Solving time: Something like 35 minutes; I completely forgot to stop the clock after grasping what was going on. This was no ordinary puzzle; after 25 minutes I was still totally baffled by apparently senseless definitions all over the place, and horrified at the blanks I would have to leave in the blog if I were even to attempt to post it tonight. I would be exposed for all time as a wretched jobbernowl. The shame!
But when a solver knows she is to blog in an hour, it concentrates her mind wonderfully, and all at once I noticed that the top line of the completed grid read SAMUEL JOHNSON. And everything clicked into place. Today is the 300th anniversary of Dr Johnson’s birth, and the puzzle is themed. The exasperatingly impenetrable definitions are derived from definitions in Dr Johnson’s dictionary! And several other clues have Johnsonian significance.
After a few minutes’ wailing “Why did this have to happen on my watch?”, and generally cursing myself for not catching on sooner, I found myself greatly enjoying the whole thing. I needed to do research to explain many of the answers, and while some people may feel this puzzle is not really in the spirit of the Times, as an old Listener solver (currently resting) I thought it was a real treat. Ironically, had this been, say, a A rated puzzle in the Magpie, I’m sure I would have picked upon the theme much faster, because I’d have been looking out for one.
Apologies for any Johnson references I may have missed, and I hope I will be excused for the title, which, upon reading the list of definitions here, I could not resist.
Across | ||
---|---|---|
1
|
SAMUEL – (amuse)* + the first letter of “Lichfield” – the town where Johnson was born and grew up. | |
4
|
JO(H)NSON, the playwright here being Ben Jonson. This and the previous answer spell out the theme of the puzzle, which canny solvers will have noticed a very long time before I did. | |
9
|
CON,IC = CON=study, and “tricky at heart” indicates the central letters of TRICKY. | |
10
|
FR(ILL)IES,T – FRIES= chips, and “I shall” reduces to ILL. | |
11
|
C(ROW’S F)OOT – ROWS=lines and F=FINE, all inside a COOT. I guess the whole thing serves as a whimsical &lit, though it seems like a plural definition. | |
12
|
R(E)ICH | |
13
|
(g)OATS. Johnson’s definition of OATS – “A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.” – was certainly unusual. | |
14
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GRUB STREET. Johnson lived and worked as a journalist on Grub Street early in his career, and defined it thus in his Dictionary: “originally the name of a street… much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems, whence any mean production is called grubstreet.” | |
18
|
HE,PT,A,M,ETER, with the ETER coming from “moving tree”. Heptameter is a verse of seven feet. I have not been able to discover whether it was particularly pleasing to, or idiosyncratically defined by, Dr Samuel Johnson. | |
20
|
TRIP(e) – Johnson recorded his travels in Scotland with Boswell in “A Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland”. | |
23
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PAST,A . See also MACARONI, below. | |
24
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SIGNAL,MAN – signal can mean “remarkable, extraordinary”. I can find no Johnsonian link here beyond his obvious qualification as an extraordinary man. | |
25
|
PRE(POT)EN,T – not a word I knew, and even with PREEN and T penciled in it took me a while – a while I spent ruing that I had never remembered to learn the names of the stomachs of a cow – to come up with POT (pot belly) for “stomach”. | |
26
|
IDLER – “The Idler” was a series of essays published weekly by Johnson between 1758 and 1760, as a way to avoid finishing his long-promised edition of Shakespeare. Writers everywhere will sympathise with a man who lived in an age where more attractive avoidance strategies, such as beating your high score at Minesweeper, were sadly unavailable. | |
27
|
PENSION – a continental boarding house, and therefore “residence abroad”. It will come as no surprise to solvers such as me, who gazed at this clue for a very long time, still ignorant of the theme and trying to make sense of the definition, that Dr J is as usual to blame. He defined “pension” as “An allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country.“ | |
28
|
PAT,RON – Back to the dictionary, for “One who countenances, supports or protects. Commonly a wretch who supports with insolence, and is paid with flattery.” | |
Down | ||
1
|
SACK,C,LOTH – a very nicely constructed clue, where SACk=fire, C=cold, and LOTH (reluctant) goes below them, indicated by the crafty “reluctant to undergo”. | |
2
|
MIND OUT – (into mud)*. “Cave” here is the Latin “Beware!”. | |
3
|
EXCISE – sounds like “x size”, with X=unknown and size=quantity. This clue, before the Johnson penny dropped, caused me untold misery, since I thought EX was a soundalike for “unknown quantity”, not just “unknown”, and of course could make no sense whatsoever of the hateful collection of the wretches, eventually abandoning EX and battling fruitlessly to justify ETCHER or even ESCHER, simply because all their letters turned up in “wretches”. We are, of course, back in the dictionary, where old Sam defines EXCISE as “A hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.” | |
4
|
JO(IN)T, with JOT being a tiny quantity, holding “IN”. This wordplay took me ages to work out, largely because I was frantically Googling “samuel johnson joint”. You would have, too. | |
5
|
HILAR(IT)Y – Hilary being the spring term at some universities. | |
6
|
STERILE, first in the sense of cleaned by sterilisation, then that defined by Chambers as “destitute of ideas or results”. | |
7
|
(k)NOT,CH | |
8
|
OF(f) COURSE | |
15
|
B,EER,GUTS – a nice definition that had me wrongly focusing on mugs and mats. | |
16
|
TIP AND RUN, being an an anagram of Puritan plus ND (the extremes of “nettled”). | |
17
|
MAC(AR)ON,I – AR=”are, briefly”, MACON is a burgundy wine, and I=”start of inspection”. Johnson’s fondness for macaroni cheese was faithfully documented by Boswell: “I vouch I have never seen a man eat so merrily or less wisely of the starchy slop.” All right, I just made that up. I figure I’ve earned a bit of licence. The truth of it is, Johnson was an indifferent horseman, and Boswell teased him thus: “You are a delicate Londoner; you are a maccaroni; you can’t ride.” | |
19
|
PA, STERN, wrongly defined by SJ as the knee of a horse (it is in fact part of the foot). Confirming evidence that horses weren’t really his speciality. When Johnson was once asked how he came to make such a mistake, he replied, “Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance.” | |
21
|
RAMBLER = “The Rambler” was a a periodical by SJ published on Tuesdays and Saturdays from 1750 to 1752. | |
22
|
PAT,IN,A – PAT as in “off pat”, memorised exactly. | |
24
|
SK(E)IN – “Hank” here in the sense of a length (skein) of wool. If Dr Johnson had a junkie friend called Hank, i will leave this for others to discover, for while not at all tired of life, or of London, I am becoming just a fraction tired of Samuel Johnson. But, not to end on a grumpy note – happy 300th, sir. |
My first in was ‘Samuel’, and I saw the Lichfield connection right away. It took a few more before the penny dropped, and I admit there was some Johnsoniana I could not recollect very well – that’s why ‘patron’ was my penultimate entry.
The non-Johnson clues were also challenging – I had ‘skein’ for quite a while before seeing the cryptic, and I had ‘beer nuts’ for a short time before erasing it. I was also unsure of the cryptic for ‘notch’, which was obvious from the literal, until I had almost completed the puzzle. I never did grasp ‘mind out’.
My time was not so great because of non-SJ holdups, the ‘signal man’, ‘beer guts’, ‘patina’, ‘patron’ corner. Around 45 minutes, with 3/4 done in 20.
Took me ages to see the theme too, wondering why the journey had to be to the Western Isles, what IDLER had to do with papers, why the PASTERN was wrongly-defined, and most of the rest. At first, I thought a certain person would be complaining of “padding”. Now I guess the complaint is going to be about excess lit. refs. Even the slight nod in the direction of science (“Lab” in 6) is superfluous.
Oh yeh … 55 minutes, held up by the obvious. But I think it’s good to see a themed puzzle from time to time.
I finished but I didn’t time it. Around an hour but I was cooking dinner at the same time so not a very scientific measurement.
well done to the setter…very clever and appropriate!
Nicely done puzzle, and I think Sabine has picked up all the Johnson references.
There’s something else going on here: this seems to be the first appearance of Times grid no. 93 – a reminder to me to get on and put up the new set of grids sent to me by Anax.
It was only much later that I heard the Scotsman’s retort to this – “That’s why England has such good horses, and Scotland has such fine men!”
I missed the theme completely, and like koro I don’t think it would have helped me much if I had spotted it. As it happened 1ac and 4ac were amongst my last in so at least the worthy Doctor hadn’t been staring me in the face throughout my lengthy travails.
I have solved this type of puzzle before in The Oldie but at least there I was ready for it. This one turning up in the Times took me completely by surprise.
But anyway, working at my own level I got through it in 90 minutes with two unsolved and then used a solver to find 28ac, and 22dn immediately fell into place.
My only remaining gripe is at 11ac where I agree with you that a plural is required and I don’t see how “CROW’S FOOT” is defined by any interpretation of the clue.
I “finished it” in the sense that the grid was completed in 35 minutes with a lot of guesses and numerous question marks next to clues that I did not understand until reading your excellent notes.
If Johnson is worthy of such treatment by the Times then I look forward to the themed puzzle that will undoubtedly appear on 24th November next which marks the anniversary of a really important happening as against this frippery.
Are there any jokes in Darwin? I might find out in November – there just might be a setter beavering away on a Darwin puzzle, perhaps with some unches spelling out “FOR JIMBO”.
Well done Sabine (I adore Sabine’s warts and all blogs) but to the setter… well, decorum prevents.
Consequently I too thought why “wrongly defined” and why “to the western isles” etc etc. In fact, it wasnt until I came on here that it had to be hammered home to me what was going on.
Notwithstanding this gross misappreciation of the finer points, it was definitely a game of two halves. The top was fairly easy and I thought I had a 15 minuter on my hands, before the bottom half bore its teeth and I struggled. SW went in first (spent ages looking at the three P’s from POP-UP and drawing blanks, before PASTERN helped out. Last in were 22, 26 and 28, with the latter two effectively guesswork with no idea of reason.
Tagging on late to one earlier point, having initially thought that there was a singular/plural issue with 11, I also realised what PB put so succinctly above, that a singular crows foot must by visualisation contain a plural amount of lines hence making the clue perfectly acceptable.
Finished all but 3D by guesswork in around 10 mins, but was then bemused by the hateful wretches, which made no sense at all, and put in EXCESS just because it fitted.
In this puzzle, I failed even to connect the SAMUEL and JOHNSON at 1ac and 4ac, let alone realise there was a theme, despite the obviously odd definitions. I am resigned to not appreciating the finer things in life.
37:41 .. the OATS gave it away for me and from that point on I thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing.
A puzzle worthy of the man, and a blog worthy of the puzzle.
Steve W
One little carp is 17A; Mâcon is not exclusively a red wine.
A query on 1a -where does the two books come in ,please? As mentioned by someone else I’m not a great fan of themed crosswords -however a scientific one would give me a chance.
Richard Johnson
Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary was published in 1911. Maybe there’ll be a centenary crossword. Can’t wait for that one!
CAT, n. A soft, indestructible automaton provided by nature to be kicked when things go wrong in the domestic circle.
I, too, failed to twig to the theme, and I failed to get ‘patron’. Some of you may be interested to see Johnson’s famous rebuff to Lord Chesterfield’s offer of patronage:
http://www.ourcivilisation.com/smartboard/shop/johnsons/patron.htm
–Kevin Gregg (falsely hight Anonymous)