he really had. Yet there is no doubt that at earlier periods he was
wont often to exercise both his pleasantry and ingenuity in talking
Jacobitism. My much respected friend, Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of
Salisbury, has favoured me with the following admirable instance
from his Lordship's own recollection. One day, when dining at old
Mr. Langton's where Miss Roberts, his niece, was one of the company,
Johnson, with his usual complacent attention to the fair sex, took her
by the hand and said, 'My dear, I hope you are a Jacobite.' Old Mr.
Langton, who, though a high and steady Tory, was attached to the present
Royal Family, seemed offended, and asked Johnson, with great warmth,
what he could mean by putting such a question to his niece? 'Why, Sir,
(said Johnson) I meant no offence to your niece, I meant her a great
compliment. A Jacobite, Sir, believes in the divine right of Kings. He
that believes in the divine right of Kings believes in a Divinity. A
Jacobite believes in the divine right of Bishops. He that believes in
the divine right of Bishops believes in the divine authority of the
Christian religion. Therefore, Sir, a Jacobite is neither an Atheist nor
a Deist. That cannot be said of a Whig; for Whiggism is a negation of
all principle.'*
* He used to tell, with great humour, from my relation to
him, the following little story of my early years, which was
literally true: 'Boswell, in the year 1745, was a fine boy,
wore a white cockade, and prayed for King James, till one of
his uncles (General Cochran) gave him a shilling on
condition that he should pray for King George, which he
accordingly did. So you see (says Boswell) that Whigs of
all ages are made the same way.'--BOSWELL.
He advised me, when abroad, to be as much as I could with the Professors
in the Universities, and with the Clergy; for from their conversation
I might expect the best accounts of every thing in whatever country I
should be, with the additional advantage of keeping my learning alive.
It will be observed, that when giving me advice as to my travels, Dr.
Johnson did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, and pictures, and shows,
and Arcadian scenes. He was of Lord Essex's opinion, who advises his
kinsman Roger Earl of Rutland, 'rather to go an hundred miles to speak
with one wise man, than five miles to see a fair town.'
I described to him an impudent fellow from Scotland, who affected to
be a savage, and railed at all established systems. JOHNSON. 'There is
nothing surprizing in this, Sir. He wants to make himself conspicuous.
He would tumble in a hogstye, as long as you looked at him and called to
him to come out. But let him alone, never mind him, and he'll soon give
it over.'
I added, that the same person maintained that there was no distinction
between virtue and vice. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, if the fellow does not
think as he speaks, he is lying; and I see not what honour he can
propose to himself from having the character of a liar. But if he does
really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why,
Sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.'
He recommended to me to keep a journal of my life, full and unreserved.
He said it would be a very good exercise, and would yield me great
satisfaction when the particulars were faded from my remembrance. I was
uncommonly fortunate in having had a previous coincidence of opinion
with him upon this subject, for I had kept such a journal for some time;
and it was no small pleasure to me to have this to tell him, and to
receive his approbation. He counselled me to keep it private, and said
I might surely have a friend who would burn it in case of my death.
From this habit I have been enabled to give the world so many anecdotes,
which would otherwise have been lost to posterity. I mentioned that I
was afraid I put into my journal too many little incidents. JOHNSON.
'There is nothing, Sir, too little for so little a creature as man. It
is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as
little misery and as much happiness as possible.'
Next morning Mr. Dempster happened to call on me, and was so much
struck even with the imperfect account which I gave him of Dr. Johnson's
conversation, that to his honour be it recorded, when I complained that
drinking port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some
time after, he said, 'One had better be palsied at eighteen than not
keep company with such a man.'
On Tuesday, July 18, I found tall Sir Thomas Robinson sitting with
Johnson. Sir Thomas said, that the king of Prussia valued himself upon
three things;--upon being a hero, a musician, and an authour. JOHNSON.
'Pretty well, Sir, for one man. As to his being an authour, I have not
looked at his poetry; but his prose is poor stuff. He writes just as you
might suppose Voltaire's footboy to do, who has been his amanuensis.
He has such parts as the valet might have, and about as much of the
colouring of the style as might be got by transcribing his works.' When
I was at Ferney, I repeated this to Voltaire, in order to reconcile
him somewhat to Johnson, whom he, in affecting the English mode of
expression, had previously characterised as 'a superstitious dog;' but
after hearing such a criticism on Frederick the Great, with whom he was
then on bad terms, he exclaimed, 'An honest fellow!'
Mr. Levet this day shewed me Dr. Johnson's library, which was contained
in two garrets over his Chambers, where Lintot, son of the celebrated
bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. I found a number of
good books, but very dusty and in great confusion. The floor was strewed
with manuscript leaves, in Johnson's own handwriting, which I beheld
with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain
portions of The Rambler or of Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for
chymical experiments, of which Johnson was all his life very fond.
The place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation.
Johnson told me, that he went up thither without mentioning it to his
servant, when he wanted to study, secure from interruption; for he would
not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'A
servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a
practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but
few servants are such nice distinguishers. If I accustom a servant to
tell a lie for ME, have I not reason to apprehend that he will tell many
lies for HIMSELF.'
Mr. Temple, now vicar of St. Gluvias, Cornwall, who had been my intimate
friend for many years, had at this time chambers in Farrar's-buildings,
at the bottom of Inner Temple-lane, which he kindly lent me upon my
quitting my lodgings, he being to return to Trinity Hall, Cambridge.
I found them particularly convenient for me, as they were so near Dr.
Johnson's.
On Wednesday, July 20, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Dempster, and my uncle Dr.
Boswell, who happened to be now in London, supped with me at these
Chambers. JOHNSON. 'Pity is not natural to man. Children are always
cruel. Savages are always cruel. Pity is acquired and improved by the
cultivation of reason. We may have uneasy sensations from seeing a
creature in distress, without pity; for we have not pity unless we wish
to relieve them. When I am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding
it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when
he whips his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to
pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, Sir, I wish him to drive on.'
Rousseau's treatise on the inequality of mankind was at this time a
fashionable topick. It gave rise to an observation by Mr. Dempster, that
the advantages of fortune and rank were nothing to a wise man, who ought
to value only merit. JOHNSON. 'If man were a savage, living in the woods
by himself, this might be true; but in civilized society we all depend
upon each other, and our happiness is very much owing to the good
opinion of mankind. Now, Sir, in civilized society, external advantages
make us more respected. A man with a good coat upon his back meets with
a better reception than he who has a bad one. Sir, you may analyse this,
and say what is there in it? But that will avail you nothing, for it
is a part of a general system. Pound St. Paul's Church into atoms, and
consider any single atom; it is, to be sure, good for nothing: but, put
all these atoms together, and you have St. Paul's Church. So it is with
human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, each of which may
be shewn to be very insignificant. In civilized society, personal
merit will not serve you so much as money will. Sir, you may make the
experiment. Go into the street, and give one man a lecture on morality,
and another a shilling, and see which will respect you most. If you wish
only to support nature, Sir William Petty fixes your allowance at three
pounds a year; but as times are much altered, let us call it six pounds.
This sum will fill your belly, shelter you from the weather, and even
get you a strong lasting coat, supposing it to be made of good bull's
hide. Now, Sir, all beyond this is artificial, and is desired in order
to obtain a greater degree of respect from our fellow-creatures. And,
Sir, if six hundred pounds a year procure a man more consequence, and,
of course, more happiness than six pounds a year, the same proportion
will hold as to six thousand, and so on as far as opulence can be
carried. Perhaps he who has a large fortune may not be so happy as he
who has a small one; but that must proceed from other causes than from
his having the large fortune: for, coeteris paribus, he who is rich in
a civilized society, must be happier than he who is poor; as riches, if
properly used, (and it is a man's own fault if they are not,) must be
productive of the highest advantages. Money, to be sure, of itself is of
no use; for its only use is to part with it. Rousseau, and all those who
deal in paradoxes, are led away by a childish desire of novelty. When I
was a boy, I used always to choose the wrong side of a debate, because
most ingenious things, that is to say, most new things, could be said
upon it. Sir, there is nothing for which you may not muster up more
plausible arguments, than those which are urged against wealth and
other external advantages. Why, now, there is stealing; why should it
be thought a crime? When we consider by what unjust methods property has
been often acquired, and that what was unjustly got it must be unjust to
keep, where is the harm in one man's taking the property of another from
him? Besides, Sir, when we consider the bad use that many people make of
their property, and how much better use the thief may make of it, it may
be defended as a very allowable practice. Yet, Sir, the experience of
mankind has discovered stealing to be so very bad a thing, that they
make no scruple to hang a man for it. When I was running about this town
a very poor fellow, I was a great arguer for the advantages of poverty;
but I was, at the same time, very sorry to be poor. Sir, all the
arguments which are brought to represent poverty as no evil, shew it to
be evidently a great evil. You never find people labouring to convince
you that you may live very happily upon a plentiful fortune.--So you
hear people talking how miserable a King must be; and yet they all wish
to be in his place.'
It was suggested that Kings must be unhappy, because they are deprived
of the greatest of all satisfactions, easy and unreserved society.
JOHNSON. 'That is an ill-founded notion. Being a King does not exclude a
man from such society. Great Kings have always been social. The King
of Prussia, the only great King at present, is very social. Charles the
Second, the last King of England who was a man of parts, was social; and
our Henrys and Edwards were all social.'
Mr. Dempster having endeavoured to maintain that intrinsick merit
OUGHT to make the only distinction amongst mankind. JOHNSON. 'Why,
Sir, mankind have found that this cannot be. How shall we determine the
proportion of intrinsick merit? Were that to be the only distinction
amongst mankind, we should soon quarrel about the degrees of it. Were
all distinctions abolished, the strongest would not long acquiesce, but
would endeavour to obtain a superiority by their bodily strength. But,
Sir, as subordination is very necessary for society, and contentions
for superiority very dangerous, mankind, that is to say, all civilized
nations, have settled it upon a plain invariable principle. A man is
born to hereditary rank; or his being appointed to certain offices,
gives him a certain rank. Subordination tends greatly to human
happiness. Were we all upon an equality, we should have no other
enjoyment than mere animal pleasure.'
He took care to guard himself against any possible suspicion that his
settled principles of reverence for rank and respect for wealth were
at all owing to mean or interested motives; for he asserted his own
independence as a literary man. 'No man (said he) who ever lived by
literature, has lived more independently than I have done.' He said
he had taken longer time than he needed to have done in composing
his Dictionary. He received our compliments upon that great work with
complacency, and told us that the Academia della Crusca could scarcely
believe that it was done by one man.
At night* Mr. Johnson and I supped in a private room at the Turk's Head
coffee-house, in the Strand. 'I encourage this house (said he;) for the
mistress of it is a good civil woman, and has not much business.'
* July 21.
'Sir, I love the acquaintance of young people; because, in the first
place, I don't like to think myself growing old. In the next place,
young acquaintances must last longest, if they do last; and then,
Sir, young men have more virtue than old men: they have more generous
sentiments in every respect. I love the young dogs of this age: they
have more wit and humour and knowledge of life than we had; but then the
dogs are not so good scholars. Sir, in my early years I read very hard.
It is a sad reflection, but a true one, that I knew almost as much at
eighteen as I do now. My judgement, to be sure, was not so good; but I
had all the facts. I remember very well, when I was at Oxford, an old
gentleman said to me, "Young man, ply your book diligently now, and
acquire a stock of knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will
find that poring upon books will be but an irksome task."'
He again insisted on the duty of maintaining subordination of rank.
'Sir, I would no more deprive a nobleman of his respect, than of
his money. I consider myself as acting a part in the great system of
society, and I do to others as I would have them to do to me. I would
behave to a nobleman as I should expect he would behave to me, were I a
nobleman and he Sam. Johnson. Sir, there is one Mrs. Macaulay* in this
town, a great republican. One day when I was at her house, I put on
a very grave countenance, and said to her, "Madam, I am now become a
convert to your way of thinking. I am convinced that all mankind are
upon an equal footing; and to give you an unquestionable proof, Madam,
that I am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, well-behaved
fellow-citizen, your footman; I desire that he may be allowed to sit
down and dine with us." I thus, Sir, shewed her the absurdity of the
levelling doctrine. She has never liked me since. Sir, your levellers
wish to level DOWN as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling
UP to themselves. They would all have some people under them; why not
then have some people above them?' I mentioned a certain authour who
disgusted me by his forwardness, and by shewing no deference to noblemen
into whose company he was admitted. JOHNSON. 'Suppose a shoemaker should
claim an equality with him, as he does with a Lord; how he would stare.
"Why, Sir, do you stare? (says the shoemaker,) I do great service to
society. 'Tis true I am paid for doing it; but so are you, Sir: and I
am sorry to say it, paid better than I am, for doing something not so
necessary. For mankind could do better without your books, than
without my shoes." Thus, Sir, there would be a perpetual struggle for
precedence, were there no fixed invariable rules for the distinction of
rank, which creates no jealousy, as it is allowed to be accidental.'
* This ONE Mrs. Macaulay was the same personage who
afterwards made herself so much known as the celebrated
female historian.'--BOSWELL.
He said he would go to the Hebrides with me, when I returned from my
travels, unless some very good companion should offer when I was absent,
which he did not think probable; adding, 'There are few people to whom
I take so much to as you.' And when I talked of my leaving England, he
said with a very affectionate air, 'My dear Boswell, I should be very
unhappy at parting, did I think we were not to meet again.' I cannot too
often remind my readers, that although such instances of his kindness
are doubtless very flattering to me; yet I hope my recording them
will be ascribed to a better motive than to vanity; for they afford
unquestionable evidence of his tenderness and complacency, which some,
while they were forced to acknowledge his great powers, have been so
strenuous to deny.
He maintained that a boy at school was the happiest of human beings. I
supported a different opinion, from which I have never yet varied, that
a man is happier; and I enlarged upon the anxiety and sufferings which
are endured at school. JOHNSON. 'Ah! Sir, a boy's being flogged is not
so severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him.'
On Tuesday, July 26, I found Mr. Johnson alone. It was a very wet day,
and I again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for
man lives in air, as a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere
press heavy from above, there is an equal resistance from below. To be
sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and
men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good:
but, Sir, a smith or a taylor, whose work is within doors, will surely
do as much in rainy weather, as in fair. Some very delicate frames,
indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.'
We talked of the education of children; and I asked him what he thought
was best to teach them first. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is no matter what
you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your
breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in
first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are
considering which of two things you should teach your child first,
another boy has learnt them both.'
On Thursday, July 28, we again supped in private at the Turk's Head
coffee-house. JOHNSON. 'Swift has a higher reputation than he deserves.
His excellence is strong sense; for his humour, though very well, is not
remarkably good. I doubt whether The Tale of a Tub be his; for he never
owned it, and it is much above his usual manner.'
'Thomson, I think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers.
Every thing appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit.
He could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical
eye.'
'As to the Christian religion, Sir, besides the strong evidence which we
have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the number of great
men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration
of the question. Grotius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to
examine evidence, and he was convinced. Grotius was not a recluse, but a
man of the world, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion. Sir
Isaac Newton set out an infidel, and came to be a very firm believer.'
He this evening recommended to me to perambulate Spain. I said it would
amuse him to get a letter from me dated at Salamancha. JOHNSON. 'I love
the University of Salamancha; for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to
the lawfulness of their conquering America, the University of Salamancha
gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful.' He spoke this with
great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in
his London, against Spanish encroachment.
I expressed my opinion of my friend Derrick as but a poor writer.
JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir, he is; but you are to consider that his being
a literary man has got for him all that he has. It has made him King of
Bath. Sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer.
Had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in
the streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.'
In justice however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who was my first tutor
in the ways of London, and shewed me the town in all its variety of
departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which Dr.
Johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what
Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an
editor: 'Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's letters had been
written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought
very pretty letters.' And, 'I sent Derrick to Dryden's relations to
gather materials for his life; and I believe he got all that I myself
should have got.'
Johnson said once to me, 'Sir, I honour Derrick for his presence of
mind. One night, when Floyd, another poor authour, was wandering about
the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk; upon
being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, "My dear Floyd, I am sorry
to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to MY
LODGINGS?"'
I again begged his advice as to my method of study at Utrecht. 'Come,
(said he) let us make a day of it. Let us go down to Greenwich and
dine, and talk of it there.' The following Saturday was fixed for this
excursion.
As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the
town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. 'No, no, my girl, (said
Johnson) it won't do.' He, however, did not treat her with harshness,
and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that
much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit
commerce between the sexes.
On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the
Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked him if he really
thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential
requisite to a good education. JOHNSON. 'Most certainly, Sir; for those
who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay,
Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even
in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much
connected with it.' 'And yet, (said I) people go through the world
very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without
learning.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning
cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as
well without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the
Argonauts, who were the first sailors.' He then called to the boy, 'What
would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?' 'Sir, (said the
boy,) I would give what I have.' Johnson was much pleased with his
answer, and we gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me,
'Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind;
and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to
give all that he has to get knowledge.'
We landed at the Old Swan, and walked to Billingsgate, where we took
oars, and moved smoothly along the silver Thames. It was a very fine
day. We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships
that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side
of the river.
I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called
Methodists have. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is owing to their expressing
themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do
good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning
ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their
congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of
sense. To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases
reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common
people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness,
and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep
impression. Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner,
religion will soon decay in that country.' Let this observation, as
Johnson meant it, be ever remembered.
I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Greenwich, which he
celebrates in his London as a favourite scene. I had the poem in my
pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm:
'On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood:
Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood:
Pleas'd with the seat which gave ELIZA birth,
We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.'
Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me
his advice as to a course of study.
We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park. He asked me, I suppose,
by way of trying my disposition, 'Is not this very fine?' Having no
exquisite relish of the beauties of Nature, and being more delighted
with 'the busy hum of men,' I answered, 'Yes, Sir; but not equal to
Fleet-street.' JOHNSON. 'You are right, Sir.'
I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. Let
me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable
Baronet in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to
the fragrance of a May evening in the country, observed, 'This may be
very well; but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the
playhouse.'
We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return
to London, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night
air was so cold that it made me shiver. I was the more sensible of it
from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in
my journal what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which,
during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently
made. I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being
much incommoded in the day time.
Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold,
scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying,
'Why do you shiver?' Sir William Scott, of the Commons, told me, that
when he complained of a head-ache in the post-chaise, as they were
travelling together to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner:
'At your age, Sir, I had no head-ache.'
We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house very socially. He
was pleased to listen to a particular account which I gave him of my
family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population
of which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the
same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom
the proprietor was placed by Providence. He took delight in hearing my
description of the romantick seat of my ancestors. 'I must be there,
Sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not
a room in it remaining, we will build one.' I was highly flattered, but
could scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be honoured
by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was,
in his Journey to the Western Islands.
After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, he said, 'I
must see thee out of England; I will accompany you to Harwich.' I could
not find words to express what I felt upon this unexpected and very
great mark of his affectionate regard.
Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that morning at a
meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder
legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at
all.'
On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my departure from London having been
fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me the honour to pass a part of
the morning with me at my Chambers. He said, that 'he always felt an
inclination to do nothing.' I observed, that it was strange to think
that the most indolent man in Britain had written the most laborious
work, The English Dictionary.
I had now made good my title to be a privileged man, and was carried by
him in the evening to drink tea with Miss Williams, whom, though under
the misfortune of having lost her sight, I found to be agreeable in
conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself
well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had long
lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits,
and knew how to lead him on to talk.
After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long
narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees.
There we sauntered a considerable time; and I complained to him that my
love of London and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from
the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much
desired by young men. He roused me by manly and spirited conversation.
He advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an
eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to Greek an hour every day; and
when I was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind.
On Wednesday, August 3, we had our last social evening at the Turk's
Head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts. I had
the misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally. I
mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories
of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings. JOHNSON. 'What do
they make me say, Sir?' BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, as an instance very strange
indeed, (laughing heartily as I spoke,) David Hume told me, you
said that you would stand before a battery of cannon, to restore the
Convocation to its full powers.' Little did I apprehend that he had
actually said this: but I was soon convinced of my errour; for, with
a determined look, he thundered out 'And would I not, Sir? Shall the
Presbyterian KIRK of Scotland have its General Assembly, and the Church
of England be denied its Convocation?' He was walking up and down the
room while I told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this explosion
of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his eyes flashed
with indignation. I bowed to the storm, and diverted the force of it,
by leading him to expatiate on the influence which religion derived from
maintaining the church with great external respectability.
On Friday, August 5, we set out early in the morning in the Harwich
stage coach. A fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young Dutchman, seemed the
most inclined among us to conversation. At the inn where we dined, the
gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children;
and particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle.
JOHNSON. 'I wish, madam, you would educate me too; for I have been an
idle fellow all my life.' 'I am sure, Sir, (said she) you have not been
idle.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there
(pointing to me,) has been idle. He was idle at Edinburgh. His father
sent him to Glasgow, where he continued to be idle. He then came to
London, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to Utrecht,
where he will be as idle as ever. I asked him privately how he could
expose me so. JOHNSON. 'Poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about you,
and will think of it no more.' In the afternoon the gentlewoman talked
violently against the Roman Catholicks, and of the horrours of the
Inquisition. To the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself,
who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the
Inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be checked on
its first appearance; that the civil power should unite with the church
in punishing those who dared to attack the established religion, and
that such only were punished by the Inquisition.' He had in his pocket
Pomponius Mela de situ Orbis, in which he read occasionally, and seemed
very intent upon ancient geography. Though by no means niggardly,
his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having
observed at one of the stages that I ostentatiously gave a shilling
to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give only
six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had
done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of
the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. This was a just
reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his
vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to
raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand.
At supper this night* he talked of good eating with uncommon
satisfaction. 'Some people (said he,) have a foolish way of not minding,
or pretending not to mind, what they eat. For my part, I mind my belly
very studiously, and very carefully; for I look upon it, that he who
does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else.' He now appeared
to me Jean Bull philosophe, and he was, for the moment, not only serious
but vehement. Yet I have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with
great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates; and
the 206th number of his Rambler is a masterly essay against gulosity.
His practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be considered as casting
the balance of his different opinions upon this subject; for I never
knew any man who relished good eating more than he did. When at table,
he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed
rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company,
say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by
others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so fierce, and
indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the
veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was
visible. To those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be
disgusting; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a
philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command. But it must
be owned, that Johnson, though he could be rigidly ABSTEMIOUS, was not
a TEMPERATE man either in eating or drinking. He could refrain, but
he could not use moderately. He told me, that he had fasted two days
without inconvenience, and that he had never been hungry but once.
They who beheld with wonder how much he eat upon all occasions when his
dinner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have
meant by hunger; and not only was he remarkable for the extraordinary
quantity which he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice
discernment in the science of cookery. He used to descant critically on
the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to
recollect very minutely what he had liked. I remember, when he was in
Scotland, his praising 'Gordon's palates,' (a dish of palates at the
Honourable Alexander Gordon's) with a warmth of expression which
might have done honour to more important subjects. 'As for Maclaurin's
imitation of a MADE DISH, it was a wretched attempt.' He about the same
time was so much displeased with the performances of a nobleman's French
cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, 'I'd throw such a rascal into
the river, and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was
to sup, by the following manifesto of his skill: 'I, Madam, who live at
a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery, than any
person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his
palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, Madam, in
trying by a wider range, I can more exquisitely judge.' When invited
to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something
better than a plain dinner was not prepared for him. I have heard him
say on such an occasion, 'This was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but
it was not a dinner to ASK a man to.' On the other hand, he was wont to
express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained
quite to his mind. One day when we had dined with his neighbour and
landlord in Bolt-court, Mr. Allen, the printer, whose old housekeeper
had studied his taste in every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'Sir,
we could not have had a better dinner had there been a Synod of Cooks.'
* At Colchester.--ED.
While we were left by ourselves, after the Dutchman had gone to bed, Dr.
Johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and
practised. He disapproved of it; and said, 'I never considered whether I
should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the
time, have its course.'
I teazed him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. A moth having
fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this
little incident to admonish me; saying, with a sly look, and in a solemn
but quiet tone, 'That creature was its own tormentor, and I believe its
name was BOSWELL.'
Next day we got to Harwich to dinner; and my passage in the packet-boat
to Helvoetsluys being secured, and my baggage put on board, we dined
at our inn by ourselves. I happened to say it would be terrible if he
should not find a speedy opportunity of returning to London, and be
confined to so dull a place. JOHNSON. 'Don't Sir, accustom yourself to
use big words for little matters. It would NOT be TERRIBLE, though I
WERE to be detained some time here.'
We went and looked at the church, and having gone into it and walked up
to the altar, Johnson, whose piety was constant and fervent, sent me to
my knees, saying, 'Now that you are going to leave your native country,
recommend yourself to the protection of your CREATOR and REDEEMER.'
After we came out of the church, we stood talking for some time together
of Bishop Berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence
of matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. I
observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is
impossible to refute it. I never shall forget the alacrity with which
Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large
stone, till he rebounded from it, 'I refute it THUS.'
My revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced
and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. I
said, 'I hope, Sir, you will not forget me in my ahsence.' JOHNSON.
'Nay, Sir, it is more likely you should forget me, than that I should
forget you.' As the vessel put out to sea, I kept my eyes upon him for a
considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestick frame in his
usual manner: and at last I perceived him walk back into the town, and
he disappeared.
1764: AETAT. 55.]--Early in 1764 Johnson paid a visit to the Langton
family, at their seat of Langton, in Lincolnshire, where he passed some
time, much to his satisfaction. His friend Bennet Langton, it will not
he doubted, did every thing in his power to make the place agreeable to
so illustrious a guest; and the elder Mr. Langton and his lady, being
fully capable of understanding his value, were not wanting in attention.
Johnson, during his stay at Langton, had the advantage of a good
library, and saw several gentlemen of the neighbourhood. I have obtained
from Mr. Langton the following particulars of this period.
He was now fully convinced that he could not have been satisfied with a
country living; for, talking of a respectable clergyman in Lincolnshire,
he observed, 'This man, Sir, fills up the duties of his life well. I
approve of him, but could not imitate him.'
To a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from blame for neglecting
social attention to worthy neighbours, by saying, 'I would go to them if
it would do them any good,' he said, 'What good, Madam, do you expect to
have in your power to do them? It is shewing them respect, and that is
doing them good.'
So socially accommodating was he, that once when Mr. Langton and he were
driving together in a coach, and Mr. Langton complained of being sick,
he insisted that they should go out and sit on the back of it in the
open air, which they did. And being sensible how strange the appearance
must be, observed, that a countryman whom they saw in a field, would
probably be thinking, 'If these two madmen should come down, what would
become of me?'
Soon after his return to London, which was in February, was founded that
CLUB which existed long without a name, but at Mr. Garrick's funeral
became distinguished by the title of THE LITERARY CLUB. Sir Joshua
Reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer of it, to which
Johnson acceded, and the original members were, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr.
Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burke, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Dr.
Goldsmith, Mr. Chamier, and Sir John Hawkins. They met at the Turk's
Head, in Gerrard-street, Soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and
generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour. This
club has been gradually increased to its present number, thirty-five:
After about ten years, instead of supping weekly, it was resolved to
dine together once a fortnight during the meeting of Parliament. Their
original tavern having been converted into a private house, they
moved first to Prince's in Sackville-street, then to Le Telier's in
Dover-street, and now meet at Parsloe's, St. James's-street. Between
the time of its formation, and the time at which this work is passing
through the press, (June 1792,) the following persons, now dead, were
members of it: Mr. Dunning, (afterwards Lord Ashburton,) Mr. Samuel
Dyer, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Shipley Bishop of St. Asaph, Mr. Vesey, Mr.
Thomas Warton and Dr. Adam Smith. The present members are,--Mr. Burke,
Mr. Langton, Lord Charlemont, Sir Robert Chambers, Dr. Percy Bishop of
Dromore, Dr. Barnard Bishop of Killaloc, Dr. Marlay Bishop of Clonfert,
Mr. Fox, Dr. George Fordyce, Sir William Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, Sir
Charles Bunbury, Mr. Windham of Norfolk, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Gibbon, Sir
William Jones, Mr. Colman, Mr. Steevens, Dr. Burney, Dr. Joseph Warton,
Mr. Malone, Lord Ossory, Lord Spencer, Lord Lucan, Lord Palmerston, Lord
Eliot, Lord Macartney, Mr. Richard Burke junior, Sir William Hamilton,
Dr. Warren, Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hinchcliffe Bishop of Peterborough, the
Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas Bishop of Salisbury, and the writer of this
account.
Not very long after the institution of our club, Sir Joshua Reynolds was
speaking of it to Garrick. 'I like it much, (said he), I think I shall
be of you.' When Sir Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson, he was much
displeased with the actor's conceit. 'HE'LL BE OF US, (said Johnson) how
does he know we will PERMIT him? The first Duke in England has no right
to hold such language.' However, when Garrick was regularly proposed
some time afterwards, Johnson, though he had taken a momentary
offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was
accordingly elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to
attend our meetings to the time of his death.
It was Johnson's custom to observe certain days with a pious
abstraction; viz. New-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, Good
Friday, Easter-day, and his own birth-day. He this year says:--'I have
now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time
almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I
have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the
time of doing is short. O GOD, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep
my resolutions, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake. Amen.'
About this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the
hypochondriack disorder, which was ever lurking about him. He was so
ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely
averse to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. Dr. Adams
told me, that as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that he
found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking to himself,
and restlessly walking from room to room. He then used this emphatical
expression of the misery which he felt: 'I would consent to have a limb
amputated to recover my spirits.'
Talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since
I knew him. I was certain that he was frequently uttering pious
ejaculations; for fragments of the Lord's Prayer have been distinctly
overheard. His friend Mr. Thomas Davies, of whom Churchill says,
'That Davies hath a very pretty wife,'
when Dr. Johnson muttered 'lead us not into temptation,' used with
waggish and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. Davies, 'You, my dear, are
the cause of this.'
He had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever ventured
to ask an explanation. It appeared to me some superstitious habit, which
he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon his
reason to disentangle him. This was his anxious care to go out or in at
a door or passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point, or
at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (I am not certain
which,) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came
close to the door or passage. Thus I conjecture: for I have, upon
innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to
count his steps with a deep earnestness; and when he had neglected or
gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back
again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and,
having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and
join his companion. A strange instance of something of this nature, even
when on horseback, happened when he was in the isle of Sky. Sir Joshua
Reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than cross a
particular alley in Leicester-fields; but this Sir Joshua imputed to his
having had some disagreeable recollection associated with it.
That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and made very
observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not be omitted, it is
requisite to mention, that while talking or even musing as he sat in his
chair, he commonly held his head to one side towards his right shoulder,
and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards and
forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm
of his hand. In the intervals of articulating he made various sounds
with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing
the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, sometimes making his tongue
play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen,
and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums in front, as
if pronouncing quickly under his breath, TOO, TOO, TOO: all this
accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with
a smile. Generally when he had concluded a period, in the course of
a dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence
and vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a Whale. This
I supposed was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a
contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his
opponent fly like chaff before the wind.
1765: AETAT. 56.]--Trinity College, Dublin, at this time surprised
Johnson with a spontaneous compliment of the highest academical honours,
by creating him Doctor of Laws.
He appears this year to have been seized with a temporary fit of
ambition, for he had thoughts both of studying law and of engaging in
politics. His 'Prayer before the Study of Law' is truly admirable:--
'Sept. 26, 1765.
'Almighty GOD, the giver of wisdom, without whose help resolutions are
vain, without whose blessing study is ineffectual; enable me, if it
be thy will, to attain such knowledge as may qualify me to direct the
doubtful, and instruct the ignorant; to prevent wrongs and terminate
contentions; and grant that I may use that knowledge which I shall
attain, to thy glory and my own salvation, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake.
Amen.'
This year was distinguished by his being introduced into the family of
Mr. Thrale, one of the most eminent brewers in England, and Member of
Parliament for the borough of Southwark. Foreigners are not a little
amazed when they hear of brewers, distillers, and men in similar
departments of trade, held forth as persons of considerable consequence.
In this great commercial country it is natural that a situation which
produces much wealth should be considered as very respectable; and,
no doubt, honest industry is entitled to esteem. But, perhaps, the too
rapid advance of men of low extraction tends to lessen the value of that
distinction by birth and gentility, which has ever been found beneficial
to the grand scheme of subordination. Johnson used to give this account
of the rise of Mr. Thrale's father: 'He worked at six shillings a week
for twenty years in the great brewery, which afterwards was his own. The
proprietor of it had an only daughter, who was married to a nobleman. It
was not fit that a peer should continue the business. On the old man's
death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. To find a purchaser for
so large a property was a difficult matter; and, after some time, it was
suggested, that it would be adviseable to treat with Thrale, a sensible,
active, honest man, who had been employed in the house, and to transfer
the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security being taken upon
the property. This was accordingly settled. In eleven years Thrale paid
the purchase-money. He acquired a large fortune, and lived to be Member
of Parliament for Southwark. But what was most remarkable was the
liberality with which he used his riches. He gave his son and daughters
the best education. The esteem which his good conduct procured him from
the nobleman who had married his master's daughter, made him be treated
with much attention; and his son, both at school and at the University
of Oxford, associated with young men of the first rank. His allowance
from his father, after he left college, was splendid; no less than a
thousand a year. This, in a man who had risen as old Thrale did, was
a very extraordinary instance of generosity. He used to say, "If this
young dog does not find so much after I am gone as he expects, let him
remember that he has had a great deal in my own time."'
The son, though in affluent circumstances, had good sense enough to
carry on his father's trade, which was of such extent, that I remember
he once told me, he would not quit it for an annuity of ten thousand a
year; 'Not (said he,) that I get ten thousand a year by it, but it is an
estate to a family.' Having left daughters only, the property was sold
for the immense sum of one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds; a
magnificent proof of what may be done by fair trade in no long period of
time.
Mr. Thrale had married Miss Hesther Lynch Salusbury, of good Welsh
extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by education. That
Johnson's introduction into Mr. Thrale's family, which contributed
so much to the happiness of his life, was owing to her desire for his
conversation, is very probable and a general supposition: but it is not
the truth. Mr. Murphy, who was intimate with Mr. Thrale, having spoken
very highly of Dr. Johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted.
This being mentioned to Johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner
at Thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception, both by Mr. and
Mrs. Thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to
their house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one
of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their
house in Southwark, and in their villa at Streatham.
Johnson had a very sincere esteem for Mr. Thrale, as a man of
excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in trade, of a sound
understanding, and of manners such as presented the character of a plain
independent English Squire. As this family will frequently be mentioned
in the course of the following pages, and as a false notion
has prevailed that Mr. Thrale was inferiour, and in some degree
insignificant, compared with Mrs. Thrale, it may be proper to give a
true state of the case from the authority of Johnson himself in his own
words.
'I know no man, (said he,) who is more master of his wife and family
than Thrale. If he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. It is a great
mistake to suppose that she is above him in literary attainments. She
is more flippant; but he has ten times her learning: he is a regular
scholar; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower
forms.' My readers may naturally wish for some representation of the
figures of this couple. Mr. Thrale was tall, well proportioned, and
stately. As for Madam, or my Mistress, by which epithets Johnson used
to mention Mrs. Thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk. She has herself
given us a lively view of the idea which Johnson had of her person, on
her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown: 'You little creatures
should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in
every way. What! have not all insects gay colours?' Mr. Thrale gave his
wife a liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and in
the mode of entertaining them. He understood and valued Johnson, without
remission, from their first acquaintance to the day of his death. Mrs.
Thrale was enchanted with Johnson's conversation, for its own sake, and
had also a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with the
attention of so celebrated a man.
Nothing could be more fortunate for Johnson than this connection. He
had at Mr. Thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life;
his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened by
association with an agreeable and well-ordered family. He was treated
with the utmost respect, and even affection. The vivacity of Mrs.
Thrale's literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even
when they were alone. But this was not often the case; for he found
here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoyment: the
society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way, who
were assembled in numerous companies, called forth his wonderful powers,
and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible.
In the October of this year he at length gave to the world his edition
of Shakspeare, which, if it had no other merit but that of producing his
Preface, in which the excellencies and defects of that immortal bard are
displayed with a masterly hand, the nation would have had no reason to
complain.
In 1764 and 1765 it should seem that Dr. Johnson was so busily employed
with his edition of Shakspeare, as to have had little leisure for any
other literary exertion, or, indeed, even for private correspondence.
He did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for
which it will appear that he afterwards apologised.
He was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends,
and others, in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly
improving their Dedications. In that courtly species of composition no
man excelled Dr. Johnson. Though the loftiness of his mind prevented him
from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very great number
of Dedications for others. Some of these, the persons who were favoured
with them are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious
apprehension, as I think, that they might be suspected of having
received larger assistance; and some, after all the diligence I have
bestowed, have escaped my enquiries. He told me, a great many years ago,
'he believed he had dedicated to all the Royal Family round;' and it was
indifferent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided
it were innocent. He once dedicated some Musick for the German Flute to
Edward, Duke of York. In writing Dedications for others, he considered
himself as by no means speaking his own sentiments.
I returned to London in February,* and found Dr. Johnson in a good house
in Johnson's Court, Fleet-street, in which he had accommodated Miss
Williams with an apartment on the ground floor, while Mr. Levet occupied
his post in the garret: his faithful Francis was still attending upon
him. He received me with much kindness. The fragments of our first
conversation, which I have preserved, are these:
I told him that Voltaire, in a conversation with me, had distinguished
Pope and Dryden thus:--'Pope drives a handsome chariot, with a couple of
neat trim nags; Dryden a coach, and six stately horses.' JOHNSON. 'Why,
Sir, the truth is, they both drive coaches and six; but Dryden's horses
are either galloping or stumbling: Pope's go at a steady even trot.' He
said of Goldsmith's Traveller, which had been published in my absence,
'There has not been so fine a poem since Pope's time.'
* 1766.
Talking of education, 'People have now a-days, (said he,) got a strange
opinion that every thing should be taught by lectures. Now, I cannot see
that lectures can do so much good as reading the books from which the
lectures are taken. I know nothing that can be best taught by lectures,
except where experiments are to be shewn. You may teach chymistry by
lectures.--You might teach making of shoes by lectures!'
At night I supped with him at the Mitre tavern, that we might renew our
social intimacy at the original place of meeting. But there was now a
considerable difference in his way of living. Having had an illness,
in which he was advised to leave off wine, he had, from that period,
continued to abstain from it, and drank only water, or lemonade.
I told him that a foreign friend of his, whom I had met with abroad,
was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity, that he treated the hopes of
immortality with brutal levity; and said, 'As man dies like a dog, let
him lie like a dog.' JOHNSON. 'IF he dies like a dog, LET him lie like
a dog.' I added, that this man said to me, 'I hate mankind, for I think
myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.' JOHNSON. 'Sir,
he must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks himself one of the
best of men; for none of his friends think him so.'--He said, 'no honest
man could be a Deist; for no man could be so after a fair examination of
the proofs of Christianity.' I named Hume. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; Hume owned
to a clergyman in the bishoprick of Durham, that he had never read the
New Testament with attention.' I mentioned Hume's notion, that all who
are happy are equally happy; a little miss with a new gown at a dancing
school ball, a general at the head of a victorious army, and an orator,
after having made an eloquent speech in a great assembly. JOHNSON. 'Sir,
that all who are happy, are equally happy, is not true. A peasant and a
philosopher may be equally SATISFIED, but not equally HAPPY. Happiness
consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness. A peasant has
not capacity for having equal happiness with a philosopher.'
Dr. Johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me 'You have now
lived five-and-twenty years, and you have employed them well.' 'Alas,
Sir, (said I,) I fear not. Do I know history? Do I know mathematicks? Do
I know law?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, though you may know no science so well
as to be able to teach it, and no profession so well as to be able to
follow it, your general mass of knowledge of books and men renders you
very capable to make yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for
any profession.' I mentioned that a gay friend had advised me against
being a lawyer, because I should be excelled by plodding block-heads.
JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, in the formulary and statutory part of law, a
plodding block-head may excel; but in the ingenious and rational part of
it a plodding block-head can never excel.'
I talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, by courting
great men, and asked him whether he had ever submitted to it. JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, I never was near enough to great men, to court them. You may
be prudently attached to great men and yet independent. You are not to
do what you think wrong; and, Sir, you are to calculate, and not pay too
dear for what you get. You must not give a shilling's worth of court for
six-pence worth of good. But if you can get a shilling's worth of good
for six-pence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court.'
I talked to him a great deal of what I had seen in Corsica, and of my
intention to publish an account of it. He encouraged me by saying, 'You
cannot go to the bottom of the subject; but all that you tell us will be
new to us. Give us as many anecdotes as you can.'
Our next meeting at the Mitre was on Saturday the 15th of February, when
I presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the Reverend Mr.
Temple, then of Cambridge. I having mentioned that I had passed some
time with Rousseau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark
made by Mr. Wilkes, with whom I had spent many pleasant hours in Italy,
Johnson said (sarcastically,) 'It seems, Sir, you have kept very good
company abroad, Rousseau and Wilkes!' Thinking it enough to defend
one at a time, I said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a
smile, 'My dear Sir, you don't call Rousseau bad company. Do you really
think HIM a bad man?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, if you are talking jestingly of
this, I don't talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one
of the worst of men; a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as
he has been. Three or four nations have expelled him; and it is a shame
that he is protected in this country.' BOSWELL. 'I don't deny, Sir, but
that his novel may, perhaps, do harm; but I cannot think his intention
was bad.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, that will not do. We cannot prove any man's
intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you
intended to miss him; but the Judge will order you to be hanged. An
alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed
in a court of justice. Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner
sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has
gone from the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have
him work in the plantations.' BOSWELL. 'Sir, do you think him as bad
a man as Voltaire?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is difficult to settle the
proportion of iniquity between them.'
On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, 'So far is it
from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be
half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over
the other.'
I mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console ourselves,
when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are in a worse
situation than ourselves. This, I observed, could not apply to all, for
there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. JOHNSON. 'Why,
to be sure, Sir, there are; but they don't know it. There is no being
so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still
poorer, and still more contemptible.'
As my stay in London at this time was very short, I had not many
opportunities of being with Dr. Johnson; but I felt my veneration for
him in no degree lessened, by my having seen multoram hominum mores et
urbes. On the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with
many of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my admiration of
his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed.
The roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners, was more
striking to me now, from my having been accustomed to the studied smooth
complying habits of the Continent; and I clearly recognised in him, not
without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant
and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good
principles.
One evening when a young gentleman teazed him with an account of
the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would not believe the
scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues,
and be sure that they were not invented, 'Why, foolish fellow, (said
Johnson,) has he any better authority for almost every thing that he
believes?' BOSWELL. 'Then the vulgar, Sir, never can know they are
right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' JOHNSON. 'To be sure,
Sir. The vulgar are the children of the State, and must be taught like
children.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just
as a poor Englishman must be a Christian?' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir; and
what then? This now is such stuff as I used to talk to my mother, when I
first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt
me for it.'
Another evening Dr. Goldsmith and I called on him, with the hope of
prevailing on him to sup with us at the Mitre. We found him indisposed,
and resolved not to go abroad. 'Come then, (said Goldsmith,) we will
not go to the Mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man with
us.' Johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which Goldsmith and I
partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat by us. GOLDSMITH.
'I think, Mr. Johnson, you don't go near the theatres now. You give
yourself no more concern about a new play, than if you had never had
any thing to do with the stage.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, our tastes greatly
alter. The lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the old man
does not care for the young man's whore.' GOLDSMITH. 'Nay, Sir, but your
Muse was not a whore.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not think she was. But as we
advance in the journey of life, we drop some of the things which have
pleased us; whether it be that we are fatigued and don't choose to carry
so many things any farther, or that we find other things which we like
better.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, why don't you give us something in some
other way?' GOLDSMITH. 'Ay, Sir, we have a claim upon you.' JOHNSON. No,
Sir, I am not obliged to do any more. No man is obliged to do as much
as he can do. A man is to have part of his life to himself. If a soldier
has fought a good many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires
to ease and tranquillity. A physician, who has practised long in a
great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, and takes less
practice. Now, Sir, the good I can do by my conversation bears the same
proportion to the good I can do by my writings, that the practice of
a physician, retired to a small town, does to his practice in a great
city.' BOSWELL. 'But I wonder, Sir, you have not more pleasure in
writing than in not writing.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you MAY wonder.'
He talked of making verses, and observed, 'The great difficulty is to
know when you have made good ones. When composing, I have generally
had them in my mind, perhaps fifty at a time, walking up and down in my
room; and then I have written them down, and often, from laziness, have
written only half lines. I have written a hundred lines in a day. I
remember I wrote a hundred lines of The Vanity of Human Wishes in a day.
Doctor, (turning to Goldsmith,) I am not quite idle; I made one line
t'other day; but I made no more.' GOLDSMITH. 'Let us hear it; we'll put
a bad one to it.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, I have forgot it.'
'TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE
'DEAR SIR,--What your friends have done, that from your departure till
now nothing has been heard of you, none of us are able to inform the
rest; but as we are all neglected alike, no one thinks himself entitled
to the privilege of complaint.
'I should have known nothing of you or of Langton, from the time that
dear Miss Langton left us, had not I met Mr. Simpson, of Lincoln, one
day in the street, by whom I was informed that Mr. Langton, your Mamma,
and yourself, had been all ill, but that you were all recovered.
'That sickness should suspend your correspondence, I did not wonder; but
hoped that it would be renewed at your recovery.
'Since you will not inform us where you are, or how you live, I know
not whether you desire to know any thing of us. However, I will tell you
that THE CLUB subsists; but we have the loss of Burke's company since
he has been engaged in publick business, in which he has gained more
reputation than perhaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained
before. He made two speeches in the House for repealing the Stamp-act,
which were publickly commended by Mr. Pitt, and have filled the town
with wonder.
'Burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to attain civil
greatness. I am grown greater too, for I have maintained the news-papers
these many weeks; and what is greater still, I have risen every morning
since New-year's day, at about eight; when I was up, I have indeed done
but little; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain for so many hours
more, the consciousness of being.
'I wish you were in my new study; I am now writing the first letter in
it. I think it looks very pretty about me.
'Dyer is constant at THE CLUB; Hawkins is remiss; I am not over
diligent. Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Reynolds, are very
constant. Mr. Lye is printing his Saxon and Gothick Dictionary; all THE
CLUB subscribes.
'You will pay my respects to all my Lincolnshire friends. I am, dear
Sir, most affectionately your's,
'March 9, 1766.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'