moralist quietly, across years and languages.