[26] See p. 24.
_Bennet Langton and Topham Beauclerk_
"Sir," said Dr Johnson "I look upon every day to be lost, in which I
do not make a new acquaintance," and even Boswell did not attempt "to
trace his acquaintance with each particular person."
A task from which Boswell shrank will certainly not be attempted here;
but two friends, who were both original members of the Literary Club
and whose names occur very often in Boswell's story, must be considered
for a moment--Bennet Langton and Topham Beauclerk.
Bennet Langton, who had come to London "chiefly with the view of
endeavouring to be introduced to its [_The Rambler's_] authour,"
happened to stay in a house visited by Mr Levet, and Mr Levet obtained
Johnson's permission to bring his admirer to visit him.
"Mr Langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared.
He had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or
manner. From perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent,
well-drest, in short, a remarkably decorous philosopher. Instead of
which, down from his bedchamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a
huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his
head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. But his conversation was
so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political
notions so congenial with those in which Langton had been educated,
that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which he ever
preserved. Johnson was not the less ready to love Mr Langton, for his
being of a very ancient family."
Langton was "a very tall, meagre, long-visaged man, much resembling
a stork standing on one leg"; Johnson, with his usual fondness for
nicknames, appropriately called him "Lanky." He visited him at his
home in Lincolnshire, at Rochester, and at Warley Camp (where he was
stationed with his regiment of militia[27]) and, though he did not
always approve of his domestic arrangements ("His table is rather
coarse" he said "and he has his children too much about him"), he
kept a deep and almost reverent affection for the pious and scholarly
country squire.
Not long before his death he was discussing Langton's character with
Boswell:
"He said 'I know not who will go to Heaven if Langton does not'....
He however charged Mr Langton with what he thought want of judgement
upon an interesting occasion. 'When I was ill, (said he) I desired he
would tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty. Sir, he
brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts
of Scripture, recommending christian charity. And when I questioned
him what occasion I had given for such an animadversion, all that he
could say amounted to this,--that I sometimes contradicted people in
conversation. Now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?'
BOSWELL. 'I suppose he meant the _manner_ of doing it; roughly,--and
harshly.' JOHNSON. 'And who is the worse for that?' BOSWELL. 'It hurts
people of weak nerves.' JOHNSON. 'I know no such weak-nerved people.'
Mr Burke, to whom I related this conference, said, 'It is well, if
when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience
than having been a little rough in conversation.' Johnson, at the time
when the paper was presented to him, though at first pleased with
the attention of his friend, whom he thanked in an earnest manner,
soon exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, 'What is your drift, Sir?'
Sir Joshua Reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a scene for a
comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and belabour his
confessor."
When Johnson was stricken down by his last illness, nobody was more
attentive to him than Mr Langton, to whom he tenderly said, "_Te teneam
moriens deficiente manu_"--"When I die, let it be you that my hand
holds in its weakening grasp."
Topham Beauclerk, who was at Oxford with Langton, was a man of very
different type. He had "the character of being loose, both in his
principles and practice"; yet "in a short time, the moral, pious
Johnson, and the gay, dissipated Beauclerk, were companions."
'"What a coalition! (said Garrick, when he heard of this;): I shall
have my old friend to bail out of the Round-house.' But I can bear
testimony that it was a very agreeable association. Beauclerk was too
polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to offend Johnson ...
and Johnson delighted in the good qualities of Beauclerk, and hoped
to correct the evil. Innumerable were the scenes in which Johnson was
amused by these young men."
Here is one of the most entertaining accounts of Johnson in their
company:
"One night when Beauclerk and Langton had supped at a tavern in London,
and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to
go and knock up Johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join
them in a ramble. They rapped violently at the door of his chambers
in the Temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little
black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker
in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to
attack him. When he discovered who they were, and was told their
errand, he smiled, and with great good humour agreed to their proposal:
'What, is it you, you dogs! I'll have a frisk with you.' He was soon
drest, and they sallied forth together into Covent-Garden, where the
greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers,
just come in from the country. Johnson made some attempts to help them;
but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd
interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. They
then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of
that liquor called _Bishop_, which Johnson had always liked; while in
joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated
the festive lines,
Short, O short then be thy reign,
And give us to the world again!
They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, took a boat, and
rowed to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and Johnson were so well pleased with
their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the
rest of the day: but Langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast
with some young Ladies. Johnson scolded him for 'leaving his social
friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched _un-idea'd_ girls.'
Garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, 'I heard of
your frolick t'other night. You'll be in the Chronicle.' Upon which
Johnson afterwards observed '_He_ durst not do such a thing. His _wife_
would not _let_ him!'"
At another time Beauclerk was tickled by a sudden display of gallantry
on Johnson's part:
"When Madame de Boufflers was first in England, (said Beauclerk,)
she was desirous to see Johnson. I accordingly went with her to his
chambers in the Temple, where she was entertained with his conversation
for some time. When our visit was over, she and I left him, and were
got into Inner Temple-lane, when all at once I heard a noise like
thunder. This was occasioned by Johnson, who it seems, upon a little
recollection, had taken it into his head that he ought to have done
the honours of his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality,
and eager to shew himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the
stair-case in violent agitation. He overtook us before we reached
the Temple-gate, and brushing in between me and Madame de Boufflers,
seized her hand, and conducted her to her coach. His dress was a rusty
brown morning suit, a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little
shrivelled wig sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his
shirt and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. A considerable crowd
of people gathered round, and were not a little struck by this singular
appearance."
"Poor dear Beauclerk ..." wrote Johnson when he died "His wit and his
folly, his acuteness and maliciousness, his merriment and reasoning,
are now over. Such another will not often be found among mankind."