text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"In a man's letters, you know, Madam, his soul lies naked, his letters are only the mirror of his breast, whatever passes within him is shown undisguised in its natural process. Nothing is inverted, nothing distorted, you see systems in their elements, you discover actions in their motives.
(II, pp. 14-15 in Thrale)",2013-10-12 03:56:47 UTC,"""In a man's letters, you know, Madam, his soul lies naked, his letters are only the mirror of his breast, whatever passes within him is shown undisguised in its natural process.""",2005-03-25 00:00:00 UTC,To Hester Thrale,"",2009-03-04,Mirror,"•REVISIT. The letter is metaphorized not what's within the breast! INTEREST. A metaphor of mind metaphorized.
•I've included twice: Body and Mirror
•Note, E. Cook thinks Watt has this exactly wrong: ""Johnson is ironically citing an 'idée reçue' here in order to undermine it""
•Was citing p. 519? (of what?)
","Reading. Discussed in Ian Watt's Rise of the Novel (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1957), 191. But see Elizabeth Heckendorn Cook's Epistolary Bodies: Gender and Genre in the Eighteenth-Century Republic of Letters (Stanford: Stanford UP, 1996), 86. See also Joe Bray's The Epistolary Novel: Representations of Consciousness (London and New York: Routledge, 2003), 8.",8539,3278
"[...] With respect to the other species of poor people, such as have a place of abode, and are aged and infirm, we need no other proof of their distress and misery, than the testimony of every English traveller who has ever passed through the country, who will tell you, that, wherever he has stopped to change horses, numbers of poor unhappy people crowded round his post-chaise, soliciting the boon of a single liard. Ignorant of the state of the poor in other parts of Europe, I can only hope it is not more deplorable than in those I am acquainted with. Let any man of candour declare, whether the state of servitude and bondage, in which the poor are held both in France and England, does not merit the name of slavery, and justify the assertion of its universal existence at present, as well as the opinion of its having existed from the remotest antiquity, and that it ever must exist in the world--that it is a genus of the state of man, of which the different kinds of servitude are distinct species--that, as it is impossible totally to eradicate it, or put a stop even to the sale and purchase of the Negroes in Africa which is only one branch of the commerce of the human species, so the modification of the kind of servitude in usage in any country is not rashly to be attempted, nor, in any case, to be undertaken by persons not intimately acquainted with it in all its circumstances. Can any gentlemen in England, if they possessed the power, presume themselves competent to frame laws for the enfranchisement of all the serfs in Russia or Poland? Can any man believe, that, if those people were at this moment set free from all controul of their lords, and deprived of their cottages, and their present method of subsisting themselves, they would not be driven to pillage and devastation for their support? That such would be the consequence of giving a nominal freedom to the Negroes in the West Indies is most certain. They must, in such case, be compelled to work, by laws far more severe than the present, and those laws must be much more rigorously executed than what they are now governed by. Neither could such severity be disapproved of by the people of any nation, who, however free their poor are, oblige them to work. The difficulty the poor find of subsisting themselves throughout Europe, even in Great Britain and Ireland, where liberty is so popular a theme, is evident, from the frequent emigrations we hear of. In what does their superior happiness consist?--In the power of abandoning their native country, and changing their masters.--Be it so. I do not mean to enter into a comparison between the different degrees of servitude. Let it be believed, that the Negroes, in that particular, experience an harder lot than Europeans. It in no degree invalidates the argument, that such a desire of change, such frequent emigrations of the poor of Europe, is very far from being a proof of a superior degree of happiness.
(pp. 203-5) ",2013-03-07 16:06:15 UTC,"""Let any man of candour declare, whether the state of servitude and bondage, in which the poor are held both in France and England, does not merit the name of slavery, and justify the assertion of its universal existence at present, as well as the opinion of its having existed from the remotest antiquity, and that it ever must exist in the world--that it is a genus of the state of man, of which the different kinds of servitude are distinct species--that, as it is impossible totally to eradicate it, or put a stop even to the sale and purchase of the Negroes in Africa which is only one branch of the commerce of the human species, so the modification of the kind of servitude in usage in any country is not rashly to be attempted, nor, in any case, to be undertaken by persons not intimately acquainted with it in all its circumstances.""",2013-03-07 16:06:15 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"","Reading Peter Dorsey's Common Bondage: Slavery as Metaphor in Revolutionary America (Knoxville: U. of Tennessee Press, 2009), 33.",19969,7331
"In my opinion, their insolence appears more odious even than their crimes. The horrors of the 5th and 6th of October were less detestable than the festival of the 14th of July. There are situations (God forbid I should think that of the 5th and 6th of October one of them) in which the best men may be confounded with the worst, and in the darkness and confusion, in the press and medley of such extremities, it may not be so easy to discriminate the one from the other. The necessities created, even by ill designs, have their excuse. They may be forgotten by others, when the guilty themselves do not choose to cherish their recollection, and by ruminating their offences, nourish themselves through the example of their past, to the perpetration of future crimes. It is in the relaxation of security, it is in the expansion of prosperity, it is in the hour of dilatation of the heart, and of its softening into festivity and pleasure, that the real character of men is discerned. If there is any good in them, it appears then or never. Even wolves and tigers, when gorged with their prey, are safe and gentle. It is at such times that noble minds give all the reins to their good nature. They indulge their genius even to intemperance, in kindness to the afflicted, in generosity to the conquered; forbearing insults, forgiving injuries, overpaying benefits. Full of dignity themselves, they respect dignity in all, but they feel it sacred in the unhappy. But it is then, and basking in the sunshine of unmerited fortune, that low, sordid, ungenerous, and reptile souls swell with their hoarded poisons; it is then that they display their odious splendor, and shine out in full lustre of their native villainy and baseness. It is in that season that no man of sense or honour can be mistaken for one of them. It was in such a season, for them of political ease and security, though their people were but just emerged from actual famine, and were ready to be plunged into the gulf of penury and beggary, that your philosophic lords chose, with an ostentatious pomp and luxury, to feast an incredible number of idle and thoughtless people, collected, with art and pains, from all quarters of the world. They constructed a vast amphitheatre in which they raised a species of pillory. On this pillory they set their lawful king and queen, with an insulting figure over their heads. There they exposed these objects of pity and respect to all good minds to the derision of an unthinking and unprincipled multitude, degenerated even from the versatile tenderness which marks the irregular and capricious feelings of the populace. That their cruel insult might have nothing wanting to complete it, they chose the anniversary of that day in which they exposed the life of their prince to the most imminent dangers, and the vilest indignities, just following the instant when the assassins, whom they had hired without owning, first openly took up arms against their king, corrupted his guards, surprised his castle, butchered some of the poor invalids of his garrison, murdered his governor, and, like wild beasts, tore to pieces the chief magistrate of his capital city, on account of his fidelity to his service.
(pp. 26-9)",2013-05-07 20:57:37 UTC,"""But it is then, and basking in the sunshine of unmerited fortune, that low, sordid, ungenerous, and reptile souls swell with their hoarded poisons; it is then that they display their odious splendour, and shine out in full lustre of their native villainy and baseness.""",2013-05-07 20:57:23 UTC,"","",,Animals,"",Reading,20160,7388
"The National Assembly proceeds on maxims the very reverse of these. The Assembly commends to its youth a study of the bold experimenters in morality. Everybody knows that there is a great dispute amongst their leaders, which of them is the best resemblance of Rousseau. In truth, they all resemble him. His blood they transfuse into their minds and into their manners. Him they study; him they meditate; him they turn over in all the time they can spare from the laborious mischief of the day, or the debauches of the night. Rousseau is their canon of holy writ; in his life he is their canon of Polycletus; he is their standard figure of perfection. To this man and this writer, as a pattern to authors and to Frenchmen, the foundries of Paris are now running for statues, with the kettles of their poor and the bells of their churches. If an author had written like a great genius on geometry, though his practical and speculative morals were vicious in the extreme, it might appear, that in voting the statue, they honoured only the geometrician. But Rousseau is a moralist, or he is nothing. It is impossible, therefore, putting the circumstances together, to mistake their design in choosing the author with whom they have begun to recommend a course of studies.
(pp. 31-2)",2013-05-07 20:58:42 UTC,"""His blood they transfuse into their minds and into their manners.""",2013-05-07 20:58:42 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,20161,7388
"You, my dear friend, who have felt the tender attachments of love and friendship, and the painful anxieties which absence occasions, even amidst scenes of variety and pleasure; who understand the value at which tidings from those we love is computed in the arithmetic of the heart; who have heard with almost uncontroulable emotion the postman's rap at the door; have trembling seen the well-known hand which excited sensations that almost deprived you of power to break the seal which seemed the talisman of happiness; you can judge of the feelings of Mons. du F when he received, by means of the same friend who had conveyed his letter, an answer from his wife. But the person who brought the letter to his dungeon, dreading the risk of a discovery, insisted, that, after having read it, he should return it to him immediately. Mons. du F-- pressed the letter to his heart, bathed it with his tears, and implored the indulgence of keeping it at least till the next morning. He was allowed to do so, and read it till every word was imprinted on his memory; and after enjoying the sad luxury of holding it that night on his bosom, was forced the next morning to relinquish his treasure.
(Letter XX, p. 163-4; p. 129 in Broadview ed.)",2013-07-12 14:57:56 UTC,"""You, my dear friend, who have felt the tender attachments of love and friendship, and the painful anxieties which absence occasions, even amidst scenes of variety and pleasure; who understand the value at which tidings from those we love is computed in the arithmetic of the heart.""",2013-07-12 14:57:56 UTC,Letter 20,"",,"","",Reading; text from Google Books,21700,7542
"You, my dear friend, who have felt the tender attachments of love and friendship, and the painful anxieties which absence occasions, even amidst scenes of variety and pleasure; who understand the value at which tidings from those we love is computed in the arithmetic of the heart; who have heard with almost uncontroulable emotion the postman's rap at the door; have trembling seen the well-known hand which excited sensations that almost deprived you of power to break the seal which seemed the talisman of happiness; you can judge of the feelings of Mons. du F when he received, by means of the same friend who had conveyed his letter, an answer from his wife. But the person who brought the letter to his dungeon, dreading the risk of a discovery, insisted, that, after having read it, he should return it to him immediately. Mons. du F-- pressed the letter to his heart, bathed it with his tears, and implored the indulgence of keeping it at least till the next morning. He was allowed to do so, and read it till every word was imprinted on his memory; and after enjoying the sad luxury of holding it that night on his bosom, was forced the next morning to relinquish his treasure.
(Letter XX, p. 163-4; p. 129 in Broadview ed.)",2013-07-12 14:59:04 UTC,"He was allowed to do so, and read it till every word was imprinted on his memory; and after enjoying the sad luxury of holding it that night on his bosom, was forced the next morning to relinquish his treasure.""",2013-07-12 14:59:04 UTC,"","",,Impressions and Writing,"",Reading; text from Google Books,21701,7542
"I am glad you think that a friend's having been persecuted, imprisoned, maimed, and almost murdered, under the ancient government of France, is a good excuse for loving the revolution. What, indeed, but friendship, could have led my attention from the annals of imagination to the records of politics; from the poetry to the prose of human life? In vain might Aristocrates have explained to me the rights of kings, and Democrates have descanted on the rights of the people. How many fine-spun threads of reasoning would my wandering thoughts have broken; and how difficult should I have found it to arrange arguments and inferences in the cells of my brain! But, however dull the faculties of my head, I can assure you, that when a proposition is addressed to my heart, I have some quickness of perception. I can then decide, in one moment, points upon which philosophers and legislators have differed in all ages: nor could I be more convinced of the truth of any demonstration in Euclid, than I am, that, that system of politics must be the best, by which those I love are made happy.
(Letter XXIII, p. 195; p. 140 in Broadview ed.)",2013-07-12 15:00:17 UTC,"""How many fine-spun threads of reasoning would my wandering thoughts have broken; and how difficult should I have found it to arrange arguments and inferences in the cells of my brain!""",2013-07-12 15:00:17 UTC,Letter XXIII,"",,Rooms,"",Reading; text from Google Books,21702,7542
"In every country it is social pleasure that sheds the most delicious flowers which grow on the path of life; but in France she covers the whole way with roses, and the traveller can scarcely mark its ruggedness. Happy are a people, so fond of talking as the French, in possessing a language modelled to all the charming purposes of conversation. Their turn of expression is a dress that hangs so gracefully on gay ideas, that you are apt to suppose that wit, a quality parsimoniously distributed in other countries, is in France as common as the gift of speech. Perhaps that brilliant phraseology which dazzles a foreigner, may be familiar and common to a French ear: but how much ingenuity must we allow to a people who have formed a language, of which the common-place phrases give you the idea of wit!
(Letter XXIII, pp. 197-8; p. 141 in Broadview ed.)",2016-01-25 18:45:45 UTC,"""Their turn of expression is a dress that hangs so gracefully on gay ideas, that you are apt to suppose that wit, a quality parsimoniously distributed in other countries, is in France as common as the gift of speech.""",2013-07-12 15:01:03 UTC,Letter XXIII,"",,"","",Reading; text from Google Books. OCR typo caught and corrected by Andrew Dobson.,21703,7542
"The sea here at Weymouth is not half as fine as our old sea on the Sussex coast, and a marine prospect is at best a dull one after the first week: the seasons have no effect on it; and when one has once seen it rough and once seen it smooth, all is over; while every hour of every day produces some change upon a land view, and excites new images in any mind not totally crushed down or exhausted. The look from my window is mighty pretty however, and exhibits so tranquil a scene as it is difficult for old Ocean to display. I can imagine it like the Lake of Geneva, so blue, so still, so elegantly serpentized as if Mr. Brown had laid it out. In short this is no Phœnician Neptune whose beard is said to be longer than the others, because that place produced the earliest navigators: this shall be an Otaheite Neptune, and we will strike a medal of him all shaven and shorn, to shew that no canoe even of the Society Islands need fear him, though ignorant of the act of sailing till the world was got into its dotage as Goldsmith said, when he made the sharper talk about cosmogony. This nonsense came into my head as I saw a sailor on horseback this morning, and began thinking what could inspire the ancients to make Neptune the Creator of a horse, for if any thing was ever foreign from the purpose, that was foreign, or the man that rode under my window to-day had grievously degenerated.--So as you say, my dear Sir, change of place does one some good, by giving one some new thing to think on though but for a moment. I advised our Miss H--- to the same remedy, but have a notion her mind is haunted by one particular image; if so, nothing will cure her; for if the heart be broken 'tis broken like a looking-glass, and the smallest piece will for ever preserve and reflect the same figure till 'tis again ground down into a new mass.
(pp. 306-307)",2013-10-12 04:23:45 UTC,"""I advised our Miss H--- to the same remedy, but have a notion her mind is haunted by one particular image; if so, nothing will cure her; for if the heart be broken 'tis broken like a looking-glass, and the smallest piece will for ever preserve and reflect the same figure till 'tis again ground down into a new mass.""",2013-10-12 04:23:45 UTC,"Letter CCCXIX. Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson. (August 30, 1783).","",,Mirror,INTEREST. USE IN ENTRY,Searching in Google Books,22934,7701
"I do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. We must first pray, and then
labour; first implore the blessing of God, and those means which he puts into our hands. Cultivated ground has few weeds; a mind occupied by lawful business, has little room for useless regret.
(p 192)
",2013-10-12 04:26:45 UTC,"""Cultivated ground has few weeds; a mind occupied by lawful business, has little room for useless regret.""",2013-10-12 04:26:45 UTC,"Letter CCLVII. To Mrs. Thrale (April 5, 1781)
","",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",22935,7702