From Johnson's Quarrel with Swift, Jordan Richman

On The Characters of Women

Nature—passion, the body—lives through reason, that is wit, good sense, and decency. Friendship is a prime value because it keeps the other pleasures alive. The word friendship was not a platitude for Swift:

Dear Jim, pardon me, I know not what I am saying; but believe me that violent friendship is much more lasting, and as much engaging, as violent love. Adieu (Correspondence, III, 322).

Herbert Davis sees Swift’s attempt to fashion a “new view of woman” as going beyond his seventeenth-century models. He describes this woman as unromantic but not unpleasing: “She is able to take her place in the world on equal terms, a free, intelligent gentlewoman, worthy of man’s highest regard and friendship whether within or without the bounds of holy matrimony” (Davis, p. 45). I believe Johnson follows the example of Swift in his expectation of women, an expectation based on the urge to balance and reconcile nature to reason and effected by bringing men and women together for the purposes of polite conversation. Though he expressed doubt about the Letter to a Young Lady, he is actually close to Swift’s thinking in fashioning several female portraits in The Rambler.

Johnson also teaches that the distance between men and women should be narrowed for the sake of reason that assumes friendship and understanding. Female behavior when it is either too conventional, i.e., artificially reasonable, or too unconventional, i.e. artificially natural, is disagreeable. In Rambler 115, Camilla sees herself as a disciple of Swift’s advice:

She …proclaimed her approbation of Swift’s opinion that women are only a higher species of monkeys, and confessed that when she considered the behavior or heard the conversation of her sex she could not but forgive the Turks for suspecting them to want souls (Works, II, 46).

In the portrait of Camilla, Johnson does not disagree with Swift, because Swift in his Letter to a Young Lady also cautions against the kind of role Camilla assumes:

I know very well, that those who are commonly called learned Women, have lost all Manner of Credit by their impertinent Talkativeness, and Conceit of themselves (Works, IX, 92).

It is possible to view Johnson’s coward Anthea also as another representation of a Swiftian attitude toward the female. Swift also expresses distaste for cowardice as a female virtue:

There is, indeed, one Infirmity which is generally allowed you, I mean that of Cowardice . . . At least, if Cowardice be a Sign of Cruelty, (as it is generally granted) I can hardly think it an Accomplishment so desireable [sic], as to be thought worth improving by Affectation (IX, 93).

Anthea, who appears in Rambler 34, completely confirms Swift’s denunciation down to the last detail of seeing cowardice as a sign of cruelty. The objects of Anthea’s frights, such as frogs and coaches, are on the same scale as those listed by Swift. I interpret Johnson’s ironic ending as a sign of Anthea’s cruelty:

At last we came home, and she told her company next day what a pleasant ride had been taken (Works, II, 170).

That she can make such a statement after all the confusion, disorder, and annoyance she has caused by her obsessions reveals the kind of cruelty that accompanies female cowardice. As Johnson humorously displays her, Anthea really wants to manipulate people.

The difficulty in narrowing the distance between the sexes is the attractions of power the woman sees in either extreme. As an Amazon or a coward she is looking for power to master her social unease.

Johnson suggests the possibility of a compromise through the character of Cornelia, while at the same time attacking the conventional role of the wife as a kitchen manager. Lady Bustle is a super-housewife. She is someone who:

makes an orange pudding which is the envy of all the neighbourhood and which she has hitherto found means of mixing and baking with such secrecy, that the ingredient to which it owes its flavour has never been discovered (II, 249).

Cornelia’s humility makes her wonder whether she:

shall throw away the books which I have hitherto thought it my duty to read for The Lady’s Closet Opened, The Complete Servant Maid, and The Court Cook, and resign all curiosity after right and wrong for the art of scalding damascenes without bursting them, and preserving the whiteness of pickled mushrooms (II, 248).

While Lady Bustle’s presumed virtues are humorously dispatched, Cornelia stands as the personification of a modern woman because of her inquisitive concern for the values of right and wrong and her awareness of the roles which are offered to her. She sees Lady Bustle and her entire family, including the husband, engaged in a mindless pursuit of abundance. By this pursuit they have dulled their minds to humanity, thereby losing some of their own. Ultimately her moral neutrality must be seen as a kind of immorality when Cornelia observes that:

She has no curiosity after the events of a war or the fate of heroes in distress; she can hear without the least emotion the ravage of a fire or devastations of a storm. Her neighbours grow rich or poor, come into the world or go out of it, without regard while she is pressing the jelly-bag or airing the state-room (II, 248–249).

By protesting against “these ladies as the great patterns of our sex,” Cornelia is protesting against domestic complacency. It is a protest Swift makes when he observes: “your Sex employs more thought, memory, and application to be Fools, than would serve to make them wise and useful.” Swift would agree that a wife should be able to give her husband more than orange-pudding. However, neither Johnson nor Swift felt that it could be love in the romantic sense of the word:

Swift: Venus, a beautiful, good-natured lady, was the goddess of love; Juno a terrible shrew, the goddess of marriage: and they were always mortal enemies (Works, IV, 247).

Johnson: But love and marriage are different states (Boswell’s Life, I, 381).
It is commonly a weak man who marries for love (III, 3).

The Foundation for Marriage: To be continued…

Work Wanted: For people with writing needs

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Call me, Dr. Jordan Richman, at 602-256-2830,

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Or, email me at jordanp.richman@gmail.com 

From 'Johnson's Quarrel with Swift,' by Jordan Richman

As late as 1756 Samuel Johnson was still writing in a Swiftian vein. In A Project for the Employment of Authors, from the Universal Visiter (April, 1756), Johnson dons the mask of a mild-mannered, reasonable, and plodding projector. As in Swift’s Modest Proposal, the shock is delayed by a careful introductory survey of the problem. Writers are extremely useful to society, but with their ever-increasing numbers, their value declines so that “every man must be content to read his book to himself” (Johnson, Works, V. 358). It is only when the essay is more than half completed that proposals are made. Early in the essay the mild-mannered projector explains that he will not discuss such formidable evils as heresy, sedition, or hypothetical fictions produced by the “misapplication of literature,” but “some lighter and less extensive evils” (V, 356). The essay poses the problem of the relationship between writers and literature in a society which does not reward their endeavors. There can be no question of the usefulness of literature:

Literature is a kind of intellectual light, which like the light of the sun, may sometimes enable us to see what we do not like (V, 356).

But the writer who serves literature can have no guarantee of payment:

The condition is nearly the same of the gatherer of honey, and the gatherer of knowledge. The bee and the author work alike for others, and often lose the profit of their labour (V, 357).

Thus Johnson’s “gatherer(s) of knowledge,” the Grub Street authors, have little

“sweetness and light” in their lives:

The Reviewers and Critical Reviewers, the Remarkers and Examiners can satisfy their hunger only by devouring their brethern. I am far from imagining that they are naturally more ravenous or bloodthirsty than those on whom they fall with so much violence and fury; but they are hungry, and hunger must be satisfied; and these savages, when their bellies are full, will fawn on those whom they now bite (V, 360).

Memoirs of a Phoenix Octogenarian

Chapter I

Medical History of the Phoenix Octogenarian

From 1996- 2012

Membership in Medicare HMOs

My first Medicare HMO  (1996) was Cigna.

Cigna had a catalog of its doctor's showing their faces (a la Face Book), background, and interests.

My attention was drawn to Dr. Lupa who was from Poland, studied and practiced medicine in Canada, and now was one of Cigna's star primary physicians. I was impressed with her affection for chamber music and interest in dermatology. 

To show my gratitude for the care she gave me, I presented her with a CD of the Canadian film, "The Red Violin." 

In my haste, however, to give my present, I forgot that I had removed the CD from its jacket (to make a copy of it for myself)! Fortunately, the next day I immediately rectified the awful mistake.

She graciously accepted my apologies for this gift-giving malpractice.

She, in turn, removed a real nasty basal cancer from my left leg that was sitting on top of my tibia. All the derms and docs who looked at her work afterwards always complemented her excision of the basal tumor. 


A Cigna surgeon, Dr. Butler, said its position on top of the bone made it difficult to extend removal of its margins without leaving a hole in the leg. Such had been the case of another patient of his. He advised me to douche the area with hydrogen peroxide until it was fully healed.

Dr. Lupa was so good, a son of one of her cancer patients, a captain in the US Navy, married her. The marriage ceremony was held aboard his ship. Shortly after her marriage she was transferred to the Scottsdale Branch of the Cigna network in Arizona.

I live on thirteen street near McDowell Road and my Cigna is located on McDowell and tenth street, Phoenix.

If  ever you are in the 85006 Phoenix area, drop in for some of Vita's excellent coffee

Or, you can send your medical history to jordanp.richman@gmail. I will gladly publish it alongside of mine in this Google blog. Or, if you feel I have been unjust in reviewing the work of the doctors mentioned in this section, I will be glad to present your experiences. 


To be continued...

I

At Battery Park, Shanghaiing drunks was still going on when I was 11 years  in 1904. 

The First mate of a schooner was anxious to Shanghai me when he saw me, a husky boy, sleeping one night in the park.

He gets me up, takes me to a saloon and fills me with whiskey and then brings me to his ship. He says to the Captain of the ship, "I have one for you. He is young and strong."

II

The Captain looks at me, grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a shake, and then asks me how old I am. I look up at the Captain and tells him I am 11 years old now.

The Captain turns to the mate and says, "Are you crazy? I do not want to Shanghai children. Get him off the ship!"

Putting Abe Richman's Memoirs Together

The Final Draft

I

I was sitting on the fire escape at the time I was four years old watching the steam engine trains on the elevators run by. The Street was Allen Street on the Lower East Side of New York City.

It was 1895, the middle of the Gay Nineties and New York was as raw as a raw steak.

The Bowery was four blocks from Allen Street and at that time it was the hottest street in New York. When I was 5 years old I walked to the Bowery and sat at the curb watching the Cable Cars go by.

II

Later on, we moved to Stanton Street at the corner of Meagan Street two blocks from the River. It was the time of the Spanish American war. Admiral Dewey was the hero of the day.

Later on, when I was much older I decided to swim in the River. I was a wild kid, so one day I saw the bigger boys swimming in the River. In those days no one wore or knew about bathing suits. Everyone was in the nude swimming.

For some reason I thought I knew how to swim, so I jumped in the River.

III

When I went down I wondered when I would come up. Finally, when I did come up I waved my hands frantically. The Big Boys could see I was drowning, so they jumped in and grabbed me by the hair and saved me.

For two days I was sick from the water I consumed.

As I grew older I started to peddle newspapers at the Brooklyn Bridge. At that time they were two papers for a Penny and I sold them for a Penny each. Selling newspapers at the Brooklyn Bridge lead me to Chinatown where I saw the opium dens.

IV

There were no laws against drugs at that time. Young girls were lying in the bunks and smoking opium pipes. I became a CHARACTER following that kind of life.

When I was 12 years old, a man took me to the London Theater Burlesque show for .10. It was raw!

V

New York was then full of brothels with young girls from 13 to 18 working them, while the older women walked the Bowery. Prices for girls and women ranged from .50 to $1.00. 

While it was hard for women to find work there was lots of work for men, such as dock work, trucks, and building railroads.

VI

In 1904 when I was 12 years old, I left school, never to return to any other school at any other time in my long life. The only school I thereafter ever attended was TSOHK, The School of Hard Knocks! But I was fortunate that in those days there were no truancy laws that either I nor my father knew about, so my father used my 12 year old muscle power to subsidize his budding painting business to help pay for my younger brother's, (Hymie) cello lessons, while I went to work as a painter in my father's business. It was slack season in the winter, so I applied for a Messenger Boy  job at the Western Union located at 195 Broadway. 

Turner, the hiring man, said I will give you the job if you will first take the paint off your hands. So I became a messenger boy,

Finally, I began shipping out of town to railroads.

I worked for the Union Pacific Railroad putting down steel rails.

The wages were a $1.75 a day for 10 hours a day. 

We worked in open wild country.

We camped on the jobs.

VII

I shipped out to Guild, Tennessee to work on a dam. We were put on trains and we rode South.


To be continued...

I

I WAS SITTING ON THE FIRE ESCAPE AT THAT TIME. I WAS FOUR YEARS OLD. WATCHING THE STEAM ENGINE TRAINS ON THE ELEVATORS RUN BY. THE STREET WAS ALLEN STREET IN NEW YORK.

NEW YORK WAS RAW AT THAT TIME. IT WAS 1895. IT WAS YET THE GAY '90S.

THE BOWERY WAS FOUR BLOCKS AWAY FROM ALLEN STREET. THE BOWERY AT THAT TIME WAS THE HOTTEST STREET IN NEW YORK.

WHEN I WAS 5 YEARS OLD I WALKED TO THE BOWERY AND SAT ON THE CURB

II

WATCHING THE CABLE CARS GO BY.

LATER ON WE MOVED TO STANTON STREET 2 BLOCKS FROM THE RIVER.

AT THAT TIME AROUND 1898 THERE WAS THE SPANISH AMERICAN WAR ON.

ADMIRAL DEWEY WAS THE HERO. WHEN I GOT OLDER I WENT SWIMMING IN THE RIVER.

I THOUGHT I KNEW HOW TO SWIM. SO I JUMBED IN THE RIVER. WHEN I WENT DOWN I WONDERED WHEN I WILL COME UP.

WHEN I CAME UP I MOVED MY HANDS.

III

AND BIG BOYS SEEN THAT I WAS DROWNING.

SO THEY JUMBED IN THE RIVER AND GRABED ME BY THE HAIR AND SAVED ME.

FOR TWO DAYS I WAS SICK FROM THE WATER  THAT I CONSUMED.

AS I GOT OLDER I STARTED SELLING NEWS PAPERS AT THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE.

AT THAT TIME THE PAPERS SOLD WHOLESALE 2 PAPERS FOR A PENNY AND I SOLD THEM FOR A PENNY EACH.

I WENT SELLING PAPERS AT THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE THAT LEAD ME TO CHINE TOWN.

AS I GOT OLDER I WENT TO WORK ON RAILROADS.

AND DOCKS AND SHIPS.

IV

THE STORY I WANT TO EXPLAIN THAT HOW WE LIVED IN THEM DAYS.

WE WORKED LONG HOURS AND WE WORKED HARD.

ALSO WE ATE VERY GOOD BECAUSE FOOD WAS VERY CHEAP.

I

MY FATHER BOUGHT A PAINT STORE ON WATKIN STREET COR SUTTER AVE.

WHO REMEMBERS MARX THE BUILDER ON WATKIN STREET. WE USE TO HAVE A LOT OF FUN WITH HIM. HE HAD A BROWN HORSE ON THE FIELD. ONE MORNING SOUR PAINTERS WHITEWASHED THE HORSE. WHEN HE LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW HE COULDN'T BELEAVE HIS EYES.

THERE WAS A DELI. ON STONE AVE AND SUTTER AVE. WE USED TO GET A BIG CORNED BEEF SANDWICH FOR .10

THEN WE WHENT TO CARNARSIE. THEY HAD THE GOLDEN CITY PARK RIDES WHERE FOR .05 ENTRANCE FEE THE RIDES WAS FREE.

AND FOR .25 ALL DAY WE GOT A ROWBOAT. AND WE ROWED IN JAMACIA BAY.

II

THERE WAS THE HUREN (Huron) CLUB (When we were in the limousine at our mother's funeral my father asked my sister Roz and her husband if they had bought a new Vulva car (Volvo). It certainly lightened the mood of the event.) ON HOWARD AVE  AND BLAKE AVE. AL McCOY AND SOLDIER BARTFIELD AND I TRAINED THERE. WE USED TO DO ROAD WORK ON HUNTERS FLY ROAD WHICH IS NOW KINGS HIGHWAY.