July 17, 1771.'

'Compliments to Miss Reynolds.'

In his religious record of this year, we observe that he was better than

usual, both in body and mind, and better satisfied with the regularity

of his conduct. But he is still 'trying his ways' too rigorously. He

charges himself with not rising early enough; yet he mentions what was

surely a sufficient excuse for this, supposing it to be a duty seriously

required, as he all his life appears to have thought it. 'One great

hindrance is want of rest; my nocturnal complaints grow less troublesome

towards morning; and I am tempted to repair the deficiencies of the

night.' Alas! how hard would it be if this indulgence were to be imputed

to a sick man as a crime. In his retrospect on the following Easter-Eve,

he says, 'When I review the last year, I am able to recollect so little

done, that shame and sorrow, though perhaps too weakly, come upon me.'

In 1772 he was altogether quiescent as an authour; but it will be found

from the various evidences which I shall bring together that his mind

was acute, lively, and vigorous.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,--That you are coming so soon to town I am very glad; and

still more glad that you are coming as an advocate. I think nothing more

likely to make your life pass happily away, than that consciousness of

your own value, which eminence in your profession will certainly confer.

If I can give you any collateral help, I hope you do not suspect that it

will be wanting. My kindness for you has neither the merit of singular

virtue, nor the reproach of singular prejudice. Whether to love you be

right or wrong, I have many on my side: Mrs. Thrale loves you, and Mrs.

Williams loves you, and what would have inclined me to love you, if I

had been neutral before, you are a great favourite of Dr. Beattie.*

'Of Dr. Beattie I should have thought much, but that his lady puts him

out of my head; she is a very lovely woman.

'The ejection which you come hither to oppose, appears very cruel,

unreasonable, and oppressive. I should think there could not be much

doubt of your success.

'My health grows better, yet I am not fully recovered. I believe it is

held, that men do not recover very fast after threescore. I hope yet

to see Beattie's College: and have not given up the western voyage. But

however all this may be or not, let us try to make each other happy when

we meet, and not refer our pleasure to distant times or distant places.

'How comes it that you tell me nothing of your lady? I hope to see her

some time, and till then shall be glad to hear of her. I am, dear Sir,

&c.

'March 15, 1772.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

* Boswell had given Beattie a letter of introduction to

Johnson the preceding summer--ED.

On the 21st of March, I was happy to find myself again in my friend's

study, and was glad to see my old acquaintance, Mr. Francis Barber, who

was now returned home. Dr. Johnson received me with a hearty welcome;

saying, 'I am glad you are come.'

I thanked him for showing civilities to Beattie. 'Sir, (said he,) I

should thank YOU. We all love Beattie. Mrs. Thrale says, if ever she

has another husband, she'll have Beattie. He sunk upon us that he was

married; else we should have shewn his lady more civilities. She is a

very fine woman. But how can you shew civilities to a nonentity? I did

not think he had been married. Nay, I did not think about it one way or

other; but he did not tell us of his lady till late.'

He then spoke of St. Kilda, the most remote of the Hebrides. I told him,

I thought of buying it. JOHNSON. 'Pray do, Sir. We will go and pass a

winter amid the blasts there. We shall have fine fish, and we will take

some dried tongues with us, and some books. We will have a strong built

vessel, and some Orkney men to navigate her. We must build a tolerable

house: but we may carry with us a wooden house ready made, and requiring

nothing but to be put up. Consider, Sir, by buying St. Kilda, you may

keep the people from falling into worse hands. We must give them a

clergyman, and he shall be one of Beattie's choosing. He shall be

educated at Marischal College. I'll be your Lord Chancellor, or what

you please.' BOSWELL. 'Are you serious, Sir, in advising me to buy St.

Kilda? for if you should advise me to go to Japan, I believe I should do

it.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, I am serious.' BOSWELL. 'Why then, I'll see

what can be done.'

He was engaged to dine abroad, and asked me to return to him in the

evening at nine, which I accordingly did.

We drank tea with Mrs. Williams, who told us a story of second sight,

which happened in Wales where she was born. He listened to it very

attentively, and said he should be glad to have some instances of that

faculty well authenticated. His elevated wish for more and more evidence

for spirit, in opposition to the groveling belief of materialism,

led him to a love of such mysterious disquisitions. He again justly

observed, that we could have no certainty of the truth of supernatural

appearances, unless something was told us which we could not know

by ordinary means, or something done which could not be done but by

supernatural power; that Pharaoh in reason and justice required such

evidence from Moses; nay, that our Saviour said, 'If I had not done

among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin.'

We talked of the Roman Catholick religion, and how little difference

there was in essential matters between ours and it. JOHNSON. 'True, Sir;

all denominations of Christians have really little difference in point

of doctrine, though they may differ widely in external forms. There is

a prodigious difference between the external form of one of your

Presbyterian churches in Scotland, and a church in Italy; yet the

doctrine taught is essentially the same.

In the morning we had talked of old families, and the respect due to

them. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have a right to that kind of respect, and

are arguing for yourself. I am for supporting the principle, and am

disinterested in doing it, as I have no such right.' BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir,

it is one more incitement to a man to do well.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and

it is a matter of opinion, very necessary to keep society together.

What is it but opinion, by which we have a respect for authority, that

prevents us, who are the rabble, from rising up and pulling down you who

are gentlemen from your places, and saying, "We will be gentlemen in our

turn?" Now, Sir, that respect for authority is much more easily granted

to a man whose father has had it, than to an upstart, and so Society is

more easily supported.' BOSWELL. 'At present, Sir, I think riches seem

to gain most respect.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, riches do not gain hearty

respect; they only procure external attention. A very rich man, from low

beginnings, may buy his election in a borough; but, coeteris paribus,

a man of family will be preferred. People will prefer a man for whose

father their fathers have voted, though they should get no more money,

or even less. That shows that the respect for family is not merely

fanciful, but has an actual operation. If gentlemen of family would

allow the rich upstarts to spend their money profusely, which they are

ready enough to do, and not vie with them in expence, the upstarts would

soon be at an end, and the gentlemen would remain: but if the gentlemen

will vie in expence with the upstarts, which is very foolish, they must

be ruined.'

On Monday, March 23, I found him busy, preparing a fourth edition of

his folio Dictionary. Mr. Peyton, one of his original amanuenses, was

writing for him.

He seemed also to be intent on some sort of chymical operation. I was

entertained by observing how he contrived to send Mr. Peyton on an

errand, without seeming to degrade him. 'Mr. Peyton,--Mr. Peyton, will

you be so good as to take a walk to Temple-Bar? You will there see a

chymist's shop; at which you will be pleased to buy for me an ounce of

oil of vitriol; not spirit of vitriol, but oil of vitriol. It will cost

three half-pence.' Peyton immediately went, and returned with it, and

told him it cost but a penny.

On Saturday, March 27, I introduced to him Sir Alexander Macdonald,

with whom he had expressed a wish to be acquainted. He received him very

courteously.

SIR A. 'I think, Sir, almost all great lawyers, such at least as have

written upon law, have known only law, and nothing else.' JOHNSON. 'Why

no, Sir; Judge Hale was a great lawyer, and wrote upon law; and yet

he knew a great many other things; and has written upon other things.

Selden too.' SIR A. 'Very true, Sir; and Lord Bacon. But was not Lord

Coke a mere lawyer?' JOHNSON. 'Why, I am afraid he was; but he would

have taken it very ill if you had told him so. He would have prosecuted

you for scandal.' BOSWELL. 'Lord Mansfield is not a mere lawyer.

JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. I never was in Lord Mansfield's company; but Lord

Mansfield was distinguished at the University. Lord Mansfield, when he

first came to town, "drank champagne with the wits," as Prior says.

He was the friend of Pope.' SIR A. 'Barristers, I believe, are not so

abusive now as they were formerly. I fancy they had less law long ago,

and so were obliged to take to abuse, to fill up the time. Now they have

such a number of precedents, they have no occasion for abuse.' JOHNSON.

'Nay, Sir, they had more law long ago than they have now. As to

precedents, to be sure they will increase in course of time; but the

more precedents there are, the less occasion is there for law; that is

to say, the less occasion is there for investigating principles.' SIR A.

'I have been correcting several Scotch accents in my friend Boswell.

I doubt, Sir, if any Scotchman ever attains to a perfect English

pronunciation.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, few of them do, because they do not

persevere after acquiring a certain degree of it. But, Sir, there can

be no doubt that they may attain to a perfect English pronunciation, if

they will. We find how near they come to it; and certainly, a man

who conquers nineteen parts of the Scottish accent, may conquer the

twentieth. But, Sir, when a man has got the better of nine tenths he

grows weary, he relaxes his diligence, he finds he has corrected his

accent so far as not to be disagreeable, and he no longer desires his

friends to tell him when he is wrong; nor does he choose to be told.

Sir, when people watch me narrowly, and I do not watch myself, they will

find me out to be of a particular county. In the same manner, Dunning

may be found out to be a Devonshire man. So most Scotchmen may be

found out. But, Sir, little aberrations are of no disadvantage. I never

catched Mallet in a Scotch accent; and yet Mallet, I suppose, was past

five-and-twenty before he came to London.'

I again visited him at night. Finding him in a very good humour, I

ventured to lead him to the subject of our situation in a future state,

having much curiosity to know his notions on that point. . . .

BOSWELL. 'I do not know whether there are any well-attested stories

of the appearance of ghosts. You know there is a famous story of the

appearance of Mrs. Veal, prefixed to Drelincourt on Death.' JOHNSON. 'I

believe, Sir, that is given up. I believe the woman declared upon her

death-bed that it was a lie.' BOSWELL. 'This objection is made against

the truth of ghosts appearing: that if they are in a state of happiness,

it would be a punishment to them to return to this world; and if they

are in a state of misery, it would be giving them a respite.' JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, as the happiness or misery of embodied spirits does not

depend upon place, but is intellectual, we cannot say that they are less

happy or less miserable by appearing upon earth.'

We went down between twelve and one to Mrs. Williams's room, and drank

tea. I mentioned that we were to have the remains of Mr. Gray, in prose

and verse, published by Mr. Mason. JOHNSON. 'I think we have had enough

of Gray. I see they have published a splendid edition of Akenside's

works. One bad ode may be suffered; but a number of them together makes

one sick.' BOSWELL. 'Akenside's distinguished poem is his Pleasures of

Imagination; but for my part, I never could admire it so much as most

people do.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I could not read it through.' BOSWELL. 'I

have read it through; but I did not find any great power in it.'

On Tuesday, March 31, he and I dined at General Paoli's.

Dr. Johnson went home with me to my lodgings in Conduit-street and drank

tea, previous to our going to the Pantheon, which neither of us had seen

before.

He said, 'Goldsmith's Life of Parnell is poor; not that it is poorly

written, but that he had poor materials; for nobody can write the

life of a man, but those who have eat and drunk and lived in social

intercourse with him.'

I said, that if it was not troublesome and presuming too much, I would

request him to tell me all the little circumstances of his life; what

schools he attended, when he came to Oxford, when he came to London, &c.

&c. He did not disapprove of my curiosity as to these particulars; but

said, 'They'll come out by degrees as we talk together.'

We talked of the proper use of riches. JOHNSON. 'If I were a man of a

great estate, I would drive all the rascals whom I did not like out of

the county at an election.'

We then walked to the Pantheon. The first view of it did not strike us

so much as Ranelagh, of which he said, the 'coup d'oeil was the finest

thing he had ever seen.' The truth is, Ranelagh is of a more beautiful

form; more of it or rather indeed the whole rotunda, appears at once,

and it is better lighted. However, as Johnson observed, we saw the

Pantheon in time of mourning, when there was a dull uniformity; whereas

we had seen Ranelagh when the view was enlivened with a gay profusion

of colours. Mrs. Bosville, of Gunthwait, in Yorkshire, joined us, and

entered into conversation with us. Johnson said to me afterwards, 'Sir,

this is a mighty intelligent lady.'

I said there was not half a guinea's worth of pleasure in seeing this

place. JOHNSON. 'But, Sir, there is half a guinea's worth of inferiority

to other people in not having seen it.' BOSWELL. 'I doubt, Sir, whether

there are many happy people here.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, there are many

happy people here. There are many people here who are watching hundreds,

and who think hundreds are watching them.'

Happening to meet Sir Adam Fergusson, I presented him to Dr. Johnson.

Sir Adam expressed some apprehension that the Pantheon would encourage

luxury. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) I am a great friend to publick amusements;

for they keep people from vice. You now (addressing himself to me,)

would have been with a wench, had you not been here.--O! I forgot you

were married.'

Sir Adam suggested, that luxury corrupts a people, and destroys the

spirit of liberty. JOHNSON. 'Sir, that is all visionary. I would not

give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than

another. It is of no moment to the happiness of an individual. Sir, the

danger of the abuse of power is nothing to a private man. What Frenchman

is prevented from passing his life as he pleases?' SIR ADAM. 'But, Sir,

in the British constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a

spirit in the people, so as to preserve a balance against the crown.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, I perceive you are a vile Whig. Why all this childish

jealousy of the power of the crown? The crown has not power enough. When

I say that all governments are alike, I consider that in no government

power can be abused long. Mankind will not bear it. If a sovereign

oppresses his people to a great degree, they will rise and cut off his

head. There is a remedy in human nature against tyranny, that will keep

us safe under every form of government. Had not the people of France

thought themselves honoured as sharing in the brilliant actions of Lewis

XIV, they would not have endured him; and we may say the same of the

King of Prussia's people.' Sir Adam introduced the ancient Greeks and

Romans. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the mass of both of them were barbarians. The

mass of every people must be barbarous where there is no printing, and

consequently knowledge is not generally diffused. Knowledge is diffused

among our people by the news-papers.' Sir Adam mentioned the orators,

poets, and artists of Greece. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I am talking of the mass

of the people. We see even what the boasted Athenians were. The little

effect which Demosthenes's orations had upon them, shews that they were

barbarians.'

On Sunday, April 5, after attending divine service at St. Paul's church,

I found him alone.

He said, he went more frequently to church when there were prayers

only, than when there was also a sermon, as the people required more

an example for the one than the other; it being much easier for them to

hear a sermon, than to fix their minds on prayer.

On Monday, April 6, I dined with him at Sir Alexander Macdonald's, where

was a young officer in the regimentals of the Scots Royal, who talked

with a vivacity, fluency, and precision so uncommon, that he attracted

particular attention. He proved to be the Honourable Thomas Erskine,

youngest brother to the Earl of Buchan, who has since risen into such

brilliant reputation at the bar in Westminster-hall.

Fielding being mentioned, Johnson exclaimed, 'he was a blockhead;' and

upon my expressing my astonishment at so strange an assertion, he said,

'What I mean by his being a blockhead is that he was a barren rascal.'

BOSWELL. 'Will you not allow, Sir, that he draws very natural pictures

of human life?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is of very low life. Richardson

used to say, that had he not known who Fielding was, he should have

believed he was an ostler. Sir, there is more knowledge of the heart in

one letter of Richardson's, than in all Tom Jones. I, indeed, never read

Joseph Andrews.' ERSKINE. 'Surely, Sir, Richardson is very tedious.'

JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, if you were to read Richardson for the story, your

impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself. But

you must read him for the sentiment, and consider the story as only

giving occasion to the sentiment.'

We talked of gaming, and animadverted on it with severity. JOHNSON.

'Nay, gentlemen, let us not aggravate the matter. It is not roguery to

play with a man who is ignorant of the game, while you are master of it,

and so win his money; for he thinks he can play better than you, as you

think you can play better than he; and the superiour skill carries it.'

ERSKINE. 'He is a fool, but you are not a rogue.' JOHNSON. 'That's much

about the truth, Sir. It must be considered, that a man who only does

what every one of the society to which he belongs would do, is not a

dishonest man. In the republick of Sparta, it was agreed, that stealing

was not dishonourable, if not discovered. I do not commend a society

where there is an agreement that what would not otherwise be fair,

shall be fair; but I maintain, that an individual of any society, who

practises what is allowed, is not a dishonest man.' BOSWELL. 'So then,

Sir, you do not think ill of a man who wins perhaps forty thousand

pounds in a winter?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not call a gamester a dishonest

man; but I call him an unsocial man, an unprofitable man. Gaming is a

mode of transferring property without producing any intermediate good.

Trade gives employment to numbers, and so produces intermediate good.'

On Thursday, April 9, I called on him to beg he would go and dine with

me at the Mitre tavern. He had resolved not to dine at all this day, I

know not for what reason; and I was so unwilling to be deprived of his

company, that I was content to submit to suffer a want, which was at

first somewhat painful, but he soon made me forget it; and a man is

always pleased with himself when he finds his intellectual inclinations

predominate.

He observed, that to reason philosophically on the nature of prayer, was

very unprofitable.

Talking of ghosts, he said, he knew one friend, who was an honest man

and a sensible man, who told him he had seen a ghost, old Mr. Edward

Cave, the printer at St. John's Gate. He said, Mr. Cave did not like to

talk of it, and seemed to be in great horrour whenever it was mentioned.

BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, what did he say was the appearance?' JOHNSON. 'Why,

Sir, something of a shadowy being.'

On Friday, April 10, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe's, where we

found Dr. Goldsmith.

I started the question whether duelling was consistent with moral

duty. The brave old General fired at this, and said, with a lofty

air, 'Undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honour.' GOLDSMITH.

(turning to me,) 'I ask you first, Sir, what would you do if you were

affronted?' I answered I should think it necessary to fight. 'Why then,

(replied Goldsmith,) that solves the question.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, it

does not solve the question. It does not follow that what a man would

do is therefore right.' I said, I wished to have it settled, whether

duelling was contrary to the laws of Christianity. Johnson immediately

entered on the subject, and treated it in a masterly manner; and so far

as I have been able to recollect, his thoughts were these: 'Sir, as men

become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise; which

are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to

atone for them, though in reality they are not so. A body that has

received a very fine polish may be easily hurt. Before men arrive at

this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbour he lies, his

neighbour tells him he lies; if one gives his neighbour a blow, his

neighbour gives him a blow: but in a state of highly polished society,

an affront is held to be a serious injury. It must therefore be

resented, or rather a duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed

to banish from their society one who puts up with an affront

without fighting a duel. Now, Sir, it is never unlawful to fight in

self-defence. He, then, who fights a duel, does not fight from passion

against his antagonist, but out of self-defence; to avert the stigma of

the world, and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. I

could wish there was not that superfluity of refinement; but while such

notions prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel.'

The General told us, that when he was a very young man, I think only

fifteen, serving under Prince Eugene of Savoy, he was sitting in a

company at table with a Prince of Wirtemberg. The Prince took up a glass

of wine, and, by a fillip, made some of it fly in Oglethorpe's face.

Here was a nice dilemma. To have challenged him instantly, might have

fixed a quarrelsome character upon the young soldier: to have taken

no notice of it might have been considered as cowardice. Oglethorpe,

therefore, keeping his eye upon the Prince, and smiling all the time, as

if he took what his Highness had done in jest, said 'Mon Prince,--'.

(I forget the French words he used, the purport however was,) 'That's a

good joke; but we do it much better in England;' and threw a whole glass

of wine in the Prince's face. An old General who sat by, said, 'Il a

bien fait, mon Prince, vous l'avez commence:' and thus all ended in good

humour.

Dr. Johnson said, 'Pray, General, give us an account of the siege of

Belgrade.' Upon which the General, pouring a little wine upon the table,

described every thing with a wet finger: 'Here we were, here were the

Turks,' &c. &c. Johnson listened with the closest attention.

A question was started, how far people who disagree in a capital point

can live in friendship together. Johnson said they might. Goldsmith said

they could not, as they had not the idem velle atque idem nolle--the

same likings and the same aversions. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you must shun

the subject as to which you disagree. For instance, I can live very

well with Burke: I love his knowledge, his genius, his diffusion, and

affluence of conversation; but I would not talk to him of the Rockingham

party.' GOLDSMITH. 'But, Sir, when people live together who have

something as to which they disagree, and which they want to shun, they

will be in the situation mentioned in the story of Bluebeard: "You may

look into all the chambers but one." But we should have the greatest

inclination to look into that chamber, to talk of that subject.'

JOHNSON. (with a loud voice,) 'Sir, I am not saying that YOU could live

in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point: I am

only saying that I could do it. You put me in mind of Sappho in Ovid.'

Goldsmith told us, that he was now busy in writing a natural history,

and, that he might have full leisure for it, he had taken lodgings, at a

farmer's house, near to the six milestone, on the Edgeware road, and

had carried down his books in two returned post-chaises. He said, he

believed the farmer's family thought him an odd character, similar to

that in which the Spectator appeared to his landlady and her children:

he was The Gentleman. Mr. Mickle, the translator of The Lusiad, and I

went to visit him at this place a few days afterwards. He was not at

home; but having a curiosity to see his apartment, we went in and found

curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a

black lead pencil.

On Saturday, April 11, he appointed me to come to him in the evening,

when he should be at leisure to give me some assistance for the defence

of Hastie, the schoolmaster of Campbelltown, for whom I was to appear in

the house of Lords. When I came, I found him unwilling to exert himself.

I pressed him to write down his thoughts upon the subject. He said,

'There's no occasion for my writing. I'll talk to you.' . . .

Of our friend, Goldsmith, he said, 'Sir, he is so much afraid of being

unnoticed, that he often talks merely lest you should forget that he is

in the company.' BOSWELL. 'Yes, he stands forward.' JOHNSON. 'True,

Sir; but if a man is to stand forward, he should wish to do it not in an

aukward posture, not in rags, not so as that he shall only be exposed

to ridicule.' BOSWELL. 'For my part, I like very well to hear honest

Goldsmith talk away carelessly.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but he should

not like to hear himself.' . . .

On Tuesday, April 14, the decree of the Court of Session in the

schoolmaster's cause was reversed in the House of Lords, after a very

eloquent speech by Lord Mansfield, who shewed himself an adept in school

discipline, but I thought was too rigorous towards my client. On the

evening of the next day I supped with Dr. Johnson, at the Crown and

Anchor tavern, in the Strand, in company with Mr. Langton and his

brother-in-law, Lord Binning.

I talked of the recent expulsion of six students from the University of

Oxford, who were methodists and would not desist from publickly praying

and exhorting. JOHNSON. 'Sir, that expulsion was extremely just and

proper. What have they to do at an University who are not willing to be

taught, but will presume to teach? Where is religion to be learnt but at

an University? Sir, they were examined, and found to be mighty ignorant

fellows.' BOSWELL. 'But, was it not hard, Sir, to expel them, for I

am told they were good beings?' JOHNSON. 'I believe they might be good

beings; but they were not fit to be in the University of Oxford. A cow

is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of a garden.'

Lord Elibank used to repeat this as an illustration uncommonly happy.

Desirous of calling Johnson forth to talk, and exercise his wit, though

I should myself be the object of it, I resolutely ventured to undertake

the defence of convivial indulgence in wine, though he was not to-night

in the most genial humour. After urging the common plausible topicks,

I at last had recourse to the maxim, in vino veritas, a man who is well

warmed with wine will speak truth. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be an

argument for drinking, if you suppose men in general to be liars. But,

Sir, I would not keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is

sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth

out of him.'

At this time it appears from his Prayers and Meditations, that he had

been more than commonly diligent in religious duties, particularly in

reading the Holy Scriptures. It was Passion Week, that solemn season

which the Christian world has appropriated to the commemoration of

the mysteries of our redemption, and during which, whatever embers of

religion are in our breasts, will be kindled into pious warmth.

I paid him short visits both on Friday and Saturday, and seeing his

large folio Greek Testament before him, beheld him with a reverential

awe, and would not intrude upon his time. While he was thus employed to

such good purpose, and while his friends in their intercourse with him

constantly found a vigorous intellect and a lively imagination, it is

melancholy to read in his private register, 'My mind is unsettled and my

memory confused. I have of late turned my thoughts with a very useless

earnestness upon past incidents. I have yet got no command over my

thoughts; an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hinder my rest.'

What philosophick heroism was it in him to appear with such manly

fortitude to the world while he was inwardly so distressed! We may

surely believe that the mysterious principle of being 'made perfect

through suffering' was to be strongly exemplified in him.

On Sunday, April 19, being Easter-day, General Paoli and I paid him a

visit before dinner.

We talked of sounds. The General said, there was no beauty in a simple

sound, but only in an harmonious composition of sounds. I presumed to

differ from this opinion, and mentioned the soft and sweet sound of a

fine woman's voice. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, if a serpent or a toad uttered

it, you would think it ugly.' BOSWELL. 'So you would think, Sir, were

a beautiful tune to be uttered by one of those animals.' JOHNSON. 'No,

Sir, it would be admired. We have seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as

little as toads.' (laughing.)

While I remained in London this spring, I was with him at several other

times, both by himself and in company. I dined with him one day at the

Crown and Anchor tavern, in the Strand, with Lord Elibank, Mr. Langton,

and Dr. Vansittart of Oxford. Without specifying each particular day, I

have preserved the following memorable things.

I regretted the reflection in his Preface to Shakspeare against Garrick,

to whom we cannot but apply the following passage: 'I collated such

copies as I could procure, and wished for more, but have not found

the collectors of these rarities very communicative.' I told him,

that Garrick had complained to me of it, and had vindicated himself

by assuring me, that Johnson was made welcome to the full use of his

collection, and that he left the key of it with a servant, with orders

to have a fire and every convenience for him. I found Johnson's notion

was, that Garrick wanted to be courted for them, and that, on the

contrary, Garrick should have courted him, and sent him the plays of his

own accord. But, indeed, considering the slovenly and careless manner

in which books were treated by Johnson, it could not be expected that

scarce and valuable editions should have been lent to him.

A gentleman* having to some of the usual arguments for drinking added

this: 'You know, Sir, drinking drives away care, and makes us forget

whatever is disagreeable. Would not you allow a man to drink for that

reason?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, if he sat next YOU.'

* The gentleman most likely is Boswell.--HILL.

A learned gentleman who in the course of conversation wished to inform

us of this simple fact, that the Counsel upon the circuit at Shrewsbury

were much bitten by fleas, took, I suppose, seven or eight minutes in

relating it circumstantially. He in a plenitude of phrase told us, that

large bales of woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall;--that by

reason of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious numbers; that the

lodgings of the counsel were near to the town-hall;--and that those

little animals moved from place to place with wonderful agility. Johnson

sat in great impatience till the gentleman had finished his tedious

narrative, and then burst out (playfully however), 'It is a pity, Sir,

that you have not seen a lion; for a flea has taken you such a time,

that a lion must have served you a twelvemonth.'

He would not allow Scotland to derive any credit from Lord Mansfield;

for he was educated in England. 'Much (said he,) may be made of a

Scotchman, if he be CAUGHT young.'

He said, 'I am very unwilling to read the manuscripts of authours, and

give them my opinion. If the authours who apply to me have money, I bid

them boldly print without a name; if they have written in order to get

money, I tell them to go to the booksellers, and make the best bargain

they can.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, if a bookseller should bring you

a manuscript to look at?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I would desire the

bookseller to take it away.'

I mentioned a friend of mine who had resided long in Spain, and was

unwilling to return to Britain. JOHNSON. 'Sir, he is attached to some

woman.' BOSWELL. 'I rather believe, Sir, it is the fine climate which

keeps him there.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so? What is

CLIMATE to happiness? Place me in the heart of Asia, should I not be

exiled? What proportion does climate bear to the complex system of human

life? You may advise me to go to live at Bologna to eat sausages.

The sausages there are the best in the world; they lose much by being

carried.'

On Saturday, May 9, Mr. Dempster and I had agreed to dine by ourselves

at the British Coffee-house. Johnson, on whom I happened to call in

the morning, said he would join us, which he did, and we spent a very

agreeable day, though I recollect but little of what passed.

He said, 'Walpole was a minister given by the King to the people: Pitt

was a minister given by the people to the King,--as an adjunct.'

'The misfortune of Goldsmith in conversation is this: he goes on without

knowing how he is to get off. His genius is great, but his knowledge is

small. As they say of a generous man, it is a pity he is not rich, we

may say of Goldsmith, it is a pity he is not knowing. He would not keep

his knowledge to himself.'

1773: AETAT. 64.]--In 1773 his only publication was an edition of his

folio Dictionary, with additions and corrections; nor did he, so far

as is known, furnish any productions of his fertile pen to any of his

numerous friends or dependants, except the Preface to his old amanuensis

Macbean's Dictionary of Ancient Geography.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,-- . . . A new edition of my great Dictionary is printed, from

a copy which I was persuaded to revise; but having made no preparation,

I was able to do very little. Some superfluities I have expunged,

and some faults I have corrected, and here and there have scattered a

remark; but the main fabrick of the work remains as it was. I had looked

very little into it since I wrote it, and, I think, I found it full as

often better, as worse, than I expected.

'Baretti and Davies have had a furious quarrel; a quarrel, I think,

irreconcileable. Dr. Goldsmith has a new comedy, which is expected in

the spring. No name is yet given it. The chief diversion arises from a

stratagem by which a lover is made to mistake his future father-in-law's

house for an inn. This, you see, borders upon farce. The dialogue

is quick and gay, and the incidents are so prepared as not to seem

improbable. . . .

'My health seems in general to improve; but I have been troubled for

many weeks with a vexatious catarrh, which is sometimes sufficiently

distressful. I have not found any great effects from bleeding and

physick; and am afraid, that I must expect help from brighter days and

softer air.

'Write to me now and then; and whenever any good befalls you, make haste

to let me know it, for no one will rejoice at it more than, dear Sir,

your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'London, Feb. 24, 1773.'

'You continue to stand very high in the favour of Mrs. Thrale.'

While a former edition of my work was passing through the press, I was

unexpectedly favoured with a packet from Philadelphia, from Mr. James

Abercrombie, a gentleman of that country, who is pleased to honour me

with very high praise of my Life of Dr. Johnson. To have the fame of

my illustrious friend, and his faithful biographer, echoed from the New

World is extremely flattering; and my grateful acknowledgements shall be

wafted across the Atlantick. Mr. Abercrombie has politely conferred on

me a considerable additional obligation, by transmitting to me copies of

two letters from Dr. Johnson to American gentlemen.

On Saturday, April 3, the day after my arrival in London this year, I

went to his house late in the evening, and sat with Mrs. Williams till

he came home. I found in the London Chronicle, Dr. Goldsmith's apology

to the publick for beating Evans, a bookseller, on account of a

paragraph in a newspaper published by him, which Goldsmith thought

impertinent to him and to a lady of his acquaintance. The apology was

written so much in Dr. Johnson's manner, that both Mrs. Williams and

I supposed it to be his; but when he came home, he soon undeceived us.

When he said to Mrs. Williams, 'Well, Dr. Goldsmith's manifesto has got

into your paper;' I asked him if Dr. Goldsmith had written it, with

an air that made him see I suspected it was his, though subscribed by

Goldsmith. JOHNSON. 'Sir, Dr. Goldsmith would no more have asked me to

write such a thing as that for him, than he would have asked me to feed

him with a spoon, or to do anything else that denoted his imbecility. I

as much believe that he wrote it, as if I had seen him do it. Sir, had

he shewn it to any one friend, he would not have been allowed to publish

it. He has, indeed, done it very well; but it is a foolish thing well

done. I suppose he has been so much elated with the success of his new

comedy, that he has thought every thing that concerned him must be of

importance to the publick.' BOSWELL. 'I fancy, Sir, this is the first

time that he has been engaged in such an adventure.' JOHNSON. 'Why,

Sir, I believe it is the first time he has BEAT; he may have BEEN BEATEN

before. This, Sir, is a new plume to him.'

At Mr. Thrale's, in the evening, he repeated his usual paradoxical

declamation against action in publick speaking. 'Action can have no

effect upon reasonable minds. It may augment noise, but it never can

enforce argument.'

Lord Chesterfield being mentioned, Johnson remarked, that almost all of

that celebrated nobleman's witty sayings were puns. He, however, allowed

the merit of good wit to his Lordship's saying of Lord Tyrawley and

himself, when both very old and infirm: 'Tyrawley and I have been dead

these two years; but we don't choose to have it known.'

The conversation having turned on modern imitations of ancient ballads,

and some one having praised their simplicity, he treated them with that

ridicule which he always displayed when that subject was mentioned.

He disapproved of introducing scripture phrases into secular discourse.

This seemed to me a question of some difficulty. A scripture expression

may be used, like a highly classical phrase, to produce an instantaneous

strong impression; and it may be done without being at all improper. Yet

I own there is danger, that applying the language of our sacred book to

ordinary subjects may tend to lessen our reverence for it. If therefore

it be introduced at all, it should be with very great caution.

On Thursday, April 8, I sat a good part of the evening with him, but he

was very silent.

Though he was not disposed to talk, he was unwilling that I should leave

him; and when I looked at my watch, and told him it was twelve o'clock,

he cried, What's that to you and me?' and ordered Frank to tell Mrs.

Williams that we were coming to drink tea with her, which we did. It was

settled that we should go to church together next day.

On the 9th of April, being Good Friday, I breakfasted with him on tea

and cross-buns; DOCTOR Levet, as Frank called him, making the tea. He

carried me with him to the church of St. Clement Danes, where he had his

seat; and his behaviour was, as I had imaged to myself, solemnly devout.

I never shall forget the tremulous earnestness with which he pronounced

the awful petition in the Litany: 'In the hour of death, and at the day

of judgement, good LORD deliver us.

We went to church both in the morning and evening. In the interval

between the two services we did not dine; but he read in the Greek New

Testament, and I turned over several of his books.

I told him that Goldsmith had said to me a few days before, 'As I take

my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from the taylor, so I take

my religion from the priest.' I regretted this loose way of talking.

JOHNSON. 'Sir, he knows nothing; he has made up his mind about nothing.'

To my great surprize he asked me to dine with him on Easter-day. I never

supposed that he had a dinner at his house; for I had not then heard of

any one of his friends having been entertained at his table. He told me,

'I generally have a meat pye on Sunday: it is baked at a publick oven,

which is very properly allowed, because one man can attend it; and thus

the advantage is obtained of not keeping servants from church to dress

dinners.'

April 11, being Easter-Sunday, after having attended Divine Service at

St. Paul's, I repaired to Dr. Johnson's. I had gratified my curiosity

much in dining with JEAN JAQUES ROUSSEAU, while he lived in the wilds of

Neufchatel: I had as great a curiosity to dine with DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON,

in the dusky recess of a court in Fleet-street. I supposed we should

scarcely have knives and forks, and only some strange, uncouth,

ill-drest dish: but I found every thing in very good order. We had no

other company but Mrs. Williams and a young woman whom I did not know.

As a dinner here was considered as a singular phaenomenon, and as I

was frequently interrogated on the subject, my readers may perhaps be

desirous to know our bill of fare. Foote, I remember, in allusion to

Francis, the NEGRO, was willing to suppose that our repast was BLACK

BROTH. But the fact was, that we had a very good soup, a boiled leg of

lamb and spinach, a veal pye, and a rice pudding.

He owned that he thought Hawkesworth was one of his imitators, but

he did not think Goldsmith was. Goldsmith, he said, had great merit.

BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, he is much indebted to you for his getting so high

in the publick estimation.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he has perhaps got

SOONER to it by his intimacy with me.'

Goldsmith, though his vanity often excited him to occasional

competition, had a very high regard for Johnson, which he at this time

expressed in the strongest manner in the Dedication of his comedy,

entitled, She Stoops to Conquer.

He told me that he had twelve or fourteen times attempted to keep a

journal of his life, but never could persevere. He advised me to do it.

'The great thing to be recorded, (said he,) is the state of your own

mind; and you should write down every thing that you remember, for you

cannot judge at first what is good or bad; and write immediately while

the impression is fresh, for it will not be the same a week afterwards.'

I again solicited him to communicate to me the particulars of his early

life. He said, 'You shall have them all for two-pence. I hope you shall

know a great deal more of me before you write my Life.' He mentioned to

me this day many circumstances, which I wrote down when I went home, and

have interwoven in the former part of this narrative.

On Tuesday, April 13, he and Dr. Goldsmith and I dined at General

Oglethorpe's. Goldsmith expatiated on the common topick, that the

race of our people was degenerated, and that this was owing to luxury.

JOHNSON. 'Sir, in the first place, I doubt the fact. I believe there

are as many tall men in England now, as ever there were. But, secondly,

supposing the stature of our people to be diminished, that is not owing

to luxury; for, Sir, consider to how very small a proportion of our

people luxury can reach. Our soldiery, surely, are not luxurious, who

live on sixpence a day; and the same remark will apply to almost all the

other classes. Luxury, so far as it reaches the poor, will do good to

the race of people; it will strengthen and multiply them. Sir, no nation

was ever hurt by luxury; for, as I said before, it can reach but to a

very few. I admit that the great increase of commerce and manufactures

hurts the military spirit of a people; because it produces a competition

for something else than martial honours,--a competition for riches. It

also hurts the bodies of the people; for you will observe, there is no

man who works at any particular trade, but you may know him from his

appearance to do so. One part or other of his body being more used than

the rest, he is in some degree deformed: but, Sir, that is not luxury.

A tailor sits cross-legged; but that is not luxury.' GOLDSMITH. 'Come,

you're just going to the same place by another road.' JOHNSON. 'Nay,

Sir, I say that is not LUXURY. Let us take a walk from Charing-cross to

White-chapel, through, I suppose, the greatest series of shops in the

world; what is there in any of these shops (if you except gin-shops,)

that can do any human being any harm?' GOLDSMITH. 'Well, Sir, I'll

accept your challenge. The very next shop to Northumberland-house is a

pickle-shop.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir: do we not know that a maid can in one

afternoon make pickles sufficient to serve a whole family for a year?

nay, that five pickle-shops can serve all the kingdom? Besides, Sir,

there is no harm done to any body by the making of pickles, or the

eating of pickles.'

We drank tea with the ladies; and Goldsmith sung Tony Lumpkin's song in

his comedy, She Stoops to Conquer, and a very pretty one, to an Irish

tune, which he had designed for Miss Hardcastle; but as Mrs. Bulkeley,

who played the part, could not sing, it was left out. He afterwards

wrote it down for me, by which means it was preserved, and now appears

amongst his poems. Dr. Johnson, in his way home, stopped at my lodgings

in Piccadilly, and sat with me, drinking tea a second time, till a late

hour.

I told him that Mrs. Macaulay said, she wondered how he could reconcile

his political principles with his moral; his notions of inequality and

subordination with wishing well to the happiness of all mankind, who

might live so agreeably, had they all their portions of land, and none

to domineer over another. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I reconcile my principles

very well, because mankind are happier in a state of inequality and

subordination. Were they to be in this pretty state of equality,

they would soon degenerate into brutes;--they would become Monboddo's

nation;--their tails would grow. Sir, all would be losers were all

to work for all--they would have no intellectual improvement. All

intellectual improvement arises from leisure; all leisure arises from

one working for another.'

Talking of the family of Stuart, he said, 'It should seem that the

family at present on the throne has now established as good a right

as the former family, by the long consent of the people; and that to

disturb this right might be considered as culpable. At the same time I

own, that it is a very difficult question, when considered with respect

to the house of Stuart. To oblige people to take oaths as to the

disputed right, is wrong. I know not whether I could take them: but I

do not blame those who do.' So conscientious and so delicate was he upon

this subject, which has occasioned so much clamour against him.

On Thursday, April 15, I dined with him and Dr. Goldsmith at General

Paoli's.

I spoke of Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, in the Scottish dialect, as

the best pastoral that had ever been written; not only abounding with

beautiful rural imagery, and just and pleasing sentiments, but being

a real picture of manners; and I offered to teach Dr. Johnson to

understand it. 'No, Sir, (said he,) I won't learn it. You shall retain

your superiority by my not knowing it.'

It having been observed that there was little hospitality in

London;--JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, any man who has a name, or who has the

power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in London. The

man, Sterne, I have been told, has had engagements for three months.'

GOLDSMITH. 'And a very dull fellow.' JOHNSON. 'Why, no, Sir.'

Martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with Charles

Townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker. JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, thus much I can say upon the subject. One day he and a few

more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring

a friend in his carriage with him. Charles Townshend asked Fitzherbert

to go with him, but told him, "You must find somebody to bring you

back: I can only carry you there." Fitzherbert did not much like this

arrangement. He however consented, observing sarcastically, "It will

do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in

going."'

An eminent publick character being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'I remember

being present when he shewed himself to be so corrupted, or at least

something so different from what I think right, as to maintain, that a

member of parliament should go along with his party right or wrong. Now,

Sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that

a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile

himself to such a doctrine. It is maintaining that you may lie to the

publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong,

or the reverse. A friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that

gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party,

is only waiting to be bought. Why then, said I, he is only waiting to be

what that gentleman is already.'

We talked of the King's coming to see Goldsmith's new play.--'I wish he

would,' said Goldsmith; adding, however, with an affected indifference,

'Not that it would do me the least good.' JOHNSON. 'Well then, Sir, let

us say it would do HIM good, (laughing.) No, Sir, this affectation will

not pass;--it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would not

wish to please the Chief Magistrate?' GOLDSMITH. 'I DO wish to please

him. I remember a line in Dryden,--

"And every poet is the monarch's friend."

It ought to be reversed.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, there are finer lines in Dryden

on this subject:--

"For colleges on bounteous Kings depend,

And never rebel was to arts a friend."'

General Paoli observed, that 'successful rebels might.' MARTINELLI.

'Happy rebellions.' GOLDSMITH. 'We have no such phrase.' GENERAL

PAOLI. 'But have you not the THING?' GOLDSMITH. 'Yes; all our HAPPY

revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we

mend it by another HAPPY REVOLUTION.' I never before discovered that my

friend Goldsmith had so much of the old prejudice in him.

General Paoli, talking of Goldsmith's new play, said, 'Il a fait un

compliment tres gracieux a une certaine grande dame;' meaning a Duchess

of the first rank.

I expressed a doubt whether Goldsmith intended it, in order that I

might hear the truth from himself. It, perhaps, was not quite fair to

endeavour to bring him to a confession, as he might not wish to avow

positively his taking part against the Court. He smiled and hesitated.

The General at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: 'Monsieur

Goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup d'autres

belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir.' GOLDSMITH. 'Tres bien dit et tres

elegamment.'

A person was mentioned, who it was said could take down in short hand

the speeches in parliament with perfect exactness. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it

is impossible. I remember one, Angel, who came to me to write for him

a Preface or Dedication to a book upon short hand, and he professed to

write as fast as a man could speak. In order to try him, I took down

a book, and read while he wrote; and I favoured him, for I read more

deliberately than usual. I had proceeded but a very little way, when he

begged I would desist, for he could not follow me.' Hearing now for the

first time of this Preface or Dedication, I said, 'What an expense, Sir,

do you put us to in buying books, to which you have written Prefaces or

Dedications.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I have dedicated to the Royal family all

round; that is to say, to the last generation of the Royal family.'

GOLDSMITH. 'And perhaps, Sir, not one sentence of wit in a whole

Dedication.' JOHNSON. 'Perhaps not, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'What then is the

reason for applying to a particular person to do that which any one may

do as well?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, one man has greater readiness at doing

it than another.'

I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and

in particular an eminent Grecian. JOHNSON. 'I am not sure of that. His

friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able

to judge of it.' GOLDSMITH. 'He is what is much better: he is a worthy

humane man.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, that is not to the purpose of our

argument: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as

well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.' GOLDSMITH. 'The

greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. Giardini, I am

told, does not get above seven hundred a year.' JOHNSON. 'That is indeed

but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour

to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown

so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do

something at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a

hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of

wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a

fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.'

On Monday, April 19, he called on me with Mrs. Williams, in Mr.

Strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine with Mr. Elphinston, at his

academy at Kensington. A printer having acquired a fortune sufficient

to keep his coach, was a good topick for the credit of literature. Mrs.

Williams said, that another printer, Mr. Hamilton, had not waited

so long as Mr. Strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner.

JOHNSON. 'He was in the right. Life is short. The sooner that a man

begins to enjoy his wealth the better.'

Mr. Elphinston talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked

Dr. Johnson if he had read it. JOHNSON. 'I have looked into it.' 'What,

(said Elphinston,) have you not read it through?' Johnson, offended at

being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading,

answered tartly, 'No, Sir, do YOU read books THROUGH?'

On Wednesday, April 21, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's. A gentleman

attacked Garrick for being vain. JOHNSON. 'No wonder, Sir, that he

is vain; a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be

conceived. So many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is

not by this time become a cinder.' BOSWELL. 'And such bellows too. Lord

Mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: Lord Chatham like an Aeolus. I

have read such notes from them to him, as were enough to turn his head.'

JOHNSON. 'True. When he whom every body else flatters, flatters me,

I then am truly happy.' Mrs. THRALE. 'The sentiment is in Congreve, I

think.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam, in The Way of the World:

"If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see

That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me."

No, Sir, I should not be surprized though Garrick chained the ocean, and

lashed the winds.' BOSWELL. 'Should it not be, Sir, lashed the ocean and

chained the winds?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, recollect the original:

"In Corum atque Eurum solitus saevire flagellis

Barbarus, Aeolia nunquam hoc in carcere passos,

Ipsum compedibus qui vinxerat Ennosigaeum."

The modes of living in different countries, and the various views

with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having been talked of, a

learned gentleman who holds a considerable office in the law, expatiated

on the happiness of a savage life; and mentioned an instance of an

officer who had actually lived for some time in the wilds of America,

of whom, when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of

admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: 'Here am I, free and

unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of Nature, with this Indian

woman by my side, and this gun with which I can procure food when I want

it; what more can be desired for human happiness?' It did not require

much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not be permitted to

pass without due animadversion. JOHNSON. 'Do not allow yourself, Sir, to

be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. It is sad stuff; it is brutish.

If a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim,--Here am I with this

cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?'

We talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman who had destroyed

himself. JOHNSON. 'It was owing to imaginary difficulties in his

affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, would soon have

vanished.' BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, that all who commit suicide are

mad?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, they are often not universally disordered in their

intellects, but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it,

and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another.' He added,

'I have often thought, that after a man has taken the resolution to kill

himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, however desperate,

because he has nothing to fear.' GOLDSMITH. 'I don't see that.' JOHNSON.

'Nay, but my dear Sir, why should not you see what every one else sees?'

GOLDSMITH. 'It is for fear of something that he has resolved to kill

himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain him?' JOHNSON. 'It

does not signify that the fear of something made him resolve; it is

upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue.

Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever

motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is taken,

he has nothing to fear. He may then go and take the King of Prussia

by the nose, at the head of his army. He cannot fear the rack, who is

resolved to kill himself. When Eustace Budgel was walking down to the

Thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he pleased, without

any apprehension of danger, have turned aside, and first set fire to St.

James's palace.'

On Tuesday, April 27, Mr. Beauclerk and I called on him in the morning.

As we walked up Johnson's-court, I said, 'I have a veneration for this

court;' and was glad to find that Beauclerk had the same reverential

enthusiasm. We found him alone. We talked of Mr. Andrew Stuart's elegant

and plausible Letters to Lord Mansfield: a copy of which had been sent

by the authour to Dr. Johnson. JOHNSON. 'They have not answered the end.

They have not been talked of; I have never heard of them. This is owing

to their not being sold. People seldom read a book which is given to

them; and few are given. The way to spread a work is to sell it at a low

price. No man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence, without

an intention to read it.'

He said, 'Goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine in

conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified when

he fails. Sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of

chance, a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part of

his wit. Now Goldsmith's putting himself against another, is like a man

laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. It is not worth a

man's while. A man should not lay a hundred to one, unless he can easily

spare it, though he has a hundred chances for him: he can get but a

guinea, and he may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he

contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a

man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the better, he is

miserably vexed.'

Johnson's own superlative powers of wit set him above any risk of

such uneasiness. Garrick had remarked to me of him, a few days before,

'Rabelais and all other wits are nothing compared with him. You may

be diverted by them; but Johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes

laughter out of you, whether you will or no.'

Goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even

when he entered the lists with Johnson himself. Sir Joshua Reynolds was

in company with them one day, when Goldsmith said, that he thought he

could write a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of

composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the animals

introduced seldom talk in character. 'For instance, (said he,) the fable

of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and envying

them, petitioned Jupiter to be changed into birds. The skill (continued

he,) consists in making them talk like little fishes.' While he indulged

himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed Johnson shaking his sides,

and laughing. Upon which he smartly proceeded, 'Why, Dr. Johnson, this

is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little

fishes talk, they would talk like WHALES.'

On Thursday, April 29, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe's, where

were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. I

was very desirous to get Dr. Johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution

to go with me to the Hebrides this year; and I told him that I had

received a letter from Dr. Robertson the historian, upon the subject,

with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such a manner of

his long-intended tour, that I was satisfied he meant to fulfil his

engagement.

The character of Mallet having been introduced, and spoken of

slightingly by Goldsmith; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Mallet had talents enough

to keep his literary reputation alive as long as he himself lived; and

that, let me tell you, is a good deal.' GOLDSMITH. 'But I cannot agree

that it was so. His literary reputation was dead long before his natural

death. I consider an authour's literary reputation to be alive

only while his name will ensure a good price for his copy from the

booksellers. I will get you (to Johnson,) a hundred guineas for any

thing whatever that you shall write, if you put your name to it.'

Dr. Goldsmith's new play, She Stoops to Conquer, being mentioned;

JOHNSON. 'I know of no comedy for many years that has so much

exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of

comedy--making an audience merry.'

Goldsmith having said, that Garrick's compliment to the Queen, which

he introduced into the play of The Chances, which he had altered and

revised this year, was mean and gross flattery; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I

would not WRITE, I would not give solemnly under my hand, a character

beyond what I thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let it

flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular. It has always been formular

to flatter Kings and Queens; so much so, that even in our church-service

we have "our most religious King," used indiscriminately, whoever is

King. Nay, they even flatter themselves;--"we have been graciously

pleased to grant." No modern flattery, however, is so gross as that

of the Augustan age, where the Emperour was deified. "Proesens Divus

habebitur Augustus." And as to meanness, (rising into warmth,) how is

it mean in a player,--a showman,--a fellow who exhibits himself for a

shilling, to flatter his Queen? The attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for

if it had missed, what became of Garrick, and what became of the Queen?

As Sir William Temple says of a great General, it is necessary not only

that his designs be formed in a masterly manner, but that they should be

attended with success. Sir, it is right, at a time when the Royal Family

is not generally liked, to let it be seen that the people like at least

one of them.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'I do not perceive why the profession

of a player should be despised; for the great and ultimate end of all

the employments of mankind is to produce amusement. Garrick produces

more amusement than any body.' BOSWELL. 'You say, Dr. Johnson, that

Garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. In this respect he is only on

a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself for his fee, and even will

maintain any nonsense or absurdity, if the case requires it. Garrick

refuses a play or a part which he does not like; a lawyer never

refuses.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer

is worse. Boswell is now like Jack in The Tale of a Tub, who, when he is

puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. He thinks I shall cut him down,

but I'll let him hang.' (laughing vociferously.) SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

'Mr. Boswell thinks that the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably

honourable, if he can show the profession of a player to be more

honourable, he proves his argument.'

On Friday, April 30, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, where were

Lord Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and some more members of the

LITERARY CLUB, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as I was

this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that

distinguished society. Johnson had done me the honour to propose me, and

Beauclerk was very zealous for me.

Goldsmith being mentioned; JOHNSON. 'It is amazing how little Goldsmith

knows. He seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.'

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yet there is no man whose company is more

liked.' JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir. When people find a man of the most

distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while he is with

them, it must be highly gratifying to them. What Goldsmith comically

says of himself is very true,--he always gets the better when he argues

alone; meaning, that he is master of a subject in his study, and can

write well upon it; but when he comes into company, grows confused,

and unable to talk. Take him as a poet, his Traveller is a very fine

performance; ay, and so is his Deserted Village, were it not sometimes

too much the echo of his Traveller. Whether, indeed, we take him as a

poet,--as a comick writer,--or as an historian, he stands in the first

class.' BOSWELL. 'An historian! My dear Sir, you surely will not rank

his compilation of the Roman History with the works of other

historians of this age?' JOHNSON. 'Why, who are before him?' BOSWELL.

'Hume,--Robertson,--Lord Lyttelton.' JOHNSON (his antipathy to the

Scotch beginning to rise). 'I have not read Hume; but, doubtless,

Goldsmith's History is better than the VERBIAGE of Robertson, or the

foppery of Dalrymple.' BOSWELL. 'Will you not admit the superiority of

Robertson, in whose History we find such penetration--such painting?'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting

are employed. It is not history, it is imagination. He who describes

what he never saw, draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as

Sir Joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic

countenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as romance, and try

it by that standard. History it is not. Besides, Sir, it is the great

excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will

hold. Goldsmith has done this in his History. Now Robertson might have

put twice as much into his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed

gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, Sir; I

always thought Robertson would be crushed by his own weight,--would be

buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want

to know: Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will

read Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith's plain

narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robertson what

an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: "Read over your

compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think

is particularly fine, strike it out." Goldsmith's abridgement is better

than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius; and I will venture to say, that

if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places of the Roman History,

you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling,

and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now

writing a Natural History and will make it as entertaining as a Persian

Tale.'

I cannot dismiss the present topick without observing, that it is

probable that Dr. Johnson, who owned that he often 'talked for

victory,' rather urged plausible objections to Dr. Robertson's excellent

historical works, in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and

decided opinion; for it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely

differ from the rest of the literary world.

JOHNSON. 'I remember once being with Goldsmith in Westminster-abbey.

While we surveyed the Poets' Corner, I said to him,

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."

when we got to Temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it,

and slily whispered me,

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur ISTIS."'*

* In allusion to Dr. Johnson's supposed political

principles, and perhaps his own. Boswell.

Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. 'His Pilgrim's Progress has great

merit, both for invention, imagination, and the conduct of the story;

and it has had the best evidence of its merit, the general and continued

approbation of mankind. Few books, I believe, have had a more extensive

sale. It is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of Dante;

yet there was no translation of Dante when Bunyan wrote. There is reason

to think that he had read Spenser.'

A proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons

should, for the time to come, be erected in St. Paul's church as well

as in Westminster-abbey, was mentioned; and it was asked, who should be

honoured by having his monument first erected there. Somebody suggested

Pope. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, as Pope was a Roman Catholick, I would

not have his to be first. I think Milton's rather should have the

precedence. I think more highly of him now than I did at twenty. There

is more thinking in him and in Butler, than in any of our poets.'

The gentlemen went away to their club, and I was left at Beauclerk's

till the fate of my election should be announced to me. I sat in a state

of anxiety which even the charming conversation of Lady Di Beauclerk

could not entirely dissipate. In a short time I received the agreeable

intelligence that I was chosen. I hastened to the place of meeting,

and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found. Mr. Edmund

Burke, whom I then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents

had long made me ardently wish for his acquaintance; Dr. Nugent, Mr.

Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones, and the

company with whom I had dined. Upon my entrance, Johnson placed himself

behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with

humorous formality gave me a Charge, pointing out the conduct expected

from me as a good member of this club.

Goldsmith produced some very absurd verses which had been publickly

recited to an audience for money. JOHNSON. 'I can match this nonsense.

There was a poem called Eugenio, which came out some years ago, and

concludes thus:

"And now, ye trifling, self-assuming elves,

Brimful of pride, of nothing, of yourselves,

Survey Eugenio, view him o'er and o'er,

Then sink into yourselves, and be no more."

Nay, Dryden in his poem on the Royal Society, has these lines:

"Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go,

And see the ocean leaning on the sky;

From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know,

And on the lunar world securely pry."'

Much pleasant conversation passed, which Johnson relished with great

good humour. But his conversation alone, or what led to it, or was

interwoven with it, is the business of this work.

On Saturday, May 1, we dined by ourselves at our old rendezvous, the

Mitre tavern. He was placid, but not much disposed to talk. He observed

that 'The Irish mix better with the English than the Scotch do; their

language is nearer to English; as a proof of which, they succeed very

well as players, which Scotchmen do not. Then, Sir, they have not that

extreme nationality which we find in the Scotch. I will do you,

Boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most UNSCOTTIFIED of your

countrymen. You are almost the only instance of a Scotchman that I

have known, who did not at every other sentence bring in some other

Scotchman.'

On Friday, May 7, I breakfasted with him at Mr. Thrale's in the Borough.

While we were alone, I endeavoured as well as I could to apologise for

a lady who had been divorced from her husband by act of Parliament. I

said, that he had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and

that she could not continue to live with him without having her delicacy

contaminated; that all affection for him was thus destroyed; that the

essence of conjugal union being gone, there remained only a cold form, a

mere civil obligation; that she was in the prime of life, with qualities

to produce happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and, that the

gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained her heart while

thus unhappily situated. Seduced, perhaps, by the charms of the lady in

question, I thus attempted to palliate what I was sensible could not be

justified; for when I had finished my harangue, my venerable friend

gave me a proper check: 'My dear Sir, never accustom your mind to mingle

virtue and vice. The woman's a whore, and there's an end on't.'

He described the father of one of his friends thus: 'Sir, he was so

exuberant a talker at publick meeting, that the gentlemen of his county

were afraid of him. No business could be done for his declamation.'

He did not give me full credit when I mentioned that I had carried on a

short conversation by signs with some Esquimaux who were then in London,

particularly with one of them who was a priest. He thought I could not

make them understand me. No man was more incredulous as to particular

facts, which were at all extraordinary; and therefore no man was more

scrupulously inquisitive, in order to discover the truth.

I dined with him this day at the house of my friends, Messieurs Edward

and Charles Dilly, booksellers in the Poultry: there were present, their

elder brother Mr. Dilly of Bedfordshire, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Langton,

Mr. Claxton, Reverend Dr. Mayo a dissenting minister, the Reverend Mr.

Toplady, and my friend the Reverend Mr. Temple.

BOSWELL. 'I am well assured that the people of Otaheite who have the

bread tree, the fruit of which serves them for bread, laughed heartily

when they were informed of the tedious process necessary with us to

have bread;--plowing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, threshing, grinding,

baking.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when they

are told of the advantages of civilized life. Were you to tell men

who live without houses, how we pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon

rafter, and that after a house is raised to a certain height, a man

tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks his neck; he would laugh heartily

at our folly in building; but it does not follow that men are better

without houses. No, Sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is

better than the bread tree.'

I introduced the subject of toleration. JOHNSON. 'Every society has

a right to preserve publick peace and order, and therefore has a good

right to prohibit the propagation of opinions which have a dangerous

tendency. To say the MAGISTRATE has this right, is using an inadequate

word: it is the SOCIETY for which the magistrate is agent. He may

be morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propagation of

opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politically right.'

MAYO. 'I am of opinion, Sir, that every man is entitled to liberty of

conscience in religion; and that the magistrate cannot restrain that

right.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I agree with you. Every man has a right to

liberty of conscience, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere.

People confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking; nay, with

liberty of preaching. Every man has a physical right to think as he

pleases; for it cannot be discovered how he thinks. He has not a moral

right, for he ought to inform himself, and think justly. But, Sir, no

member of a society has a right to TEACH any doctrine contrary to what

the society holds to be true. The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in

what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may and ought to

enforce what he thinks.' MAYO. 'Then, Sir, we are to remain always in

errour, and truth never can prevail; and the magistrate was right in

persecuting the first Christians.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the only method by

which religious truth can be established is by martyrdom. The magistrate

has a right to enforce what he thinks; and he who is conscious of

the truth has a right to suffer. I am afraid there is no other way of

ascertaining the truth, but by persecution on the one hand and enduring

it on the other.' GOLDSMITH. 'But how is a man to act, Sir? Though

firmly convinced of the truth of his doctrine, may he not think it wrong

to expose himself to persecution? Has he a right to do so? Is it not, as

it were, committing voluntary suicide?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, as to voluntary

suicide, as you call it, there are twenty thousand men in an army who

will go without scruple to be shot at, and mount a breach for five-pence

a day.' GOLDSMITH. 'But have they a moral right to do this?' JOHNSON.

'Nay, Sir, if you will not take the universal opinion of mankind, I have

nothing to say. If mankind cannot defend their own way of thinking, I

cannot defend it. Sir, if a man is in doubt whether it would be better

for him to expose himself to martyrdom or not, he should not do it. He

must be convinced that he has a delegation from heaven.' GOLDSMITH. 'I

would consider whether there is the greater chance of good or evil upon

the whole. If I see a man who had fallen into a well, I would wish to

help him out; but if there is a greater probability that he shall pull

me in, than that I shall pull him out, I would not attempt it. So were

I to go to Turkey, I might wish to convert the Grand Signor to the

Christian faith; but when I considered that I should probably be put

to death without effectuating my purpose in any degree, I should keep

myself quiet.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you must consider that we have perfect and

imperfect obligations. Perfect obligations, which are generally not to

do something, are clear and positive; as, "thou shalt not kill?' But

charity, for instance, is not definable by limits. It is a duty to give

to the poor; but no man can say how much another should give to the

poor, or when a man has given too little to save his soul. In the same

manner it is a duty to instruct the ignorant, and of consequence to

convert infidels to Christianity; but no man in the common course of

things is obliged to carry this to such a degree as to incur the danger

of martyrdom, as no man is obliged to strip himself to the shirt in

order to give charity. I have said, that a man must be persuaded that he

has a particular delegation from heaven.' GOLDSMITH. 'How is this to be

known? Our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing bread and

wine to be CHRIST'--JOHNSON. (interrupting him,) 'Sir, they were not

burnt for not believing bread and wine to be CHRIST, but for insulting

those who did believe it. And, Sir, when the first reformers began,

they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could.'

BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, there was your countryman, Elwal, who you told

me challenged King George with his black-guards, and his red-guards.'

JOHNSON. 'My countryman, Elwal, Sir, should have been put in the stocks;

a proper pulpit for him; and he'd have had a numerous audience. A man

who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers enough.' BOSWELL.

'But Elwal thought himself in the right.' JOHNSON. 'We are not providing

for mad people; there are places for them in the neighbourhood.'

(meaning moorfields.) MAYO. 'But, Sir, is it not very hard that I should

not be allowed to teach my children what I really believe to be the

truth?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you might contrive to teach your children

extra scandalum; but, Sir, the magistrate, if he knows it, has a right

to restrain you. Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?' MAYO.

'This is making a joke of the subject.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, take it

thus:--that you teach them the community of goods; for which there are

as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines. You teach

them that all things at first were in common, and that no man had a

right to any thing but as he laid his hands upon it; and that this still

is, or ought to be, the rule amongst mankind. Here, Sir, you sap a great

principle in society,--property. And don't you think the magistrate

would have a right to prevent you? Or, suppose you should teach your

children the notion of the Adamites, and they should run naked into the

streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog 'em into their

doublets?' MAYO. 'I think the magistrate has no right to interfere till

there is some overt act.' BOSWELL. 'So, Sir, though he sees an enemy

to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is

fired off?' MAYO. 'He must be sure of its direction against the state.'

JOHNSON. 'The magistrate is to judge of that.--He has no right to

restrain your thinking, because the evil centers in yourself. If a

man were sitting at this table, and chopping off his fingers, the

magistrate, as guardian of the community, has no authority to restrain

him, however he might do it from kindness as a parent.--Though, indeed,

upon more consideration, I think he may; as it is probable, that he who

is chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off those of

other people. If I think it right to steal Mr. Dilly's plate, I am a bad

man; but he can say nothing to me. If I make an open declaration that

I think so, he will keep me out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I

shall be sent to Newgate. This is the gradation of thinking, preaching,

and acting: if a man thinks erroneously, he may keep his thoughts to

himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine,

society may expel him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes

place, and he is hanged.' MAYO. 'But, Sir, ought not Christians to have

liberty of conscience?' JOHNSON. 'I have already told you so, Sir. You

are coming back to where you were.' BOSWELL. 'Dr. Mayo is always taking

a return post-chaise, and going the stage over again. He has it at

half price.' JOHNSON. 'Dr. Mayo, like other champions for unlimited

toleration, has got a set of words. Sir, it is no matter, politically,

whether the magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to

be formed, to drink confusion to King George the Third, and a happy

restoration to Charles the Third, this would be very bad with respect

to the State; but every member of that club must either conform to its

rules, or be turned out of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that

the magistrate should "tolerate all things that are tolerable." This is

no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it shows that

he thought some things were not tolerable.' TOPLADY. 'Sir, you have

untwisted this difficult subject with great dexterity.'

During this argument, Goldsmith sat in restless agitation, from a wish

to get in and SHINE. Finding himself excluded, he had taken his hat

to go away, but remained for some time with it in his hand, like a

gamester, who at the close of a long night, lingers for a little while,

to see if he can have a favourable opening to finish with success. Once

when he was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud

voice of Johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table, and did not

perceive Goldsmith's attempt. Thus disappointed of his wish to obtain

the attention of the company, Goldsmith in a passion threw down his hat,

looking angrily at Johnson, and exclaiming in a bitter tone, 'TAKE IT.'

When Toplady was going to speak, Johnson uttered some sound, which led

Goldsmith to think that he was beginning again, and taking the words

from Toplady. Upon which, he seized this opportunity of venting his own

envy and spleen, under the pretext of supporting another person:

'Sir, (said he to Johnson,) the gentleman has heard you patiently for

an hour; pray allow us now to hear him.' JOHNSON. (sternly,) 'Sir, I

was not interrupting the gentleman. I was only giving him a signal of

my attention. Sir, you are impertinent.' Goldsmith made no reply, but

continued in the company for some time.

A gentleman present ventured to ask Dr. Johnson if there was not a

material difference as to toleration of opinions which lead to action,

and opinions merely speculative; for instance, would it be wrong in

the magistrate to tolerate those who preach against the doctrine of the

TRINITY? Johnson was highly offended, and said, 'I wonder, Sir, how a

gentleman of your piety can introduce this subject in a mixed company.'

He told me afterwards, that the impropriety was, that perhaps some of

the company might have talked on the subject in such terms as might

have shocked him; or he might have been forced to appear in their eyes

a narrow-minded man. The gentleman, with submissive deference, said,

he had only hinted at the question from a desire to hear Dr. Johnson's

opinion upon it. JOHNSON. 'Why then, Sir, I think that permitting men

to preach any opinion contrary to the doctrine of the established church

tends, in a certain degree, to lessen the authority of the church,

and consequently, to lessen the influence of religion.' 'It may be

considered, (said the gentleman,) whether it would not be politick to

tolerate in such a case.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we have been talking of RIGHT:

this is another question. I think it is NOT politick to tolerate in such

a case.'

BOSWELL. 'Pray, Mr. Dilly, how does Dr. Leland's History of Ireland

sell?' JOHNSON. (bursting forth with a generous indignation,) 'The Irish

are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing

over the majority. There is no instance, even in the ten persecutions,

of such severity as that which the protestants of Ireland have exercised

against the Catholicks. Did we tell them we have conquered them,

it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation and other

penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice. King William was not

their lawful sovereign: he had not been acknowledged by the Parliament

of Ireland, when they appeared in arms against him.'

He and Mr. Langton and I went together to THE CLUB, where we found Mr.

Burke, Mr. Garrick, and some other members, and amongst them our friend

Goldsmith, who sat silently brooding over Johnson's reprimand to him

after dinner. Johnson perceived this, and said aside to some of us,

'I'll make Goldsmith forgive me;' and then called to him in a loud

voice, 'Dr. Goldsmith,--something passed to-day where you and I dined;

I ask your pardon.' Goldsmith answered placidly, 'It must be much from

you, Sir, that I take ill.' And so at once the difference was over, and

they were on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled away as usual.

In our way to the club to-night, when I regretted that Goldsmith would,

upon every occasion, endeavour to shine, by which he often exposed

himself, Mr. Langton observed, that he was not like Addison, who

was content with the fame of his writings, and did not aim also at

excellency in conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that

he said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in company,

'Madam, I have but ninepence in ready money, but I can draw for a

thousand pounds.' I observed, that Goldsmith had a great deal of gold

in his cabinet, but, not content with that, was always taking out his

purse. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and that so often an empty purse!'

Goldsmith's incessant desire of being conspicuous in company, was the

occasion of his sometimes appearing to such disadvantage as one should

hardly have supposed possible in a man of his genius. When his literary

reputation had risen deservedly high, and his society was much courted,

he became very jealous of the extraordinary attention which was every

where paid to Johnson. One evening, in a circle of wits, he found

fault with me for talking of Johnson as entitled to the honour of

unquestionable superiority. 'Sir, (said he,) you are for making a

monarchy of what should be a republick.'

He was still more mortified, when talking in a company with fluent

vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the admiration of all who

were present; a German who sat next him, and perceived Johnson rolling

himself, as if about to speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, 'Stay,

stay,--Toctor Shonson is going to say something.' This was, no doubt,

very provoking, especially to one so irritable as Goldsmith, who

frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indignation.

It may also be observed, that Goldsmith was sometimes content to

be treated with an easy familiarity, but, upon occasions, would be

consequential and important. An instance of this occurred in a small

particular. Johnson had a way of contracting the names of his friends;

as Beauclerk, Beau; Boswell, Bozzy; Langton, Lanky; Murphy, Mur;

Sheridan, Sherry. I remember one day, when Tom Davies was telling that

Dr. Johnson said, 'We are all in labour for a name to GOLDY'S play,'

Goldsmith seemed displeased that such a liberty should be taken with his

name, and said, 'I have often desired him not to call me GOLDY.' Tom was

remarkably attentive to the most minute circumstance about Johnson. I

recollect his telling me once, on my arrival in London, 'Sir, our great

friend has made an improvement on his appellation of old Mr. Sheridan.

He calls him now Sherry derry.'

On Monday, May 9, as I was to set out on my return to Scotland next

morning, I was desirous to see as much of Dr. Johnson as I could. But

I first called on Goldsmith to take leave of him. The jealousy and

envy which, though possessed of many most amiable qualities, he frankly

avowed, broke out violently at this interview. Upon another occasion,

when Goldsmith confessed himself to be of an envious disposition, I

contended with Johnson that we ought not to be angry with him, he was so

candid in owning it. 'Nay, Sir, (said Johnson,) we must be angry that a

man has such a superabundance of an odious quality, that he cannot keep

it within his own breast, but it boils over.' In my opinion, however,

Goldsmith had not more of it than other people have, but only talked of

it freely.

He now seemed very angry that Johnson was going to be a traveller; said

'he would be a dead weight for me to carry, and that I should never be

able to lug him along through the Highlands and Hebrides.' Nor would he

patiently allow me to enlarge upon Johnson's wonderful abilities; but

exclaimed, 'Is he like Burke, who winds into a subject like a serpent?'

'But, (said I,) Johnson is the Hercules who strangled serpents in his

cradle.'

I dined with Dr. Johnson at General Paoli's. He was obliged, by

indisposition, to leave the company early; he appointed me, however,

to meet him in the evening at Mr. (now Sir Robert) Chambers's in the

Temple, where he accordingly came, though he continued to be very ill.

Chambers, as is common on such occasions, prescribed various remedies to

him. JOHNSON. (fretted by pain,) 'Pr'ythee don't tease me. Stay till I

am well, and then you shall tell me how to cure myself.' He grew better,

and talked with a noble enthusiasm of keeping up the representation of

respectable families. His zeal on this subject was a circumstance in his

character exceedingly remarkable, when it is considered that he himself

had no pretensions to blood. I heard him once say, 'I have great merit

in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for I

can hardly tell who was my grandfather.' He maintained the dignity and

propriety of male succession, in opposition to the opinion of one of

our friends, who had that day employed Mr. Chambers to draw his will,

devising his estate to his three sisters, in preference to a remote

heir male. Johnson called them 'three DOWDIES,' and said, with as high

a spirit as the boldest Baron in the most perfect days of the feudal

system, 'An ancient estate should always go to males. It is mighty

foolish to let a stranger have it because he marries your daughter, and

takes your name. As for an estate newly acquired by trade, you may give

it, if you will, to the dog Towser, and let him keep his OWN name.'

I have known him at times exceedingly diverted at what seemed to others

a very small sport. He now laughed immoderately, without any reason

that we could perceive, at our friend's making his will; called him the

TESTATOR, and added, 'I dare say, he thinks he has done a mighty thing.

He won't stay till he gets home to his seat in the country, to produce

this wonderful deed: he'll call up the landlord of the first inn on the

road; and, after a suitable preface upon mortality and the uncertainty

of life, will tell him that he should not delay making his will; and

here, Sir, will he say, is my will, which I have just made, with the

assistance of one of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom; and he will read

it to him (laughing all the time). He believes he has made this will;

but he did not make it: you, Chambers, made it for him. I trust you

have had more conscience than to make him say, "being of sound

understanding;" ha, ha, ha! I hope he has left me a legacy. I'd have his

will turned into verse, like a ballad.'

Mr. Chambers did not by any means relish this jocularity upon a matter

of which pars magna fuit, and seemed impatient till he got rid of us.

Johnson could not stop his merriment, but continued it all the way

till we got without the Temple-gate. He then burst into such a fit of

laughter, that he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order

to support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the

foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the silence of the

night his voice seemed to resound from Temple-bar to Fleet-ditch.

This most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, and venerable

Johnson, happened well to counteract the feelings of sadness which I

used to experience when parting with him for a considerable time. I

accompanied him to his door, where he gave me his blessing.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR Sir,--I shall set out from London on Friday the sixth of this

month, and purpose not to loiter much by the way. Which day I shall be

at Edinburgh, I cannot exactly tell. I suppose I must drive to an inn,

and send a porter to find you.

'I am afraid Beattie will not be at his College soon enough for us,

and I shall be sorry to miss him; but there is no staying for the

concurrence of all conveniences. We will do as well as we can. I am,

Sir, your most humble servant,

'August 3, 1773.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'