young lady well known to Dr. Johnson, for whom he had shewn much
affection; while she ever had, and still retained, a great respect for
him. Mrs. Knowles at the same time took an opportunity of letting him
know 'that the amiable young creature was sorry at finding that he was
offended at her leaving the Church of England and embracing a simpler
faith;' and, in the gentlest and most persuasive manner, solicited his
kind indulgence for what was sincerely a matter of conscience. JOHNSON,
(frowning very angrily,) 'Madam, she is an odious wench. She could not
have any proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion,
which is the most important of all subjects, and should be studied with
all care, and with all the helps we can get. She knew no more of the
Church which she left, and that which she embraced, than she did of the
difference between the Copernican and Ptolemaick systems.' MRS. KNOWLES.
'She had the New Testament before her.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, she could not
understand the New Testament, the most difficult book in the world, for
which the study of a life is required.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'It is clear as to
essentials.' JOHNSON. 'But not as to controversial points. The heathens
were easily converted, because they had nothing to give up; but we ought
not, without very strong conviction indeed, to desert the religion in
which we have been educated. That is the religion given you, the
religion in which it may be said Providence has placed you. If you live
conscientiously in that religion, you may be safe. But errour is
dangerous indeed, if you err when you choose a religion for
yourself[877].' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Must we then go by implicit faith?'
JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, the greatest part of our knowledge is implicit
faith; and as to religion, have we heard all that a disciple of
Confucius, all that a Mahometan, can say for himself?' He then rose
again into passion, and attacked the young proselyte in the severest
terms of reproach, so that both the ladies seemed to be much shocked[878].
We remained together till it was pretty late. Notwithstanding occasional
explosions of violence, we were all delighted upon the whole with
Johnson. I compared him at this time to a warm West-Indian climate,
where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage,
luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder,
lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree.
April 17, being Good Friday[879], I waited on Johnson, as usual. I
observed at breakfast that although it was a part of his abstemious
discipline on this most solemn fast, to take no milk in his tea, yet
when Mrs. Desmoulins inadvertently poured it in, he did not reject it. I
talked of the strange indecision of mind, and imbecility in the common
occurrences of life, which we may observe in some people. JOHNSON. 'Why,
Sir, I am in the habit of getting others to do things for me.' BOSWELL.
'What, Sir! have you that weakness?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I always
think afterwards I should have done better for myself.' I told him that
at a gentleman's house[880] where there was thought to be such
extravagance or bad management, that he was living much beyond his
income, his lady had objected to the cutting of a pickled mango, and
that I had taken an opportunity to ask the price of it, and found it was
only two shillings; so here was a very poor saving. JOHNSON. 'Sir, that
is the blundering oeconomy of a narrow understanding. It is stopping one
hole in a sieve.'
I expressed some inclination to publish an account of my _Travels_ upon
the continent of Europe, for which I had a variety of materials
collected. JOHNSON. 'I do not say, Sir, you may not publish your
travels; but I give you my opinion, that you would lessen yourself by
it. What can you tell of countries so well known as those upon the
continent of Europe, which you have visited?' BOSWELL. 'But I can give
an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, anecdotes, _jeux
d'esprit_, and remarks, so as to make very pleasant reading.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, most modern travellers in Europe who have published their
travels, have been laughed at: I would not have you added to the
number[881]. The world is now not contented to be merely entertained by a
traveller's narrative; they want to learn something[882]. Now some of my
friends asked me, why I did not give some account of my travels in
France. The reason is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of France
than I had. _You_ might have liked my travels in France, and THE CLUB
might have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have been more
ridicule than good produced by them.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot agree with you,
Sir. People would like to read what you say of any thing. Suppose a face
has been painted by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done
by Sir Joshua.' JOHNSON. 'True, Sir, but Sir Joshua cannot paint a face
when he has not time to look on it.' BOSWELL. 'Sir, a sketch of any sort
by him is valuable. And, Sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising
my voice, and shaking my head,) you _should_ have given us your travels
in France. I am _sure_ I am right, and _there's an end on't_.'
I said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend Dempster had
observed in his letter to me upon the subject, that a great part of what
was in his _Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland_ had been in his
mind before he left London. JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, the topicks were;
and books of travels[883] will be good in proportion to what a man has
previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe; his power of
contrasting one mode of life with another. As the Spanish proverb says,
"He, who would bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry the
wealth of the Indies with him." So it is in travelling; a man must carry
knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' BOSWELL. 'The
proverb, I suppose, Sir, means, he must carry a large stock with him to
trade with.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.'
It was a delightful day: as we walked to St. Clement's church[884], I
again remarked that Fleet-street was the most cheerful scene in the
world[885]. 'Fleet-street (said I,) is in my mind more delightful than
Tempé.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir; but let it be compared with Mull.'
There was a very numerous congregation to-day at St. Clement's church,
which Dr. Johnson said he observed with pleasure.
And now I am to give a pretty full account of one of the most curious
incidents in Johnson's life, of which he himself has made the following
minute on this day: 'In my return from church, I was accosted by
Edwards[886], an old fellow-collegian, who had not seen me since 1729. He
knew me, and asked if I remembered one Edwards; I did not at first
recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and
told him a conversation that had passed at an alehouse between us. My
purpose is to continue our acquaintance[887].'
It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. Edwards, who was a
decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls,
accosted Johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while
Johnson returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a
stranger. But as soon as Edwards had brought to his recollection their
having been at Pembroke-College together nine-and-forty years ago, he
seemed much pleased, asked where he lived, and said he should be glad to
see him in Bolt-court. EDWARDS. 'Ah, Sir! we are old men now[888].'
JOHNSON, (who never liked to think of being old[889]:) 'Don't let us
discourage one another.' EDWARDS. 'Why, Doctor, you look stout and
hearty, I am happy to see you so; for the newspapers told us you were
very ill[890].' JOHNSON, 'Ay, Sir, they are always telling lies of _us old
fellows_.'
Wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversation as that
between two fellow-collegians, who had lived forty years in London
without ever having chanced to meet, I whispered to Mr. Edwards that Dr.
Johnson was going home, and that he had better accompany him now. So
Edwards walked along with us, I eagerly assisting to keep up the
conversation. Mr. Edwards informed Dr. Johnson that he had practised
long as a solicitor in Chancery, but that he now lived in the country
upon a little farm, about sixty acres, just by Stevenage in
Hertfordshire, and that he came to London (to Barnard's Inn, No. 6),
generally twice a week. Johnson appearing to me in a reverie, Mr.
Edwards addressed himself to me, and expatiated on the pleasure of
living in the country. BOSWELL. 'I have no notion of this, Sir. What you
have to entertain you, is, I think, exhausted in half an hour.' EDWARDS.
'What? don't you love to have hope realized? I see my grass, and my
corn, and my trees growing. Now, for instance, I am curious to see if
this frost has not nipped my fruit-trees.' JOHNSON, (who we did not
imagine was attending:) 'You find, Sir, you have fears as well as
hopes.'--So well did he see the whole, when another saw but the half of
a subject.
When we got to Dr. Johnson's house, and were seated in his library, the
dialogue went on admirably. EDWARDS. 'Sir, I remember you would not let
us say _prodigious_ at College[891]. For even then, Sir, (turning to me,)
he was delicate in language, and we all feared him[892].' JOHNSON, (to
Edwards:) 'From your having practised the law long, Sir, I presume you
must be rich.' EDWARDS. 'No, Sir; I got a good deal of money; but I had
a number of poor relations to whom I gave a great part of it.' JOHNSON.
'Sir, you have been rich in the most valuable sense of the word.'
EDWARDS. 'But I shall not die rich.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, sure, Sir, it is
better to _live_ rich than to _die_ rich.' EDWARDS. 'I wish I had
continued at College.' JOHNSON. 'Why do you wish that, Sir?' EDWARDS.
'Because I think I should have had a much easier life than mine has
been. I should have been a parson, and had a good living, like Bloxam
and several others, and lived comfortably.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the life of a
parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. I have always
considered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able
to maintain. I would rather have Chancery suits upon my hands than the
cure of souls. No, Sir, I do not envy a clergyman's life as an easy
life[893], nor do I envy the clergyman who makes it an easy life.' Here
taking himself up all of a sudden, he exclaimed, 'O! Mr. Edwards! I'll
convince you that I recollect you. Do you remember our drinking together
at an alehouse near Pembroke gate[894]. At that time, you told me of the
Eton boy, who, when verses on our Saviour's turning water into wine were
prescribed as an exercise, brought up a single line, which was highly
admired,--
"_Vidit et erubuit lympha pudica Deum_[895],"
and I told you of another fine line in Camden's _Remains_, an eulogy
upon one of our Kings, who was succeeded by his son, a prince of equal
merit:--
"_Mira cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est_[896]."'
EDWARDS. 'You are a philosopher, Dr. Johnson. I have tried too in my
time to be a philosopher; but, I don't know how, cheerfulness was always
breaking in[897].' Mr. Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Courtenay, Mr.
Malone, and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom I have mentioned this,
have thought it an exquisite trait of character. The truth is, that
philosophy, like religion, is too generally supposed to be hard and
severe, at least so grave as to exclude all gaiety.
EDWARDS. 'I have been twice married, Doctor. You, I suppose, have never
known what it was to have a wife.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have known what it
was to have a wife, and (in a solemn tender faultering tone) I have
known what it was to _lose a wife_.--It had almost broke my heart.'
EDWARDS. 'How do you live, Sir? For my part, I must have my regular
meals, and a glass of good wine. I find I require it.' JOHNSON. 'I now
drink no wine, Sir. Early in life I drank wine: for many years I drank
none. I then for some years drank a great deal.' EDWARDS. 'Some
hogsheads, I warrant you.' JOHNSON. 'I then had a severe illness, and
left it off[898], and I have never begun it again. I never felt any
difference upon myself from eating one thing rather than another, nor
from one kind of weather rather than another[899]. There are people. I
believe, who feel a difference; but I am not one of them. And as to
regular meals, I have fasted from the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's
dinner, without any inconvenience[900]. I believe it is best to eat just
as one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or a man who has a
family, must have stated meals. I am a straggler. I may leave this town
and go to Grand Cairo, without being missed here or observed there.'
EDWARDS. 'Don't you eat supper, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' EDWARDS. 'For
my part, now, I consider supper as a turnpike through which one must
pass, in order to get to bed[901].'
JOHNSON. 'You are a lawyer, Mr. Edwards. Lawyers know life practically.
A bookish man should always have them to converse with. They have what
he wants.' EDWARDS. 'I am grown old: I am sixty-five.' JOHNSON. 'I shall
be sixty-eight[902] next birth-day. Come, Sir, drink water, and put in for
a hundred.'
Mr. Edwards mentioned a gentleman who had left his whole fortune to
Pembroke College. JOHNSON. 'Whether to leave one's whole fortune to a
College be right, must depend upon circumstances. I would leave the
interest of the fortune I bequeathed to a College to my relations or my
friends, for their lives[903]. It is the same thing to a College, which is
a permanent society, whether it gets the money now or twenty years
hence; and I would wish to make my relations or friends feel the benefit
of it.'
This interview confirmed my opinion of Johnson's most humane and
benevolent heart. His cordial and placid behaviour to an old
fellow-collegian, a man so different from himself; and his telling him
that he would go down to his farm and visit him, showed a kindness of
disposition very rare at an advanced age. He observed, 'how wonderful it
was that they had both been in London forty years, without having ever
once met, and both walkers in the street too!' Mr. Edwards, when going
away, again recurred to his consciousness of senility, and looking full
in Johnson's face, said to him, 'You'll find in Dr. Young,
"O my coevals! remnants of yourselves[904]!"'
Johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with impatience.
Edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased with the honour of having
been thus noticed by Dr. Johnson. When he was gone, I said to Johnson, I
thought him but a weak man. JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir. Here is a man who
has passed through life without experience: yet I would rather have him
with me than a more sensible man who will not talk readily. This man is
always willing to say what he has to say.' Yet Dr. Johnson had himself
by no means that willingness which he praised so much, and I think so
justly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, when
there is a total silence in a company, for any length of time; or, which
is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the conversation is with difficulty
kept up by a perpetual effort?
Johnson once observed to me, 'Tom Tyers described me the best: "Sir
(said he), you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken
to[905]."'
The gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was Mr. Thomas Tyers,
son of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder of that excellent place of
publick amusement, Vauxhall Gardens, which must ever be an estate to its
proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taste of the English
nation; there being a mixture of curious show,--gay exhibition,--musick,
vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the general ear;--for all
which only a shilling is paid[906]; and, though last, not least, good
eating and drinking for those who choose to purchase that regale[907]. Mr.
Thomas Tyers was bred to the law; but having a handsome fortune,
vivacity of temper, and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine
himself to the regularity of practice. He therefore ran about the world
with a pleasant carelessness, amusing everybody by his desultory
conversation[908]. He abounded in anecdote, but was not sufficiently
attentive to accuracy. I therefore cannot venture to avail myself much
of a biographical sketch of Johnson which he published, being one among
the various persons ambitious of appending their names to that of my
illustrious friend. That sketch is, however, an entertaining little
collection of fragments. Those which he published of Pope and Addison
are of higher merit; but his fame must chiefly rest upon his _Political
Conferences_, in which he introduces several eminent persons delivering
their sentiments in the way of dialogue, and discovers a considerable
share of learning, various knowledge, and discernment of character. This
much may I be allowed to say of a man who was exceedingly obliging to
me, and who lived with Dr. Johnson in as easy a manner as almost any of
his very numerous acquaintance.
Mr. Edwards had said to me aside, that Dr. Johnson should have been of a
profession[909]. I repeated the remark to Johnson that I might have his
own thoughts on the subject. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it _would_ have been better
that I had been of a profession. I ought to have been a lawyer.'
BOSWELL. 'I do not think, Sir, it would have been better, for we should
not have had the _English Dictionary_.' JOHNSON. 'But you would have had
_Reports_.' BOSWELL. 'Ay; but there would not have been another, who
could have written the _Dictionary_. There have been many very good
Judges. Suppose you had been Lord Chancellor; you would have delivered
opinions with more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than
perhaps any Chancellor ever did, or ever will do. But, I believe, causes
have been as judiciously decided as you could have done.' JOHNSON. 'Yes,
Sir. Property has been as well settled.'
Johnson, however, had a noble ambition floating in his mind, and had,
undoubtedly, often speculated on the possibility of his supereminent
powers being rewarded in this great and liberal country by the highest
honours of the state. Sir William Scott informs me, that upon the death
of the late Lord Lichfield, who was Chancellor of the University of
Oxford, he said to Johnson, 'What a pity it is, Sir, that you did not
follow the profession of the law[910]. You might have been Lord Chancellor
of Great Britain, and attained to the dignity of the peerage; and now
that the title of Lichfield, your native city, is extinct, you might
have had it[911].' Johnson, upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an
angry tone, exclaimed, 'Why will you vex me by suggesting this, when it
is too late[912]?'
But he did not repine at the prosperity of others. The late Dr. Thomas
Leland told Mr. Courtenay, that when Mr. Edmund Burke shewed Johnson his
fine house and lands near Beaconsfield, Johnson coolly said, 'Non
equidem invideo; miror magis[913].'
Yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature than
Johnson, or was more determined in maintaining the respect which he
justly considered as due to it. Of this, besides the general tenor of
his conduct in society, some characteristical instances may be
mentioned.
He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that once when he dined in a numerous
company of booksellers, where the room being small, the head of the
table, at which he sat, was almost close to the fire, he persevered in
suffering a great deal of inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit
his place, and let one of them sit above him.
Goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, complained one day, in a mixed
company, of Lord Camden. 'I met him (said he) at Lord Clare's house[914]
in the country, and he took no more notice of me than if I had been an
ordinary man.' The company having laughed heartily, Johnson stood forth
in defence of his friend. 'Nay, Gentleman, (said he,) Dr. Goldsmith is
in the right. A nobleman ought to have made up to such a man as
Goldsmith; and I think it is much against Lord Camden that he neglected
him[915].'
Nor could he patiently endure to hear that such respect as he thought
due only to higher intellectual qualities, should be bestowed on men of
slighter, though perhaps more amusing talents. I told him, that one
morning, when I went to breakfast with Garrick, who was very vain of his
intimacy with Lord Camden,[916] he accosted me thus:--'Pray now, did
you--did you meet a little lawyer turning the corner, eh?'--'No, Sir,
(said I.) Pray what do you mean by the question?'--'Why, (replied
Garrick, with an affected indifference, yet as if standing on tip-toe,)
Lord Camden has this moment left me. We have had a long walk together.'
JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir, Garrick talked very properly. Lord Camden _was a
little lawyer_ to be associating so familiarly with a player.' Sir
Joshua Reynolds observed, with great truth, that Johnson considered
Garrick to be as it were his _property_. He would allow no man either to
blame or to praise Garrick in his presence, without contradicting
him[917].
Having fallen into a very serious frame of mind, in which mutual
expressions of kindness passed between us, such as would be thought too
vain in me to repeat, I talked with regret of the sad inevitable
certainty that one of us must survive the other. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir,
that is an affecting consideration. I remember Swift, in one of his
letters to Pope, says, "I intend to come over, that we may meet once
more; and when we must part, it is what happens to all human
beings[918]."' BOSWELL. 'The hope that we shall see our departed
friends[919] again must support the mind.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir.'
BOSWELL. 'There is a strange unwillingness to part with life,
independent of serious fears as to futurity. A reverend friend of ours
(naming him) tells me, that he feels an uneasiness at the thoughts of
leaving his house, his study, his books.' JOHNSON. 'This is foolish in
----[920]. A man need not be uneasy on these grounds; for, as he will
retain his consciousness, he may say with the philosopher, _Omnia mea
mecum porto_[921].' BOSWELL. 'True, Sir: we may carry our books in our
heads; but still there is something painful in the thought of leaving
for ever what has given us pleasure. I remember, many years ago, when my
imagination was warm, and I happened to be in a melancholy mood, it
distressed me to think of going into a state of being in which
Shakspeare's poetry did not exist. A lady whom I then much admired, a
very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me by saying, "The
first thing you will meet in the other world, will be an elegant copy of
Shakspeare's works presented to you."' Dr. Johnson smiled benignantly at
this, and did not appear to disapprove of the notion.
We went to St. Clement's church again in the afternoon[922], and then
returned and drank tea and coffee in Mrs. Williams's room; Mrs.
Desmoulins doing the honours of the tea-table. I observed that he would
not even look at a proof-sheet of his _Life of Waller_ on Good-Friday.
Mr. Allen, the printer, brought a book on agriculture, which was
printed, and was soon to be published[923]. It was a very strange
performance, the authour having mixed in it his own thoughts upon
various topicks, along with his remarks on ploughing, sowing, and other
farming operations. He seemed to be an absurd profane fellow, and had
introduced in his book many sneers at religion, with equal ignorance and
conceit. Dr. Johnson permitted me to read some passages aloud. One was,
that he resolved to work on Sunday, and did work, but he owned he felt
_some_ weak compunction; and he had this very curious reflection:--'I
was born in the wilds of Christianity, and the briars and thorns still
hang about me.' Dr. Johnson could not help laughing at this ridiculous
image, yet was very angry at the fellow's impiety. 'However, (said he,)
the Reviewers will make him hang himself.' He, however, observed, 'that
formerly there might have been a dispensation obtained for working on
Sunday in the time of harvest[924].' Indeed in ritual observances, were
all the ministers of religion what they should be, and what many of them
are, such a power might be wisely and safely lodged with the Church.
On Saturday, April 14[925], I drank tea with him. He praised the late Mr.
Buncombe[926], of Canterbury, as a pleasing man. 'He used to come to me: I
did not seek much after him. Indeed I never sought much after any body.'
BOSWELL. 'Lord Orrery[927], I suppose.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I never went to
him but when he sent for me.' BOSWELL. 'Richardson[928]?' JOHNSON. 'Yes,
Sir. But I sought after George Psalmanazar the most. I used to go and
sit with him at an alehouse in the city[929].'
I am happy to mention another instance which I discovered of his
_seeking after_ a man of merit. Soon after the Honourable Daines
Barrington had published his excellent _Observations on the Statutes_,
Johnson waited on that worthy and learned gentleman; and, having told
him his name, courteously said, 'I have read your book, Sir, with great
pleasure, and wish to be better known to you.' Thus began an
acquaintance, which was continued with mutual regard as long as Johnson
lived.
Talking of a recent seditious delinquent[930], he said, 'They should set
him in the pillory, that he may be punished in a way that would disgrace
him.' I observed, that the pillory does not always disgrace. And I
mentioned an instance of a gentleman[931] who I thought was not
dishonoured by it. JOHNSON. 'Ay, but he was, Sir. He could not mouth and
strut as he used to do, after having been there. People are not willing
to ask a man to their tables who has stood in the pillory.'
The Gentleman who had dined with us at Dr. Percy's[932] came in. Johnson
attacked the Americans with intemperate vehemence of abuse. I said
something in their favour; and added, that I was always sorry when he
talked on that subject. This, it seems, exasperated him; though he said
nothing at the time. The cloud was charged with sulphureous vapour,
which was afterwards to burst in thunder.--We talked of a gentleman[933]
who was running out his fortune in London; and I said, 'We must get him
out of it. All his friends must quarrel with him, and that will soon
drive him away.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; we'll send _you_ to him. If your
company does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.' This was a
horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. I afterwards asked
him why he had said so harsh a thing. JOHNSON. 'Because, Sir, you made
me angry about the Americans.' BOSWELL. 'But why did you not take your
revenge directly?' JOHNSON. (smiling) 'Because, Sir, I had nothing
ready. A man cannot strike till he has his weapons.' This was a candid
and pleasant confession.
He shewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly fitted up; and
said, 'Mrs. Thrale sneered when I talked of my having asked you and your
lady to live at my house[934]. I was obliged to tell her, that you would
be in as respectable a situation in my house as in hers. Sir, the
insolence of wealth will creep out.' BOSWELL. 'She has a little both of
the insolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts.' JOHNSON. 'The
insolence of wealth is a wretched thing; but the conceit of parts has
some foundation[935]. To be sure it should not be. But who is without it?'
BOSWELL. 'Yourself, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why I play no tricks: I lay no
traps.' BOSWELL. 'No, Sir. You are six feet high, and you only do not
stoop.'
We talked of the numbers of people that sometimes have composed the
household of great families. I mentioned that there were a hundred in
the family of the present Earl of Eglintoune's father. Dr. Johnson
seeming to doubt it, I began to enumerate. 'Let us see: my Lord and my
Lady two.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, if you are to count by twos, you may be
long enough.' BOSWELL. 'Well, but now I add two sons and seven
daughters, and a servant for each, that will make twenty; so we have the
fifth part already.' JOHNSON. 'Very true. You get at twenty pretty
readily; but you will not so easily get further on. We grow to five feet
pretty readily; but it is not so easy to grow to seven.'
On Sunday, April 19, being Easter-day, after the solemnities of the
festival in St. Paul's Church, I visited him, but could not stay to
dinner. I expressed a wish to have the arguments for Christianity always
in readiness, that my religious faith might be as firm and clear as any
proposition whatever, so that I need not be under the least uneasiness,
when it should be attacked. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you cannot answer all
objections. You have demonstration for a First Cause: you see he must be
good as well as powerful, because there is nothing to make him
otherwise, and goodness of itself is preferable. Yet you have against
this, what is very certain, the unhappiness of human life. This,
however, gives us reason to hope for a future state of compensation,
that there may be a perfect system. But of that we were not sure, till
we had a positive revelation.' I told him, that his _Rasselas_ had often
made me unhappy; for it represented the misery of human life so well,
and so convincingly to a thinking mind, that if at any time the
impression wore off, and I felt myself easy, I began to suspect some
delusion.
On Monday, April 20[936], I found him at home in the morning. We talked of
a gentleman[937] who we apprehended was gradually involving his
circumstances by bad management. JOHNSON. 'Wasting a fortune is
evaporation by a thousand imperceptible means. If it were a stream,
they'd stop it. You must speak to him. It is really miserable. Were he a
gamester, it could be said he had hopes of winning. Were he a bankrupt
in trade, he might have grown rich; but he has neither spirit to spend
nor resolution to spare. He does not spend fast enough to have pleasure
from it. He has the crime of prodigality, and the wretchedness of
parsimony. If a man is killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has
been killed; but it is a sad thing for a man to lie down and die; to
bleed to death, because he has not fortitude enough to sear the wound,
or even to stitch it up.' I cannot but pause a moment to admire the
fecundity of fancy, and choice of language, which in this instance, and,
indeed, on almost all occasions, he displayed. It was well observed by
Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, 'The conversation of Johnson is strong
and clear, and may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein
and muscle is distinct and bold. Ordinary conversation resembles an
inferiour cast.'
On Saturday, April 25, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with
the learned Dr. Musgrave[938], Counsellor Leland of Ireland, son to the
historian, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and some more ladies. _The Project_[939], a
new poem, was read to the company by Dr. Musgrave. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it has
no power. Were it not for the well-known names with which it is filled,
it would be nothing: the names carry the poet, not the poet the names.'
MUSGRAVE. 'A temporary poem always entertains us.' JOHNSON. 'So does an
account of the criminals hanged yesterday entertain us.'
He proceeded:--'Demosthenes Taylor, as he was called, (that is, the
Editor of Demosthenes) was the most silent man, the merest statue of a
man that I have ever seen. I once dined in company with him, and all he
said during the whole time was no more than _Richard_. How a man should
say only Richard, it is not easy to imagine. But it was thus: Dr.
Douglas was talking of Dr. Zachary Grey, and ascribing to him something
that was written by Dr. Richard Grey. So, to correct him, Taylor said,
(imitating his affected sententious emphasis and nod,) "_Richard_."'
Mrs. Cholmondeley, in a high flow of spirits, exhibited some lively
sallies of hyperbolical compliment to Johnson, with whom she had been
long acquainted, and was very easy[940]. He was quick in catching the
_manner_ of the moment, and answered her somewhat in the style of the
hero of a romance, 'Madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.'
I happened, I know not how, to say that a pamphlet meant a prose piece.
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. A few sheets of poetry unbound are a pamphlet[941], as
much as a few sheets of prose.' MUSGRAVE. 'A pamphlet may be understood
to mean a poetical piece in Westminster-Hall, that is, in formal
language; but in common language it is understood to mean prose.'
JOHNSON. (and here was one of the many instances of his knowing clearly
and telling exactly how a thing is) 'A pamphlet is understood in common
language to mean prose, only from this, that there is so much more prose
written than poetry; as when we say a _book_, prose is understood for
the same reason, though a book may as well be in poetry as in prose. We
understand what is most general, and we name what is less frequent.'
We talked of a lady's verses on Ireland. MISS REYNOLDS. 'Have you seen
them, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. I have seen a translation from Horace,
by one of her daughters. She shewed it me.' MISS REYNOLDS. 'And how was
it, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, very well for a young Miss's verses;--that is
to say, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the
person who wrote them. I am vexed at being shewn verses in that manner.'
MISS REYNOLDS. 'But if they should be good, why not give them hearty
praise?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, because I have not then got the better of
my bad humour from having been shewn them. You must consider, Madam;
beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. Nobody has a right to put
another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the person by
telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not true.'[942]
BOSWELL. 'A man often shews his writings to people of eminence, to
obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not being
able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may
afterwards avail himself.' JOHNSON. 'Very true, Sir. Therefore the man,
who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, is put to the
torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; so that what he says is
not considered as his opinion; yet he has said it, and cannot retract
it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a cannister at
his tail, can say, "I would not have published, had not Johnson, or
Reynolds, or Musgrave, or some other good judge commended the work." Yet
I consider it as a very difficult question in conscience, whether one
should advise a man not to publish a work, if profit be his object; for
the man may say, "Had it not been for you, I should have had the money."
Now you cannot be sure; for you have only your own opinion, and the
publick may think very differently.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'You must upon
such an occasion have two judgments; one as to the real value of the
work, the other as to what may please the general taste at the time.'
JOHNSON. 'But you can be sure of neither; and therefore I should scruple
much to give a suppressive vote. Both Goldsmith's comedies were once
refused; his first by Garrick,[943] his second by Colman, who was
prevailed on at last by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to
bring it on.[944] His _Vicar of Wakefield_ I myself did not think would
have had much success. It was written and sold to a bookseller before
his _Traveller_; but published after; so little expectation had the
bookseller from it. Had it been sold after the _Traveller_, he might
have had twice as much money for it, though sixty guineas was no mean
price. The bookseller had the advantage of Goldsmith's reputation from
_The Traveller_ in the sale, though Goldsmith had it not in selling the
copy.'[945] SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. '_The Beggar's Opera_ affords a proof how
strangely people will differ in opinion about a literary performance.
Burke thinks it has no merit.' JOHNSON. 'It was refused by one of the
houses[946]; but I should have thought it would succeed, not from any
great excellence in the writing, but from the novelty, and the general
spirit and gaiety of the piece, which keeps the audience always
attentive, and dismisses them in good humour.'
We went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable increase of
company. Several of us got round Dr. Johnson, and complained that he
would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there might be a
complete edition. He smiled, and evaded our entreaties. That he intended
to do it, I have no doubt, because I have heard him say so; and I have
in my possession an imperfect list, fairly written out, which he
entitles _Historia Studiorum_. I once got from one of his friends a
list, which there was pretty good reason to suppose was accurate, for it
was written down in his presence by this friend, who enumerated each
article aloud, and had some of them mentioned to him by Mr. Levett, in
concert with whom it was made out; and Johnson, who heard all this, did
not contradict it. But when I shewed a copy of this list to him, and
mentioned the evidence for its exactness, he laughed, and said, 'I was
willing to let them go on as they pleased, and never interfered.' Upon
which I read it to him, article by article, and got him positively to
own or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty so far, I got some
other articles confirmed by him directly; and afterwards, from time to
time, made additions under his sanction[947].
His friend Edward Cave having been mentioned, he told us, 'Cave used to
sell ten thousand of _The Gentleman's Magazine_; yet such was then his
minute attention and anxiety that the sale should not suffer the
smallest decrease, that he would name a particular person who he heard
had talked of leaving off the _Magazine_, and would say, 'Let us have
something good next month.'
It was observed, that avarice was inherent in some dispositions.
JOHNSON. 'No man was born a miser, because no man was born to
possession. Every man is born _cupidus_--desirous of getting; but not
_avarus_,--desirous of keeping.' BOSWELL. 'I have heard old Mr. Sheridan
maintain, with much ingenuity, that a complete miser is a happy man; a
miser who gives himself wholly to the one passion of saving.' JOHNSON.
'That is flying in the face of all the world, who have called an
avaricious man a _miser_, because he is miserable[948]. No, Sir; a man who
both spends and saves money is the happiest man, because he has both
enjoyments.'
The conversation having turned on _Bon-Mots_, he quoted, from one of the
_Ana_, an exquisite instance of flattery in a maid of honour in France,
who being asked by the Queen what o'clock it was, answered, 'What your
Majesty pleases[949].' He admitted that Mr. Burke's classical pun upon Mr.
Wilkes's being carried on the shoulders of the mob,--
'... Numerisque fertur
Lege solutus[950],'
was admirable; and though he was strangely unwilling to allow to that
extraordinary man the talent of wit[951], he also laughed with approbation
at another of his playful conceits; which was, that 'Horace has in one
line given a description of a good desirable manour:--
"Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines[952];"
that is to say, a _modus_[953] as to the tithes and certain _fines_[954].'
He observed, 'A man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except he
relates simple facts; as, "I was at Richmond:" or what depends on
mensuration; as, "I am six feet high." He is sure he has been at
Richmond; he is sure he is six feet high: but he cannot be sure he is
wise, or that he has any other excellence. Then, all censure of a man's
self is oblique praise. It is in order to shew how much he can spare. It
has all the invidiousness of self-praise, and all the reproach of
falsehood.' BOSWELL. 'Sometimes it may proceed from a man's strong
consciousness of his faults being observed. He knows that others would
throw him down, and therefore he had better lye down softly of his own
accord.'
On Tuesday, April 28, he was engaged to dine at General Paoli's, where,
as I have already observed[955], I was still entertained in elegant
hospitality, and with all the ease and comfort of a home. I called on
him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. We stopped first at the
bottom of Hedge-lane, into which he went to leave a letter, 'with good
news for a poor man in distress,' as he told me[956]. I did not question
him particularly as to this. He himself often resembled Lady
Bolingbroke's lively description of Pope; that 'he was _un politique aux
choux et aux raves_.'[957].' He would say, 'I dine to-day in
Grosvenor-square;' this might be with a Duke[958]: or, perhaps, 'I dine
to-day at the other end of the town:' or, 'A gentleman of great eminence
called on me yesterday.' He loved thus to keep things floating in
conjecture: _Omne ignotum pro magnifico est_.[959]. I believe I ventured
to dissipate the cloud, to unveil the mystery, more freely and
frequently than any of his friends. We stopped again at Wirgman's, the
well-known _toy-shop_[960], in St. James's-street, at the corner of St.
James's-place, to which he had been directed, but not clearly, for he
searched about some time, and could not find it at first; and said, 'To
direct one only to a corner shop is _toying_ with one.' I suppose he
meant this as a play upon the word _toy_: it was the first time that I
knew him stoop to such sport[961]. After he had been some time in the
shop, he sent for me to come out of the coach, and help him to choose a
pair of silver buckles, as those he had were too small. Probably this
alteration in dress had been suggested by Mrs. Thrale, by associating
with whom, his external appearance was much improved. He got better
cloaths; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, was
enlivened by metal buttons. His wigs, too, were much better; and during
their travels in France, he was furnished with a Paris-made wig, of
handsome construction[962]. This choosing of silver buckles was a
negociation: 'Sir (said he), I will not have the ridiculous large ones
now in fashion; and I will give no more than a guinea for a pair.' Such
were the _principles_ of the business; and, after some examination, he
was fitted. As we drove along, I found him in a talking humour, of which
I availed myself. BOSWELL. 'I was this morning in Ridley's shop, Sir;
and was told, that the collection called _Johnsoniana_[963] has sold very
much.' JOHNSON. 'Yet the _Journey to the Hebrides_ has not had a great
sale[964].' BOSWELL. 'That is strange.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; for in that
book I have told the world a great deal that they did not know before.'
BOSWELL. 'I drank chocolate, Sir, this morning with Mr. Eld; and, to my
no small surprize, found him to be a _Staffordshire Whig_[965], a being
which I did not believe had existed.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there are rascals
in all countries.' BOSWELL. 'Eld said, a Tory was a creature generated
between a non-juring parson and one's grandmother.' JOHNSON. 'And I have
always said, the first Whig was the Devil[966].' BOSWELL. 'He certainly
was, Sir. The Devil was impatient of subordination; he was the first who
resisted power:--
"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven[967]."'
At General Paoli's were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Marchese
Gherardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spottiswoode the younger, of
Spottiswoode[968], the solicitor. At this time fears of an invasion were
circulated; to obviate which, Mr. Spottiswoode observed, that Mr. Fraser
the engineer, who had lately come from Dunkirk, said, that the French
had the same fears of us. JOHNSON. 'It is thus that mutual cowardice
keeps us in peace. Were one half of mankind brave, and one half cowards,
the brave would be always beating the cowards. Were all brave, they
would lead a very uneasy life; all would be continually fighting: but
being all cowards, we go on very well[969].'
We talked of drinking wine. JOHNSON. 'I require wine, only when I am
alone. I have then often wished for it, and often taken it[970].'
SPOTTISWOODE. 'What, by way of a companion, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'To get rid
of myself, to send myself away. Wine gives great pleasure; and every
pleasure is of itself a good. It is a good, unless counterbalanced by
evil. A man may have a strong reason not to drink wine; and that may be
greater than the pleasure. Wine makes a man better pleased with himself.
I do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others. Sometimes it
does. But the danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with
himself, he may be growing less pleasing to others[971]. Wine gives a man
nothing. It neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man,
and enables him to bring out what a dread of the company has repressed.
It only puts in motion what has been locked up in frost. But this may be
good, or it may be bad[972].' SPOTTISWOODE. 'So, Sir, wine is a key which
opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.' JOHNSON. 'Nay,
Sir, conversation is the key: wine is a pick-lock, which forces open the
box and injures it. A man should cultivate his mind so as to have that
confidence and readiness without wine, which wine gives.' BOSWELL. 'The
great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. For instance, a
good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, which he has had twenty
years in his cellar.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, all this notion about benevolence
arises from a man's imagining himself to be of more importance to
others, than he really is. They don't care a farthing whether he drinks
wine or not.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yes, they do for the time.' JOHNSON.
'For the time!--If they care this minute, they forget it the next. And
as for the good worthy man; how do you know he is good and worthy? No
good and worthy man will insist upon another man's drinking wine. As to
the wine twenty years in the cellar,--of ten men, three say this, merely
because they must say something;--three are telling a lie, when they say
they have had the wine twenty years;--three would rather save the
wine;--one, perhaps, cares. I allow it is something to please one's
company: and people are always pleased with those who partake pleasure
with them. But after a man has brought himself to relinquish the great
personal pleasure which arises from drinking wine, any other
consideration is a trifle. To please others by drinking wine, is
something only, if there be nothing against it. I should, however, be
sorry to offend worthy men:--
"Curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe[973]."'
BOSWELL. 'Curst be the _spring_, the _water_.' JOHNSON. 'But let us
consider what a sad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do
any thing else that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we
are.' LANGTON. 'By the same rule you must join with a gang of
cut-purses.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir: but yet we must do justice to wine; we
must allow it the power it possesses. To make a man pleased with
himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing[974];
"_Si patriæ volumus, si_ Nobis _vivere cari_[975].'"
I was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by Johnson's
recommendation[976]. JOHNSON. 'Boswell is a bolder combatant than Sir
Joshua: he argues for wine without the help of wine; but Sir Joshua with
it.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'But to please one's company is a strong
motive.' JOHNSON. (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body
who drank wine to be elevated,) 'I won't argue any more with you, Sir.
You are too far gone[977].' SIR JOSHUA. 'I should have thought so indeed,
Sir, had I made such a speech as you have now done.' JOHNSON (drawing
himself in, and, I really thought blushing,) 'Nay, don't be angry. I did
not mean to offend you.' SIR JOSHUA. 'At first the taste of wine was
disagreeable to me; but I brought myself to drink it, that I might be
like other people. The pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with
pleasing your company, that altogether there is something of social
goodness in it.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, this is only saying the same thing over
again.' SIR JOSHUA. 'No, this is new.' JOHNSON. 'You put it in new
words, but it is an old thought. This is one of the disadvantages of
wine. It makes a man mistake words for thoughts.' BOSWELL. 'I think it
is a new thought; at least, it is in a new _attitude_.' JOHNSON. 'Nay,
Sir, it is only in a new coat; or an old coat with a new facing. (Then
laughing heartily) It is the old dog in a new doublet.--An extraordinary
instance however may occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him,
unless he will drink: _there_ may be a good reason for drinking.'
I mentioned a nobleman[978], who I believed was really uneasy if his
company would not drink hard. JOHNSON. 'That is from having had people
about him whom he has been accustomed to command.' BOSWELL. 'Supposing I
should be _tête-à-tête_ with him at table.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no
more reason for your drinking with _him_, than his being sober with
_you_.' BOSWELL. 'Why that is true; for it would do him less hurt to be
sober, than it would do me to get drunk.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and from
what I have heard of him, one would not wish to sacrifice himself to
such a man. If he must always have somebody to drink with him, he should
buy a slave, and then he would be sure to have it. They who submit to
drink as another pleases, make themselves his slaves.' BOSWELL. 'But,
Sir, you will surely make allowance for the duty of hospitality. A
gentleman who loves drinking, comes to visit me.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, a man
knows whom he visits; he comes to the table of a sober man.' BOSWELL.
'But, Sir, you and I should not have been so well received in the
Highlands and Hebrides, if I had not drunk with our worthy friends. Had
I drunk water only as you did, they would not have been so cordial.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir William Temple mentions that in his travels through the
Netherlands he had two or three gentlemen with him; and when a bumper
was necessary, he put it on _them_[979]. Were I to travel again through
the islands, I would have Sir Joshua with me to take the bumpers.'
BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, let me put a case. Suppose Sir Joshua should take a
jaunt into Scotland; he does me the honour to pay me a visit at my house
in the country; I am overjoyed at seeing him; we are quite by ourselves,
shall I unsociably and churlishly let him sit drinking by himself? No,
no, my dear Sir Joshua, you shall not be treated so, I _will_ take a
bottle with you.'
The celebrated Mrs. Rudd being mentioned. JOHNSON. 'Fifteen years ago I
should have gone to see her.' SPOTTISWOODE. 'Because she was fifteen
years younger?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; but now they have a trick of putting
every thing into the newspapers[980].'
He begged of General Paoli to repeat one of the introductory stanzas of
the first book of Tasso's _Jerusalem_, which he did, and then Johnson
found fault with the simile of sweetening the edges of a cup for a
child, being transferred from Lucretius into an epick poem[981]. The
General said he did not imagine Homer's poetry was so ancient as is
supposed, because he ascribes to a Greek colony circumstances of
refinement not found in Greece itself at a later period, when Thucydides
wrote. JOHNSON. 'I recollect but one passage quoted by Thucydides from
Homer, which is not to be found in our copies of Homer's works; I am for
the antiquity of Homer, and think that a Grecian colony, by being nearer
Persia, might be more refined than the mother country.'
On Wednesday, April 29, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramsay's, where
were Lord Binning, Dr. Robertson the historian, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and
the Honourable Mrs. Boscawen, widow of the Admiral, and mother of the
present Viscount Falmouth; of whom, if it be not presumptuous in me to
praise her, I would say, that her manners are the most agreeable, and
her conversation the best, of any lady with whom I ever had the
happiness to be acquainted. Before Johnson came we talked a good deal of
him; Ramsay said he had always found him a very polite man, and that he
treated him with great respect, which he did very sincerely. I said I
worshipped him. ROBERTSON. 'But some of you spoil him; you should not
worship him; you should worship no man.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot help
worshipping him, he is so much superiour to other men.' ROBERTSON. 'In
criticism, and in wit in conversation, he is no doubt very excellent;
but in other respects he is not above other men; he will believe any
thing[982], and will strenuously defend the most minute circumstance
connected with the Church of England.' BOSWELL. 'Believe me, Doctor, you
are much mistaken as to this; for when you talk with him calmly in
private[983], he is very liberal in his way of thinking.' ROBERTSON. 'He
and I have been always very gracious[984]; the first time I met him was
one evening at Strahan's, when he had just had an unlucky altercation
with Adam Smith[985], to whom he had been so rough, that Strahan, after
Smith was gone, had remonstrated with him, and told him that I was
coming soon, and that he was uneasy to think that he might behave in the
same manner to me. "No, no, Sir, (said Johnson) I warrant you Robertson
and I shall do very well." Accordingly he was gentle and good-humoured,
and courteous with me the whole evening; and he has been so upon every
occasion that we have met since. I have often said (laughing) that I
have been in a great measure indebted to Smith for my good reception.'
BOSWELL. 'His power of reasoning is very strong, and he has a peculiar
art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good portrait painting.'
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'He is undoubtedly admirable in this; but, in order
to mark the characters which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives
people more than they really have, whether of good or bad.'
No sooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking so easily, arrive,
than we were all as quiet as a school upon the entrance of the
head-master[986]; and were very soon set down to a table covered with such
variety of good things, as contributed not a little to dispose him to be
pleased.
RAMSAY. 'I am old enough to have been a contemporary of Pope. His poetry
was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than after his
death[987].' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it has not been less admired since his death;
no authours ever had so much fame in their own life-time as Pope and
Voltaire; and Pope's poetry has been as much admired since his death as
during his life; it has only not been as much talked of, but that is
owing to its being now more distant, and people having other writings to
talk of. Virgil is less talked of than Pope, and Homer is less talked of
than Virgil; but they are not less admired. We must read what the world
reads at the moment. It has been maintained that this superfoetation,
this teeming of the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good
literature, because it obliges us to read so much of what is of
inferiour value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are
neglected for want of time, because a man will have more gratification
of his vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, than from
having read the best works of antiquity. But it must be considered, that
we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now,
which is a great extension[988]. Modern writers are the moons of
literature; they shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from
the ancients. Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; Rome
of elegance.' RAMSAY. 'I suppose Homer's _Iliad_ to be a collection of
pieces which had been written before his time. I should like to see a
translation of it in poetical prose like the book of Ruth or Job.'
ROBERTSON. 'Would you, Dr. Johnson, who are master of the English
language, but try your hand upon a part of it.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you could
not read it without the pleasure of verse[989].'
We talked of antiquarian researches. JOHNSON. 'All that is really
_known_ of the ancient state of Britain is contained in a few pages. We
_can_ know no more than what the old writers have told us; yet what
large books have we upon it, the whole of which, excepting such parts as
are taken from those old writers, is all a dream, such as Whitaker's
_Manchester_[990]. I have heard Henry's _History of Britain_ well spoken
of: I am told it is carried on in separate divisions, as the civil, the
military, the religious history: I wish much to have one branch well
done, and that is the history of manners, of common life.' ROBERTSON.
'Henry should have applied his attention to that alone, which is enough
for any man; and he might have found a great deal scattered in various
books, had he read solely with that view. Henry erred in not selling his
first volume at a moderate price to the booksellers, that they might
have pushed him on till he had got reputation[991]. I sold my _History of
Scotland_ at a moderate price[992], as a work by which the booksellers
might either gain or not; and Cadell has told me that Millar and he have
got six thousand pounds by it. I afterwards received a much higher price
for my writings. An authour should sell his first work for what the
booksellers will give, till it shall appear whether he is an authour of
merit, or, which is the same thing as to purchase-money, an authour who
pleases the publick.'
Dr. Robertson expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman[993]; that
he was one of the strongest-minded men that ever lived; that he would
sit in company quite sluggish, while there was nothing to call forth his
intellectual vigour; but the moment that any important subject was
started, for instance, how this country is to be defended against a
French invasion, he would rouse himself, and shew his extraordinary
talents with the most powerful ability and animation. JOHNSON. 'Yet this
man cut his own throat. The true strong and sound mind is the mind that
can embrace equally great things and small. Now I am told the King of
Prussia will say to a servant, "Bring me a bottle of such a wine, which
came in such a year; it lies in such a corner of the cellars." I would
have a man great in great things, and elegant in little things.' He said
to me afterwards, when we were by ourselves, 'Robertson was in a mighty
romantick humour[994], he talked of one whom he did not know; but I
_downed_[995] him with the King of Prussia.' 'Yes, Sir, (said I,) you
threw a _bottle_ at his head.'
An ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both Robertson and
Ramsay agreed that he had a constant firmness of mind; for after a
laborious day, and amidst a multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he
would sit down with his sisters and be quite cheerful and good-humoured.
Such a disposition, it was observed, was a happy gift of nature.
JOHNSON. 'I do not think so; a man has from nature a certain portion of
mind; the use he makes of it depends upon his own free will. That a man
has always the same firmness of mind I do not say; because every man
feels his mind less firm at one time than another; but I think a man's
being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' I, however, could
not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his
will.
Johnson harangued against drinking wine[996]. 'A man (said he) may choose
whether he will have abstemiousness and knowledge, or claret and
ignorance.' Dr. Robertson, (who is very companionable,) was beginning to
dissent as to the proscription of claret[997]. JOHNSON: (with a placid
smile.) 'Nay, Sir, you shall not differ with me; as I have said that the
man is most perfect who takes in the most things, I am for knowledge and
claret.' ROBERTSON: (holding a glass of generous claret in his hand.)
'Sir, I can only drink your health.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I should be sorry if
_you_ should be ever in such a state as to be able to do nothing more.'
ROBERTSON. 'Dr. Johnson, allow me to say, that in one respect I have the
advantage of you; when you were in Scotland you would not come to hear
any of our preachers[998], whereas, when I am here, I attend your publick
worship without scruple, and indeed, with great satisfaction.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, that is not so extraordinary: the King of Siam sent
ambassadors to Louis the Fourteenth; but Louis the Fourteenth sent none
to the King of Siam[999].'
Here my friend for once discovered a want of knowledge or forgetfulness;
for Louis the Fourteenth did send an embassy to the King of Siam, and
the Abbé Choisi, who was employed in it, published an account of it in
two volumes[1000].
Next day, Thursday, April 30, I found him at home by himself. JOHNSON.
'Well, Sir, Ramsay gave us a splendid dinner. I love Ramsay. You will
not find a man in whose conversation there is more instruction, more
information, and more elegance, than in Ramsay's.' BOSWELL. 'What I
admire in Ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes,
Sir, it is to be admired. I value myself upon this, that there is
nothing of the old man in my conversation. I am now sixty-eight, and I
have no more of it than at twenty-eight[1001].' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, would
not you wish to know old age? He who is never an old man, does not know
the whole of human life; for old age is one of the divisions of it.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, what talk is this?' BOSWELL. 'I mean, Sir, the
Sphinx's description of it;--morning, noon, and night. I would know
night, as well as morning and noon.' JOHNSON. 'What, Sir, would you know
what it is to feel the evils of old age? Would you have the gout? Would
you have decrepitude?'--Seeing him heated, I would not argue any
farther; but I was confident that I was in the right. I would, in due
time, be a Nestor, an elder of the people; and there _should_ be some
difference between the conversation of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. A
grave picture should not be gay. There is a serene, solemn, placid old
age. JOHNSON. 'Mrs. Thrale's mother said of me what flattered me much. A
clergyman was complaining of want of society in the country where he
lived; and said, "They talk of _runts_;" (that is, young cows). "Sir,
(said Mrs. Salusbury,) Mr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts:"
meaning that I was a man who would make the most of my situation,
whatever it was.' He added, 'I think myself a very polite man[1002].'
On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where
there was a very large company, and a great deal of conversation; but
owing to some circumstance which I cannot now recollect, I have no
record of any part of it, except that there were several people there by
no means of the Johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid to
him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary
offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that I was vexed and
angry, because it gave those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon
his supposed ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends. I was so
much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away from him
for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to
Scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been
reconciled. To such unhappy chances are human friendships liable[1003].
On Friday, May 8, I dined with him at Mr. Langton's. I was reserved and
silent, which I suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause.
After dinner when Mr. Langton was called out of the room, and we were by
ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of
conciliating courtesy[1004], 'Well, how have you done?' BOSWELL. 'Sir,
you have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last
at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. You know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater
respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the
world to serve you. Now to treat me so--.' He insisted that I had
interrupted him, which I assured him was not the case; and proceeded--
'But why treat me so before people who neither love you nor me?'
JOHNSON. 'Well, I am sorry for it. I'll make it up to you twenty
different ways, as you please.' BOSWELL. 'I said to-day to Sir Joshua,
when he observed that you _tossed_[1005] me sometimes--I don't care how
often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then
I fall upon soft ground: but I do not like falling on stones, which is
the case when enemies are present.--I think this a pretty good image,
Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is one of the happiest I have ever heard.'
The truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at any
time, unless they were irritated by some malignant infusion by other
hands. We were instantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty
laugh at some ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our
friends[1006]. BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, it is always culpable to
laugh at a man to his face?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that depends upon the
man and the thing. If it is a slight man, and a slight thing, you may;
for you take nothing valuable from him.'
He said, 'I read yesterday Dr. Blair's sermon[1007] on Devotion, from
the text "_Cornelius, a devout man_[1008]." His doctrine is the best
limited, the best expressed: there is the most warmth without fanaticism,
the most rational transport. There is one part of it which I disapprove,
and I'd have him correct it; which is, that "he who does not feel joy in
religion is far from the kingdom of heaven!" There are many good men
whose fear of GOD predominates over their love. It may discourage. It
was rashly said. A noble sermon it is indeed. I wish Blair would come
over to the Church of England.'
When Mr. Langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' went on. An eminent
author[1009] being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'He is not a pleasant man. His
conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant. He does not talk as
if impelled by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. His
conversation is like that of any other sensible man. He talks with no
wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he thinks it does not
become ---- to sit in a company and say nothing.'
Mr. Langton having repeated the anecdote of Addison having distinguished
between his powers in conversation and in writing, by saying 'I have
only nine-pence in my pocket; but I can draw for a thousand
pounds[1010];'--JOHNSON. 'He had not that retort ready, Sir; he had
prepared it before-hand.' LANGTON: (turning to me.) 'A fine surmise. Set
a thief to catch a thief.'
Johnson called the East-Indians barbarians. BOSWELL. 'You will except
the Chinese, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'Have they not arts?'
JOHNSON. 'They have pottery.' BOSWELL. 'What do you say to the written
characters of their language? 'JOHNSON. 'Sir, they have not an alphabet.
They have not been able to form what all other nations have formed.'
BOSWELL. 'There is more learning in their language than in any other,
from the immense number of their characters.' JOHNSON. 'It is only more
difficult from its rudeness; as there is more labour in hewing down a
tree with a stone than with an axe.'
He said, 'I have been reading Lord Kames's _Sketches of the History of
Man_. In treating of severity of punishment, he mentions that of Madame
Lapouchin, in Russia, but he does not give it fairly; for I have looked
at _Chappe D'Auteroche_[1011], from whom he has taken it. He stops where
it is said that the spectators thought her innocent, and leaves out what
follows; that she nevertheless was guilty. Now this is being as culpable
as one can conceive, to misrepresent fact in a book, and for what
motive? It is like one of those lies which people tell, one cannot see
why. The woman's life was spared; and no punishment was too great for
the favourite of an Empress who had conspired to dethrone her mistress.'
BOSWELL. 'He was only giving a picture of the lady in her sufferings.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, don't endeavour to palliate this. Guilt is a principal
feature in the picture. Kames is puzzled with a question that puzzled me
when I was a very young man. Why is it that the interest of money is
lower, when money is plentiful; for five pounds has the same proportion
of value to a hundred pounds when money is plentiful, as when it is
scarce? A lady explained it to me. "It is (said she) because when money
is plentiful there are so many more who have money to lend, that they
bid down one another. Many have then a hundred pounds; and one
says,--Take mine rather than another's, and you shall have it at four
_per cent_."' BOSWELL. 'Does Lord Kames decide the question?' JOHNSON.
'I think he leaves it as he found it[1012].' BOSWELL. 'This must have
been an extraordinary lady who instructed you, Sir. May I ask who she
was?' JOHNSON. 'Molly Aston[1013], Sir, the sister of those ladies with
whom you dined at Lichfield[1014]. I shall be at home to-morrow.'
BOSWELL. 'Then let us dine by ourselves at the Mitre, to keep up the
old custom, "the custom of the manor," the custom of the mitre.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, so it shall be.'
On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our purpose of dining by ourselves at
the Mitre, according to old custom. There was, on these occasions, a
little circumstance of kind attention to Mrs. Williams, which must not
be omitted. Before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave
her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice
thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest.
Our conversation to-day, I know not how, turned, (I think for the only
time at any length, during our long acquaintance,) upon the sensual
intercourse between the sexes, the delight of which he ascribed chiefly
to imagination. 'Were it not for imagination, Sir, (said he,) a man
would be as happy in the arms of a chambermaid as of a Duchess. But such
is the adventitious charm of fancy, that we find men who have violated
the best principles of society, and ruined their fame and their fortune,
that they might possess a woman of rank.' It would not be proper to
record the particulars of such a conversation in moments of unreserved
frankness, when nobody was present on whom it could have any hurtful
effect. That subject, when philosophically treated, may surely employ
the mind in as curious discussion, and as innocently, as anatomy;
provided that those who do treat it keep clear of inflammatory
incentives.
'From grave to gay, from lively to severe[1015],'--we were soon engaged
in very different speculation; humbly and reverently considering and
wondering at the universal mystery of all things, as our imperfect
faculties can now judge of them. 'There are (said he) innumerable
questions to which the inquisitive mind can in this state receive no
answer: Why do you and I exist? Why was this world created? Since it was
to be created, why was it not created sooner?'
On Sunday, May 10, I supped with him at Mr. Hoole's, with Sir Joshua
Reynolds. I have neglected the memorial of this evening, so as to
remember no more of it than two particulars; one, that he strenuously
opposed an argument by Sir Joshua, that virtue was preferable to vice,
considering this life only; and that a man would be virtuous were it
only to preserve his character: and that he expressed much wonder at the
curious formation of the bat, a mouse with wings; saying, that 'it was
almost as strange a thing in physiology, as if the fabulous dragon could
be seen.'
On Tuesday, May 12, I waited on the Earl of Marchmont, to know if his
Lordship would favour Dr. Johnson with information concerning Pope,
whose Life he was about to write. Johnson had not flattered himself with
the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he said to
me, when I mentioned Lord Marchmont as one who could tell him a great
deal about Pope,--'Sir, he will tell _me_ nothing.' I had the honour of
being known to his Lordship, and applied to him of myself, without being
commissioned by Johnson. His Lordship behaved in the most polite and
obliging manner, promised to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was
so very courteous as to say, 'Tell Dr. Johnson I have a great respect
for him, and am ready to shew it in any way I can. I am to be in the
city to-morrow, and will call at his house as I return.' His Lordship
however asked, 'Will he write the Lives of the Poets impartially? He was
the first that brought Whig and Tory into a Dictionary[1016]. And what do
you think of his definition of Excise? Do you know the history of his
aversion to the word _transpire_[1017]?' Then taking down the folio
_Dictionary_, he shewed it with this censure on its secondary sense: 'To
escape from secrecy to notice; a sense lately innovated from France,
without necessity[1018].' The truth was Lord Bolingbroke, who left the
Jacobites, first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. 'He should
have shewn what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.' I
afterwards put the question to Johnson: 'Why, Sir, (said he,) _get
abroad_.' BOSWELL. 'That, Sir, is using two words[1019].' JOHNSON. 'Sir,
there is no end of this. You may as well insist to have a word for old
age.' BOSWELL. 'Well, Sir, _Senectus_.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, to insist
always that there should be one word to express a thing in English,
because there is one in another language, is to change the language.'
I availed myself of this opportunity to hear from his Lordship many
particulars both of Pope and Lord Bolingbroke, which I have in
writing[1020].
I proposed to Lord Marchmont that he should revise Johnson's _Life of
Pope_: 'So (said his Lordship) you would put me in a dangerous
situation. You know he knocked down Osborne the bookseller[1021].'
Elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material
and respectable aid to Johnson for his very favourite work, _The Lives
of the Poets_, I hastened down to Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, where he
now was, that I might insure his being at home next day; and after
dinner, when I thought he would receive the good news in the best
humour, I announced it eagerly: 'I have been at work for you to-day,
Sir. I have been with Lord Marchmont. He bade me tell you he has a great
respect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and
communicate all he knows about Pope.'--Here I paused, in full
expectation that he would be pleased with this intelligence, would
praise my active merit, and would be alert to embrace such an offer from
a nobleman. But whether I had shewn an over-exultation, which provoked
his spleen; or whether he was seized with a suspicion that I had
obtruded him on Lord Marchmont, and humbled him too much; or whether
there was any thing more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, I know not;
but, to my surprize, the result was,--JOHNSON. 'I shall not be in town
to-morrow. I don't care to know about Pope.' MRS. THRALE: (surprized as
I was, and a little angry.) 'I suppose, Sir, Mr. Boswell thought, that
as you are to write _Pope's Life_, you would wish to know about him.'
JOHNSON. 'Wish! why yes. If it rained knowledge I'd hold out my hand;
but I would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.' There was
no arguing with him at the moment. Some time afterwards he said, 'Lord
Marchmont will call on me, and then I shall call on Lord Marchmont.' Mr.
Thrale was uneasy at his unaccountable caprice[1022]; and told me, that
if I did not take care to bring about a meeting between Lord Marchmont
and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity. I sent
a card to his Lordship, to be left at Johnson's house, acquainting him,
that Dr. Johnson could not be in town next day, but would do himself the
honour of waiting on him at another time. I give this account fairly, as
a specimen of that unhappy temper with which this great and good man had
occasionally to struggle, from something morbid in his constitution. Let
the most censorious of my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit
of the tooth-ach, or to have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone,
and when in such a state to be asked a question; and if he has any
candour, he will not be surprized at the answers which Johnson sometimes
gave in moments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely
painful. But it must not be erroneously supposed that he was, in the
smallest degree, careless concerning any work which he undertook, or
that he was generally thus peevish. It will be seen, that in the
following year he had a very agreeable interview with Lord Marchmont, at
his Lordship's house[1023]; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any
fretfulness, and fell into conversation as usual.
I mentioned a reflection having been thrown out against four Peers for
having presumed to rise in opposition to the opinion of the twelve
Judges, in a cause in the House of Lords[1024], as if that were indecent.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no ground for censure. The Peers are Judges
themselves; and supposing them really to be of a different opinion, they
might from duty be in opposition to the Judges, who were there only to
be consulted.'
In this observation I fully concurred with him; for, unquestionably, all
the Peers are vested with the highest judicial powers; and when they are
confident that they understand a cause, are not obliged, nay ought not
to acquiesce in the opinion of the ordinary Law Judges, or even in that
of those who from their studies and experience are called the Law Lords.
I consider the Peers in general as I do a Jury, who ought to listen with
respectful attention to the sages of the law; but, if after hearing
them, they have a firm opinion of their own, are bound, as honest men,
to decide accordingly. Nor is it so difficult for them to understand
even law questions, as is generally thought; provided they will bestow
sufficient attention upon them. This observation was made by my honoured
relation the late Lord Cathcart, who had spent his life in camps and
courts; yet assured me, that he could form a clear opinion upon most of
the causes that came before the House of Lords, 'as they were so well
enucleated[1025] in the Cases.'
Mrs. Thrale told us, that a curious clergyman of our acquaintance had
discovered a licentious stanza, which Pope had originally in his
_Universal Prayer_, before the stanza,
'What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns us[1026] not to do,' &c.