'May GOD ALMIGHTY bless and reward, with his choicest comforts, your
philanthropick actions, and enable me at all times to express what I
feel of the high and uncommon obligations which I owe to the _first man_
in our times.'
On Sunday, June 22, he writes, begging Dr. Johnson's assistance in
framing a supplicatory letter to his Majesty:--
'If his Majesty could be moved of his royal clemency to spare me and my
family the horrours and ignominy of a _publick death_, which the publick
itself is solicitous to wave, and to grant me in some silent distant
corner of the globe, to pass the remainder of my days in penitence and
prayer, I would bless his clemency and be humbled.'
This letter was brought to Dr. Johnson when in church. He stooped down
and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for Dr.
Dodd to the King:--
'SIR,
'May it not offend your Majesty, that the most miserable of men applies
himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last refuge; that
your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom
your Laws and Judges have condemned to the horrour and ignominy of a
publick execution.
'I confess the crime, and own the enormity of its consequences, and the
danger of its example. Nor have I the confidence to petition for
impunity; but humbly hope, that publick security may be established,
without the spectacle of a clergyman dragged through the streets, to a
death of infamy, amidst the derision of the profligate and profane; and
that justice may be satisfied with irrevocable exile, perpetual
disgrace, and hopeless penury.
'My life, Sir, has not been useless to mankind. I have benefited many.
But my offences against GOD are numberless, and I have had little time
for repentance. Preserve me, Sir, by your prerogative of mercy, from the
necessity of appearing unprepared at that tribunal, before which Kings
and Subjects must stand at last together. Permit me to hide my guilt in
some obscure corner of a foreign country, where, if I can ever attain
confidence to hope that my prayers will be heard, they shall be poured
with all the fervour of gratitude for the life and happiness of your
Majesty. I am, Sir,
'Your Majesty's, &c.'
Subjoined to it was written as follows:
'To DR. DODD.
'SIR,
'I most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all known that I have
written this letter, and to return the copy to Mr. Allen in a cover to
me. I hope I need not tell you, that I wish it success.--But do not
indulge hope.--Tell nobody.'
It happened luckily that Mr. Allen was pitched on to assist in this
melancholy office, for he was a great friend of Mr. Akerman, the keeper
of Newgate. Dr. Johnson never went to see Dr. Dodd. He said to me, 'it
would have done _him_ more harm, than good to Dodd, who once expressed a
desire to see him, but not earnestly.'
Dr. Johnson, on the 20th of June, wrote the following letter:
'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES JENKINSON.
'SIR,
'Since the conviction and condemnation of Dr. Dodd, I have had, by the
intervention of a friend, some intercourse with him, and I am sure I
shall lose nothing in your opinion by tenderness and commiseration.
Whatever be the crime, it is not easy to have any knowledge of the
delinquent, without a wish that his life may be spared; at least when no
life has been taken away by him. I will, therefore, take the liberty of
suggesting some reasons for which I wish this unhappy being to escape
the utmost rigour of his sentence.
'He is, so far as I can recollect, the first clergyman of our church who
has suffered publick execution for immorality; and I know not whether it
would not be more for the interest of religion to bury such an offender
in the obscurity of perpetual exile, than to expose him in a cart, and
on the gallows, to all who for any reason are enemies to the clergy.
'The supreme power has, in all ages, paid some attention to the voice of
the people; and that voice does not least deserve to be heard, when it
calls out for mercy. There is now a very general desire that Dodd's life
should be spared. More is not wished; and, perhaps, this is not too much
to be granted.
'If you, Sir, have any opportunity of enforcing these reasons, you may,
perhaps, think them worthy of consideration: but whatever you determine,
I most respectfully intreat that you will be pleased to pardon for this
intrusion, Sir,
'Your most obedient
'And most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
It has been confidently circulated, with invidious remarks, that to this
letter no attention whatever was paid by Mr. Jenkinson (afterwards Earl
of Liverpool[416]), and that he did not even deign to shew the common
civility of owning the receipt of it. I could not but wonder at such
conduct in the noble Lord, whose own character and just elevation in
life, I thought, must have impressed him with all due regard for great
abilities and attainments. As the story had been much talked of, and
apparently from good authority, I could not but have animadverted upon
it in this work, had it been as was alleged; but from my earnest love of
truth, and having found reason to think that there might be a mistake, I
presumed to write to his Lordship, requesting an explanation; and it is
with the sincerest pleasure that I am enabled to assure the world, that
there is no foundation for it, the fact being, that owing to some
neglect, or accident, Johnson's letter never came to Lord Hawkesbury's
hands. I should have thought it strange indeed, if that noble Lord had
undervalued my illustrious friend; but instead of this being the case,
his Lordship, in the very polite answer with which he was pleased
immediately to honour me, thus expresses himself:--'I have always
respected the memory of Dr. Johnson, and admire his writings; and I
frequently read many parts of them with pleasure and great improvement.'
All applications for the Royal Mercy having failed, Dr. Dodd prepared
himself for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnson
as follows:
'June 25, _Midnight_.
'Accept, thou _great_ and _good_ heart, my earnest and fervent thanks
and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts in my behalf.--Oh!
Dr. Johnson! as I sought your knowledge at an early hour in life, would
to heaven I had cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a
man!--I pray GOD most sincerely to bless you with the highest
transports--the infelt satisfaction of _humane_ and benevolent
exertions!--And admitted, as I trust I shall be, to the realms of bliss
before you, I shall hail _your_ arrival there with transports, and
rejoice to acknowledge that you was my Comforter, my Advocate and my
_Friend_! GOD _be ever_ with _you_!'
Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd this solemn and soothing
letter:
'To THE REVEREND DR. DODD.
'DEAR SIR,
'That which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you. Outward
circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below the notice of
an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the
Supreme Judge of heaven and earth. Be comforted: your crime, morally or
religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude. It corrupted
no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. It involved only a
temporary and reparable injury. Of this, and of all other sins, you are
earnestly to repent; and may GOD, who knoweth our frailty, and desireth
not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his Son JESUS
CHRIST our Lord.
'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so
emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions
one petition for my eternal welfare. I am, dear Sir,
'Your affectionate servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'June 26, 1777.'
Under the copy of this letter I found written, in Johnson's own hand,
'Next day, June 27, he was executed.'
To conclude this interesting episode with an useful application, let us
now attend to the reflections of Johnson at the end of the _Occasional
Papers_, concerning the unfortunate Dr. Dodd:
'Such were the last thoughts of a man whom we have seen exulting in
popularity, and sunk in shame. For his reputation, which no man can give
to himself, those who conferred it are to answer. Of his publick
ministry the means of judging were sufficiently attainable. He must be
allowed to preach well, whose sermons strike his audience with forcible
conviction. Of his life, those who thought it consistent with his
doctrine, did not originally form false notions. He was at first what he
endeavoured to make others; but the world broke down his resolution, and
he in time ceased to exemplify his own instructions.
'Let those who are tempted to his faults, tremble at his punishment; and
those whom he impressed from the pulpit with religious sentiments,
endeavour to confirm them, by considering the regret and self-abhorrence
with which he reviewed in prison his deviations from rectitude.'
Johnson gave us this evening, in his happy discriminative manner, a
portrait of the late Mr. Fitzherbert, of Derbyshire. 'There was (said
he) no sparkle, no brilliancy in Fitzherbert; but I never knew a man who
was so generally acceptable[417]. He made every body quite easy,
overpowered nobody by the superiority of his talents, made no man think
worse of himself by being his rival, seemed always to listen, did not
oblige you to hear much from him, and did not oppose what you said.
Every body liked him; but he had no friend, as I understand the word,
nobody with whom he exchanged intimate thoughts[418]. People were willing
to think well of every thing about him. A gentleman was making an
affected rant, as many people do, of great feelings about "his dear
son," who was at school near London; how anxious he was lest he might be
ill, and what he would give to see him. "Can't you (said Fitzherbert,)
take a post-chaise and go to him." This, to be sure, _finished_ the
affected man, but there was not much in it[419]. However, this was
circulated as wit for a whole winter, and I believe part of a summer
too; a proof that he was no very witty man. He was an instance of the
truth of the observation, that a man will please more upon the whole by
negative qualities than by positive; by never offending, than by giving
a great deal of delight. In the first place, men hate more steadily than
they love; and if I have said something to hurt a man once, I shall not
get the better of this, by saying many things to please him[420].'
Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson having mentioned to me the
extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by Dr. Taylor, I rode
out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had
sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been
offered a hundred and thirty[421]. Taylor thus described to me his old
schoolfellow and friend, Johnson: 'He is a man of a very clear head,
great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no
disputing with him. He will not hear you, and having a louder voice than
you, must roar you down.'
In the afternoon I tried to get Dr. Johnson to like the Poems of Mr.
Hamilton of Bangour[422], which I had brought with me: I had been much
pleased with them at a very early age; the impression still remained on
my mind; it was confirmed by the opinion of my friend the Honourable
Andrew Erskine, himself both a good poet[423] and a good critick, who
thought Hamilton as true a poet as ever wrote, and that his not having
fame was unaccountable. Johnson, upon repeated occasions, while I was at
Ashbourne, talked slightingly of Hamilton. He said there was no power of
thinking in his verses, nothing that strikes one, nothing better than
what you generally find in magazines; and that the highest praise they
deserved was, that they were very well for a gentleman to hand about
among his friends. He said the imitation of _Ne sit ancillæ tibi
amor_[424], &c. was too solemn; he read part of it at the beginning. He
read the beautiful pathetick song, _Ah the poor shepherd's mournful
fate_, and did not seem to give attention to what I had been used to
think tender elegant strains, but laughed at the rhyme, in Scotch
pronunciation, _wishes and blushes_[425], reading _wushes_--and there he
stopped. He owned that the epitaph on Lord Newhall was pretty well done.
He read the _Inscription in a Summer-house_, and a little of the
imitations of Horace's _Epistles_; but said he found nothing to make him
desire to read on. When I urged that there were some good poetical
passages in the book. 'Where (said he,) will you find so large a
collection without some?' I thought the description of Winter might
obtain his approbation:
'See[426] Winter, from the frozen north
Drives his iron chariot forth!
His grisly hand in icy chains
Fair Tweeda's silver flood constrains,' &c.
He asked why an '_iron_ chariot'? and said 'icy chains' was an old
image[427]. I was struck with the uncertainty of taste, and somewhat sorry
that a poet whom I had long read with fondness, was not approved by Dr.
Johnson. I comforted myself with thinking that the beauties were too
delicate for his robust perceptions. Garrick maintained that he had not
a taste for the finest productions of genius: but I was sensible, that
when he took the trouble to analyse critically, he generally convinced
us that he was right.
In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward[428], of Lichfield, who was
passing through Ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. Johnson
described him thus:--'Sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he
goes to Buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen
to him. And, Sir, he is valetudinarian, one of those who are always
mending themselves. I do not know a more disagreeable character than a
valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and
indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the
state of a hog in a stye[429].'
Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had
omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's
interval. Dr. Johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick[430],
disapproved much of periodical bleeding[431]. 'For (said he) you accustom
yourself to an evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herself, and
therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any
other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. You may
accustom yourself to other periodical evacuations, because should you
omit them, Nature can supply the omission; but Nature cannot open a vein
to blood you.'--'I do not like to take an emetick, (said Taylor,) for
fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'Poh! (said Johnson,) if you have
so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once,
and there's an end on't. You will break no small vessels' (blowing with
high derision).
I mentioned to Dr. Johnson, that David Hume's persisting in his
infidelity, when he was dying, shocked me much. JOHNSON. 'Why should it
shock you, Sir? Hume owned he had never read the New Testament with
attention. Here then was a man, who had been at no pains to inquire into
the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other
way. It was not to be expected that the prospect of death would alter
his way of thinking, unless GOD should send an angel to set him right.'
I said, I had reason to believe that the thought of annihilation gave
Hume no pain. JOHNSON. 'It was not so, Sir[432]. He had a vanity in being
thought easy. It is more probable that he should assume an appearance of
ease, than that so very improbable a thing should be, as a man not
afraid of going (as, in spite of his delusive theory, he cannot be sure
but he may go,) into an unknown state, and not being uneasy at leaving
all he knew. And you are to consider, that upon his own principle of
annihilation he had no motive to speak the truth.' The horrour of death
which I had always observed in Dr. Johnson, appeared strong to-night. I
ventured to tell him, that I had been, for moments in my life, not
afraid of death; therefore I could suppose another man in that state of
mind for a considerable space of time. He said, 'he never had a moment
in which death was not terrible to him[433].' He added, that it had been
observed, that scarce any man[434] dies in publick, but with apparent
resolution; from that desire of praise which never quits us. I said, Dr.
Dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 'Sir,
(said he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to
have lived. The better a man is, the more afraid he is of death, having
a clearer view of infinite purity.' He owned, that our being in an
unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'Ah!
we must wait till we are in another state of being, to have many things
explained to us.' Even the powerful mind of Johnson seemed foiled by
futurity. But I thought, that the gloom of uncertainty in solemn
religious speculation, being mingled with hope, was yet more consolatory
than the emptiness of infidelity. A man can live in thick air, but
perishes in an exhausted receiver.
Dr. Johnson was much pleased with a remark which I told him was made to
me by General Paoli:--'That it is impossible not to be afraid of death;
and that those who at the time of dying are not afraid, are not thinking
of death, but of applause, or something else, which keeps death out of
their sight: so that all men are equally afraid of death when they see
it; only some have a power of turning their sight away from it better
than others[435].'
On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. Butter, physician at Derby, drank tea
with us; and it was settled that Dr. Johnson and I should go on Friday
and dine with him. Johnson said, 'I'm glad of this.' He seemed weary of
the uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's.
Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities
should be mentioned, because they mark his character. JOHNSON. 'Sir,
there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's
vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned
that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more
easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be
done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth[436].' Here was
an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes
and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I
well remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A
_Panegyrick_, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to
write _A Life_, he must represent it really as it was:' and when I
objected to the danger of telling that Parnell drank to excess, he said,
that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it
was seen, that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be debased
by it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my
_Journal_[437], that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if
he writes his life[438].
He had this evening, partly, I suppose, from the spirit of contradiction
to his Whig friend, a violent argument with Dr. Taylor, as to the
inclinations of the people of England at this time towards the Royal
Family of Stuart. He grew so outrageous as to say, 'that, if England
were fairly polled, the present King would be sent away to-night, and
his adherents hanged to-morrow.' Taylor, who was as violent a Whig as
Johnson was a Tory, was roused by this to a pitch of bellowing. He
denied, loudly, what Johnson said; and maintained, that there was an
abhorrence against the Stuart family, though he admitted that the people
were not much attached to the present King[439]. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the state
of the country is this: the people knowing it to be agreed on all hands
that this King has not the hereditary right to the crown, and there
being no hope that he who has it can be restored, have grown cold and
indifferent upon the subject of loyalty, and have no warm attachment to
any King. They would not, therefore, risk any thing to restore the
exiled family. They would not give twenty shillings a piece to bring it
about. But, if a mere vote could do it, there would be twenty to one; at
least, there would be a very great majority of voices for it. For, Sir,
you are to consider, that all those who think a King has a right to his
crown, as a man has to his estate, which is the just opinion, would be
for restoring the King who certainly has the hereditary right, could he
be trusted with it; in which there would be no danger now, when laws and
every thing else are so much advanced: and every King will govern by the
laws. And you must also consider, Sir, that there is nothing on the
other side to oppose to this; for it is not alleged by any one that the
present family has any inherent right[440]: so that the Whigs could not
have a contest between two rights.'
Dr. Taylor admitted, that if the question as to hereditary right were to
be tried by a poll of the people of England, to be sure the abstract
doctrine would be given in favour of the family of Stuart; but he said,
the conduct of that family, which occasioned their expulsion, was so
fresh in the minds of the people, that they would not vote for a
restoration. Dr. Johnson, I think, was contented with the admission as
to the hereditary right, leaving the original point in dispute, _viz_.
what the people upon the whole would do, taking in right and affection;
for he said, people were afraid of a change, even though they think it
right. Dr. Taylor said something of the slight foundation of the
hereditary right, of the house of Stuart. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) the
house of Stuart succeeded to the full right of both the houses of York
and Lancaster, whose common source had the undisputed right. A right to
a throne is like a right to any thing else. Possession is sufficient,
where no better right can be shown. This was the case with the Royal
Family of England, as it is now with the King of France: for as to the
first beginning of the right, we are in the dark[441].'
Thursday, September 18. Last night Dr. Johnson had proposed that the
crystal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's large room, should be
lighted up some time or other. Taylor said, it should be lighted up next
night. 'That will do very well, (said I,) for it is Dr. Johnson's
birth-day[442].' When we were in the Isle of Sky, Johnson had desired me
not to mention his birth-day. He did not seem pleased at this time that
I mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly) 'he would _not_ have the
lustre lighted the next day.'
Some ladies, who had been present yesterday when I mentioned his
birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by
wishing him joy. I know not why he disliked having his birth-day
mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer
to death, of which he had a constant dread[443].
I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low
spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly
placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'Sir,
(said Johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different
turn.'
We talked of a collection being made of all the English Poets who had
published a volume of poems. Johnson told me 'that a Mr. Coxeter[444],
whom he knew, had gone the greatest length towards this; having
collected, I think, about five hundred volumes of poets whose works were
little known; but that upon his death Tom Osborne[445] bought them, and
they were dispersed, which he thought a pity, as it was curious to see
any series complete; and in every volume of poems something good may be
found.'
He observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a
bad style of poetry of late[446]. 'He puts (said he) a very common thing
in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other
people do not know it.' BOSWELL. 'That is owing to his being so much
versant in old English poetry[447].' JOHNSON. 'What is the purpose, Sir?
If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much
drink, the matter is not mended. No, Sir, ---- has taken to an odd mode.
For example; he'd write thus:
"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life's evening gray[448]."
_Gray evening_ is common enough; but _evening gray_ he'd think
fine[449].--Stay;--we'll make out the stanza:
"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life's evening gray;
Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
What is bliss? and which the way?"'
BOSWELL. 'But why smite his bosom, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why to shew he was in
earnest,' (smiling).--He at an after period added the following stanza:
'Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd;
--Scarce repress'd the starting tear;--
When the smiling sage reply'd--
--Come, my lad, and drink some beer[450].'
I cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as also
the three first lines of the second. Its last line is an excellent
burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. And, perhaps, the
advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied
being:--'Don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and
be merry.'
Friday, September 19, after breakfast Dr. Johnson and I set out in Dr.
Taylor's chaise to go to Derby. The day was fine, and we resolved to go
by Keddlestone, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, that I might see his
Lordship's fine house. I was struck with the magnificence of the
building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with
deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The number of old oaks, of an
immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one of
them sixty pounds was offered. The excellent smooth gravel roads; the
large piece of water formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with
a handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the family
chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated
and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'One should think
(said I) that the proprietor of all this _must_ be happy.'--'Nay, Sir,
(said Johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty[451].'
Our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most
distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which I need not describe, as
there is an account of it published in _Adam's Works in Architecture_.
Dr. Johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before[452];
for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'It would do
excellently for a town-hall. The large room with the pillars (said he)
would do for the Judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for
a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.' Still he thought the
large room ill lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the
bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it
cost was injudiciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his
_appearing_ pleased with the house. 'But (said he) that was when Lord
Scarsdale was present. Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a
man's works when he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to
question you. You may therefore pay compliments without saying what is
not true. I should say to Lord Scarsdale of his large room, "My Lord,
this is the most _costly_ room that I ever saw;" which is true.'
Dr. Manningham, physician in London, who was visiting at Lord
Scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon
afterwards my Lord himself, to whom Dr. Johnson was known, appeared, and
did the honours of the house. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnson, with a
warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'The earth does not
bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton.' We saw a good many fine
pictures, which I think are described in one of _Young's Tours_[453].
There is a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my
hand; I should like to view them at leisure. I was much struck with
Daniel interpreting Nebuchadnezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were shown a
pretty large library. In his Lordship's dressing-room lay Johnson's
small _Dictionary_: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying,
'Look 'ye! _Quæ terra nostri non plena laboris_[454].' He observed, also,
Goldsmith's _Animated Nature_; and said, 'Here's our friend! The poor
Doctor would have been happy to hear of this.'
In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a
post-chaise[455]. 'If (said he) I had no duties, and no reference to
futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with
a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would
add something to the conversation.' I observed, that we were this day to
stop just where the Highland army did in 1745[456]. JOHNSON. 'It was a
noble attempt.' BOSWELL. 'I wish we could have an authentick history of
it.' JOHNSON. 'If you were not an idle dog you might write it, by
collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your
authorities.' BOSWELL. 'But I could not have the advantage of it in my
life-time.' JOHNSON. 'You might have the satisfaction of its fame, by
printing it in Holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was
before writing came to be considered in a pecuniary view. Baretti says,
he is the first man that ever received copy-money in Italy[457].' I said
that I would endeavour to do what Dr. Johnson suggested; and I thought
that I might write so as to venture to publish my _History of the Civil
War in Great-Britain in 1745 and 1746_ without being obliged to go to a
foreign press[458].
When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us to see the
manufactory of china there. I admired the ingenuity and delicate art
with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot,
while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. I thought
this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in
_its_ species. Yet I had no respect for this potter. Neither, indeed,
has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose
numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. The china was
beautiful, but Dr. Johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he
could have vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were
here made of porcelain[459].
I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always have in
walking about any town to which I am not accustomed. There is an
immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which
life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where
upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. The minute diversities in
every thing are wonderful. Talking of shaving the other night at Dr.
Taylor's, Dr. Johnson said, 'Sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not
shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' I thought this not
possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in
shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long or
short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the
under;--at the right side or the left side. Indeed, when one considers
what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of
a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of
difference there may be in the application of a razor.
We dined with Dr. Butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin Sir John
Douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of
Queensberry. Johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation.
Johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of Dr.
Nichols's[460] discourse _De Animá Medicâ_. He told us 'that whatever a
man's distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a physician, if
his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have
any influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none
of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife
privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said no. He
continued his attendance some time, still without success. At length the
man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs
_were_ in a bad way. When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him,
"Your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of
fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith answered it was
not.'
After dinner, Mrs. Butter went with me to see the silk-mill which Mr.
John Lombe had[461] had a patent for, having brought away the contrivance
from Italy. I am not very conversant with mechanicks; but the simplicity
of this machine, and its multiplied operations, struck me with an
agreeable surprize. I had learnt from Dr. Johnson, during this
interview, not to think with a dejected indifference of the works of
art, and the pleasures of life, because life is uncertain and short; but
to consider such indifference as a failure of reason, a morbidness of
mind; for happiness should be cultivated as much as we can, and the
objects which are instrumental to it should be steadily considered as of
importance[462], with a reference not only to ourselves, but to multitudes
in successive ages. Though it is proper to value small parts, as
'Sands make the mountain, moments make the year[463];'
yet we must contemplate, collectively, to have a just estimation of
objects. One moment's being uneasy or not, seems of no consequence; yet
this may be thought of the next, and the next, and so on, till there is
a large portion of misery. In the same way one must think of happiness,
of learning, of friendship. We cannot tell the precise moment when
friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at
last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there
is at last one which makes the heart run over. We must not divide
objects of our attention into minute parts, and think separately of each
part. It is by contemplating a large mass of human existence, that a
man, while he sets a just value on his own life, does not think of his
death as annihilating all that is great and pleasing in the world, as if
actually _contained in his mind_, according to Berkeley's reverie[464]. If
his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it 'wings its distant way[465]'
far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every
sort. It must be acknowledged, however, that Pope's plaintive
reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever, on the day of his
death, is natural and common[466]. We are apt to transfer to all around us
our own gloom, without considering that at any given point of time there
is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. Before
I came into this life, in which I have had so many pleasant scenes, have
not thousands and ten thousands of deaths and funerals happened, and
have not families been in grief for their nearest relations? But have
those dismal circumstances at all affected _me_? Why then should the
gloomy scenes which I experience, or which I know, affect others? Let us
guard against imagining that there is an end of felicity upon earth,
when we ourselves grow old, or are unhappy.
Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when some of Dr. Dodd's pious friends
were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a
wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant[467]:--'No,
no (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' Johnson added,
'I respect Dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for
several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness[468].'
He told us, that Dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand
pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape.
He added, that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate for
some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five
hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys
who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much
circumspection[469]. He said, Dodd's friends had an image of him made of
wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was
carried into the prison.
Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world persuaded that _The
Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren_ was of his own writing[470].
'But, Sir, (said I,) you contributed to the deception; for when Mr.
Seward expressed a doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, because it
had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be
his, you answered,--"Why should you think so? Depend upon it, Sir, when
a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind
wonderfully."' JOHNSON. 'Sir, as Dodd got it from me to pass as his own,
while that could do him any good, there was an _implied promise_ that I
should not own it. To own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie,
with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply
telling a lie to make it be believed it was Dodd's. Besides, Sir, I did
not _directly_ tell a lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I
thought that Seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what I
said; but I would not put it in his power to say I had owned it.'
He praised Blair's sermons: 'Yet,' said he, (willing to let us see he
was aware that fashionable fame, however deserved, is not always the
most lasting,) 'perhaps, they may not be re-printed after seven years;
at least not after Blair's death[471].'
He said, 'Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late[472]. There appeared
nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got
high in fame, one of his friends[473] began to recollect something of his
being distinguished at College. Goldsmith in the same manner recollected
more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.'
I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four,
and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the
window open, which he called taking _an air bath_[474]; after which he
went to bed again, and slept two hours more. Johnson, who was always
ready to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with
disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'I suppose, Sir, there is no
more in it than this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills
himself, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.'
I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. Johnson told
me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager in
study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a
contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a
string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a
strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no
difficulty in getting up.' But I said _that_ was my difficulty; and
wished there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise
without pain, which I never did, unless after lying in bed a very long
time. Perhaps there may be something in the stores of Nature which could
do this. I have thought of a pulley to raise me gradually; but that
would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal inclination. I
would have something that can dissipate the _vis inertiæ_, and give
elasticity to the muscles. As I imagine that the human body may be put,
by the operation of other substances, into any state in which it has
ever been; and as I have experienced a state in which rising from bed
was not disagreeable, but easy, nay, sometimes agreeable; I suppose that
this state may be produced, if we knew by what. We can heat the body, we
can cool it; we can give it tension or relaxation; and surely it is
possible to bring it into a state in which rising from bed will not be a
pain.
Johnson observed, that 'a man should take a sufficient quantity of
sleep, which Dr. Mead says is between seven and nine hours.' I told him,
that Dr. Cullen said to me, that a man should not take more sleep than
he can take at once. JOHNSON. 'This rule, Sir, cannot hold in all cases;
for many people have their sleep broken by sickness; and surely, Cullen
would not have a man to get up, after having slept but an hour. Such a
regimen would soon end in a _long sleep_[475].' Dr. Taylor remarked, I
think very justly, that 'a man who does not feel an inclination to sleep
at the ordinary time, instead of being stronger than other people, must
not be well; for a man in health has all the natural inclinations to
eat, drink, and sleep, in a strong degree.'
Johnson advised me to-night not to _refine_ in the education of my
children. 'Life (said he) will not bear refinement: you must do as other
people do[476].'
As we drove back to Ashbourne, Dr. Johnson recommended to me, as he had
often done, to drink water only: 'For (said he) you are then sure not to
get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never sure.' I said,
drinking wine was a pleasure which I was unwilling to give up. 'Why,
Sir, (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great
deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' He however owned, that in
his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life[477]; and said, he
would not give less for the life of a certain Scotch Lord[478] (whom he
named) celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a sober man. 'But
stay, (said he, with his usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,)
does it take much wine to make him drunk?' I answered, 'a great deal
either of wine or strong punch.'--'Then (said he) that is the worse.' I
presume to illustrate my friend's observation thus: 'A fortress which
soon surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and
obstinate resistance is made.'
I ventured to mention a person who was as violent a Scotsman as he was
an Englishman; and literally had the same contempt for an Englishman
compared with a Scotsman, that he had for a Scotsman compared with an
Englishman; and that he would say of Dr. Johnson, 'Damned rascal! to
talk as he does, of the Scotch.' This seemed, for a moment, 'to give him
pause[479].' It, perhaps, presented his extreme prejudice against the
Scotch in a point of view somewhat new to him, by the effect of
_contrast_.
By the time when we returned to Ashbourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed.
Johnson and I sat up a long time by ourselves.
He was much diverted with an article which I shewed him in the _Critical
Review_ of this year, giving an account of a curious publication,
entitled, _A Spiritual Diary and Soliloquies_, by John Rutty, M.D. Dr.
Rutty was one of the people called Quakers, a physician of some eminence
in Dublin, and authour of several works[480]. This Diary, which was kept
from 1753 to 1775, the year in which he died, and was now published in
two volumes octavo, exhibited, in the simplicity of his heart, a minute
and honest register of the state of his mind; which, though frequently
laughable enough, was not more so than the history of many men would be,
if recorded with equal fairness.