'... _immota labescunt;
Et quae perpetuò sunt agitata manent_[716].'
The Bishop said, it appeared from Horace's writings that he was a
cheerful contented man. JOHNSON. 'We have no reason to believe that, my
Lord. Are we to think Pope was happy, because he says so in his
writings? We see in his writings what he wished the state of his mind to
appear. Dr. Young, who pined for preferment, talks with contempt of it
in his writings, and affects to despise every thing that he did not
despise.'[717] BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. 'He was like other chaplains, looking
for vacancies: but that is not peculiar to the clergy. I remember when I
was with the army,[718] after the battle of Lafeldt, the officers
seriously grumbled that no general was killed.' CAMBRIDGE. 'We may
believe Horace more when he says,
"_Romae Tibur amem, ventosus Tibure Romam_[719];"
than when he boasts of his consistency:
"_Me constare mihi scis, et decedere tristem,
Quandocunque trahunt invisa negotia Romam_[720]."'
BOSWELL. 'How hard is it that man can never be at rest.' RAMSAY. 'It is
not in his nature to be at rest. When he is at rest, he is in the worst
state that he can be in; for he has nothing to agitate him. He is then
like the man in the Irish song,
"There liv'd a young man in Ballinacrazy.
Who wanted a wife for to make him un_ai_sy."'
Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson observed, that it was long before his
merit came to be acknowledged. That he once complained to him, in
ludicrous terms of distress, 'Whenever I write any thing, the publick
_make a point_ to know nothing about it:' but that his _Traveller_
brought him into high reputation.[721] LANGTON. 'There is not one bad line
in that poem; not one of Dryden's careless verses.' SIR JOSHUA. 'I was
glad to hear Charles Fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the
English language.' LANGTON. 'Why was you glad? You surely had no doubt
of this before.' JOHNSON. 'No; the merit of _The Traveller_ is so well
established, that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his censure
diminish it.'[722] SIR JOSHUA. 'But his friends may suspect they had too
great a partiality for him.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, the partiality of his
friends was always against him. It was with difficulty we could give him
a hearing. Goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so he
talked always at random[723]. It seemed to be his intention to blurt out
whatever was in his mind, and see what would become of it. He was angry
too, when catched in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from
falling into another the next minute. I remember Chamier[724], after
talking with him for some time, said, "Well, I do believe he wrote this
poem himself: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal."
Chamier once asked him, what he meant by _slow_, the last word in the
first line of _The Traveller_,
'"Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow."
'Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say something
without consideration, answered, "Yes." I was sitting by, and said, "No,
Sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that
sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude[725]." Chamier
believed then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me
write it.[726] Goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did
it better than any other man could do. He deserved a place in
Westminster-Abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved it
better. He had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with
knowledge. He transplanted it from one place to another; and it did not
settle in his mind; so he could not tell what was in his own books.'
We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. 'No wise man will go to
live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better
done in the country. For instance: if he is to shut himself up for a
year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to
an opposite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there is
nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in
London, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. A great city is, to
be sure, the school for studying life; and "The proper study of mankind
is man," as Pope observes.'[727] BOSWELL. 'I fancy London is the best
place for society; though I have heard that the very first society of
Paris is still beyond any thing that we have here.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I
question if in Paris such a company as is sitting round this table could
be got together in less than half a year. They talk in France of the
felicity of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the
men are not higher than the women, they know no more than the women do,
and they are not held down in their conversation by the presence of
women[728].' RAMSAY. 'Literature is upon the growth, it is in its spring
in France. Here it is rather _passée_.' JOHNSON. 'Literature was in
France long before we had it. Paris was the second city for the revival
of letters: Italy had it first, to be sure. What have we done for
literature, equal to what was done by the Stephani and others in France?
Our literature came to us through France. Caxton printed only two books,
Chaucer and Gower, that were not translations from the French; and
Chaucer, we know, took much from the Italians. No, Sir, if literature be
in its spring in France, it is a second spring; it is after a winter. We
are now before the French in literature[729]; but we had it long after
them. In England, any man who wears a sword and a powdered wig is
ashamed to be illiterate[730]. I believe it is not so in France. Yet there
is, probably, a great deal of learning in France, because they have such
a number of religious establishments; so many men who have nothing else
to do but to study. I do not know this; but I take it upon the common
principles of chance. Where there are many shooters, some will hit.'
We talked of old age[731]. Johnson (now in his seventieth year,) said, 'It
is a man's own fault, it is from want of use, if his mind grows torpid
in old age.' The Bishop asked, if an old man does not lose faster than
he gets. JOHNSON. 'I think not, my Lord, if he exerts himself.' One of
the company rashly observed, that he thought it was happy for an old man
that insensibility comes upon him. JOHNSON: (with a noble elevation and
disdain,) 'No, Sir, I should never be happy by being less rational.'
BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. 'Your wish then, Sir, is [Greek: gaeraskein
didaskomenos][732].' JOHNSON. 'Yes, my Lord.'
His Lordship mentioned a charitable establishment in Wales, where people
were maintained, and supplied with every thing, upon the condition of
their contributing the weekly produce of their labour; and he said, they
grew quite torpid for want of property. JOHNSON. 'They have no object
for hope. Their condition cannot be better. It is rowing without a
port.'
One of the company asked him the meaning of the expression in Juvenal,
_unius lacertæ_. JOHNSON. 'I think it clear enough; as much ground as
one may have a chance to find a lizard upon.'
Commentators have differed as to the exact meaning of the expression by
which the Poet intended to enforce the sentiment contained in the
passage where these words occur. It is enough that they mean to denote
even a very small possession, provided it be a man's own:
'_Est aliquid quocunque loco quocunque recessu,
Unius sese dominum fecisse lacertæ_[733].'
This season there was a whimsical fashion in the newspapers of applying
Shakspeare's words to describe living persons well known in the world;
which was done under the title of _Modern Characters from Shakspeare_;
many of which were admirably adapted. The fancy took so much, that they
were afterwards collected into a pamphlet[734]. Somebody said to Johnson,
across the table, that he had not been in those characters. 'Yes (said
he) I have. I should have been sorry to be left out.' He then repeated
what had been applied to him,
'I must borrow GARAGANTUA'S mouth[735].'
Miss Reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, he was obliged
to explain it to her, which had something of an aukward and ludicrous
effect. 'Why, Madam, it has a reference to me, as using big words, which
require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them. Garagantua is the name
of a giant in _Rabelais_.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, there is another amongst
them for you:
"He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for his power to thunder[736]."'
JOHNSON. 'There is nothing marked in that. No, Sir, Garagantua is the
best.' Notwithstanding this ease and good humour, when I, a little while
afterwards, repeated his sarcasm on Kenrick[737], which was received with
applause, he asked, '_Who_ said that?' and on my suddenly answering,
_Garagantua_, he looked serious, which was a sufficient indication that
he did not wish it to be kept up.
When we went to the drawing-room there was a rich assemblage. Besides
the company who had been at dinner, there were Mr. Garrick, Mr. Harris
of Salisbury, Dr. Percy, Dr. Burney, Honourable Mrs. Cholmondeley, Miss
Hannah More, &c. &c.
After wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction for some time, I
got into a corner, with Johnson, Garrick, and Harris. GARRICK: (to
Harris.) 'Pray, Sir, have you read Potter's _Aeschylus_?' HARRIS. 'Yes;
and think it pretty.' GARRICK. (to Johnson.) 'And what think you, Sir,
of it?' JOHNSON. 'I thought what I read of it _verbiage_[738]: but upon
Mr. Harris's recommendation, I will read a play. (To Mr. Harris.) Don't
prescribe two.' Mr. Harris suggested one, I do not remember which.
JOHNSON. 'We must try its effect as an English poem; that is the way to
judge of the merit of a translation. Translations are, in general, for
people who cannot read the original.' I mentioned the vulgar saying[739],
that Pope's _Homer_ was not a good representation of the original.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that has ever been
produced[740].' BOSWELL. 'The truth is, it is impossible perfectly to
translate poetry[741]. In a different language it may be the same tune,
but it has not the same tone. Homer plays it on a bassoon; Pope on a
flagelet.' HARRIS. 'I think Heroick poetry is best in blank verse; yet
it appears that rhyme is essential to English poetry, from our
deficiency in metrical quantities. In my opinion, the chief excellence
of our language is numerous prose.' JOHNSON. 'Sir William Temple was the
first writer who gave cadence to English prose[742]. Before his time they
were careless of arrangement, and did not mind whether a sentence ended
with an important word or an insignificant word, or with what part of
speech it was concluded.' Mr. Langton, who now had joined us, commended
Clarendon. JOHNSON. 'He is objected to for his parentheses, his involved
clauses, and his want of harmony. But he is supported by his matter. It
is, indeed, owing to a plethory of matter that his style is so
faulty[743]. Every _substance_, (smiling to Mr. Harris[744],) has so many
_accidents_.--To be distinct, we must talk _analytically_. If we analyse
language, we must speak of it grammatically; if we analyse argument, we
must speak of it logically.' GARRICK. 'Of all the translations that ever
were attempted, I think Elphinston's _Martial_ the most
extraordinary[745]. He consulted me upon it, who am a little of an
epigrammatist myself, you know. I told him freely, "You don't seem to
have that turn." I asked him if he was serious; and finding he was, I
advised him against publishing. Why, his translation is more difficult
to understand than the original. I thought him a man of some talents;
but he seems crazy in this.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have done what I had not
courage to do. But he did not ask my advice, and I did not force it upon
him, to make him angry with me.' GARRICK. 'But as a friend, Sir--'
JOHNSON. 'Why, such a friend as I am with him--no.' GARRICK. 'But if you
see a friend going to tumble over a precipice?' JOHNSON. 'That is an
extravagant case, Sir. You are sure a friend will thank you for
hindering him from tumbling over a precipice; but, in the other case, I
should hurt his vanity, and do him no good. He would not take my advice.
His brother-in-law, Strahan, sent him a subscription of fifty pounds,
and said he would send him fifty more, if he would not publish.'
GARRICK. 'What! Is Strahan a good judge of an Epigram? Is not he rather
an _obtuse_ man, eh?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he may not be a judge of an
Epigram: but you see he is a judge of what is _not_ an Epigram.'
BOSWELL. 'It is easy for you, Mr. Garrick, to talk to an authour as you
talked to Elphinston; you, who have been so long the manager of a
theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. You are an old Judge, who
have often pronounced sentence of death. You are a practiced surgeon,
who have often amputated limbs; and though this may have been for the
good of your patients, they cannot like you. Those who have undergone a
dreadful operation, are not very fond of seeing the operator again.'
GARRICK. 'Yes, I know enough of that. There was a reverend gentleman,
(Mr. Hawkins,) who wrote a tragedy, the SIEGE of something[746], which I
refused.' HARRIS. 'So, the siege was raised.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, he came to
me and complained; and told me, that Garrick said his play was wrong in
the _concoction_. Now, what is the concoction of a play?' (Here Garrick
started, and twisted himself, and seemed sorely vexed; for Johnson told
me, he believed the story was true.) GARRICK. 'I--I--I--said _first_
concoction[747].' JOHNSON: (smiling.) 'Well, he left out _first_. And
Rich[748], he said, refused him _in false English_: he could shew it
under his hand.' GARRICK. 'He wrote to me in violent wrath, for having
refused his play: "Sir, this is growing a very serious and terrible
affair. I am resolved to publish my play. I will appeal to the world;
and how will your judgement appear?" I answered, "Sir, notwithstanding
all the seriousness, and all the terrours, I have no objection to your
publishing your play; and as you live at a great distance, (Devonshire,
I believe,) if you will send it to me, I will convey it to the
press[749]." I never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!'
On Friday, April 10, I found Johnson at home in the morning. We resumed
the conversation of yesterday. He put me in mind of some of it which had
escaped my memory, and enabled me to record it more perfectly than I
otherwise could have done. He was much pleased with my paying so great
attention to his recommendation in 1763, the period when our
acquaintance began, that I should keep a journal[750]; and I could
perceive he was secretly pleased to find so much of the fruit of his
mind preserved; and as he had been used to imagine and say that he
always laboured when he said a good thing[751]--it delighted him, on a
review, to find that his conversation teemed with point and imagery[752].
I said to him, 'You were yesterday, Sir, in remarkably good humour[753]:
but there was nothing to offend you, nothing to produce irritation or
violence. There was no bold offender. There was not one capital
conviction. It was a maiden assize. You had on your white gloves.'
He found fault with our friend Langton for having been too silent. 'Sir,
(said I,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up Sir Joshua
for being glad that Charles Fox had praised Goldsmith's _Traveller_, and
you joined him.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knocked Fox on the head, without
ceremony. Reynolds is too much under Fox and Burke at present. He is
under the _Fox star_ and the _Irish constellation_. He is always under
some planet[754].' BOSWELL. 'There is no Fox star.' JOHNSON. 'But there is
a dog star.' BOSWELL. 'They say, indeed, a fox and a dog are the same
animal.'
I reminded him of a gentleman, who, Mrs. Cholmondeley said, was first
talkative from affectation, and then silent from the same cause; that he
first thought, 'I shall be celebrated as the liveliest man in every
company;' and then, all at once, 'O! it is much more respectable to be
grave and look wise.' 'He has reversed the Pythagorean discipline, by
being first talkative, and then silent. He reverses the course of Nature
too: he was first the gay butterfly, and then the creeping worm.'
Johnson laughed loud and long at this expansion and illustration of what
he himself had told me.
We dined together with Mr. Scott (now Sir William Scott[755], his
Majesty's Advocate General,) at his chambers in the Temple, nobody else
there. The company being small, Johnson was not in such spirits as he
had been the preceding day, and for a considerable time little was said.
At last he burst forth, 'Subordination is sadly broken down in this age.
No man, now, has the same authority which his father had,--except a
gaoler. No master has it over his servants: it is diminished in our
colleges; nay, in our grammar-schools.' BOSWELL. 'What is the cause of
this, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why the coming in of the Scotch,' (laughing
sarcastically). BOSWELL. 'That is to say, things have been turned topsy
turvey.--But your serious cause.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, there are many
causes, the chief of which is, I think, the great increase of money. No
man now depends upon the Lord of a Manour, when he can send to another
country, and fetch provisions. The shoe-black at the entry of my court
does not depend on me. I can deprive him but of a penny a day, which he
hopes somebody else will bring him; and that penny I must carry to
another shoe-black[756], so the trade suffers nothing. I have explained,
in my _Journey to the Hebrides_, how gold and silver destroy feudal
subordination[757]. But, besides, there is a general relaxation of
reverence. No son now depends upon his father as in former times.
Paternity used to be considered as of itself a great thing, which had a
right to many claims. That is, in general, reduced to very small bounds.
My hope is, that as anarchy produces tyranny, this extreme relaxation
will produce _freni strictio_[758].'
Talking of fame, for which there is so great a desire, I observed how
little there is of it in reality, compared with the other objects of
human attention. 'Let every man recollect, and he will be sensible how
small a part of his time is employed in talking or thinking of
Shakspeare, Voltaire, or any of the most celebrated men that have ever
lived, or are now supposed to occupy the attention and admiration of the
world. Let this be extracted and compressed; into what a narrow space
will it go[759]!' I then slily introduced Mr. Garrick's fame, and his
assuming the airs of a great man[760]. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is wonderful how
_little_ Garrick assumes. No, Sir, Garrick _fortunam reverenter
habet_[761]. Consider, Sir: celebrated men, such as you have mentioned,
have had their applause at a distance; but Garrick had it dashed in his
face, sounded in his ears, and went home every night with the plaudits
of a thousand in his _cranium_. Then, Sir, Garrick did not _find_, but
_made_ his way to the tables, the levees, and almost the bed-chambers of
the great. Then, Sir, Garrick had under him a numerous body of people;
who, from fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of
his talents, were constantly submissive to him. And here is a man who
has advanced the dignity of his profession. Garrick has made a player a
higher character.' SCOTT. 'And he is a very sprightly writer too.'
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own
acquisition. If all this had happened to me, I should have had a couple
of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down every body
that stood in the way. Consider, if all this had happened to Cibber or
Quin[762] they'd have jumped over the moon.--Yet Garrick speaks to
_us_[763].' (smiling.) BOSWELL. 'And Garrick is a very good man, a
charitable man.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, a liberal man. He has given away more
money than any man in England[764]. There may be a little vanity mixed;
but he has shewn, that money is not his first object.' BOSWELL. 'Yet
Foote used to say of him, that he walked out with an intention to do a
generous action; but, turning the corner of a street, he met with the
ghost of a halfpenny, which frightened him.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that is
very true, too; for I never knew a man of whom it could be said with
less certainty to-day, what he will do to-morrow, than Garrick; it
depends so much on his humour at the time.' SCOTT. 'I am glad to hear of
his liberality. He has been represented as very saving.' JOHNSON. 'With
his domestick saving we have nothing to do. I remember drinking tea with
him long ago, when Peg Woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for
making it too strong[765]. He had then begun to feel money in his purse,
and did not know when he should have enough of it[766].'
On the subject of wealth, the proper use of it, and the effects of that
art which is called oeconomy, he observed: 'It is wonderful to think how
men of very large estates not only spend their yearly incomes, but are
often actually in want of money. It is clear, they have not value for
what they spend. Lord Shelburne[767] told me, that a man of high rank, who
looks into his own affairs, may have all that he ought to have, all that
can be of any use, or appear with any advantage, for five thousand
pounds a year. Therefore, a great proportion must go in waste; and,
indeed, this is the case with most people, whatever their fortune is.'
BOSWELL. 'I have no doubt, Sir, of this. But how is it? What is waste?'
JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, breaking bottles, and a thousand other things. Waste
cannot be accurately told, though we are sensible how destructive it is.
OEconomy on the one hand, by which a certain income is made to maintain
a man genteely, and waste on the other, by which, on the same income,
another man lives shabbily, cannot be defined. It is a very nice thing:
as one man wears his coat out much sooner than another, we cannot tell
how.'
We talked of war. JOHNSON. 'Every man thinks meanly of himself for not
having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.' BOSWELL. 'Lord
Mansfield does not.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, if Lord Mansfield were in a company
of General Officers and Admirals who have been in service, he would
shrink; he'd wish to creep under the table.' BOSWELL. 'No; he'd think he
could _try_ them all.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, if he could catch them: but they'd
try him much sooner. No, Sir; were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth of
Sweden both present in any company, and Socrates to say, "Follow me, and
hear a lecture on philosophy;" and Charles, laying his hand on his
sword, to say, "Follow me, and dethrone the Czar;" a man would be
ashamed to follow Socrates. Sir, the impression is universal[768]; yet it
is strange. As to the sailor, when you look down from the quarter deck
to the space below, you see the utmost extremity of human misery; such
crouding, such filth, such stench[769]!' BOSWELL. 'Yet sailors are happy.'
JOHNSON. 'They are happy as brutes are happy, with a piece of fresh
meat,--with the grossest sensuality. But, Sir, the profession of
soldiers and sailors has the dignity of danger. Mankind reverence those
who have got over fear[770], which is so general a weakness.' SCOTT. 'But
is not courage mechanical, and to be acquired?' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir,
in a collective sense. Soldiers consider themselves only as parts of a
great machine[771].' SCOTT. 'We find people fond of being sailors.'
JOHNSON. 'I cannot account for that, any more than I can account for
other strange perversions of imagination.'
His abhorrence of the profession of a sailor was uniformly violent[772];
but in conversation he always exalted the profession of a soldier. And
yet I have, in my large and various collection of his writings, a letter
to an eminent friend, in which he expresses himself thus: 'My god-son
called on me lately. He is weary, and rationally weary, of a military
life. If you can place him in some other state, I think you may increase
his happiness, and secure his virtue. A soldier's time is passed in
distress and danger, or in idleness and corruption.' Such was his cool
reflection in his study[773]; but whenever he was warmed and animated by
the presence of company, he, like other philosophers, whose minds are
impregnated with poetical fancy, caught the common enthusiasm for
splendid renown[774].
He talked of Mr. Charles Fox, of whose abilities he thought highly, but
observed, that he did not talk much at our CLUB. I have heard Mr. Gibbon
remark, 'that Mr. Fox could not be afraid of Dr. Johnson; yet he
certainly was very shy of saying any thing in Dr. Johnson's
presence[775].' Mr. Scott now quoted what was said of Alcibiades by a
Greek poet[776], to which Johnson assented.
He told us, that he had given Mrs. Montagu a catalogue of all Daniel
Defoe's works of imagination; most, if not all of which, as well as of
his other works, he now enumerated, allowing a considerable share of
merit to a man, who, bred a tradesman, had written so variously and so
well. Indeed, his _Robinson Crusoe_ is enough of itself to establish his
reputation[777].
He expressed great indignation at the imposture of the Cocklane Ghost,
and related, with much satisfaction, how he had assisted in detecting
the cheat, and had published an account of it in the news-papers[778].
Upon this subject I incautiously offended him, by pressing him with too
many questions, and he shewed his displeasure. I apologised, saying that
'I asked questions in order to be instructed and entertained; I repaired
eagerly to the fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the
moment he put a lock upon the well, I desisted.'--'But, Sir, (said he,)
that is forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to
rate me. 'Nay, Sir, (said I,) when you have put a lock upon the well, so
that I can no longer drink, do not make the fountain of your wit play
upon me and wet me.'
He sometimes could not bear being teazed with questions[779]. I was once
present when a gentleman asked so many as, 'What did you do, Sir?' 'What
did you say, Sir?' that he at last grew enraged, and said, 'I will not
be put to the _question_. Don't you consider, Sir, that these are not
the manners of a gentleman? I will not be baited with _what_, and _why_;
what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's
tail bushy?' The gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance,
said, 'Why, Sir, you are so good, that I venture to trouble you.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, my being so _good_ is no reason why you should be so
_ill_.'
Talking of the Justitia hulk at Woolwich, in which criminals were
punished, by being confined to labour, he said, 'I do not see that they
are punished by this: they must have worked equally had they never been
guilty of stealing[780]. They now only work; so, after all, they have
gained; what they stole is clear gain to them; the confinement is
nothing. Every man who works is confined: the smith to his shop, the
tailor to his garret.' BOSWELL. 'And Lord Mansfield to his Court.'
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, you know the notion of confinement may be extended,
as in the song, "Every island is a prison[781]." There is, in Dodsley's
_Collection_, a copy of verses to the authour of that song[782].'
Smith's Latin verses on Pococke, the great traveller,[783] were mentioned.
He repeated some of them, and said they were Smith's best verses.
He talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into distant
countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that an acquisition of
dignity of character was derived from it. He expressed a particular
enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of China. I catched it for
the moment[784], and said I really believed I should go and see the wall
of China had I not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 'Sir,
(said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of importance in
raising your children to eminence. There would be a lustre reflected
upon them from your spirit and curiosity. They would be at all times
regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of
China. I am serious, Sir.'
When we had left Mr. Scott's, he said, 'Will you go home with me?' 'Sir,
(said I,) it is late; but I'll go with you for three minutes.' JOHNSON.
'Or _four_.' We went to Mrs. Williams's room, where we found Mr. Allen
the printer, who was the landlord of his house in Bolt-court, a worthy
obliging man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceedingly
amusing, though he was of a very diminutive size, he used, even in
Johnson's presence, to imitate the stately periods and slow and solemn
utterance of the great man[785].--I this evening boasted, that although I
did not write what is called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated
characters devised for the purpose, I had a method of my own of writing
half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet to keep the
substance and language of any discourse which I had heard so much in
view, that I could give it very completely soon after I had taken it
down. He defied me, as he had once defied an actual short-hand
writer[786], and he made the experiment by reading slowly and distinctly a
part of Robertson's _History of America_, while I endeavoured to write
it in my way of taking notes. It was found that I had it very
imperfectly; the conclusion from which was, that its excellence was
principally owing to a studied arrangement of words, which could not be
varied or abridged without an essential injury.
On Sunday, April 12, I found him at home before dinner; Dr. Dodd's poem
entitled _Thoughts in Prison_ was lying upon his table. This appearing
to me an extraordinary effort by a man who was in Newgate for a capital
crime, I was desirous to hear Johnson's opinion of it: to my surprize,
he told me he had not read a line of it. I took up the book and read a
passage to him. JOHNSON. 'Pretty well, if you are previously disposed to
like them.' I read another passage, with which he was better pleased. He
then took the book into his own hands, and having looked at the prayer
at the end of it, he said, 'What _evidence_ is there that this was
composed the night before he suffered? _I_ do not believe it.' He then
read aloud where he prays for the King, &c. and observed, 'Sir, do you
think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the
succession of a royal family[787]?--Though, he _may_ have composed this
prayer, then. A man who has been canting all his life, may cant to the
last[788].--And yet a man who has been refused a pardon after so much
petitioning, would hardly be praying thus fervently for the King.'
He and I, and Mrs. Williams, went to dine with the Reverend Dr. Percy.
Talking of Goldsmith, Johnson said, he was very envious[789]. I defended
him, by observing that he owned it frankly upon all occasions. JOHNSON.
'Sir, you are enforcing the charge. He had so much envy, that he could
not conceal it. He was so full of it that he overflowed. He talked of it
to be sure often enough. Now, Sir, what a man avows, he is not ashamed
to think; though many a man thinks, what he is ashamed to avow. We are
all envious naturally[790]; but by checking envy, we get the better of it.
So we are all thieves naturally; a child always tries to get at what it
wants, the nearest way; by good instruction and good habits this is
cured, till a man has not even an inclination to seize what is
another's; has no struggle with himself about it.'
And here I shall record a scene of too much heat between Dr. Johnson and
Dr. Percy, which I should have suppressed, were it not that it gave
occasion to display the truely tender and benevolent heart of Johnson,
who, as soon as he found a friend was at all hurt by any thing which he
had 'said in his wrath,' was not only prompt and desirous to be
reconciled, but exerted himself to make ample reparation[791].
Books of Travels having been mentioned, Johnson praised Pennant very
highly, as he did at Dunvegan, in the Isle of Sky[792]. Dr. Percy, knowing
himself to be the heir male of the ancient Percies,[793] and having the
warmest and most dutiful attachment to the noble House of
Northumberland, could not sit quietly and hear a man praised, who had
spoken disrespectfully of Alnwick-Castle and the Duke's pleasure
grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels. He therefore
opposed Johnson eagerly. JOHNSON. 'Pennant in what he has said of
Alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you very angry.' PERCY.
'He has said the garden is _trim_[794], which is representing it like a
citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of
fine turf and gravel walks.' JOHNSON. 'According to your own account,
Sir, Pennant is right. It _is_ trim. Here is grass cut close, and gravel
rolled smooth. Is not that trim? The extent is nothing against that; a
mile may be as trim as a square yard. Your extent puts me in mind of the
citizen's enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef, and two
puddings[795]. There is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the
ground, no trees[796].' PERCY. 'He pretends to give the natural history of
Northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immense number of trees
planted there of late.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, has nothing to do with the
_natural history_; that is _civil_ history. A man who gives the natural
history of the oak, is not to tell how many oaks have been planted in
this place or that. A man who gives the natural history of the cow, is
not to tell how many cows are milked at Islington. The animal is the
same, whether milked in the Park or at Islington.' PERCY. 'Pennant does
not describe well; a carrier who goes along the side of Lochlomond would
describe it better.' JOHNSON. 'I think he describes very well.' PERCY.
'I travelled after him.' JOHNSON. 'And _I_ travelled after him.' PERCY.
'But, my good friend, you are short-sighted, and do not see so well as I
do.' I wondered at Dr. Percy's venturing thus. Dr. Johnson said nothing
at the time; but inflammable particles were collecting for a cloud to
burst. In a little while Dr. Percy said something more in disparagement
of Pennant. JOHNSON. (pointedly) 'This is the resentment of a narrow
mind, because he did not find every thing in Northumberland.' PERCY.
(feeling the stroke) 'Sir, you may be as rude as you please.' JOHNSON.
'Hold, Sir! Don't talk of rudeness; remember, Sir, you told me (puffing
hard with passion struggling for a vent) I was short-sighted[797]. We have
done with civility. We are to be as rude as we please.' PERCY. 'Upon my
honour, Sir, I did not mean to be uncivil.' JOHNSON. 'I cannot say so,
Sir; for I _did_ mean to be uncivil, thinking _you_ had been uncivil.'
Dr. Percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him by the hand, assured him
affectionately that his meaning had been misunderstood; upon which a
reconciliation instantly took place. JOHNSON. 'My dear Sir, I am willing
you shall _hang_ Pennant.' PERCY. (resuming the former subject) 'Pennant
complains that the helmet is not hung out to invite to the hall of
hospitality[798]. Now I never heard that it was a custom to hang out a
_helmet_[799].' JOHNSON. 'Hang him up, hang him up.' BOSWELL. (humouring
the joke) 'Hang out his skull instead of a helmet, and you may drink ale
out of it in your hall of Odin, as he is your enemy; that will be truly
ancient. _There_ will be _Northern Antiquities_[800].' JOHNSON. 'He's a
_Whig_, Sir; a _sad dog_. (smiling at his own violent expressions,
merely for _political_ difference of opinion.) But he's the best
traveller I ever read; he observes more things than any one else does.'
I could not help thinking that this was too high praise of a writer who
had traversed a wide extent of country in such haste, that he could put
together only curt frittered fragments of his own, and afterwards
procured supplemental intelligence from parochial ministers, and others
not the best qualified or most impartial narrators, whose ungenerous
prejudice against the house of Stuart glares in misrepresentation; a
writer, who at best treats merely of superficial objects, and shews no
philosophical investigation of character and manners, such as Johnson
has exhibited in his masterly _Journey_, over part of the same ground;
and who it should seem from a desire of ingratiating himself with the
Scotch, has flattered the people of North-Britain so inordinately and
with so little discrimination, that the judicious and candid amongst
them must be disgusted, while they value more the plain, just, yet
kindly report of Johnson.
Having impartially censured Mr. Pennant, as a Traveller in Scotland, let
me allow him, from authorities much better than mine, his deserved
praise as an able Zoologist; and let me also from my own understanding
and feelings, acknowledge the merit of his _London_, which, though said
to be not quite accurate in some particulars, is one of the most
pleasing topographical performances that ever appeared in any language.
Mr. Pennant, like his countrymen in general[801], has the true spirit of a
_Gentleman_. As a proof of it, I shall quote from his _London_ the
passage, in which he speaks of my illustrious friend. 'I must by no
means omit _Bolt-court_, the long residence of Doctor SAMUEL JOHNSON, a
man of the strongest natural abilities, great learning, a most retentive
memory, of the deepest and most unaffected piety and morality, mingled
with those numerous weaknesses and prejudices which his friends have
kindly taken care to draw from their dread abode[802]. I brought on myself
his transient anger, by observing that in his tour in _Scotland_, he
once had "long and woeful experience of oats being the food of men in
_Scotland_ as they were of horses in _England_."' It was a national
reflection unworthy of him, and I shot my bolt. In return he gave me a
tender hug[803]. _Con amore_ he also said of me '_The dog is a Whig_[804];'
I admired the virtues of Lord _Russell_, and pitied his fall. I should
have been a Whig at the Revolution. There have been periods since, in
which I should have been, what I now am, a moderate Tory, a supporter,
as far as my little influence extends, of a well-poised balance between
the crown and people: but should the scale preponderate against the
_Salus populi_, that moment may it be said '_The dog's a Whig_!'
We had a calm after the storm, staid the evening and supped, and were
pleasant and gay. But Dr. Percy told me he was very uneasy at what had
passed; for there was a gentleman there who was acquainted with the
Northumberland family, to whom he hoped to have appeared more
respectable, by shewing how intimate he was with Dr. Johnson, and who
might now, on the contrary, go away with an opinion to his disadvantage.
He begged I would mention this to Dr. Johnson, which I afterwards did.
His observation upon it was, 'This comes of _stratagem_; had he told me
that he wished to appear to advantage before that gentleman, he should
have been at the top of the house, all the time.' He spoke of Dr. Percy
in the handsomest terms. 'Then, Sir, (said I,) may I be allowed to
suggest a mode by which you may effectually counteract any unfavourable
report of what passed. I will write a letter to you upon the subject of
the unlucky contest of that day, and you will be kind enough to put in
writing as an answer to that letter, what you have now said, and as Lord
Percy is to dine with us at General Paoli's soon, I will take an
opportunity to read the correspondence in his Lordship's presence.' This
friendly scheme was accordingly carried into execution without Dr.
Percy's knowledge. Johnson's letter placed Dr. Percy's unquestionable
merit in the fairest point of view; and I contrived that Lord Percy
should hear the correspondence, by introducing it at General Paoli's, as
an instance of Dr. Johnson's kind disposition towards one in whom his
Lordship was interested. Thus every unfavourable impression was obviated
that could possibly have been made on those by whom he wished most to be
regarded. I breakfasted the day after with him, and informed him of my
scheme, and its happy completion, for which he thanked me in the warmest
terms, and was highly delighted with Dr. Johnson's letter in his praise,
of which I gave him a copy. He said, 'I would rather have this than
degrees from all the Universities in Europe. It will be for me, and my
children and grand-children.' Dr. Johnson having afterwards asked me if
I had given him a copy of it, and being told I had, was offended, and
insisted that I should get it back, which I did. As, however, he did not
desire me to destroy either the original or the copy, or forbid me to
let it be seen, I think myself at liberty to apply to it his general
declaration to me concerning his other letters, 'That he did not choose
they should be published in his lifetime; but had no objection to their
appearing after his death[805].' I shall therefore insert this kindly
correspondence, having faithfully narrated the circumstances
accompanying it[806].
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'MY DEAR SIR,
'I beg leave to address you in behalf of our friend Dr. Percy, who was
much hurt by what you said to him that day we dined at his house[807];
when, in the course of the dispute as to Pennant's merit as a traveller,
you told Percy that "he had the resentment of a narrow mind against
Pennant, because he did not find every thing in Northumberland." Percy
is sensible that you did not mean to injure him; but he is vexed to
think that your behaviour to him upon that occasion may be interpreted
as a proof that he is despised by you, which I know is not the case. I
have told him, that the charge of being narrow-minded was only as to the
particular point in question; and that he had the merit of being a
martyr to his noble family.
'Earl Percy is to dine with General Paoli next Friday; and I should be
sincerely glad to have it in my power to satisfy his Lordship how well
you think of Dr. Percy, who, I find, apprehends that your good opinion
of him may be of very essential consequence; and who assures me, that he
has the highest respect and the warmest affection for you.
'I have only to add, that my suggesting this occasion for the exercise
of your candour and generosity, is altogether unknown to Dr. Percy, and
proceeds from my good-will towards him, and my persuasion that you will
be happy to do him an essential kindness. I am, more and more, my dear
Sir,
'Your most faithful
'And affectionate humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
* * * * *
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'SIR,
'The debate between Dr. Percy and me is one of those foolish
controversies, which begin upon a question of which neither party cares
how it is decided, and which is, nevertheless, continued to acrimony, by
the vanity with which every man resists confutation[808]. Dr. Percy's
warmth proceeded from a cause which, perhaps, does him more honour than
he could have derived from juster criticism. His abhorrence of Pennant
proceeded from his opinion that Pennant had wantonly and indecently
censured his patron. His anger made him resolve, that, for having been
once wrong, he never should be right. Pennant has much in his notions
that I do not like; but still I think him a very intelligent traveller.
If Percy is really offended, I am sorry; for he is a man whom I never
knew to offend any one. He is a man very willing to learn, and very able
to teach; a man, out of whose company I never go without having learned
something. It is sure that he vexes me sometimes, but I am afraid it is
by making me feel my own ignorance. So much extension of mind, and so
much minute accuracy of enquiry, if you survey your whole circle of
acquaintance, you will find so scarce, if you find it at all, that you
will value Percy by comparison. Lord Hailes is somewhat like him: but
Lord Hailes does not, perhaps, go beyond him in research; and I do not
know that he equals him in elegance. Percy's attention to poetry has
given grace and splendour to his studies of antiquity. A mere
antiquarian is a rugged being.
'Upon the whole, you see that what I might say in sport or petulance to
him, is very consistent with full conviction of his merit.
'I am, dear Sir,
'Your most, &c.,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'April 23, 1778.'
'TO THE REVEREND DR. PERCY, NORTHUMBERLAND-HOUSE.
'DEAR SIR,
'I wrote to Dr. Johnson on the subject of the _Pennantian_ controversy;
and have received from him an answer which will delight you. I read it
yesterday to Dr. Robertson, at the Exhibition; and at dinner to Lord
Percy, General Oglethorpe, &c. who dined with us at General Paoli's; who
was also a witness to the high _testimony_ to your honour.
'General Paoli desires the favour of your company next Tuesday to
dinner, to meet Dr. Johnson. If I can, I will call on you to-day. I am,
with sincere regard,
'Your most obedient humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL[809].'
'South Audley-street, April 25.'
On Monday, April 13, I dined with Johnson at Mr. Langton's, where were
Dr. Porteus, then Bishop of Chester, now of London, and Dr. Stinton[810].
He was at first in a very silent mood. Before dinner he said nothing but
'Pretty baby,' to one of the children. Langton said very well to me
afterwards, that he could repeat Johnson's conversation before dinner,
as Johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of _The
Natural History of Iceland_, from the Danish of _Horrebow_, the whole of
which was exactly thus:--
'CHAP. LXXII. _Concerning snakes_.
'There are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole island[811].'
At dinner we talked of another mode in the newspapers[812] of giving
modern characters in sentences from the classicks, and of the passage
'Pareus deorum cultor, et infrequens,
Insanientis dum sapientiæ
Consultus erro, nunc retrorsùm
Vela dare, atque iterare cursus
Cogor relictos[813]:'
being well applied to Soame Jenyns; who, after having wandered in the
wilds of infidelity, had returned to the Christian faith[814]. Mr. Langton
asked Johnson as to the propriety of _sapientiæ consultus_. JOHNSON.
'Though _consultus_ was primarily an adjective, like _amicus_ it came to
be used as a substantive. So we have _Juris consultus_, a consult in
law.'
We talked of the styles of different painters, and how certainly a
connoisseur could distinguish them; I asked, if there was as clear a
difference of styles in language as in painting, or even as in
hand-writing, so that the composition of every individual may be
distinguished? JOHNSON. 'Yes. Those who have a style of eminent
excellence, such as Dryden and Milton, can always be distinguished.' I
had no doubt of this, but what I wanted to know was, whether there was
really a peculiar style to every man whatever, as there is certainly a
peculiar handwriting, a peculiar countenance, not widely different in
many, yet always enough to be distinctive:--
'... _facies non omnibus una,
Nec diversa tamen_[815].'
The Bishop thought not; and said, he supposed that many pieces in
Dodsley's collection of poems, though all very pretty, had nothing
appropriated in their style, and in that particular could not be at all
distinguished. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I think every man whatever has a
peculiar style[816], which may be discovered by nice examination and
comparison with others: but a man must write a great deal to make his
style obviously discernible. As logicians say, this appropriation of
style is infinite in _potestate_, limited _in actu_.'
Mr. Topham Beauclerk came in the evening, and he and Dr. Johnson and I
staid to supper. It was mentioned that Dr. Dodd had once wished to be a
member of THE LITERARY CLUB[817]. JOHNSON. 'I should be sorry if any of
our Club were hanged. I will not say but some of them deserve it[818].'
BEAUCLERK; (supposing this to be aimed at persons for whom he had at
that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did not last long,) was
irritated, and eagerly said, 'You, Sir, have a friend[819], (naming him)
who deserves to be hanged; for he speaks behind their backs against
those with whom he lives on the best terms, and attacks them in the
newspapers. _He_ certainly ought to be _kicked_.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we all
do this in some degree, "_Veniam petimus damusque vicissim_[820]." To be
sure it may be done so much, that a man may deserve to be kicked.'
BEAUCLERK. 'He is very malignant.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he is not
malignant. He is mischievous, if you will. He would do no man an
essential injury; he may, indeed, love to make sport of people by vexing
their vanity. I, however, once knew an old gentleman who was absolutely
malignant. He really wished evil to others, and rejoiced at it.'
BOSWELL. 'The gentleman, Mr. Beauclerk, against whom you are so violent,
is, I know, a man of good principles.' BEAUCLERK. 'Then he does not wear
them out in practice[821].'
Dr. Johnson, who, as I have observed before, delighted in discrimination
of character, and having a masterly knowledge of human nature, was
willing to take men as they are, imperfect and with a mixture of good
and bad qualities[822], I suppose thought he had said enough in defence of
his friend, of whose merits, notwithstanding his exceptional points, he
had a just value; and added no more on the subject.
On Tuesday, April 14, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe's, with
General Paoli and Mr. Langton. General Oglethorpe declaimed against
luxury[823]. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, every state of society is as
luxurious as it can be. Men always take the best they can get.'
OGLETHORPE. 'But the best depends much upon ourselves; and if we can be
as well satisfied with plain things, we are in the wrong to accustom our
palates to what is high-seasoned and expensive. What says Addison in his
_Cato_, speaking of the Numidian?
"Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chace,
Amid the running stream he slakes his thirst,
Toils all the day, and at the approach of night,
On the first friendly bank he throws him down,
Or rests his head upon a rock till morn[824];
And if the following day he chance to find
A new repast, or an untasted spring,
Blesses his stars, and thinks it's luxury."
Let us have _that_ kind of luxury, Sir, if you will.' JOHNSON. 'But
hold, Sir; to be merely satisfied is not enough. It is in refinement and
elegance that the civilized man differs from the savage. A great part of
our industry, and all our ingenuity is exercised in procuring pleasure;
and, Sir, a hungry man has not the same pleasure in eating a plain
dinner, that a hungry man has in eating a luxurious dinner. You see I
put the case fairly. A hungry man may have as much, nay, more pleasure
in eating a plain dinner, than a man grown fastidious has in eating a
luxurious dinner. But I suppose the man who decides between the two
dinners, to be equally a hungry man.'
Talking of different governments,--JOHNSON. 'The more contracted that
power is, the more easily it is destroyed. A country governed by a
despot is an inverted cone. Government there cannot be so firm, as when
it rests upon a broad basis gradually contracted, as the government of
Great Britain, which is founded on the parliament, then is in the privy
council, then in the King.' BOSWELL. 'Power, when contracted into the
person of a despot, may be easily destroyed, as the prince may be cut
off. So Caligula wished that the people of Rome had but one neck, that
he might cut them off at a blow.' OGLETHORPE. 'It was of the Senate he
wished that[825]. The Senate by its usurpation controlled both the
Emperour and the people. And don't you think that we see too much of
that in our own Parliament?'
Dr. Johnson endeavoured to trace the etymology of Maccaronick verses,
which he thought were of Italian invention from Maccaroni; but on being
informed that this would infer that they were the most common and easy
verses, maccaroni being the most ordinary and simple food, he was at a
loss; for he said, 'He rather should have supposed it to import in its
primitive signification, a composition of several things; for
Maccaronick verses are verses made out of a mixture of different
languages, that is, of one language with the termination of another[826].'
I suppose we scarcely know of a language in any country where there is
any learning, in which that motley ludicrous species of composition may
not be found. It is particularly droll in Low Dutch. The
_Polemomiddinia_[827] of Drummond of Hawthornden, in which there is a
jumble of many languages moulded, as if it were all in Latin, is well
known. Mr. Langton made us laugh heartily at one in the Grecian mould,
by Joshua Barnes, in which are to be found such comical
_Anglo-Ellenisms_ as [Greek: Klubboisin ebanchthen]: they were banged
with clubs[828].
On Wednesday, April 15, I dined with Dr. Johnson at Mr. Dilly's, and was
in high spirits, for I had been a good part of the morning with Mr.
Orme, the able and eloquent historian of Hindostan, who expressed a
great admiration of Johnson. 'I do not care (said he,) on what subject
Johnson talks; but I love better to hear him talk than any body. He
either gives you new thoughts, or a new colouring. It is a shame to the
nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. Had I been George
the Third, and thought as he did about America, I would have given
Johnson three hundred a year for his _Taxation no Tyranny_ alone.' I
repeated this, and Johnson was much pleased with such praise from such a
man as Orme.
At Mr. Dilly's to-day were Mrs. Knowles[829], the ingenious Quaker
lady[830], Miss Seward, the poetess of Lichfield, the Reverend Dr.
Mayo[831], and the Rev. Mr. Beresford, Tutor to the Duke of Bedford.
Before dinner Dr. Johnson seized upon Mr. Charles Sheridan's _Account of
the late Revolution in Sweden_[832], and seemed to read it ravenously, as
if he devoured it, which was to all appearance his method of studying.
'He knows how to read better than any one (said Mrs. Knowles;) he gets
at the substance of a book directly; he tears out the heart of it.' He
kept it wrapt up in the tablecloth in his lap during the time of dinner,
from an avidity to have one entertainment in readiness when he should
have finished another; resembling (if I may use so coarse a simile) a
dog who holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while he eats something
else which has been thrown to him.
The subject of cookery having been very naturally introduced at a table
where Johnson, who boasted of the niceness of his palate[833], owned that
'he always found a good dinner,' he said, 'I could write a better book
of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should be a book upon
philosophical principles. Pharmacy is now made much more simple. Cookery
may be made so too. A prescription which is now compounded of five
ingredients, had formerly fifty in it. So in cookery, if the nature of
the ingredients be well known, much fewer will do. Then as you cannot
make bad meat good, I would tell what is the best butcher's meat, the
best beef, the best pieces; how to choose young fowls; the proper
seasons of different vegetables; and then how to roast and boil, and
compound.' DILLY. 'Mrs. Glasse's _Cookery_, which is the best, was
written by Dr. Hill. Half the _trade_[834] know this.' JOHNSON. 'Well,
Sir. This shews how much better the subject of cookery may be treated by
a philosopher. I doubt if the book be written by Dr. Hill; for, in Mrs.
Glasse's _Cookery_, which I have looked into, salt-petre and
sal-prunella are spoken of as different substances, whereas sal-prunella
is only salt-petre burnt on charcoal; and Hill could not be ignorant of
this. However, as the greatest part of such a book is made by
transcription, this mistake may have been carelessly adopted. But you
shall see what a Book of Cookery I shall make! I shall agree with Mr.
Dilly for the copy-right.' Miss SEWARD. 'That would be Hercules with the
distaff indeed.' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. Women can spin very well; but they
cannot make a good book of Cookery.'
JOHNSON. 'O! Mr. Dilly--you must know that an English Benedictine Monk
at Paris has translated _The Duke of Berwick's Memoirs_, from the
original French, and has sent them to me to sell. I offered them to
Strahan, who sent them back with this answer:--"That the first book he
had published was the _Duke of Berwick's Life_, by which he had lost:
and he hated the name."--Now I honestly tell you, that Strahan has
refused them; but I also honestly tell you, that he did it upon no
principle, for he never looked into them.' DILLY. 'Are they well
translated, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, very well--in a style very current
and very clear. I have written to the Benedictine to give me an answer
upon two points--What evidence is there that the letters are authentick?
(for if they are not authentick they are nothing;)--And how long will it
be before the original French is published? For if the French edition is
not to appear for a considerable time, the translation will be almost as
valuable as an original book. They will make two volumes in octavo; and
I have undertaken to correct every sheet as it comes from the press.'
Mr. Dilly desired to see them, and said he would send for them. He asked
Dr. Johnson if he would write a Preface to them. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. The
Benedictines were very kind to me[835], and I'll do what I undertook to
do; but I will not mingle my name with them. I am to gain nothing by
them. I'll turn them loose upon the world, and let them take their
chance.' DR. MAYO. 'Pray, Sir, are Ganganelli's letters authentick?'
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. Voltaire put the same question to the editor of them,
that I did to Macpherson--Where are the originals[836]?'
Mrs. Knowles affected to complain that men had much more liberty allowed
them than women. JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, women have all the liberty they
should wish to have. We have all the labour and the danger, and the
women all the advantage. We go to sea, we build houses, we do
everything, in short, to pay our court to the women.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'The
Doctor reasons very wittily, but not convincingly. Now, take the
instance of building; the mason's wife, if she is ever seen in liquor,
is ruined; the mason may get himself drunk as often as he pleases, with
little loss of character; nay, may let his wife and children starve.'
JOHNSON. 'Madam, you must consider, if the mason does get himself drunk,
and let his wife and children starve, the parish will oblige him to find
security for their maintenance. We have different modes of restraining
evil. Stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women[837], and a pound for
beasts. If we require more perfection from women than from ourselves, it
is doing them honour. And women have not the same temptations that we
have: they may always live in virtuous company; men must mix in the
world indiscriminately. If a woman has no inclination to do what is
wrong being secured from it is no restraint to her. I am at liberty to
walk into the Thames; but if I were to try it, my friends would restrain
me in Bedlam, and I should be obliged to them.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Still,
Doctor, I cannot help thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is
allowed to men than to women. It gives a superiority to men, to which I
do not see how they are entitled.' JOHNSON. 'It is plain, Madam, one or
other must have the superiority. As Shakspeare says, "If two men ride on
a horse, one must ride behind[838]."' DILLY. 'I suppose, Sir, Mrs. Knowles
would have them to ride in panniers, one on each side.' JOHNSON. 'Then,
Sir, the horse would throw them both.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Well, I hope that
in another world the sexes will be equal.' BOSWELL. 'That is being too
ambitious, Madam. _We_ might as well desire to be equal with the angels.
We shall all, I hope, be happy in a future state, but we must not expect
to be all happy in the same degree. It is enough if we be happy
according to our several capacities. A worthy carman will get to heaven
as well as Sir Isaac Newton. Yet, though equally good, they will not
have the same degrees of happiness.' JOHNSON. 'Probably not.'
Upon this subject I had once before sounded him, by mentioning the late
Reverend Mr. Brown, of Utrecht's, image; that a great and small glass,
though equally full, did not hold an equal quantity; which he threw out
to refute David Hume's saying[839], that a little miss, going to dance at
a ball, in a fine new dress, was as happy as a great oratour, after
having made an eloquent and applauded speech. After some thought,
Johnson said, 'I come over to the parson.' As an instance of coincidence
of thinking, Mr. Dilly told me, that Dr. King, a late dissenting
minister in London, said to him, upon the happiness in a future state of
good men of different capacities, 'A pail does not hold so much as a
tub; but, if it be equally full, it has no reason to complain. Every
Saint in heaven will have as much happiness as he can hold.' Mr. Dilly
thought this a clear, though a familiar illustration of the phrase, 'One
star differeth from another in brightness[840].'
Dr. Mayo having asked Johnson's opinion of Soame Jenyns's _View of the
Internal Evidence of the Christian Religion_[841];--JOHNSON. 'I think it a
pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there seems to be an
affectation of ease and carelessness, as if it were not suitable to his
character to be very serious about the matter.' BOSWELL. 'He may have
intended this to introduce his book the better among genteel people, who
might be unwilling to read too grave a treatise. There is a general
levity in the age. We have physicians now with bag-wigs[842]; may we not
have airy divines, at least somewhat less solemn in their appearance
than they used to be?' JOHNSON. 'Jenyns might mean as you say[843].'
BOSWELL. 'You should like his book, Mrs. Knowles, as it maintains, as
you _friends_ do, that courage is not a Christian virtue.' MRS. KNOWLES.
'Yes, indeed, I like him there; but I cannot agree with him, that
friendship is not a Christian virtue[844].' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, strictly
speaking, he is right. All friendship is preferring the interest of a
friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, against the interest of others; so
that an old Greek said, "He that has _friends_ has _no friend_." Now
Christianity recommends universal benevolence, to consider all men as
our brethren[845], which is contrary to the virtue of friendship, as
described by the ancient philosophers. Surely, Madam, your sect must
approve of this; for, you call all men _friends_.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'We are
commanded to do good to all men, "but especially to them who are of the
household of Faith[846]."' JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam. The household of Faith
is wide enough.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'But, Doctor, our Saviour had twelve
Apostles, yet there was _one_ whom he _loved_. John was called "the
disciple whom JESUS loved[847]."' JOHNSON (with eyes sparkling
benignantly). 'Very well, indeed, Madam. You have said very well.'
BOSWELL. 'A fine application. Pray, Sir, had you ever thought of it?'
JOHNSON. 'I had not, Sir.'
From this pleasing subject[848], he, I know not how or why, made a sudden
transition to one upon which he was a violent aggressor; for he said, 'I
am willing to love all mankind, _except an American_:' and his
inflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out
threatenings and slaughter[849];' calling them, 'Rascals--Robbers--
Pirates;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.' Miss Seward,
looking to him with mild but steady astonishment, said, 'Sir, this is an
instance that we are always most violent against those whom we have
injured.'--He was irritated still more by this delicate and keen
reproach; and roared out another tremendous volley, which one might
fancy could be heard across the Atlantick. During this tempest I sat in
great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I
diverted his attention to other topicks.
DR. MAYO (to Dr. Johnson). 'Pray, Sir, have you read _Edwards, of New
England, on Grace_?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'It puzzled me so much
as to the freedom of the human will, by stating, with wonderful acute
ingenuity, our being actuated by a series of motives which we cannot
resist, that the only relief I had was to forget it.' MAYO. 'But he
makes the proper distinction between moral and physical necessity.'
BOSWELL. 'Alas, Sir, they come both to the same thing. You may be bound
as hard by chains when covered by leather, as when the iron appears. The
argument for the moral necessity of human actions is always, I observe,
fortified by supposing universal prescience to be one of the attributes
of the Deity.' JOHNSON. 'You are surer that you are free, than you are
of prescience; you are surer that you can lift up your finger or not as
you please, than you are of any conclusion from a deduction of
reasoning. But let us consider a little the objection from prescience.
It is certain I am either to go home to-night or not; that does not
prevent my freedom.' BOSWELL. 'That it is certain you are _either_ to go
home or not, does not prevent your freedom; because the liberty of
choice between the two is compatible with that certainty. But if _one_
of these events be certain _now_, you have no _future_ power of
volition. If it be certain you are to go home to-night, you _must_ go
home.' JOHNSON. 'If I am well acquainted with a man, I can judge with
great probability how he will act in any case, without his being
restrained by my judging. GOD may have this probability increased to
certainty.' BOSWELL. 'When it is increased to _certainty_, freedom
ceases, because that cannot be certainly foreknown, which is not certain
at the time; but if it be certain at the time, it is a contradiction in
terms to maintain that there can be afterwards any _contingency_
dependent upon the exercise of will or any thing else.' JOHNSON. 'All
theory is against the freedom of the will; all experience for it[850].'--I
did not push the subject any farther. I was glad to find him so mild in
discussing a question of the most abstract nature, involved with
theological tenets, which he generally would not suffer to be in any
degree opposed[851].
He as usual defended luxury[852]; 'You cannot spend money in luxury
without doing good to the poor. Nay, you do more good to them by
spending it in luxury, than by giving it: for by spending it in luxury,
you make them exert industry, whereas by giving it, you keep them idle.
I own, indeed, there may be more virtue in giving it immediately in
charity, than in spending it in luxury; though there may be a pride in
that too.' Miss Seward asked, if this was not Mandeville's doctrine of
'private vices publick benefits.' JOHNSON. 'The fallacy of that book is,
that Mandeville defines neither vices nor benefits. He reckons among
vices everything that gives pleasure[853]. He takes the narrowest system
of morality, monastick morality, which holds pleasure itself to be a
vice, such as eating salt with our fish, because it makes it eat better;
and he reckons wealth as a publick benefit, which is by no means always
true. Pleasure of itself is not a vice. Having a garden, which we all
know to be perfectly innocent, is a great pleasure. At the same time, in
this state of being there are many pleasures vices, which however are so
immediately agreeable that we can hardly abstain from them. The
happiness of Heaven will be, that pleasure and virtue will be perfectly
consistent. Mandeville puts the case of a man who gets drunk in an
alehouse; and says it is a publick benefit, because so much money is got
by it to the publick. But it must be considered, that all the good
gained by this, through the gradation of alehouse-keeper, brewer,
maltster, and farmer, is overbalanced by the evil caused to the man and
his family by his getting drunk[854]. This is the way to try what is
vicious, by ascertaining whether more evil than good is produced by it
upon the whole, which is the case in all vice. It may happen that good
is produced by vice; but not as vice; for instance, a robber may take
money from its owner, and give it to one who will make a better use of
it. Here is good produced; but not by the robbery as robbery, but as
translation of property[855]. I read Mandeville forty, or, I believe,
fifty years ago. He did not puzzle me; he opened my views into real life
very much[856]. No, it is clear that the happiness of society depends on
virtue. In Sparta, theft was allowed by general consent[857]: theft,
therefore, was _there_ not a crime, but then there was no security; and
what a life must they have had, when there was no security. Without
truth there must be a dissolution of society. As it is, there is so
little truth, that we are almost afraid to trust our ears; but how
should we be, if falsehood were multiplied ten times? Society is held
together by communication and information; and I remember this remark of
Sir Thomas Brown's, "Do the devils lie? No; for then Hell could not
subsist[858]."'
Talking of Miss ----[859], a literary lady, he said, 'I was obliged to
speak to Miss Reynolds, to let her know that I desired she would not
flatter me so much.' Somebody now observed, 'She flatters Garrick.'
JOHNSON. 'She is in the right to flatter Garrick. She is in the right
for two reasons; first, because she has the world with her, who have
been praising Garrick these thirty years; and secondly, because she is
rewarded for it by Garrick[860]. Why should she flatter _me_? I can do
nothing for her. Let her carry her praise to a better market[861]. (Then
turning to Mrs. Knowles). You, Madam, have been flattering me all the
evening; I wish you would give Boswell a little now. If you knew his
merit as well as I do, you would say a great deal; he is the best
travelling companion in the world[862].'
Somebody mentioned the Reverend Mr. Mason's prosecution of Mr.
Murray[863], the bookseller, for having inserted in a collection of
_Gray's Poems_, only fifty lines, of which Mr. Mason had still the
exclusive property, under the statute of Queen Anne; and that Mr. Mason
had persevered, notwithstanding his being requested to name his own
terms of compensation[864]. Johnson signified his displeasure at Mr.
Mason's conduct very strongly; but added, by way of shewing that he was
not surprized at it, 'Mason's a Whig.' MRS. KNOWLES, (not hearing
distinctly:) 'What! a Prig, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Worse, Madam; a Whig! But he
is both.'
I expressed a horrour at the thought of death. MRS. KNOWLES. 'Nay, thou
should'st not have a horrour for what is the gate of life.' JOHNSON,
(standing upon the hearth rolling about, with a serious, solemn, and
somewhat gloomy air:) 'No rational man can die without uneasy
apprehension.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'The Scriptures tell us, "The righteous
shall have _hope_ in his death[865]."' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam; that is, he
shall not have despair[866]. But, consider, his hope of salvation must be
founded on the terms on which it is promised that the mediation of our
SAVIOUR shall be applied to us,--namely, obedience; and where obedience
has failed, then, as suppletory to it, repentance. But what man can say
that his obedience has been such, as he would approve of in another, or
even in himself upon close examination, or that his repentance has not
been such as to require being repented of? No man can be sure that his
obedience and repentance will obtain salvation.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'But
divine intimation of acceptance may be made to the soul.' JOHNSON.
'Madam, it may; but I should not think the better of a man who should
tell me on his death-bed he was sure of salvation. A man cannot be sure
himself that he has divine intimation of acceptance; much less can he
make others sure that he has it[867].' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, we must be
contented to acknowledge that death is a terrible thing.' JOHNSON. 'Yes,
Sir. I have made no approaches to a state which can look on it as not
terrible[868].' MRS. KNOWLES, (seeming to enjoy a pleasing serenity in the
persuasion of benignant divine light:) 'Does not St. Paul say, "I have
fought the good fight of faith, I have finished my course; henceforth is
laid up for me a crown of life[869]?"' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam; but here was
a man inspired, a man who had been converted by supernatural
interposition.' BOSWELL. 'In prospect death is dreadful; but in fact we
find that people die easy.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, most people have not
_thought_ much of the matter, so cannot _say_ much, and it is supposed
they die easy. Few believe it certain they are then to die; and those
who do, set themselves to behave with resolution, as a man does who is
going to be hanged. He is not the less unwilling to be hanged[870].' MISS
SEWARD. 'There is one mode of the fear of death, which is certainly
absurd; and that is the dread of annihilation, which is only a pleasing
sleep without a dream.' JOHNSON. 'It is neither pleasing, nor sleep; it
is nothing. Now mere existence is so much better than nothing, that one
would rather exist even in pain, than not exist[871].' BOSWELL. 'If
annihilation be nothing, then existing in pain is not a comparative
state, but is a positive evil, which I cannot think we should choose. I
must be allowed to differ here; and it would lessen the hope of a future
state founded on the argument, that the Supreme Being, who is good as he
is great, will hereafter compensate for our present sufferings in this
life. For if existence, such as we have it here, be comparatively a
good, we have no reason to complain, though no more of it should be
given to us. But if our only state of existence were in this world, then
we might with some reason complain that we are so dissatisfied with our
enjoyments compared with our desires.' JOHNSON. 'The lady confounds
annihilation, which is nothing, with the apprehension of it, which is
dreadful. It is in the apprehension of it that the horrour of
annihilation consists[872].'
Of John Wesley, he said, 'He can talk well on any subject[873].' BOSWELL.
'Pray, Sir, what has he made of his story of a ghost?' JOHNSON. 'Why,
Sir, he believes it; but not on sufficient authority. He did not take
time enough to examine the girl. It was at Newcastle, where the ghost
was said to have appeared to a young woman several times, mentioning
something about the right to an old house, advising application to be
made to an attorney, which was done; and, at the same time, saying the
attorney would do nothing, which proved to be the fact. "This (says
John) is a proof that a ghost knows our thoughts[874]." Now (laughing) it
is not necessary to know our thoughts, to tell that an attorney will
sometimes do nothing. Charles Wesley, who is a more stationary man, does
not believe the story. I am sorry that John did not take more pains to
inquire into the evidence for it.' MISS SEWARD, (with an incredulous
smile:) 'What, Sir! about a ghost?' JOHNSON, (with solemn vehemence:)
'Yes, Madam: this is a question which, after five thousand years, is yet
undecided; a question, whether in theology or philosophy, one of the
most important that can come before the human understanding[875].'