TO THE SAME.

'DEAR SIR,

'I am going to write upon a question which requires more knowledge of

local law, and more acquaintance with the general rules of inheritance,

than I can claim; but I write, because you request it.

'Land is, like any other possession, by natural right wholly in the

power of its present owner; and may be sold, given, or bequeathed,

absolutely or conditionally, as judgment shall direct, or passion

incite.

'But natural right would avail little without the protection of law; and

the primary notion of law is restraint in the exercise of natural right.

A man is therefore, in society, not fully master of what he calls his

own, but he still retains all the power which law does not take from

him.

'In the exercise of the right which law either leaves or gives, regard

is to be paid to moral obligations.

'Of the estate which we are now considering, your father still retains

such possession, with such power over it, that he can sell it, and do

with the money what he will, without any legal impediment. But when he

extends his power beyond his own life, by settling the order of

succession, the law makes your consent necessary.

'Let us suppose that he sells the land to risk the money in some

specious adventure, and in that adventure loses the whole; his posterity

would be disappointed; but they could not think themselves injured or

robbed. If he spent it upon vice or pleasure, his successors could only

call him vicious and voluptuous; they could not say that he was

injurious or unjust.

'He that may do more may do less. He that, by selling, or squandering,

may disinherit a whole family, may certainly disinherit part, by a

partial settlement.

'Laws are formed by the manners and exigencies of particular times, and

it is but accidental that they last longer than their causes: the

limitation of feudal succession to the male arose from the obligation of

the tenant to attend his chief in war.

'As times and opinions are always changing, I know not whether it be not

usurpation to prescribe rules to posterity, by presuming to judge of

what we cannot know: and I know not whether I fully approve either your

design or your father's, to limit that succession which descended to you

unlimited. If we are to leave _sartum tectum_[1242] to posterity, what we

have without any merit of our own received from our ancestors, should

not choice and free-will be kept unviolated? Is land to be treated with

more reverence than liberty?--If this consideration should restrain your

father from disinheriting some of the males, does it leave you the power

of disinheriting all the females?

'Can the possessor of a feudal estate make any will? Can he appoint, out

of the inheritance, any portions to his daughters? There seems to be a

very shadowy difference between the power of leaving land, and of

leaving money to be raised from land; between leaving an estate to

females, and leaving the male heir, in effect, only their steward.

'Suppose at one time a law that allowed only males to inherit, and

during the continuance of this law many estates to have descended,

passing by the females, to remoter heirs. Suppose afterwards the law

repealed in correspondence with a change of manners, and women made

capable of inheritance; would not then the tenure of estates be changed?

Could the women have no benefit from a law made in their favour? Must

they be passed by upon moral principles for ever, because they were once

excluded by a legal prohibition? Or may that which passed only to males

by one law, pass likewise to females by another?

'You mention your resolution to maintain the right of your brothers[1243]:

I do not see how any of their rights are invaded.

'As your whole difficulty arises from the act of your ancestor, who

diverted the succession from the females, you enquire, very properly,

what were his motives, and what was his intention; for you certainly are

not bound by his act more than he intended to bind you, nor hold your

land on harder or stricter terms than those on which it was granted.

'Intentions must be gathered from acts. When he left the estate to his

nephew, by excluding his daughters, was it, or was it not, in his power

to have perpetuated the succession to the males? If he could have done

it, he seems to have shown, by omitting it, that he did not desire it to

be done; and, upon your own principles, you will not easily prove your

right to destroy that capacity of succession which your ancestors have

left.

'If your ancestor had not the power of making a perpetual settlement;

and if, therefore, we cannot judge distinctly of his intentions, yet his

act can only be considered as an example; it makes not an obligation.

And, as you observe, he set no example of rigorous adherence to the line

of succession. He that overlooked a brother, would not wonder that

little regard is shown to remote relations.

'As the rules of succession are, in a great part, purely legal, no man

can be supposed to bequeath any thing, but upon legal terms; he can

grant no power which the law denies; and if he makes no special and

definite limitation, he confers all the power which the law allows.

'Your ancestor, for some reason, disinherited his daughters; but it no

more follows that he intended this act as a rule for posterity, than the

disinheriting of his brother.

'If, therefore, you ask by what right your father admits daughters to

inheritance, ask yourself, first, by what right you require them to be

excluded?

'It appears, upon reflection, that your father excludes nobody; he only

admits nearer females to inherit before males more remote; and the

exclusion is purely consequential.

'These, dear Sir, are my thoughts, immethodical and deliberative; but,

perhaps, you may find in them some glimmering of evidence.

'I cannot, however, but again recommend to you a conference with Lord

Hailes, whom you know to be both a Lawyer and a Christian.

'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, though she does not love me.

'I am, Sir,

'Your affectionate servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.

'Feb. 3, 1773'

I had followed his recommendation and consulted Lord Hailes, who upon

this subject had a firm opinion contrary to mine. His Lordship

obligingly took the trouble to write me a letter, in which he discussed

with legal and historical learning, the points in which I saw much

difficulty, maintaining that 'the succession of heirs general was the

succession, by the law of Scotland, from the throne to the cottage, as

far as we can learn it by record;'[1244] observing that the estate of our

family had not been limited to heirs male; and that though an heir male

had in one instance been chosen in preference to nearer females, that

had been an arbitrary act, which had seemed to be best in the

embarrassed state of affairs at that time; and the fact was, that upon a

fair computation of the value of land and money at the time, applied to

the estate and the burthens upon it, there was nothing given to the heir

male but the skeleton of an estate. 'The plea of conscience (said his

Lordship,) which you put, is a most respectable one, especially when

_conscience_ and _self_ are on different sides. But I think that

conscience is not well informed, and that self and she ought on this

occasion to be of a side.'

This letter, which had considerable influence upon my mind, I sent to

Dr. Johnson, begging to hear from him again, upon this interesting

question.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'Having not any acquaintance with the laws or customs of Scotland, I

endeavoured to consider your question upon general principles, and found

nothing of much validity that I could oppose to this position: "He who

inherits a fief unlimited by his ancestors, inherits the power of

limiting it according to his own judgement or opinion." If this be true,

you may join with your father.

'Further consideration produces another conclusion: "He who receives a

fief unlimited by his ancestors, gives his heirs some reason to

complain, if he does not transmit it unlimited to posterity. For why

should he make the state of others worse than his own, without a

reason?" If this be true, though neither you nor your father are about

to do what is quite right, but as your father violates (I think) the

legal succession least, he seems to be nearer the right than yourself.

'It cannot but occur that "Women have natural and equitable claims as

well as men, and these claims are not to be capriciously or lightly

superseded or infringed." When fiefs implied military service, it is

easily discerned why females could not inherit them; but that reason is

now at an end. As manners make laws, manners likewise repeal them.

'These are the general conclusions which I have attained. None of them

are very favourable to your scheme of entail, nor perhaps to any scheme.

My observation, that only he who acquires an estate may bequeath it

capriciously[1245], if it contains any conviction, includes this position

likewise, that only he who acquires an estate may entail it

capriciously. But I think it may be safely presumed, that "he who

inherits an estate, inherits all the power legally concomitant;" and

that "He who gives or leaves unlimited an estate legally limitable, must

be presumed to give that power of limitation which he omitted to take

away, and to commit future contingencies to future prudence." In these

two positions I believe Lord Hailes will advise you to rest; every other

notion of possession seems to me full of difficulties and embarrassed

with scruples.

'If these axioms be allowed, you have arrived now at full liberty

without the help of particular circumstances, which, however, have in

your case great weight. You very rightly observe, that he who passing by

his brother gave the inheritance to his nephew, could limit no more than

he gave; and by Lord Hailes's estimate of fourteen years' purchase, what

he gave was no more than you may easily entail according to your own

opinion, if that opinion should finally prevail.

'Lord Hailes's suspicion that entails are encroachments on the dominion

of Providence, may be extended to all hereditary privileges and all

permanent institutions; I do not see why it may not be extended to any

provision for the present hour, since all care about futurity proceeds

upon a supposition, that we know at least in some degree what will be

future. Of the future we certainly know nothing; but we may form

conjectures from the past; and the power of forming conjectures,

includes, in my opinion, the duty of acting in conformity to that

probability which we discover. Providence gives the power, of which

reason teaches the use.

'I am, dear Sir,

'Your most faithful servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Feb. 9. 1776.'

'I hope I shall get some ground now with Mrs. Boswell; make my

compliments to her, and to the little people.

'Don't burn papers; they may be safe enough in your own box,--you will

wish to see them hereafter.'

To THE SAME.

'DEAR SIR,

'To the letters which I have written about your great question I have

nothing to add. If your conscience is satisfied, you have now only your

prudence to consult. I long for a letter, that I may know how this

troublesome and vexatious question is at last decided[1246]. I hope that it

will at last end well. Lord Hailes's letter was very friendly, and very

seasonable, but I think his aversion from entails has something in it

like superstition. Providence is not counteracted by any means which

Providence puts into our power. The continuance and propagation of

families makes a great part of the Jewish law, and is by no means

prohibited in the Christian institution, though the necessity of it

continues no longer. Hereditary tenures are established in all civilised

countries, and are accompanied in most with hereditary authority. Sir

William Temple considers our constitution as defective, that there is

not an unalienable estate in land connected with a peerage[1247]; and Lord

Bacon mentions as a proof that the Turks are Barbarians, their want of

Stirpes, as he calls them, or hereditary rank[1248]. Do not let your mind,

when it is freed from the supposed necessity of a rigorous entail, be

entangled with contrary objections, and think all entails unlawful, till

you have cogent arguments, which I believe you will never find. I am

afraid of scruples[1249].

'I have now sent all Lord Hailes's papers; part I found hidden in a

drawer in which I had laid them for security, and had forgotten them.

Part of these are written twice: I have returned both the copies. Part I

had read before.

'Be so kind as to return Lord Hailes my most respectful thanks for his

first volume; his accuracy strikes me with wonder; his narrative is far

superiour to that of Henault, as I have formerly mentioned.

'I am afraid that the trouble, which my irregularity and delay has cost

him, is greater, far greater, than any good that I can do him will ever

recompense; but if I have any more copy, I will try to do better.

'Pray let me know if Mrs. Boswell is friends with me, and pay my

respects to Veronica, and Euphemia, and Alexander.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'February, 15, 1775 [1776].'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, Feb. 20, 1776.

* * * * *

'You have illuminated my mind and relieved me from imaginary shackles of

conscientious obligation. Were it necessary, I could immediately join in

an entail upon the series of heirs approved by my father; but it is

better not to act too suddenly.'

'DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWELL.

'DEAR SIR,

'I am glad that what I could think or say has at all contributed to

quiet your thoughts. Your resolution not to act, till your opinion is

confirmed by more deliberation, is very just. If you have been

scrupulous, do not now be rash. I hope that as you think more, and take

opportunities of talking with men intelligent in questions of property,

you will be able to free yourself from every difficulty.

'When I wrote last, I sent, I think, ten packets. Did you receive them

all?

'You must tell Mrs. Boswell that I suspected her to have written without

your knowledge[1250], and therefore did not return any answer, lest a

clandestine correspondence should have been perniciously discovered. I

will write to her soon.

'I am, dear Sir,

'Most affectionately yours,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Feb. 24, 1776.'

Having communicated to Lord Hailes what Dr. Johnson wrote concerning the

question which perplexed me so much, his Lordship wrote to me: 'Your

scruples have produced more fruit than I ever expected from them; an

excellent dissertation on general principles of morals and law.'

I wrote to Dr. Johnson on the 20th of February, complaining of

melancholy, and expressing a strong desire to be with him; informing him

that the ten packets came all safe; that Lord Hailes was much obliged to

him, and said he had almost wholly removed his scruples against entails.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I have not had your letter half an hour; as you lay so much weight upon

my notions, I should think it not just to delay my answer.

'I am very sorry that your melancholy should return, and should be sorry

likewise if it could have no relief but from company. My counsel you may

have when you are pleased to require it; but of my company you cannot in

the next month have much, for Mr. Thrale will take me to Italy, he says,

on the first of April.

'Let me warn you very earnestly against scruples. I am glad that you are

reconciled to your settlement, and think it a great honour to have

shaken Lord Hailes's opinion of entails. Do not, however, hope wholly to

reason away your troubles; do not feed them with attention, and they

will die imperceptibly away. Fix your thoughts upon your business, fill

your intervals with company, and sunshine will again break in upon your

mind[1251]. If you will come to me, you must come very quickly; and even

then I know not but we may scour the country together, for I have a mind

to see Oxford and Lichfield, before I set out on this long journey. To

this I can only add, that

'I am, dear Sir,

'Your most affectionate humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 5, 1776.'

To THE SAME.

'DEAR SIR,

'Very early in April we leave England, and in the beginning of the next

week I shall leave London for a short time; of this I think it necessary

to inform you, that you may not be disappointed in any of your

enterprises. I had not fully resolved to go into the country before this

day.

'Please to make my compliments to Lord Hailes; and mention very

particularly to Mrs. Boswell my hope that she is reconciled to, Sir,

'Your faithful servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 12, 1776.'

Above thirty years ago, the heirs of Lord Chancellor Clarendon presented

the University of Oxford with the continuation of his _History_, and

such other of his Lordship's manuscripts as had not been published, on

condition that the profits arising from their publication should be

applied to the establishment of a _ManA"ge_ in the University. The gift

was accepted in full convocation. A person being now recommended to Dr.

Johnson, as fit to superintend this proposed riding-school, he exerted

himself with that zeal for which he was remarkable upon every similar

occasion[1252]. But, on enquiry into the matter, he found that the scheme

was not likely to be soon carried into execution; the profits arising

from the Clarendon press being, from some mismanagement, very scanty.

This having been explained to him by a respectable dignitary of the

church, who had good means of knowing it, he wrote a letter upon the

subject, which at once exhibits his extraordinary precision and

acuteness, and his warm attachment to his ALMA MATER.

'To THE REVEREND DR. WETHERELL, MASTER OF UNIVERSITY-COLLEGE, OXFORD.

'DEAR SIR,

'Few things are more unpleasant than the transaction of business with

men who are above knowing or caring what they have to do; such as the

trustees for Lord Cornbury's institution will, perhaps, appear, when you

have read Dr. ----'s letter.

'The last part of the Doctor's letter is of great importance. The

complaint[1253] which he makes I have heard long ago, and did not know but

it was redressed. It is unhappy that a practice so erroneous has not yet

been altered; for altered it must be, or our press will be useless, with

all its privileges. The booksellers, who, like all other men, have

strong prejudices in their own favour, are enough inclined to think the

practice of printing and selling books by any but themselves, an

encroachment on the rights of their fraternity; and have need of

stronger inducements to circulate academical publications than those of

one another; for, of that mutual co-operation by which the general trade

is carried on, the University can bear no part. Of those whom he neither

loves nor fears, and from whom he expects no reciprocation of good

offices, why should any man promote the interest but for profit? I

suppose, with all our scholastick ignorance of mankind, we are still too

knowing to expect that the booksellers will erect themselves into

patrons, and buy and sell under the influence of a disinterested zeal

for the promotion of learning.

'To the booksellers, if we look for either honour or profit from our

press, not only their common profit, but something more must be allowed;

and if books, printed at Oxford, are expected to be rated at a high

price, that price must be levied on the publick, and paid by the

ultimate purchaser, not by the intermediate agents. What price shall be

set upon the book, is, to the booksellers, wholly indifferent, provided

that they gain a proportionate profit by negociating the sale.

'Why books printed at Oxford should be particularly dear, I am, however,

unable to find. We pay no rent; we inherit many of our instruments and

materials; lodging and victuals are cheaper than at London; and,

therefore, workmanship ought, at least, not to be dearer. Our expences

are naturally less than those of booksellers; and, in most cases,

communities are content with less profit than individuals.

'It is, perhaps, not considered through how many hands a book often

passes, before it comes into those of the reader; or what part of the

profit each hand must retain, as a motive for transmitting it to the

next.

'We will call our primary agent in London, Mr. Cadell[1254], who receives

our books from us, gives them room in his warehouse, and issues them on

demand; by him they are sold to Mr. Dilly a wholesale bookseller, who

sends them into the country; and the last seller is the country

bookseller. Here are three profits to be paid between the printer and

the reader, or in the style of commerce, between the manufacturer and

the consumer; and if any of these profits is too penuriously

distributed, the process of commerce is interrupted.

'We are now come to the practical question, what is to be done? You will

tell me, with reason, that I have said nothing, till I declare how much,

according to my opinion, of the ultimate price ought to be distributed

through the whole succession of sale.

'The deduction, I am afraid, will appear very great: but let it be

considered before it is refused. We must allow, for profit, between

thirty and thirty-five _per cent_., between six and seven shillings in

the pound; that is, for every book which costs the last buyer twenty

shillings, we must charge Mr. Cadell with something less than fourteen.

We must set the copies at fourteen shillings each, and superadd what is

called the quarterly-book, or for every hundred books so charged we must

deliver an hundred and four.

'The profits will then stand thus:--

'Mr. Cadell, who runs no hazard, and gives no credit, will be paid for

warehouse room and attendance by a shilling profit on each book, and his

chance of the quarterly-book.

'Mr. Dilly, who buys the book for fifteen shillings, and who will expect

the quarterly-book if he takes five and twenty, will send it to his

country customer at sixteen and six, by which, at the hazard of loss,

and the certainty of long credit, he gains the regular profit of ten

_per cent_, which is expected in the wholesale trade.

'The country bookseller, buying at sixteen and sixpence, and commonly

trusting a considerable time, gains but three and sixpence, and if he

trusts a year, not much more than two and sixpence; otherwise than as he

may, perhaps, take as long credit as he gives.

'With less profit than this, and more you see he cannot have, the

country bookseller cannot live; for his receipts are small, and his

debts sometimes bad.

'Thus, dear Sir, I have been incited by Dr. ----'s letter to give you a

detail of the circulation of books, which, perhaps, every man has not

had opportunity of knowing; and which those who know it, do not,

perhaps, always distinctly consider.

'I am, &c.

'SAM. JOHNSON[1255].'

'March 12, 1776.'

Having arrived in London late on Friday, the 15th of March, I hastened

next morning to wait on Dr. Johnson, at his house; but found he was

removed from Johnson's-court, No. 7, to Boltcourt, No. 8[1256], still

keeping to his favourite Fleet-street. My reflection at the time upon

this change as marked in my Journal, is as follows: 'I felt a foolish

regret that he had left a court which bore his name[1257]; but it was not

foolish to be affected with some tenderness of regard for a place in

which I had seen him a great deal, from whence I had often issued a

better and a happier man than when I went in, and which had often

appeared to my imagination while I trod its pavements, in the solemn

darkness of the night, to be sacred to wisdom and piety[1258].' Being

informed that he was at Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough, I hastened

thither, and found Mrs. Thrale and him at breakfast. I was kindly

welcomed. In a moment he was in a full glow of conversation, and I felt

myself elevated as if brought into another state of being. Mrs. Thrale

and I looked to each other while he talked, and our looks expressed our

congenial admiration and affection for him. I shall ever recollect this

scene with great pleasure. I exclaimed to her, 'I am now,

intellectually, _Hermippus redivivus_, I am quite restored by him, by

transfusion of mind[1259]!' 'There are many (she replied) who admire and

respect Mr. Johnson; but you and I _love_ him.'

He seemed very happy in the near prospect of going to Italy with Mr. and

Mrs. Thrale. 'But, (said he,) before leaving England I am to take a

jaunt to Oxford, Birmingham, my native city Lichfield, and my old

friend, Dr. Taylor's, at Ashbourn, in Derbyshire. I shall go in a few

days, and you, Boswell, shall go with me.' I was ready to accompany him;

being willing even to leave London to have the pleasure of his

conversation.

I mentioned with much regret the extravagance of the representative of a

great family in Scotland, by which there was danger of its being ruined;

and as Johnson respected it for its antiquity, he joined with me in

thinking it would be happy if this person should die. Mrs. Thrale seemed

shocked at this, as feudal barbarity; and said, 'I do not understand

this preference of the estate to its owner; of the land to the man who

walks upon that land.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Madam, it is not a preference of

the land to its owner, it is the preference of a family to an

individual. Here is an establishment in a country, which is of

importance for ages, not only to the chief but to his people; an

establishment which extends upwards and downwards; that this should be

destroyed by one idle fellow is a sad thing.'

He said, 'Entails[1260] are good, because it is good to preserve in a

country, serieses of men, to whom the people are accustomed to look up

as to their leaders. But I am for leaving a quantity of land in

commerce, to excite industry, and keep money in the country; for if no

land were to be bought in the country, there would be no encouragement

to acquire wealth, because a family could not be founded there; or if it

were acquired, it must be carried away to another country where land may

be bought. And although the land in every country will remain the same,

and be as fertile where there is no money, as where there is, yet all

that portion of the happiness of civil life, which is produced by money

circulating in a country, would be lost.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, would it

be for the advantage of a country that all its lands were sold at once?'

JOHNSON. 'So far, Sir, as money produces good, it would be an advantage;

for, then that country would have as much money circulating in it as it

is worth. But to be sure this would be counterbalanced by disadvantages

attending a total change of proprietors.'

I expressed my opinion that the power of entailing should be limited

thus: 'That there should be one third, or perhaps one half of the land

of a country kept free for commerce; that the proportion allowed to be

entailed, should be parcelled out so that no family could entail above a

certain quantity. Let a family according to the abilities of its

representatives, be richer or poorer in different generations, or always

rich if its representatives be always wise: but let its absolute

permanency be moderate. In this way we should be certain of there being

always a number of established roots; and as in the course of nature,

there is in every age an extinction of some families, there would be

continual openings for men ambitious of perpetuity, to plant a stock in

the entail ground[1261].' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, mankind will be better able

to regulate the system of entails, when the evil of too much land being

locked up by them is felt, than we can do at present when it is not

felt.' I mentioned Dr. Adam Smith's book on _The Wealth of Nations_[1262]

which was just published, and that Sir John Pringle had observed to me,

that Dr. Smith, who had never been in trade, could not be expected to

write well on that subject any more than a lawyer upon physick. JOHNSON.

'He is mistaken, Sir: a man who has never been engaged in trade himself

may undoubtedly write well upon trade, and there is nothing which

requires more to be illustrated by philosophy than trade does. As to

mere wealth, that is to say, money, it is clear that one nation or one

individual cannot increase its store but by making another poorer: but

trade procures what is more valuable, the reciprocation of the peculiar

advantages of different countries. A merchant seldom thinks but of his

own particular trade. To write a good book upon it, a man must have

extensive views. It is not necessary to have practised, to write well

upon a subject.' I mentioned law as a subject on which no man could

write well without practice. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, in England, where so

much money is to be got by the practice of the law, most of our writers

upon it have been in practice; though Blackstone had not been much in

practice when he published his _Commentaries_. But upon the Continent,

the great writers on law have not all been in practice: Grotius, indeed,

was; but Puffendorf was not, Burlamaqui was not.'

When we had talked of the great consequence which a man acquired by

being employed in his profession, I suggested a doubt of the justice of

the general opinion, that it is improper in a lawyer to solicit

employment; for why, I urged, should it not be equally allowable to

solicit that as the means of consequence, as it is to solicit votes to

be elected a member of Parliament? Mr. Strahan had told me that a

countryman of his and mine[1263], who had risen to eminence in the law,

had, when first making his way, solicited him to get him employed in

city causes. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is wrong to stir up law-suits; but when

once it is certain that a law-suit is to go on, there is nothing wrong

in a lawyer's endeavouring that he shall have the benefit, rather than

another.' BOSWELL. 'You would not solicit employment, Sir, if you were a

lawyer.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, but not because I should think it wrong, but

because I should disdain it.' This was a good distinction, which will be

felt by men of just pride. He proceeded: 'However, I would not have a

lawyer to be wanting to himself in using fair means. I would have him to

inject a little hint now and then, to prevent his being overlooked.'

Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch Militia[1264], in supporting which his

Lordship had made an able speech in the House of Commons, was now a

pretty general topick of conversation. JOHNSON. 'As Scotland contributes

so little land-tax[1265] towards the general support of the nation, it

ought not to have a militia paid out of the general fund, unless it

should be thought for the general interest, that Scotland should be

protected from an invasion, which no man can think will happen; for what

enemy would invade Scotland, where there is nothing to be got? No, Sir;

now that the Scotch have not the pay of English soldiers spent among

them, as so many troops are sent abroad, they are trying to get money

another way, by having a militia paid. If they are afraid, and seriously

desire to have an armed force to defend them, they should pay for it.

Your scheme is to retain a part of your land-tax, by making us pay and

clothe your militia.' BOSWELL. 'You should not talk of _we_ and _you_,

Sir: there is now an _Union_.' JOHNSON. 'There must be a distinction of

interest, while the proportions of land-tax are so unequal. If Yorkshire

should say, "Instead of paying our land-tax, we will keep a greater

number of militia," it would be unreasonable.' In this argument my

friend was certainly in the wrong. The land-tax is as unequally

proportioned between different parts of England, as between England and

Scotland; nay, it is considerably unequal in Scotland itself. But the

land-tax is but a small part of the numerous branches of publick

revenue, all of which Scotland pays precisely as England does. A French

invasion made in Scotland would soon penetrate into England.

He thus discoursed upon supposed obligation in settling estates:--'Where

a man gets the unlimited property of an estate, there is no obligation

upon him in _justice_ to leave it to one person rather than to another.

There is a motive of preference from _kindness_, and this kindness is

generally entertained for the nearest relation. If I _owe_ a particular

man a sum of money, I am obliged to let that man have the next money I

get, and cannot in justice let another have it: but if I owe money to no

man, I may dispose of what I get as I please. There is not a _debitum

justitice_ to a man's next heir; there is only a _debitum caritatis_. It

is plain, then, that I have morally a choice, according to my liking. If

I have a brother in want, he has a claim from affection to my

assistance; but if I have also a brother in want, whom I like better, he

has a preferable claim. The right of an heir at law is only this, that

he is to have the succession to an estate, in case no other person is

appointed to it by the owner. His right is merely preferable to that of

the King.'

We got into a boat to cross over to Black-friars; and as we moved along

the Thames, I talked to him of a little volume, which, altogether

unknown to him, was advertised to be published in a few days, under the

title of _Johnsoniana, or Bon-Mots of Dr. Johnson_[1266]. JOHNSON, 'Sir,

it is a mighty impudent thing.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, could you have no

redress if you were to prosecute a publisher for bringing out, under

your name, what you never said, and ascribing to you dull stupid

nonsense, or making you swear profanely, as many ignorant relaters of

your _bon-mots_ do[1267]?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; there will always be some

truth mixed with the falsehood, and how can it be ascertained how much

is true and how much is false? Besides, Sir, what damages would a jury

give me for having been represented as swearing?' BOSWELL. 'I think,

Sir, you should at least disavow such a publication, because the world

and posterity might with much plausible foundation say, "Here is a

volume which was publickly advertised and came out in Dr. Johnson's own

time, and, by his silence, was admitted by him to be genuine."'

JOHNSON. 'I shall give myself no trouble about the matter.'

He was, perhaps, above suffering from such spurious publications; but I

could not help thinking, that many men would be much injured in their

reputation, by having absurd and vicious sayings imputed to them; and

that redress ought in such cases to be given.

He said, 'The value of every story depends on its being true. A story is

a picture either of an individual or of human nature in general: if it

be false, it is a picture of nothing. For instance: suppose a man should

tell that Johnson, before setting out for Italy, as he had to cross the

Alps, sat down to make himself wings. This many people would believe;

but it would be a picture of nothing. ----[1268] (naming a worthy friend

of ours,) used to think a story, a story, till I shewed him that truth

was essential to it[1269].' I observed, that Foote entertained us with

stories which were not true; but that, indeed, it was properly not as

narratives that Foote's stories pleased us, but as collections of

ludicrous images. JOHNSON. 'Foote is quite impartial, for he tells lies

of every body.'

The importance of strict and scrupulous veracity cannot be too often

inculcated. Johnson was known to be so rigidly attentive to it, that

even in his common conversation the slightest circumstance was mentioned

with exact precision[1270]. The knowledge of his having such a principle

and habit made his friends have a perfect reliance on the truth of every

thing that he told, however it might have been doubted if told by many

others. As an instance of this, I may mention an odd incident which he

related as having happened to him one night in Fleet-street. 'A

gentlewoman (said he) begged I would give her my arm to assist her in

crossing the street, which I accordingly did; upon which she offered me

a shilling, supposing me to be the watchman. I perceived that she was

somewhat in liquor.' This, if told by most people, would have been

thought an invention; when told by Johnson, it was believed by his

friends as much as if they had seen what passed.

We landed at the Temple-stairs, where we parted.

I found him in the evening in Mrs. Williams's room. We talked of

religious orders. He said, 'It is as unreasonable for a man to go into a

Carthusian convent for fear of being immoral, as for a man to cut off

his hands for fear he should steal. There is, indeed, great resolution

in the immediate act of dismembering himself; but when that is once

done, he has no longer any merit: for though it is out of his power to

steal, yet he may all his life be a thief in his heart. So when a man

has once become a Carthusian, he is obliged to continue so, whether he

chooses it or not. Their silence, too, is absurd. We read in the Gospel

of the apostles being sent to preach, but not to hold their tongues. All

severity that does not tend to increase good, or prevent evil, is idle.

I said to the Lady Abbess[1271] of a convent, "Madam, you are here, not for

the love of virtue, but the fear of vice." She said, "She should

remember this as long as she lived."' I thought it hard to give her this

view of her situation, when she could not help it; and, indeed, I

wondered at the whole of what he now said; because, both in his

_Rambler_[1272] and _Idler_[1273], he treats religious austerities with

much solemnity of respect[1274].

Finding him still persevering in his abstinence from wine, I ventured to

speak to him of it.--JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have no objection to a man's

drinking wine, if he can do it in moderation. I found myself apt to go

to excess in it, and therefore, after having been for some time without

it, on account of illness, I thought it better not to return to it[1275].

Every man is to judge for himself, according to the effects which he

experiences. One of the fathers tells us, he found fasting made him so

peevish[1276] that he did not practise it.'

Though he often enlarged upon the evil of intoxication[1277], he was by no

means harsh and unforgiving to those who indulged in occasional excess

in wine. One of his friends[1278], I well remember, came to sup at a tavern

with him and some other gentlemen, and too plainly discovered that he

had drunk too much at dinner. When one who loved mischief, thinking to

produce a severe censure, asked Johnson, a few days afterwards, 'Well,

Sir, what did your friend say to you, as an apology for being in such a

situation?' Johnson answered, 'Sir, he said all that a man _should_ say:

he said he was sorry for it.'

I heard him once give a very judicious practical advice upon this

subject: 'A man, who has been drinking wine at all freely, should never

go into a new company. With those who have partaken of wine with him, he

may be pretty well in unison; but he will probably be offensive, or

appear ridiculous, to other people.'

He allowed very great influence to education. 'I do not deny, Sir, but

there is some original difference in minds; but it is nothing in

comparison of what is formed by education. We may instance the science

of _numbers_, which all minds are equally capable of attaining[1279]; yet

we find a prodigious difference in the powers of different men, in that

respect, after they are grown up, because their minds have been more or

less exercised in it: and I think the same cause will explain the

difference of excellence in other things, gradations admitting always

some difference in the first principles[1280].' This is a difficult

subject; but it is best to hope that diligence may do a great deal. We

are _sure_ of what it can do, in increasing our mechanical force and

dexterity.

I again visited him on Monday. He took occasion to enlarge, as he often

did, upon the wretchedness of a sea-life[1281]. 'A ship is worse than a

gaol. There is, in a gaol, better air, better company, better

conveniency of every kind; and a ship has the additional disadvantage of

being in danger. When men come to like a sea-life, they are not fit to

live on land[1282].'--'Then (said I) it would be cruel in a father to breed

his son to the sea.' JOHNSON. 'It would be cruel in a father who thinks

as I do. Men go to sea, before they know the unhappiness of that way of

life; and when they have come to know it, they cannot escape from it,

because it is then too late to choose another profession; as indeed is

generally the case with men, when they have once engaged in any

particular way of life.'

On Tuesday, March 19, which was fixed for our proposed jaunt, we met in

the morning at the Somerset coffee-house in the Strand, where we were

taken up by the Oxford coach. He was accompanied by Mr. Gwyn[1283], the

architect; and a gentleman of Merton College, whom we did not know, had

the fourth seat. We soon got into conversation; for it was very

remarkable of Johnson, that the presence of a stranger had no restraint

upon his talk. I observed that Garrick, who was about to quit the stage,

would soon have an easier life. JOHNSON. 'I doubt that, Sir.' BOSWELL.

'Why, Sir, he will be Atlas with the burthen off his back.' JOHNSON.

'But I know not, Sir, if he will be so steady without his load. However,

he should never play any more, but be entirely the gentleman, and not

partly the player: he should no longer subject himself to be hissed by a

mob, or to be insolently treated by performers, whom he used to rule

with a high hand, and who would gladly retaliate.' BOSWELL. 'I think he

should play once a year for the benefit of decayed actors, as it has

been said he means to do.' JOHNSON. 'Alas, Sir! he will soon be a

decayed actor himself.'

Johnson expressed his disapprobation of ornamental architecture, such as

magnificent columns supporting a portico, or expensive pilasters

supporting merely their own capitals, 'because it consumes labour

disproportionate to its utility.' For the same reason he satyrised

statuary. 'Painting (said he) consumes labour not disproportionate to

its effect; but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to

make something in stone that hardly resembles a man. The value of

statuary is owing to its difficulty. You would not value the finest head

cut upon a carrot[1284].' Here he seemed to me to be strangely deficient in

taste; for surely statuary is a noble art of imitation, and preserves a

wonderful expression of the varieties of the human frame; and although

it must be allowed that the circumstances of difficulty enhance the

value of a marble head, we should consider, that if it requires a long

time in the performance, it has a proportionate value in durability.

Gwyn was a fine lively rattling fellow. Dr. Johnson kept him in

subjection, but with a kindly authority. The spirit of the artist,

however, rose against what he thought a Gothick attack, and he made a

brisk defence. 'What, Sir, will you allow no value to beauty in

architecture or in statuary? Why should we allow it then in writing? Why

do you take the trouble to give us so many fine allusions, and bright

images, and elegant phrases? You might convey all your instruction

without these ornaments.' Johnson smiled with complacency; but said,

'Why, Sir, all these ornaments are useful, because they obtain an easier

reception for truth; but a building is not at all more convenient for

being decorated with superfluous carved work.'

Gwyn at last was lucky enough to make one reply to Dr. Johnson, which he

allowed to be excellent. Johnson censured him for taking down a church

which might have stood many years, and building a new one at a different

place, for no other reason but that there might be a direct road to a

new bridge; and his expression was, 'You are taking a church out of the

way, that the people may go in a straight line to the bridge.'--'No,

Sir, (said Gwyn,) I am putting the church _in_ the way, that the people

may not _go out of the way_.' JOHNSON, (with a hearty loud laugh of

approbation,) 'Speak no more. Rest your colloquial fame upon this.'

Upon our arrival at Oxford, Dr. Johnson and I went directly to

University College, but were disappointed on finding that one of the

fellows, his friend Mr. Scott[1285], who accompanied him from Newcastle to

Edinburgh, was gone to the country. We put up at the Angel inn, and

passed the evening by ourselves in easy and familiar conversation.

Talking of constitutional melancholy, he observed, 'A man so afflicted,

Sir, must divert distressing thoughts, and not combat with them.'

BOSWELL. 'May not he think them down, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. To

attempt to _think them down_ is madness. He should have a lamp

constantly burning in his bed-chamber during the night, and if wakefully

disturbed, take a book, and read, and compose himself to rest. To have

the management of the mind is a great art, and it may be attained in a

considerable degree by experience and habitual exercise.' BOSWELL.

'Should not he provide amusements for himself? Would it not, for

instance, be right for him to take a course of chymistry?' JOHNSON. 'Let

him take a course of chymistry, or a course of rope-dancing, or a course

of any thing to which he is inclined at the time. Let him contrive to

have as many retreats for his mind as he can, as many things to which it

can fly from itself[1286]. Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_[1287] is a

valuable work. It is, perhaps, overloaded with quotation. But there is

great spirit and great power in what Burton says, when he writes from

his own mind.'

Next morning we visited Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College,

with whom Dr. Johnson conferred on the most advantageous mode of

disposing of the books printed at the Clarendon press, on which subject

his letter has been inserted in a former page[1288]. I often had occasion

to remark, Johnson loved business[1289], loved to have his wisdom actually

operate on real life. Dr. Wetherell and I talked of him without reserve

in his own presence. WETHERELL. 'I would have given him a hundred

guineas if he would have written a preface to his _Political Tracts_[1290],

by way of a Discourse on the British Constitution.' BOSWELL. 'Dr.

Johnson, though in his writings, and upon all occasions a great friend

to the constitution both in church and state, has never written

expressly in support of either. There is really a claim upon him for

both. I am sure he could give a volume of no great bulk upon each, which

would comprise all the substance, and with his spirit would effectually

maintain them. He should erect a fort on the confines of each.' I could

perceive that he was displeased with this dialogue. He burst out, 'Why

should _I_ be always writing[1291]?' I hoped he was conscious that the debt

was just, and meant to discharge it, though he disliked being dunned.

We then went to Pembroke College, and waited on his old friend Dr.

Adams, the master of it, whom I found to be a most polite, pleasing,

communicative man. Before his advancement to the headship of his

college, I had intended to go and visit him at Shrewsbury, where he was

rector of St. Chad's, in order to get from him what particulars he could

recollect of Johnson's academical life. He now obligingly gave me part

of that authentick information, which, with what I afterwards owed to

his kindness, will be found incorporated in its proper place in this

work.

Dr. Adams had distinguished himself by an able answer to David Hume's

_Essay on Miracles_. He told me he had once dined in company with Hume

in London[1292]; that Hume shook hands with him, and said, 'You have

treated me much better than I deserve;' and that they exchanged visits.

I took the liberty to object to treating an infidel writer with smooth

civility. Where there is a controversy concerning a passage in a

classick authour, or concerning a question in antiquities, or any other

subject in which human happiness is not deeply interested, a man may

treat his antagonist with politeness and even respect. But where the

controversy is concerning the truth of religion, it is of such vast

importance to him who maintains it, to obtain the victory, that the

person of an opponent ought not to be spared. If a man firmly believes

that religion is an invaluable treasure[1293], he will consider a writer

who endeavours to deprive mankind of it as a _robber_; he will look upon

him as _odious_, though the infidel might think himself in the right. A

robber who reasons as the gang do in the _Beggar's Opera_, who call

themselves _practical_ philosophers[1294], and may have as much sincerity

as pernicious _speculative_ philosophers, is not the less an object of

just indignation. An abandoned profligate may think that it is not wrong

to debauch my wife, but shall I, therefore, not detest him? And if I

catch him in making an attempt, shall I treat him with politeness? No, I

will kick him down stairs, or run him through the body; that is, if I

really love my wife, or have a true rational notion of honour. An

infidel then shall not be treated handsomely by a Christian, merely

because he endeavours to rob with ingenuity. I do declare, however, that

I am exceedingly unwilling to be provoked to anger, and could I be

persuaded that truth would not suffer from a cool moderation in its

defenders, I should wish to preserve good humour, at least, in every

controversy; nor, indeed, do I see why a man should lose his temper

while he does all he can to refute an opponent. I think ridicule may be

fairly used against an infidel; for instance, if he be an ugly fellow,

and yet absurdly vain of his person[1295], we may contrast his appearance

with Cicero's beautiful image of Virtue, could she be seen[1296]. Johnson

coincided with me and said, 'When a man voluntarily engages in an

important controversy, he is to do all he can to lessen his antagonist,

because authority from personal respect has much weight with most

people, and often more than reasoning[1297]. If my antagonist writes bad

language, though that may not be essential to the question, I will

attack him for his bad language.' ADAMS. 'You would not jostle a

chimney-sweeper.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, if it were necessary to jostle him

_down_.'

Dr. Adams told us, that in some of the Colleges at Oxford, the fellows

had excluded the students from social intercourse with them in the

common room[1298]. JOHNSON. 'They are in the right, Sir: there can be no

real conversation, no fair exertion of mind amongst them, if the young

men are by; for a man who has a character does not choose to stake it in

their presence.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, may there not be very good

conversation without a contest for superiority?' JOHNSON. 'No animated

conversation, Sir, for it cannot be but one or other will come off

superiour. I do not mean that the victor must have the better of the

argument, for he may take the weak side; but his superiority of parts

and knowledge will necessarily appear: and he to whom he thus shews

himself superiour is lessened in the eyes of the young men[1299]. You know

it was said, "_Mallem cum Scaligero errare quam cum Clavio recte

sapere_[1300]." In the same manner take Bentley's and Jason de Nores'

Comments upon Horace, you will admire Bentley more when wrong, than

Jason when right.'

We walked with Dr. Adams into the master's garden, and into the common

room. JOHNSON, (after a reverie of meditation,) 'Ay! Here I used to play

at draughts with Phil. Jones[1301] and Fludyer. Jones loved beer, and did

not get very forward in the church. Fludyer turned out a scoundrel[1302], a

Whig, and said he was ashamed of having been bred at Oxford. He had a

living at Putney, and got under the eye of some retainers to the court

at that time, and so became a violent Whig: but he had been a scoundrel

all along to be sure.' BOSWELL. 'Was he a scoundrel, Sir, in any other

way than that of being a political scoundrel? Did he cheat at draughts?'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, we never played for _money_.'

He then carried me to visit Dr. Bentham, Canon of Christ-Church, and

Divinity Professor, with whose learned and lively conversation we were

much pleased. He gave us an invitation to dinner, which Dr. Johnson told

me was a high honour. 'Sir, it is a great thing to dine with the Canons

of Christ-Church.' We could not accept his invitation, as we were

engaged to dine at University College. We had an excellent dinner there,

with the Master and Fellows, it being St. Cuthbert's day, which is kept

by them as a festival, as he was a saint of Durham, with which this

college is much connected[1303].

We drank tea with Dr. Home[1304], late President of Magdalen College, and

Bishop of Norwich, of whose abilities, in different respects, the

publick has had eminent proofs, and the esteem annexed to whose

character was increased by knowing him personally. He had talked of

publishing an edition of Walton's _Lives_[1305], but had laid aside that

design, upon Dr. Johnson's telling him, from mistake, that Lord Hailes

intended to do it. I had wished to negociate between Lord Hailes and

him, that one or other should perform so good a work. JOHNSON. 'In order

to do it well, it will be necessary to collect all the editions of

Walton's _Lives_. By way of adapting the book to the taste of the

present age, they have, in a later edition, left out a vision which he

relates Dr. Donne had[1306], but it should be restored; and there should be

a critical catalogue given of the works of the different persons whose

lives were written by Walton, and therefore their works must be

carefully read by the editor.'

We then went to Trinity College, where he introduced me to Mr. Thomas

Warton, with whom we passed a part of the evening. We talked of

biography.--JOHNSON. 'It is rarely well executed[1307]. They only who live

with a man can write his life with any genuine exactness and

discrimination; and few people who have lived with a man know what to

remark about him. The chaplain of a late Bishop[1308], whom I was to assist

in writing some memoirs of his Lordship, could tell me scarcely any

thing[1309].'

I said, Mr. Robert Dodsley's life should be written, as he had been so

much connected with the wits of his time[1310], and by his literary merit

had raised himself from the station of a footman. Mr. Warton said, he

had published a little volume under the title of _The Muse in Livery_

[1311]. JOHNSON. 'I doubt whether Dodsley's brother[1312] would thank a

man who should write his life: yet Dodsley himself was not unwilling that

his original low condition should be recollected. When Lord Lyttelton's

_Dialogues of the Dead_ came out, one of which is between Apicius, an

ancient epicure, and Dartineuf, a modern epicure, Dodsley said to me,

"I knew Dartineuf well, for I was once his footman[1313]."'

Biography led us to speak of Dr. John Campbell[1314], who had written a

considerable part of the _Biographia Britannica_. Johnson, though he

valued him highly, was of opinion that there was not so much in his

great work, _A Political Survey of Great Britain_, as the world had been

taught to expect[1315]; and had said to me, that he believed Campbell's

disappointment, on account of the bad success of that work, had killed

him. He this evening observed of it, 'That work was his death.' Mr.

Warton, not adverting to his meaning, answered, 'I believe so; from the

great attention he bestowed on it.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, he died of

_want_ of attention, if he died at all by that book.'

We talked of a work much in vogue at that time, written in a very

mellifluous style, but which, under pretext of another subject,

contained much artful infidelity[1316]. I said it was not fair to attack us

thus unexpectedly; he should have warned us of our danger, before we

entered his garden of flowery eloquence, by advertising, 'Spring guns

and men-traps set here[1317].' The authour had been an Oxonian, and was

remembered there for having 'turned Papist.' I observed, that as he had

changed several times--from the Church of England to the Church of

Rome,--from the Church of Rome to infidelity,--I did not despair yet of

seeing him a methodist preacher. JOHNSON, (laughing.) 'It is said, that

his range has been more extensive, and that he has once been

Mahometan[1318]. However, now that he has published his infidelity, he will

probably persist in it.' BOSWELL. 'I am not quite sure of that, Sir.'

I mentioned Sir Richard Steele having published his _Christian Hero_,

with the avowed purpose of obliging himself to lead a religious life[1319],

yet, that his conduct was by no means strictly suitable. JOHNSON.

'Steele, I believe, practised the lighter vices.'

Mr. Warton, being engaged, could not sup with us at our inn; we had

therefore another evening by ourselves. I asked Johnson, whether a

man's[1320] being forward to make himself known to eminent people, and

seeing as much of life, and getting as much information as he could in

every way, was not yet lessening himself by his forwardness. JOHNSON.

'No, Sir; a man always makes himself greater as he increases his

knowledge.'

I censured some ludicrous fantastick dialogues between two coach-horses

and other such stuff, which Baretti had lately published[1321]. He joined

with me, and said, 'Nothing odd will do long. _Tristram Shandy_ did not

last[1322].' I expressed a desire to be acquainted with a lady who had been

much talked of, and universally celebrated for extraordinary address and

insinuation[1323]. JOHNSON. 'Never believe extraordinary characters which

you hear of people. Depend upon it, Sir, they are exaggerated. You do

not see one man shoot a great deal higher than another.' I mentioned Mr.

Burke. JOHNSON. 'Yes; Burke is an extraordinary man. His stream of mind

is perpetual[1324].' It is very pleasing to me to record, that Johnson's

high estimation of the talents of this gentleman was uniform from their

early acquaintance. Sir Joshua Reynolds informs me, that when Mr. Burke

was first elected a member of Parliament, and Sir John Hawkins expressed

a wonder at his attaining a seat, Johnson said, 'Now we who know Mr.

Burke, know, that he will be one of the first men in this country[1325].'

And once, when Johnson was ill, and unable to exert himself as much as

usual without fatigue, Mr. Burke having been mentioned, he said, 'That

fellow calls forth all my powers. Were I to see Burke now it would kill

me[1326].' So much was he accustomed to consider conversation as a

contest[1327], and such was his notion of Burke as an opponent.

Next morning, Thursday, March 31, we set out in a post-chaise to pursue

our ramble. It was a delightful day, and we rode through Blenheim park.

When I looked at the magnificent bridge built by John Duke of

Marlborough, over a small rivulet, and recollected the Epigram made upon

it--

'The lofty arch his high ambition shows,

The stream, an emblem of his bounty flows[1328]:'

and saw that now, by the genius of Brown[1329], a magnificent body of water

was collected, I said, 'They have _drowned_ the Epigram.' I observed to

him, while in the midst of the noble scene around us, 'You and I, Sir,

have, I think, seen together the extremes of what can be seen in

Britain:--the wild rough island of Mull, and Blenheim park.'

We dined at an excellent inn at Chapel-house, where he expatiated on the

felicity of England in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the

French for not having, in any perfection, the tavern life. 'There is no

private house, (said he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so well,

as at a capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good

things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much

desire that every body should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot

be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. The master of

the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to

be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as

freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own[1330].

Whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are

sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble you

give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No

servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are

incited by the prospect of an immediate reward in proportion as they

please. No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man,

by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn[1331].'

He then repeated, with great emotion, Shenstone's lines:--

'Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,

Where'er his stages may have been,

May sigh to think he still has found

The warmest welcome at an inn[1332].'

My illustrious friend, I thought, did not sufficiently admire

Shenstone[1333]. That ingenious and elegant gentleman's opinion of Johnson

appears in one of his letters to Mr. Graves[1334], dated Feb. 9, 1760. 'I

have lately been reading one or two volumes of _The Rambler_; who,

excepting against some few hardnesses[1335] in his manner, and the want of

more examples to enliven, is one of the most nervous, most perspicuous,

most concise, [and] most harmonious prose writers I know. A learned

diction improves by time.'

In the afternoon, as we were driven rapidly along in the post-chaise, he

said to me 'Life has not many things better than this[1336].'

We stopped at Stratford-upon-Avon, and drank tea and coffee; and it

pleased me to be with him upon the classick ground of Shakspeare's

native place.

He spoke slightingly of Dyer's _Fleece_[1337].--'The subject, Sir, cannot

be made poetical. How can a man write poetically of serges and druggets?

Yet you will hear many people talk to you gravely of that _excellent_

poem, _The Fleece_.' Having talked of Grainger's _Sugar-Cane_, I

mentioned to him Mr. Langton's having told me, that this poem, when read

in manuscript at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, had made all the assembled wits

burst into a laugh, when, after much blank-verse pomp, the poet began a

new paragraph thus:--

'Now, Muse, let's sing of _rats_'

And what increased the ridicule was, that one of the company, who slily

overlooked the reader, perceived that the word had been originally

_mice_, and had been altered to _rats_, as more dignified[1338].

This passage does not appear in the printed work. Dr. Grainger, or some

of his friends, it should seem, having become sensible that introducing

even _Rats_ in a grave poem, might be liable to banter. He, however,

could not bring himself to relinquish the idea; for they are thus, in a

still more ludicrous manner, periphrastically exhibited in his poem as

it now stands:

'Nor with less waste the whisker'd vermin race

A countless clan despoil the lowland cane.'

Johnson said, that Dr. Grainger was an agreeable man; a man who would do

any good that was in his power. His translation of _Tibullus_, he

thought, was very well done; but _The Sugar-Cane_, a poem, did not

please him[1339]; for, he exclaimed, 'What could he make of a sugar-cane?

One might as well write the "Parsley-bed, a Poem;" or "The

Cabbage-garden, a Poem."' BOSWELL. 'You must then _pickle_ your cabbage

with the _sal atticum_.' JOHNSON. 'You know there is already _The

Hop-Garden_, a Poem[1340]: and, I think, one could say a great deal about

cabbage. The poem might begin with the advantages of civilised society

over a rude state, exemplified by the Scotch, who had no cabbages till

Oliver Cromwell's soldiers introduced them[1341]; and one might thus shew

how arts are propagated by conquest, as they were by the Roman arms.' He

seemed to be much diverted with the fertility of his own fancy.

I told him, that I heard Dr. Percy was writing the history of the wolf

in Great-Britain. JOHNSON. 'The wolf, Sir! why the wolf? Why does he not

write of the bear, which we had formerly? Nay, it is said we had the

beaver. Or why does he not write of the grey rat, the Hanover rat, as it

is called, because it is said to have come into this country about the

time that the family of Hanover came? I should like to see _The History

of the Grey Rat, by Thomas Percy, D.D., Chaplain in Ordinary to His

Majesty_,' (laughing immoderately). BOSWELL. 'I am afraid a court

chaplain could not decently write of the grey rat.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he

need not give it the name of the Hanover rat.' Thus could he indulge a

luxuriant sportive imagination, when talking of a friend whom he loved

and esteemed.

He mentioned to me the singular history of an ingenious acquaintance.

'He had practised physick in various situations with no great emolument.

A West-India gentleman, whom he delighted by his conversation, gave him

a bond for a handsome annuity during his life, on the condition of his

accompanying him to the West-Indies, and living with him there for two

years. He accordingly embarked with the gentleman; but upon the voyage

fell in love with a young woman who happened to be one of the

passengers, and married the wench. From the imprudence of his

disposition he quarrelled with the gentleman, and declared he would have

no connection with him. So he forfeited the annuity. He settled as a

physician in one of the Leeward Islands. A man was sent out to him

merely to compound his medicines. This fellow set up as a rival to him

in his practice of physick, and got so much the better of him in the

opinion of the people of the island that he carried away all the

business, upon which he returned to England, and soon after died.'

On Friday, March 22, having set out early from Henley[1342], where we had

lain the preceding night, we arrived at Birmingham about nine o'clock,

and, after breakfast, went to call on his old schoolfellow Mr.

Hector[1343]. A very stupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that 'her

master was gone out; he was gone to the country; she could not tell when

he would return.' In short, she gave us a miserable reception; and

Johnson observed, 'She would have behaved no better to people who wanted

him in the way of his profession.' He said to her, 'My name is Johnson;

tell him I called. Will you remember the name?' She answered with

rustick simplicity, in the Warwickshire pronunciation, 'I don't

understand you, Sir.'--'Blockhead, (said he,) I'll write.' I never heard

the word _blockhead_ applied to a woman before, though I do not see why

it should not, when there is evident occasion for it[1344]. He, however,

made another attempt to make her understand him, and roared loud in her

ear, '_Johnson_', and then she catched the sound.

We next called on Mr. Lloyd, one of the people called Quakers. He too

was not at home; but Mrs. Lloyd was, and received us courteously, and

asked us to dinner. Johnson said to me, 'After the uncertainty of all

human things at Hector's, this invitation came very well.' We walked

about the town, and he was pleased to see it increasing.

I talked of legitimation by subsequent marriage, which obtained in the

Roman law, and still obtains in the law of Scotland. JOHNSON. 'I think

it a bad thing; because the chastity of women being of the utmost

importance, as all property depends upon it, they who forfeit it should

not have any possibility of being restored to good character; nor should

the children, by an illicit connection, attain the full right of lawful

children, by the posteriour consent of the offending parties.' His

opinion upon this subject deserves consideration. Upon his principle

there may, at times, be a hardship, and seemingly a strange one, upon

individuals; but the general good of society is better secured. And,

after all, it is unreasonable in an individual to repine that he has not

the advantage of a state which is made different from his own, by the

social institution under which he is born. A woman does not complain

that her brother, who is younger than her, gets their common father's

estate. Why then should a natural son complain that a younger brother,

by the same parents lawfully begotten, gets it? The operation of law is

similar in both cases. Besides, an illegitimate son, who has a younger

legitimate brother by the same father and mother, has no stronger claim

to the father's estate, than if that legitimate brother had only the

same father, from whom alone the estate descends.

Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met _Friend

Hector_, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It gave me pleasure to observe the joy

which Johnson and he expressed on seeing each other again. Mr. Lloyd and

I left them together, while he obligingly shewed me some of the

manufactures of this very curious assemblage of artificers. We all met

at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, where we were entertained with great

hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had been married the same year with

their Majesties, and like them, had been blessed with a numerous family

of fine children, their numbers being exactly the same. Johnson said,

'Marriage is the best state for a man in general; and every man is a

worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married state.'

I have always loved the simplicity of manners, and the

spiritual-mindedness of the Quakers; and talking with Mr. Lloyd, I

observed, that the essential part of religion was piety, a devout

intercourse with the Divinity; and that many a man was a Quaker without

knowing it.

As Dr. Johnson had said to me in the morning, while we walked together,

that he liked individuals among the Quakers, but not the sect; when we

were at Mr. Lloyd's, I kept clear of introducing any questions

concerning the peculiarities of their faith. But I having asked to look

at Baskerville's edition of _Barclay's Apology_, Johnson laid hold of

it; and the chapter on baptism happening to open, Johnson remarked, 'He

says there is neither precept nor practice for baptism, in the

scriptures; that is false.' Here he was the aggressor, by no means in a

gentle manner; and the good Quakers had the advantage of him; for he had

read negligently, and had not observed that Barclay speaks of _infant_

baptism[1345]; which they calmly made him perceive. Mr. Lloyd, however, was

in as great a mistake; for when insisting that the rite of baptism by

water was to cease, when the _spiritual_ administration of CHRIST began,

he maintained, that John the Baptist said, '_My baptism_ shall decrease,

but _his_ shall increase.' Whereas the words are, '_He_ must increase,

but _I_ must decrease[1346].'

One of them having objected to the 'observance of days, and months, and

years,' Johnson answered, 'The Church does not superstitiously observe

days, merely as days, but as memorials of important facts. Christmas

might be kept as well upon one day of the year as another; but there

should be a stated day for commemorating the birth of our Saviour,

because there is danger that what may be done on any day, will be

neglected.'

He said to me at another time, 'Sir, the holidays observed by our church

are of great use in religion.' There can be no doubt of this, in a

limited sense, I mean if the number of such consecrated portions of time

be not too extensive. The excellent Mr. Nelson's[1347] _Festivals and

Fasts_, which has, I understand, the greatest sale of any book ever

printed in England, except the Bible, is a most valuable help to

devotion; and in addition to it I would recommend two sermons on the

same subject, by Mr. Pott, Archdeacon of St. Alban's, equally

distinguished for piety and elegance. I am sorry to have it to say, that

Scotland is the only Christian country, Catholick or Protestant, where

the great events of our religion are not solemnly commemorated by its

ecclesiastical establishment, on days set apart for the purpose.

Mr. Hector was so good as to accompany me to see the great works of Mr.

Bolton, at a place which he has called Soho, about two miles from

Birmingham, which the very ingenious proprietor shewed me himself to the

best advantage. I wish Johnson had been with us: for it was a scene

which I should have been glad to contemplate by his light[1348]. The

vastness and the contrivance of some of the machinery would have

'matched his mighty mind.' I shall never forget Mr. Bolton's expression

to me: 'I sell here, Sir, what all the world desires to have--POWER.' He

had about seven hundred people at work. I contemplated him as an _iron

chieftain_, and he seemed to be a father to his tribe. One of them came

to him, complaining grievously of his landlord for having distrained his

goods.' 'Your landlord is in the right, Smith, (said Bolton). But I'll

tell you what: find you a friend who will lay down one half of your

rent, and I'll lay down the other half; and you shall have your goods

again.'

From Mr. Hector I now learnt many particulars of Dr. Johnson's early

life, which, with others that he gave me at different times since, have

contributed to the formation of this work.

Dr. Johnson said to me in the morning, 'You will see, Sir, at Mr.

Hector's, his sister, Mrs. Careless[1349], a clergyman's widow. She was the

first woman with whom I was in love. It dropt out of my head

imperceptibly; but she and I shall always have a kindness for each

other.' He laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love

but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy.

On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. Hector took me to his house, where

we found Johnson sitting placidly at tea[1350], with his _first love_; who,

though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and

well-bred.

Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the state of one of their school-fellows,

Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which he thus described: 'He

obtained, I believe, considerable preferment in Ireland, but now lives

in London, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but

his own. He takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day. He has an

elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with him, and jogs his

elbow when his glass has stood too long empty, and encourages him in

drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets

drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy[1351]. He

confesses to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more.

He is quite unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical: and

when, at my last visit, I asked him what a clock it was? that signal of

my departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to look

at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.' When Johnson took

leave of Mr. Hector, he said, 'Don't grow like Congreve; nor let me grow

like him, when you are near me[1352].'

When he again talked of Mrs. Careless to-night, he seemed to have had

his affection revived; for he said, 'If I had married her, it might have

been as happy for me.[1353]' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, do you not suppose that

there are fifty women in the world, with any one of whom a man may be as

happy, as with any one woman in particular.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir, fifty

thousand.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you are not of opinion with some who

imagine that certain men and certain women are made for each other; and

that they cannot be happy if they miss their counterparts.' JOHNSON. 'To

be sure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general be as happy, and

often more so, if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due

consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties

having any choice in the matter.'

I wished to have staid at Birmingham to-night, to have talked more with

Mr. Hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native city; so we

drove on that stage in the dark, and were long pensive and silent. When

we came within the focus of the Lichfield lamps, 'Now (said he,) we are

getting out of a state of death.' We put up at the Three Crowns, not one

of the great inns, but a good old fashioned one, which was kept by Mr.

Wilkins, and was the very next house to that in which Johnson was born

and brought up, and which was still his own property[1354]. We had a

comfortable supper, and got into high spirits. I felt all my Toryism

glow in this old capital of Staffordshire. I could have offered incense

_genio loci_; and I indulged in libations of that ale, which Boniface,

in _The Beaux Stratagem_, recommends with such an eloquent jollity[1355].

Next morning he introduced me to Mrs. Lucy Porter, his step-daughter.

She was now an old maid, with much simplicity of manner. She had never

been in London. Her brother, a Captain in the navy, had left her a

fortune of ten thousand pounds; about a third of which she had laid out

in building a stately house, and making a handsome garden, in an

elevated situation in Lichfield. Johnson, when here by himself, used to

live at her house. She reverenced him, and he had a parental tenderness

for her[1356].

We then visited Mr. Peter Garrick, who had that morning received a

letter from his brother David, announcing our coming to Lichfield. He

was engaged to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to sleep at his house.

Johnson, however, would not quit his old acquaintance Wilkins, of the

Three Crowns. The family likeness of the Garricks was very striking[1357];

and Johnson thought that David's vivacity was not so peculiar to himself

as was supposed. 'Sir, (said he,) I don't know but if Peter had

cultivated all the arts of gaiety as much as David has done, he might

have been as brisk and lively. Depend upon it, Sir, vivacity is much an

art, and depends greatly on habit.' I believe there is a good deal of

truth in this, notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by a lady

abroad, of a heavy German baron, who had lived much with the young

English at Geneva, and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which

view, he, with assiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and

chairs in his lodgings; and when the people of the house ran in and

asked, with surprize, what was the matter, he answered, '_Sh' apprens

t'etre fif_.'

We dined at our inn, and had with us a Mr. Jackson[1358], one of Johnson's

schoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindness, though he seemed to

be a low man, dull and untaught. He had a coarse grey coat, black

waistcoat, greasy leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his

countenance had the ruddiness which betokens one who is in no haste to

'leave his can.' He drank only ale. He had tried to be a cutler at

Birmingham, but had not succeeded; and now he lived poorly at home, and

had some scheme of dressing leather in a better manner than common; to

his indistinct account of which, Dr. Johnson listened with patient

attention, that he might assist him with his advice. Here was an

instance of genuine humanity and real kindness in this great man, who

has been most unjustly represented as altogether harsh and destitute of

tenderness. A thousand such instances might have been recorded in the

course of his long life; though that his temper was warm and hasty, and

his manner often rough, cannot be denied.

I saw here, for the first time, _oat ale_; and oat cakes not hard as in

Scotland, but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were served at breakfast. It

was pleasant to me to find, that _Oats_, the _food of horses_[1359], were

so much used as the _food of the people_ in Dr. Johnson's own town. He

expatiated in praise of Lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said,

were 'the most sober, decent people[1360] in England, the genteelest in

proportion to their wealth, and spoke the purest English[1361].' I doubted

as to the last article of this eulogy: for they had several provincial

sounds; as _there_, pronounced like _fear_, instead of like _fair; once_

pronounced _woonse_, instead of _wunse_, or _wonse_. Johnson himself

never got entirely free of those provincial accents[1362]. Garrick

sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl,

with uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out,

'Who's for _poonsh_?[1363]'

Very little business appeared to be going forward in Lichfield. I found

however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-cloth and

streamers for ships; and I observed them making some saddle-cloths, and

dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the busy hand of industry

seemed to be quite slackened. 'Surely, Sir, (said I,) you are an idle

set of people.' 'Sir, (said Johnson,) we are a city of philosophers, we

work with our heads, and make the boobies of Birmingham[1364] work for us

with their hands.'

There was at this time a company of players performing at Lichfield. The

manager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compliments, and begged leave to wait on

Dr. Johnson. Johnson received him very courteously, and he drank a glass

of wine with us. He was a plain decent well-behaved man, and expressed

his gratitude to Dr. Johnson for having once got him permission from Dr.

Taylor at Ashbourne to play there upon moderate terms. Garrick's name

was soon introduced. JOHNSON. 'Garrick's conversation is gay and

grotesque. It is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. There is no

solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. Not but that he

has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, too, very powerful and very

pleasing: but it has not its full proportion in his conversation.'

When we were by ourselves he told me, 'Forty years ago, Sir, I was in

love with an actress here, Mrs. Emmet, who acted Flora, in _Hob in the

Well_[1365].' What merit this lady had as an actress, or what was her

figure, or her manner, I have not been informed: but, if we may believe

Mr. Garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was by no means

refined[1366]; he was not an _elegans formarum spectator_[1367]. Garrick

used to tell, that Johnson said of an actor, who played Sir Harry Wildair

[1368] at Lichfield, 'There is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;' when

in fact, according to Garrick's account, 'he was the most vulgar ruffian

that ever went upon _boards_.'

We had promised Mr. Stanton to be at his theatre on Monday. Dr. Johnson

jocularly proposed me to write a Prologue for the occasion: 'A Prologue,

by James Boswell, Esq. from the Hebrides.' I was really inclined to take

the hint. Methought, 'Prologue, spoken before Dr. Samuel Johnson, at

Lichfield, 1776;' would have sounded as well as, 'Prologue, spoken

before the Duke of York, at Oxford,' in Charles the Second's time. Much

might have been said of what Lichfield had done for Shakspeare, by

producing Johnson and Garrick. But I found he was averse to it.

We went and viewed the museum of Mr. Richard Green, apothecary here, who

told me he was proud of being a relation of Dr. Johnson's. It was,

truely, a wonderful collection, both of antiquities and natural

curiosities, and ingenious works of art. He had all the articles

accurately arranged, with their names upon labels, printed at his own

little press; and on the staircase leading to it was a board, with the

names of contributors marked in gold letters. A printed catalogue of the

collection was to be had at a bookseller's. Johnson expressed his

admiration of the activity and diligence and good fortune of Mr. Green,

in getting together, in his situation, so great a variety of things; and

Mr. Green told me that Johnson once said to him, 'Sir, I should as soon

have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting such a museum.'

Mr. Green's obliging alacrity in shewing it was very pleasing. His

engraved portrait, with which he has favoured me, has a motto truely

characteristical of his disposition, '_Nemo sibi vivat_.'

A physician being mentioned who had lost his practice, because his

whimsically changing his religion had made people distrustful of him, I

maintained that this was unreasonable, as religion is unconnected with

medical skill. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is not unreasonable; for when people

see a man absurd in what they understand, they may conclude the same of

him in what they do not understand. If a physician were to take to

eating of horse-flesh, nobody would employ him; though one may eat

horse-flesh, and be a very skilful physician. If a man were educated in

an absurd religion, his continuing to profess it would not hurt him,

though his changing to it would.'

We drank tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, where was Mrs. Aston,

one of the maiden sisters of Mrs. Walmsley, wife of Johnson's first

friend[1369], and sister also of the lady of whom Johnson used to speak

with the warmest admiration, by the name of Molly Aston[1370], who was

afterwards married to Captain Brodie of the navy.

On Sunday, March 24, we breakfasted with Mrs. Cobb, a widow lady, who

lived in an agreeable sequestered place close by the town, called the

Friary, it having been formerly a religious house. She and her niece,

Miss Adey, were great admirers of Dr. Johnson; and he behaved to them

with a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we see between old and

intimate acquaintance. He accompanied Mrs. Cobb to St. Mary's church,

and I went to the cathedral, where I was very much delighted with the

musick, finding it to be peculiarly solemn and accordant with the words

of the service.

We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively humour, and

verified Johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as much as

his brother David, he might have equally excelled in it. He was to-day

quite a London narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that

earnestness and attempt at mimicry which we usually find in the wits of

the metropolis. Dr. Johnson went with me to the cathedral in the

afternoon[1371]. It was grand and pleasing to contemplate this illustrious

writer, now full of fame, worshipping in the 'solemn temple[1372]' of his

native city.

I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and then found Dr.

Johnson at the Reverend Mr. Seward's[1373], Canon Residentiary, who

inhabited the Bishop's palace[1374], in which Mr. Walmsley lived, and which

had been the scene of many happy hours in Johnson's early life. Mr.

Seward had, with ecclesiastical hospitality and politeness, asked me in

the morning, merely as a stranger, to dine with him; and in the

afternoon, when I was introduced to him, he asked Dr. Johnson and me to

spend the evening and sup with him. He was a genteel well-bred dignified

clergyman, had travelled with Lord Charles Fitzroy, uncle of the present

Duke of Grafton, who died when abroad, and he had lived much in the

great world. He was an ingenious and literary man, had published an

edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, and written verses in Dodsley's

collection. His lady was the daughter of Mr. Hunter, Johnson's first

schoolmaster. And now, for the first time, I had the pleasure of seeing

his celebrated daughter, Miss Anna Seward, to whom I have since been

indebted for many civilities, as well as some obliging communications

concerning Johnson[1375].

Mr. Seward mentioned to us the observations which he had made upon the

strata of earth in volcanos, from which it appeared, that they were so

very different in depth at different periods, that no calculation

whatever could be made as to the time required for their formation. This

fully refuted an antimosaical remark introduced into Captain Brydone's

entertaining tour, I hope heedlessly, from a kind of vanity which is too

common in those who have not sufficiently studied the most important of

all subjects. Dr. Johnson, indeed, had said before, independent of this

observation, 'Shall all the accumulated evidence of the history of the

world;--shall the authority of what is unquestionably the most ancient

writing, be overturned by an uncertain remark such as this?[1376]'

On Monday, March 25, we breakfasted at Mrs. Lucy Porter's. Johnson had

sent an express to Dr. Taylor's, acquainting him of our being at

Lichfield[1377], and Taylor had returned an answer that his postchaise

should come for us this day. While we sat at breakfast, Dr. Johnson

received a letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him very much.

When he had read it, he exclaimed, 'One of the most dreadful things that

has happened in my time.' The phrase _my time_, like the word _age_, is

usually understood to refer to an event of a publick or general nature.

I imagined something like an assassination of the King--like a gunpowder

plot carried into execution--or like another fire of London. When asked,

'What is it, Sir?' he answered, 'Mr. Thrale has lost his only son![1378]'

This was, no doubt, a very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale,

which their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner in

which the intelligence of it was communicated by Johnson, it appeared

for the moment to be comparatively small. I, however, soon felt a

sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how Dr. Johnson would be

affected. He said, 'This is a total extinction to their family, as much

as if they were sold into captivity.' Upon my mentioning that Mr. Thrale

had daughters, who might inherit his wealth;--'Daughters, (said Johnson,

warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than--'I was going to

speak.--'Sir, (said he,) don't you know how you yourself think? Sir, he

wishes to propagate his name[1379].' In short, I saw male succession strong

in his mind, even where there was no name, no family of any long

standing. I said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune

happened. JOHNSON. 'It is lucky for _me_. People in distress never think

that you feel enough.' BOSWELL. 'And Sir, they will have the hope of

seeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time; and when you get to

them, the pain will be so far abated, that they will be capable of being

consoled by you, which, in the first violence of it, I believe, would

not be the case.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; violent pain of mind, like violent

pain of body, _must_ be severely felt.' BOSWELL. 'I own, Sir, I have not

so much feeling for the distress of others, as some people have, or

pretend to have: but I know this, that I would do all in my power to

relieve them.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is affectation to pretend to feel the

distress of others, as much as they do themselves. It is equally so, as

if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is

cutting off, as he does. No, Sir; you have expressed the rational and

just nature of sympathy. I would have gone to the extremity of the earth

to have preserved this boy[1380].'

He was soon quite calm. The letter was from Mr. Thrale's clerk, and

concluded, 'I need not say how much they wish to see you in London.' He

said, 'We shall hasten back from Taylor's.'

Mrs. Lucy Porter and some other ladies of the place talked a great deal

of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration but

affection. It pleased me to find that he was so much _beloved_ in his

native city.

Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the preceding night, and her sister, Mrs.

Gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and pleasure-ground,

prettily situated upon Stowhill, a gentle eminence, adjoining to

Lichfield. Johnson walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myself

without any apology; I wondered at this want of that facility of

manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a friend to a

house where he is intimate; I felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in

solitude in a country town, where I was an entire stranger, and began to

think myself unkindly deserted: but I was soon relieved, and convinced

that my friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted

the matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following note in

his handwriting: 'Mrs. Gastrel, at the lower house on Stowhill, desires

Mr. Boswell's company to dinner at two.' I accepted of the invitation,

and had here another proof how amiable his character was in the opinion

of those who knew him best. I was not informed, till afterwards, that

Mrs. Gastrel's husband was the clergyman who, while he lived at

Stratford upon Avon, where he was proprietor of Shakspeare's garden,

with Gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-tree[1381], and, as Dr.

Johnson told me, did it to vex his neighbours. His lady, I have reason

to believe, on the same authority[1382], participated in the guilt of what

the enthusiasts for our immortal bard deem almost a species of

sacrilege.

After dinner Dr. Johnson wrote a letter to Mrs. Thrale on the death of

her son[1383]. I said it would be very distressing to Thrale, but she would

soon forget it, as she had so many things to think of. JOHNSON. 'No,

Sir, Thrale will forget it first. _She_ has many things that she _may_

think of. _He_ has many things that he _must_ think of[1384].' This was a

very just remark upon the different effect of those light pursuits which

occupy a vacant and easy mind, and those serious engagements which

arrest attention, and keep us from brooding over grief.

He observed of Lord Bute, 'It was said of Augustus, that it would have

been better for Rome that he had never been born, or had never died. So

it would have been better for this nation if Lord Bute had never been

minister, or had never resigned.'

In the evening we went to the Town-hall, which was converted into a

temporary theatre, and saw _Theodosius_, with _The Stratford Jubilee_. I

was happy to see Dr. Johnson sitting in a conspicuous part of the pit,

and receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance. We were

quite gay and merry. I afterwards mentioned to him that I condemned

myself for being so, when poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were in such

distress. JOHNSON. 'You are wrong, Sir; twenty years hence Mr. and Mrs.

Thrale will not suffer much pain from the death of their son. Now, Sir,

you are to consider, that distance of place, as well as distance of

time, operates upon the human feelings. I would not have you be gay in

the presence of the distressed, because it would shock them; but you may

be gay at a distance. Pain for the loss of a friend, or of a relation

whom we love, is occasioned by the want which we feel. In time the

vacuity is filled with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes

up of itself.'

Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearson, another clergyman here, supt with us at our

inn, and after they left us, we sat up late as we used to do in London.

Here I shall record some fragments of my friend's conversation during

this jaunt.

'Marriage, Sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman; for he

is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts. You will

recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that I had often

wondered why young women should marry, as they have so much more

freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while unmarried, than

when married. I indeed did not mention the _strong_ reason for their

marrying--the _mechanical_ reason.' BOSWELL. 'Why that _is_ a strong

one. But does not imagination make it much more important than it is in

reality? Is it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in us as well as in

women?' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but it is a delusion that is always

beginning again.' BOSWELL. 'I don't know but there is upon the whole

more misery than happiness produced by that passion.' JOHNSON. 'I don't

think so, Sir.'

'Never speak of a man in his own presence. It is always indelicate, and

may be offensive.'

'Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen[1385]. It is

assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong to question a man

concerning himself. There may be parts of his former life which he may

not wish to be made known to other persons, or even brought to his own

recollection.'

'A man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own

disadvantage. People may be amused and laugh at the time, but they will

be remembered, and brought out against him upon some subsequent

occasion.'

'Much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular object.

By doing so, Norton[1386] has made himself the great lawyer that he is

allowed to be.'

I mentioned an acquaintance of mine[1387], a sectary, who was a very

religious man, who not only attended regularly on publick worship with

those of his communion, but made a particular study of the Scriptures,

and even wrote a commentary on some parts of them, yet was known to be

very licentious in indulging himself with women; maintaining that men

are to be saved by faith alone, and that the Christian religion had not

prescribed any fixed rule for the intercourse between the sexes.

JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no trusting to that crazy piety.'

I observed that it was strange how well Scotchmen were known to one

another in their own country, though born in very distant counties; for

we do not find that the gentlemen of neighbouring counties in England

are mutually known to each other. Johnson, with his usual acuteness, at

once saw and explained the reason of this; 'Why, Sir, you have

Edinburgh, where the gentlemen from all your counties meet, and which is

not so large but they are all known. There is no such common place of

collection in England, except London, where from its great size and

diffusion, many of those who reside in contiguous counties of England,

may long remain unknown to each other.'

On Tuesday, March 26, there came for us an equipage properly suited to a

wealthy well-beneficed clergyman;--Dr. Taylor's large roomy post-chaise,

drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly

postillions, which conveyed us to Ashbourne; where I found my friend's

schoolfellow living upon an establishment perfectly corresponding with

his substantial creditable equipage: his house, garden,

pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing good, and no scantiness

appearing. Every man should form such a plan of living as he can execute

completely. Let him not draw an outline wider than he can fill up. I

have seen many skeletons of shew and magnificence which excite at once

ridicule and pity. Dr. Taylor had a good estate of his own, and good

preferment in the church[1388], being a prebendary of Westminster, and

rector of Bosworth. He was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided

over the town of Ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he

was very liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had

the preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them

as stood in need of his assistance. He had consequently a considerable

political interest in the county of Derby, which he employed to support

the Devonshire family; for though the schoolfellow and friend of

Johnson, he was a Whig. I could not perceive in his character much

congeniality of any sort with that of Johnson, who, however, said to me,

'Sir, he has a very strong understanding[1389].' His size, and figure, and

countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty English 'Squire, with the

parson super-induced: and I took particular notice of his upper servant,

Mr. Peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white

wig, like the butler or _major domo_ of a Bishop.

Dr. Johnson and Dr. Taylor met with great cordiality; and Johnson soon

gave him the same sad account of their school-fellow, Congreve, that he

had given to Mr. Hector[1390]; adding a remark of such moment to the

rational conduct of a man in the decline of life, that it deserves to be

imprinted upon every mind: 'There is nothing against which an old man

should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to nurse[1391].'

Innumerable have been the melancholy instances of men once distinguished

for firmness, resolution, and spirit, who in their latter days have been

governed like children, by interested female artifice.

Dr. Taylor commended a physician who was known to him and Dr. Johnson,

and said, 'I fight many battles for him, as many people in the country

dislike him.' JOHNSON. 'But you should consider, Sir, that by every one

of your victories he is a loser; for, every man of whom you get the

better, will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him; whereas if

people get the better of you in argument about him, they'll think,

"We'll send for Dr. ----[1392] nevertheless."' This was an observation deep

and sure in human nature.

Next day we talked of a book[1393] in which an eminent judge was arraigned

before the bar of the publick, as having pronounced an unjust decision

in a great cause. Dr. Johnson maintained that this publication would not

give any uneasiness to the judge. 'For (said he,) either he acted

honestly, or he meant to do injustice. If he acted honestly, his own

consciousness will protect him; if he meant to do injustice, he will be

glad to see the man who attacks him, so much vexed,'

Next day, as Dr. Johnson had acquainted Dr. Taylor of the reason for his

returning speedily to London, it was resolved that we should set out

after dinner. A few of Dr. Taylor's neighbours were his guests that day.

Dr. Johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the state

of the philosophical wise man, that is, to have no want of any thing.

'Then, Sir, (said I,) the savage is a wise man.' 'Sir, (said he,) I do

not mean simply being without,--but not having a want.' I maintained,

against this proposition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for

instance, than not to feel the want of them. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; fine

clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of

procuring respect. Was Charles the Twelfth, think you, less respected

for his coarse blue coat and black stock[1394]? And you find the King of

Prussia dresses plain, because the dignity of his character is

sufficient.' I here brought myself into a scrape, for I heedlessly said,

'Would not _you_, Sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your

opponent himself. Have you no better manners? There is _your want_.' I

apologised by saying, I had mentioned him as an instance of one who

wanted as little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might

receive some additional lustre from dress.

APPENDIX A.

(Page 17.)

In the Bodleian is the following autograph record by Johnson of Good

Friday, March 28, Easter Sunday, March 30, and May 4, 1766, and the copy

of the record of Saturday, March 29. They belong to the series published

by the Rev. Mr. Strahan under the title of _Prayers and Meditations_,

but they are not included in it.

'Good Friday, March 28, 1766.--On the night before I used proper

Collects, and prayed when I arose in the morning. I had all the week an

awe upon me, not thinking on Passion week till I looked in the almanack.

I have wholly forborne M [? meat] and wines, except one glass on Sunday

night.

'In the morning I rose, and drank very small tea without milk, and had

nothing more that day.

'This was the day on which Tetty died. I did not mingle much men [?

mention] of her with the devotions of this day, because it is dedicated

to more holy subjects. I mentioned her at church, and prayed once

solemnly at home. I was twice at church, and went through the prayers

without perturbation, but heard the sermons imperfectly. I came in both

times at the second lesson, not hearing the bell.

'When I came home I read the Psalms for the day, and one sermon in

Clark. Scruples distract me, but at church I had hopes to conquer them.

'I bore abstinence this day not well, being at night insupportably

heavy, but as fasting does not produce sleepyness, I had perhaps rested

ill the night before. I prayed in my study for the day, and prayed again

in my chamber. I went to bed very early--before eleven.

'After church I selected collects for the Sacraments.

'Finding myself upon recollection very ignorant of religion, I formed a

purpose of studying it.

'I went down and sat to tea, but was too heavy to converse.

'Saturday, 29.--I rose at the time now usual, not fully refreshed. Went

to tea. A sudden thought of restraint hindered me. I drank but one dish.

Took a purge for my health. Still uneasy. Prayed, and went to dinner.

Dined sparingly on fish [added in different ink] about four. Went to

Simpson. Was driven home by my physick. Drank tea, and am much

refreshed. I believe that if I had drank tea again yesterday, I had

escaped the heaviness of the evening. Fasting that produces inability is

no duty, but I was unwilling to do less than formerly.

'I had lived more abstemiously than is usual the whole week, and taken

physick twice, which together made the fast more uneasy.

'Thus much I have written medically, to show that he who can fast long

must have lived plentifully.

'Saturday, March 29, 1766.--I was yesterday very heavy. I do not feel

myself to-day so much impressed with awe of the approaching mystery. I

had this day a doubt, like Baxter, of my state, and found that my faith,

though weak, was yet faith. O God! strengthen it.

'Since the last reception of the sacrament I hope I have no otherwise

grown worse than as continuance in sin makes the sinner's condition more

dangerous.

'Since last New Year's Eve I have risen every morning by eight, at least

not after nine, which is more superiority over my habits than I have

ever before been able to obtain. Scruples still distress me. My

resolution, with the blessing of God, is to contend with them, and, if I

can, to conquer them.

'My resolutions are--

'To conquer scruples.

'To read the Bible this year.

'To try to rise more early.

'To study Divinity.

'To live methodically.

'To oppose idleness.

'To frequent Divine worship.

'Almighty and most merciful Father! before whom I now appear laden with

the sins of another year, suffer me yet again to call upon Thee for

pardon and peace.

'O God! grant me repentance, grant me reformation. Grant that I may be

no longer distracted with doubts, and harassed with vain terrors. Grant

that I may no longer linger in perplexity, nor waste in idleness that

life which Thou hast given and preserved. Grant that I may serve Thee in

firm faith and diligent endeavour, and that I may discharge the duties

of my calling with tranquillity and constancy. Take not, O God, Thy holy

Spirit from me: but grant that I may so direct my life by Thy holy laws,

as that, when Thou shalt call me hence, I may pass by a holy and happy

death to a life of everlasting and unchangeable joy, for the sake of

Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

'I went to bed (at) one or later; but did not sleep, tho' I knew not

why.

'Easter Day, March 30, 1766.--I rose in the morning. Prayed. Took my

prayer book to tea; drank tea; planned my devotion for the church. I

think prayed again. Went to church, was early. Went through the prayers

with fixed attention. Could not hear the sermon. After sermon, applied

myself to devotion. Troubled with Baxter's scruple, which was quieted as

I returned home. It occurred to me that the scruple itself was its own

confutation.

'I used the prayer against scruples in the foregoing page in the pew,

and commended (so far as it was lawful) Tetty, dear Tetty, in a prayer

by herself, then my other friends. What collects I do not exactly

remember. I gave a shilling. I then went towards the altar that I might

hear the service. The communicants were more than I ever saw. I kept

back; used again the foregoing prayer; again commended Tetty, and lifted

up my heart for the rest. I prayed in the collect for the fourteen S.

after Trinity for encrease of Faith, Hope, and Charity, and deliverance

from scruples; this deliverance was the chief subject of my prayers. O

God, hear me. I am now to try to conquer them. After reception I

repeated my petition, and again when I came home. My dinner made me a

little peevish; not much. After dinner I retired, and read in an hour

and a half the seven first chapters of St. Matthew in Greek. Glory be to

God. God grant me to proceed and improve, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.

'I went to Evening Prayers, and was undisturbed. At church in the

morning it occurred to me to consider about example of good any of my

friends had set me. This is proper, in order to the thanks returned for

their good examples.

'My attainment of rising gives me comfort and hope. O God, for Jesus

Christ's sake, bless me. Amen.

'After church, before and after dinner, I read Rotheram on Faith.

'After evening prayer I retired, and wrote this account.

'I then repeated the prayer of the day, with collects, and my prayer for

night, and went down to supper at near ten.

'May 4,--66. I have read since the noon of Easter day the Gospels of St.

Matthew and St. Mark in Greek.

'I have read Xenophon's Cyropaidia.'