had known him for three years, found him in a good house in Johnson's
court, Fleet-street, to which he had removed from lodgings in the
Temple. By the advice of his physician, he had now begun to abstain from
wine, and drank only water or lemonade. He had brought two companions
into his new dwelling, such as few other men would have chosen to
enliven their solitude. On the ground floor was Miss Anna Williams,
daughter of Zechariah Williams, a man who had practised physic in Wales,
and, having come to England to seek the reward proposed by Parliament
for the discovery of the longitude, had been assisted by Johnson in
drawing up an account of the method he had devised. This plan was
printed with an Italian translation, which is supposed to be Baretti's,
on the opposite page; and a copy of the pamphlet, presented by Johnson
to the Bodleian, is deposited in that library. Miss Williams had been a
frequent visitor at Johnson's before the death of his wife, and having
after that event, come under his roof to undergo an operation for a
cataract on her eyes with more convenience than could have been had in
her own lodgings, continued to occupy an apartment in his house,
whenever he had one, till the time of her death. Her disease ended in
total blindness, which gave her an additional claim on his benevolence.
When he lived in the Temple, it was his custom, however late the hour,
not to retire to rest until he had drunk tea with her in her lodgings in
Bolt-court. One night when Goldsmith and Boswell were with him,
Goldsmith strutted off in the company of Johnson, exclaiming with an air
of superiority, "I go to Miss Williams," while Boswell slunk away in
silent disappointment; but it was not long, as Boswell adds, before he
himself obtained the same mark of distinction. Johnson prevailed on
Garrick to get her a benefit at the playhouse, and assisted her in
preparing some poems she had written for the press, by both which means
she obtained the sum of about £300. The interest of this, added to some
small annual benefactions, probably hindered her from being any
pecuniary burden to Johnson; and though she was apt to be peevish and
impatient, her curiosity, the retentiveness of her memory, and the
strength of her intellect, made her, on the whole, an agreeable
companion to him. The other inmate, whose place was in one of his
garrets, was Robert Levett, a practiser of physic among the lower
people, grotesque in his appearance, formal in his manners, and silent
before company: though little thought of by others, this man was so
highly esteemed for his abilities by Johnson, that he was heard to say,
he should not be satisfied though attended by all the College of
Physicians, unless he had Levett with him. He must have been a useful
assistant in the chemical processes with which Johnson was fond of
amusing himself; and at one of which Murphy, on his first visit, found
him in a little room, covered with soot like a chimney-sweeper, making
aether. Beauclerk, with his lively exaggeration, used to describe
Johnson at breakfast, throwing his crusts to Levett after he had eaten
the crumb. The pathetic verses written by Johnson on his death, which
happened suddenly three years before his own, shew with what tenderness
of affection he regarded Levett. Some time after (1778), to this couple,
who did not live in much harmony together, were added Mrs. Desmoulins,
the daughter of Dr. Swinfen his god-father, and widow of a
writing-master; Miss Carmichael, and, as Boswell thought, a daughter
also of Mrs. Desmoulins, all of whom were lodged in his house. To the
widow he allowed half-a-guinea a week, the twelfth part, as Boswell
observes, of his pension. It was sometimes more than he could do, to
reconcile so many jarring interests. "Williams," says he, in a letter to
Mrs. Thrale, "hates every body: Levett hates Desmoulins and does not love
Williams: Desmoulins hates them both. Poll loves none of them." Poll was
Miss Carmichael, of whom I do not find that any thing else is recorded.
Boswell ventured to call this groupe the seraglio of Johnson, and
escaped without a rebuke.
From these domestic feuds he would sometimes withdraw himself to the
house of Mr. Thrale, at Streatham, an opulent brewer, with whom his
acquaintance had begun in 1765. With this open-hearted man he was always
sure of a welcome reception for as long a time as he chose; and the
mistress of the house, though after the death of her first husband and
her subsequent marriage to an Italian she somewhat ungraciously
remembered the petty annoyances which Johnson's untoward habits had
occasioned her, was evidently pleased by his hearty expressions of
regard, and flattered by his conversation on subjects of literature, in
which she was herself well able to take a part.
In this year, his long promised edition of Shakspeare made its
appearance, in eight volumes octavo. That by Steevens was published the
following year; and a coalition between the editors having been
effected, an edition was put forth under their joint names, in ten
volumes 8vo., 1773. For the first, Johnson received £375; and for the
second £100.[11] At the beginning of the Preface, he has marked out the
character of our great dramatist with such a power of criticism, as
there was perhaps no example of in the English language. Towards the
conclusion, he has, I think, successfully defended him from the neglect
of what are called the unities. The observation, that a quibble was the
Cleopatra for which he lost the world, and was content to lose it, is
more pointed than just. Shakspeare cannot be said to have lost the
world; for his fame has not only embraced the circle of his own country,
but is continually spreading over new portions of the globe; nor is
there any reason to conclude that he would have acquiesced in such a
loss. Like most other writers, he indulged himself in a favourite
propensity, aware, probably, that if it offended some, it would win him
the applause of others. One avenue of knowledge, that was open to
Shakspeare in common with the rest of mankind, none of his commentators
appear to have sufficiently considered. We cannot conceive him to have
associated frequently with men of larger acquirements than himself, and
not to have made much of their treasures his own. The conversation of
such a man as Ben Jonson alone, supposing him to have made no more
display of his learning than chance or vanity would occasionally
produce, must have supplied ample sources of information to a mind so
curious, watchful, and retentive, that it did not suffer the slightest
thing to escape its grasp. Johnson is distinguished in his notes from
the other commentators, chiefly by the acute remarks on many of the
characters, and on the conduct of some of the fables, which he has
subjoined to the different plays. In other respects he is not superior
to the rest; in some, particularly in illustrating his author from
antecedent or contemporary writers, he is inferior to them. A German
critic of our own days, Schlegel, has surpassed him even in that which
he has done best.
From Boswell I have collected an account of the little journeys with
which he from time to time relieved the uniformity of his life. They
will be told in order as they occur, and I hope will not weary the
reader. The days of a scholar are frequently not distinguished by
varieties even as unimportant as these. Johnson found his mind grow
stagnant by a constant residence in the neighbourhood of Charing-cross
itself, where he thought human happiness at its flood: and once, when
moving rapidly along the road in a carriage with Boswell, cried out to
his fellow-traveller, "Sir, life has few things better than this." In
the winter of 1766 he went to Oxford, where he resided for a month, and
formed an intimacy with Chambers, afterwards one of the judges in India.
During this period, no publication appeared under his own name; but he
furnished Miss Williams with a Preface to her Poems, and Adams with
another for his Treatise on the Globes; and wrote the dedication to the
King, prefixed to Gough's London and Westminster Improved. He seems to
have been always ready to supply a dedication for a friend, a task which
he executed with more than ordinary courtliness. In this way, he told
Boswell, that he believed he "had dedicated to all the royal family
round." But in his own case, either pride hindered him from prefixing to
his works what he perhaps considered as a token of servility, or his
better judgment restrained him from appropriating, by a particular
inscription to one individual, that which was intended for the use of
mankind.
Of Johnson's interview with George III. I shall transcribe the account
as given by Boswell; with which such pains were taken to make it
accurate, that it was submitted before publication for the inspection of
the King, by one of his principal secretaries of State.
In February, 1767, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents
in Johnson's life which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which
he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his
friends. This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his
Majesty in the library at the Queen's house. He had frequently visited
those splendid rooms, and noble collection of books, which he used to
say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have
made in the time which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the
librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could
contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary
taste in that place: so that he had here a very agreeable resource at
leisure hours.
His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased
to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to
the library. Accordingly the next time that Johnson did come, as soon as
he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire,
he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment where
the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty's commands, mentioned
that Dr. Johnson was then in the library. His Majesty said he was at
leisure, and would go to him: upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the
candles that stood on the King's table, and lighted his Majesty through
a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of
which his Majesty had the key. Being entered, Mr. Barnard stepped
forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a profound study, and
whispered him, "Sir, here is the King." Johnson started up, and stood
still. His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy.
His Majesty began by observing, that he understood he came sometimes to
the library; and then mentioning his having heard that the Doctor had
been lately at Oxford, asked him if he was not fond of going thither. To
which Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to Oxford
sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. The King then asked
him what they were doing at Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much
commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for
they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time
printing Polybius. He was then asked whether there were better libraries
at Oxford or Cambridge. He answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger
than any they had at Cambridge; at the same time adding, "I hope,
whether we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, we shall
make as good use of them as they do." Being asked whether All-Souls or
Christ-Church library was the largest, he answered, "All-Souls library
is the largest we have, except the Bodleian." "Ay, (said the King,) that
is the public library."
His Majesty inquired if he was then writing any thing. He answered, he
was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must
now read to acquire more knowledge. The King, as it should seem with a
view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to
continue his labours, then said, "I do not think you borrow much from
any body." Johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a
writer. "I should have thought so too, (said the King,) if you had not
written so well."--Johnson observed to me, upon this, that "No man could
have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a King to pay. It
was decisive." When asked by another friend, at Sir Joshua Reynolds's,
whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, "No,
Sir. When the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to
bandy civilities with my Sovereign." Perhaps no man who had spent his
whole life in courts could have shewn a more nice and dignified sense of
true politeness than Johnson did in this instance.
His Majesty having observed to him that he supposed he must have read a
great deal; Johnson answered, that he thought more than he read; that he
had read a great deal in the early part of his life, but having fallen
into ill health, he had not been able to read much, compared with
others: for instance, he said, he had not read much, compared with Dr.
Warburton. Upon which the King said, that he heard Dr. Warburton was a
man of such general knowledge, that you could scarce talk with him on
any subject on which he was not qualified to speak; and that his
learning resembled Garrick's acting, in its universality. His Majesty
then talked of the controversy between Warburton and Lowth, which he
seemed to have read, and asked Johnson what he thought of it. Johnson
answered, "Warburton has most general, most scholastic learning; Lowth
is the more correct scholar. I do not know which of them calls names
best." The King was pleased to say he was of the same opinion; adding,
"You do not think then, Dr. Johnson, that there was much argument in the
case." Johnson said, he did not think there was. "Why truly, (said the
King,) when once it comes to calling names, argument is pretty well at
an end."
His Majesty then asked him what he thought of Lord Lyttelton's history,
which was then just published. Johnson said, he thought his style pretty
good, but that he had blamed Henry the Second rather too much. "Why,
(said the King,) they seldom do these things by halves." "No, Sir,
(answered Johnson,) not to Kings." But fearing to be misunderstood, he
proceeded to explain himself: and immediately subjoined, "That for those
who spoke worse of Kings than they deserved, he could find no excuse;
but that he could more easily conceive how some might speak better of
them than they deserved, without any ill intention; for, as Kings had
much in their power to give, those who were favoured by them would
frequently, from gratitude, exaggerate their praises: and as this
proceeded from a good motive, it was certainly excusable, as far as
errour could be excusable."
The King then asked him what he thought of Dr. Hill. Johnson answered
that he was an ingenious man, but had no veracity; and immediately
mentioned, as an instance of it, an assertion of that writer, that he
had seen objects magnified to a much greater degree by using three or
four microscopes at a time than by using one. "Now, (added Johnson,)
every one acquainted with microscopes knows, that the more of them he
looks through, the less the object will appear." "Why, (replied the
King,) this is not only telling an untruth, but telling it clumsily;
for, if that be the case, every one who can look through a microscope
will be able to detect him."
"I now, (said Johnson to his friends, when relating what had passed,)
began to consider that I was depreciating this man in the estimation of
his Sovereign, and thought it was time for me to say something that
might be more favourable." He added, therefore, that Dr. Hill was,
notwithstanding, a very curious observer; and if he would have been
contented to tell the world no more than he knew, he might have been a
very considerable man, and needed not to have recourse to such mean
expedients to raise his reputation.
The King then talked of literary journals, mentioned particularly the
"Journal des Savans," and asked Johnson if it was well done. Johnson
said, it was formerly very well done, and gave some account of the
persons who began it, and carried it on for some years: enlarging at the
same time, on the nature and use of such works. The King asked him if it
was well done now. Johnson answered, he had no reason to think that it
was. The King then asked him if there were any other literary journal
published in this kingdom, except the Monthly and Critical Reviews; and
on being answered there was no other, his Majesty asked which of them
was the best: Johnson answered that the Monthly Review was done with
most care, the Critical upon the best principles; adding that the
authours of the Monthly Review were enemies to the Church. This the King
said he was sorry to hear.
The conversation next turned on the Philosophical Transactions, when
Johnson observed that they had now a better method of arranging their
materials than formerly. "Ay, (said the King,) they are obliged to Dr.
Johnson for that;" for his Majesty had heard and remembered the
circumstance, which Johnson himself had forgot.
His Majesty expressed a desire to have the literary biography of this
country ably executed, and proposed to Dr. Johnson to undertake it.
Johnson signified his readiness to comply with his Majesty's wishes.
During the whole of this interview, Johnson talked to his Majesty with
profound respect, but still in his firm manly manner, with a sonorous
voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the
levee and in the drawing-room. After the King withdrew, Johnson shewed
himself highly pleased with his Majesty's conversation and gracious
behaviour. He said to Mr. Barnard, "Sir, they may talk of the King as
they will; but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen." And he
afterwards observed to Mr. Langton, "Sir, his manners are those of as
fine a gentleman as we may suppose Lewis the Fourteenth, or Charles the
Second."
Nothing in this conversation betrays symptoms of that state which he
complains of in his devotional record (on the 2nd of August, 1767) when
he says that he had been disturbed and unsettled for a long time, and
had been without resolution to apply to study or to business. Half of
this year he passed at a distance from the metropolis, and chiefly at
Lichfield, where he prayed fervently by the death-bed of the old servant
of his family, Catherine Chambers, leaving her with a fond farewell, and
many tears. There was no greater proof of the goodness of Johnson's
nature, than his attachment to his domestics. Soon after this he placed
Francis Barber, a negro boy who waited on him, at a school at
Hertfordshire; and, during his education there, encouraged him to good
behaviour by frequent and very kind letters. It is on such occasions
that we are ready to allow the justice of Goldsmith's vindication of his
friend, that he had nothing of the bear but the skin.
In the two succeeding years he continued to labour under the same
restlessness and anxiety; again sought for relief in a long visit to
Oxford, and another to Brighthelmstone with the Thrales; and produced
nothing but a Prologue to one of Goldsmith's comedies.
The repeated expulsion of Wilkes from his seat, by a vote of the House
of Commons, had (in 1770) thrown the nation into a ferment. Johnson was
roused to take the side of the ministry; and endeavoured in a pamphlet,
called the False Alarm, as much by ridicule as by argument, to support a
violent and arbitrary measure. It appears, both from his conversation
and his writings, that he thought there was a point at which resistance
might become justifiable; and, surely it is more advisable to check the
encroachments of power at their beginning, than to delay opposition,
till it cannot be resorted to without greater hazard to the public
safety. The ministry were happily compelled to give way. They were,
however, glad to have so powerful an arm to fight their battles, and, in
the next year (1771) employed him in a worthier cause. In his tract on
the Falkland Islands, the materials for which were furnished him by
Government, he appears to have much the better of the argument; for he
has to shew the folly of involving the nation in a war for a
questionable right, and a possession of doubtful advantage; but his
invective against his opponents is very coarse; he does not perform the
work of dissection neatly: he mangles rather than cuts. When he applies
the word "gabble" to the elocution of Chatham, we are tempted to compare
him to one of the baser fowl, spoken of by an ancient poet, that clamour
against the bird of Jove.
Not many copies of this pamphlet had been dispersed, when Lord North
stopped the sale, and caused some alterations to be made, for reasons
which the author did not himself distinctly comprehend. Johnson's own
opinion of these two political essays was, that there was a subtlety of
disquisition in the first, that was worth all the fire of the second.
When questioned by Boswell as to the truth of a report that they had
obtained for him an addition to his pension of 200_l_. a year, he
answered that, excepting what had been paid him by the booksellers, he had
not got a farthing for them.
About this time, there was a project for enabling him to take a more
distinguished part in politics. The proposition for bringing him into
the House of Commons came from Strahan the printer, who was himself one
of the members; Boswell has preserved the letter in which this zealous
friend to Johnson represented to one of the Secretaries of State the
services which might reasonably be expected from his eloquence and
fidelity. The reasons which rendered the application ineffectual have
not been disclosed to us; but it may be questioned whether his powers of
reasoning could have been readily called forth on a stage so different
from any to which he had been hitherto accustomed; whether so late in
life he could have obtained the habit of attending to speakers,
sometimes dull, and sometimes perplexed; or whether that dictatorial
manner which easily conquered opposition in a small circle, might not
have been borne down by resentment or scorn in a large and mixed
assembly. Johnson would most willingly have made the experiment; and
when Reynolds repeated what Burke had said of him, that if he had come
early into parliament, he would certainly have been the greatest speaker
that ever was there, exclaimed, "I should like to try my hand now." That
we may proceed without interruption to the end of Johnson's political
career, it should here he told that he published (in 1774) a short
pamphlet in support of his friend, Mr. Thrale, who at that time was one
of the candidates in a contested election, and a zealous supporter of
the government. But his devotion to the powers that be, never led him to
so great lengths as in the following year (1775), when he wrote Taxation
no Tyranny: an Answer to the Resolutions and Address of the American
Congress. Now that we look back with impartiality and coolness to the
subject of dispute between the mother country and her colonies, there
are few, I believe, who do not acknowledge the Americans to have been
driven into resistance by claims, which, if they were not palpably
unlawful, were at least highly inexpedient and unjust. But Johnson was
no statist. With the nature of man taken individually and in the detail,
he was well acquainted; but of men as incorporated into society, of the
relations between the governors and the governed, and of all the
complicated interests of polity and of civil life, his knowledge was
very limited. Biography was his favourite study; history, his aversion.
Sooner than hear of the Punic war (says Murphy), he would be rude to the
person that introduced the subject; and, as he told Mr. Thrale, when a
gentleman one day spoke to him at the club of Catiline's conspiracy, he
withdrew his attention, and thought about Tom Thumb. In his Taxation no
Tyranny, having occasion to notice a reference made by the American
Congress to a passage in Montesquieu, he calls him in contempt the
fanciful Montesquieu. Yet this is the man, of whom Burke, when his just
horror of every thing fanciful in politics was at its height, has passed
the noblest eulogium that one modern has ever made on another, and which
the reader will pardon me if in my veneration for a great name I place
here as an antidote to the detraction of Johnson.
Place before your eyes such a man as Montesquieu. Think of a genius not
born in every country, or every time; a man gifted by nature with a
penetrating aquiline eye; with a judgment prepared with the most
extensive erudition; with an herculean robustness of mind, and nerves
not to be broken with labour; a man who could spend twenty years in one
pursuit. Think of a man, like the universal patriarch of Milton (who had
drawn up before him in his prophetic vision, the whole series of the
generations which were to issue from his loins), a man capable of
placing in review, after having brought together, from the east, the
west, the north, and the south, from the coarseness of the rudest
barbarism, to the most refined and subtle civilization, all the schemes
of government which had ever prevailed amongst mankind, weighing,
measuring, collating, and comparing them all, joining fact with theory,
and calling into council, upon all this infinite assemblage of things,
all the speculations which have fatigued the understandings of profound
reasoners in all times! Let us then consider that all these were but so
many preparatory steps to qualify a man, and such a man, tinctured with
no national prejudice, with no domestic affection to admire, and to hold
out to the admiration of mankind the constitution of England.--_Appeal
from the Nero to the Old Institutes, at the end_.
It is to be feared, that the diploma of Doctor of Laws, which was sent
to Johnson in the same year (1775), at the recommendation of Lord North,
at that time Chancellor of the University, and Prime Minister, was in
some measure intended to be the reward of his obsequiousness. In this
instrument, he is called, with an hyperbole of praise which the
University would perhaps now he more cautious of applying to any
individual, "In Literarum Republica Princeps jam et Primarius."