Dr. Johnson said to me in the morning, 'You will see, Sir, at Mr.

Hector's, his sister, Mrs. Careless, a clergyman's widow. She was

the first woman with whom I was in love. It dropt out of my head

imperceptibly; but she and I shall always have a kindness for each

other.' He laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love

but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy.

On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. Hector took me to his house, where

we found Johnson sitting placidly at tea, with his first love; who,

though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and

well-bred.

Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the state of one of their school-fellows,

Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which he thus described: 'He

obtained, I believe, considerable preferment in Ireland, but now lives

in London, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but

his own. He takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day. He has

an elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with him, and jogs

his elbow when his glass has stood too long empty, and encourages him in

drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets

drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy. He confesses

to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more. He is

quite unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical: and when,

at my last visit, I asked him what a clock it was? that signal of my

departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to look at

his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.' When Johnson took leave

of Mr. Hector, he said, 'Don't grow like Congreve; nor let me grow like

him, when you are near me.'

When he again talked of Mrs. Careless to-night, he seemed to have had

his affection revived; for he said, 'If I had married her, it might

have been as happy for me.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, do you not suppose that

there are fifty women in the world, with any one of whom a man may be

as happy, as with any one woman in particular?' JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir, fifty

thousand.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you are not of opinion with some who

imagine that certain men and certain women are made for each other; and

that they cannot be happy if they miss their counterparts?' JOHNSON. 'To

be sure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general be as happy, and

often more so, if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a

due consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties

having any choice in the matter.'

I wished to have staid at Birmingham to-night, to have talked more with

Mr. Hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native city; so we

drove on that stage in the dark, and were long pensive and silent. When

we came within the focus of the Lichfield lamps, 'Now (said he,) we are

getting out of a state of death.' We put up at the Three Crowns, not one

of the great inns, but a good old fashioned one, which was kept by Mr.

Wilkins, and was the very next house to that in which Johnson was

born and brought up, and which was still his own property. We had a

comfortable supper, and got into high spirits. I felt all my Toryism

glow in this old capital of Staffordshire. I could have offered incense

genio loci; and I indulged in libations of that ale, which Boniface, in

The Beaux Stratagem, recommends with such an eloquent jollity.

Next morning he introduced me to Mrs. Lucy Porter, his step-daughter.

She was now an old maid, with much simplicity of manner. She had never

been in London. Her brother, a Captain in the navy, had left her a

fortune of ten thousand pounds; about a third of which she had laid

out in building a stately house, and making a handsome garden, in an

elevated situation in Lichfield. Johnson, when here by himself, used to

live at her house. She reverenced him, and he had a parental tenderness

for her.

We then visited Mr. Peter Garrick, who had that morning received a

letter from his brother David, announcing our coming to Lichfield. He

was engaged to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to sleep at his house.

Johnson, however, would not quit his old acquaintance Wilkins, of the

Three Crowns. The family likeness of the Garricks was very striking; and

Johnson thought that David's vivacity was not so peculiar to himself as

was supposed. 'Sir, (said he,) I don't know but if Peter had cultivated

all the arts of gaiety as much as David has done, he might have been

as brisk and lively. Depend upon it, Sir, vivacity is much an art, and

depends greatly on habit.' I believe there is a good deal of truth in

this, notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by a lady abroad, of a

heavy German baron, who had lived much with the young English at Geneva,

and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which view, he, with

assiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and chairs in his

lodgings; and when the people of the house ran in and asked, with

surprize, what was the matter, he answered, 'Sh' apprens t'etre fif.'

We dined at our inn, and had with us a Mr. Jackson, one of Johnson's

schoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindness, though he seemed

to be a low man, dull and untaught. He had a coarse grey coat, black

waistcoat, greasy leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his

countenance had the ruddiness which betokens one who is in no haste

to 'leave his can.' He drank only ale. He had tried to be a cutler at

Birmingham, but had not succeeded; and now he lived poorly at home, and

had some scheme of dressing leather in a better manner than common;

to his indistinct account of which, Dr. Johnson listened with patient

attention, that he might assist him with his advice. Here was an

instance of genuine humanity and real kindness in this great man, who

has been most unjustly represented as altogether harsh and destitute of

tenderness. A thousand such instances might have been recorded in the

course of his long life; though that his temper was warm and hasty, and

his manner often rough, cannot be denied.

I saw here, for the first time, oat ale; and oat cakes not hard as in

Scotland, but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were served at breakfast. It

was pleasant to me to find, that Oats, the food of horses, were so much

used as the food of the people in Dr. Johnson's own town. He expatiated

in praise of Lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said, were 'the most

sober, decent people in England, the genteelest in proportion to their

wealth, and spoke the purest English.' I doubted as to the last article

of this eulogy: for they had several provincial sounds; as THERE,

pronounced like FEAR, instead of like FAIR; ONCE pronounced WOONSE,

instead of WUNSE, or WONSE. Johnson himself never got entirely free

of those provincial accents. Garrick sometimes used to take him off,

squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth gesticulations,

looking round the company, and calling out, 'Who's for POONSH?'

Very little business appeared to be going forward in Lichfield. I found

however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-cloth and

streamers for ships; and I observed them making some saddle-cloths,

and dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the busy hand of industry

seemed to be quite slackened. 'Surely, Sir, (said I,) you are an idle

set of people.' 'Sir, (said Johnson,) we are a city of philosophers, we

work with our heads, and make the boobies of Birmingham work for us with

their hands.'

There was at this time a company of players performing at Lichfield, The

manager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compliments, and begged leave to wait on

Dr. Johnson. Johnson received him very courteously, and he drank a glass

of wine with us. He was a plain decent well-behaved man, and expressed

his gratitude to Dr. Johnson for having once got him permission from Dr.

Taylor at Ashbourne to play there upon moderate terms. Garrick's

name was soon introduced. JOHNSON. 'Garrick's conversation is gay and

grotesque. It is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. There is no

solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. Not but that he

has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, too, very powerful and very

pleasing: but it has not its full proportion in his conversation.'

When we were by ourselves he told me, 'Forty years ago, Sir, I was in

love with an actress here, Mrs. Emmet, who acted Flora, in Hob in the

Well.' What merit this lady had as an actress, or what was her figure,

or her manner, I have not been informed: but, if we may believe Mr.

Garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was by no means

refined; he was not an elegans formarum spectator. Garrick used to

tell, that Johnson said of an actor, who played Sir Harry Wildair at

Lichfield, 'There is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;' when in fact,

according to Garrick's account, 'he was the most vulgar ruffian that

ever went upon boards.'

We had promised Mr. Stanton to be at his theatre on Monday. Dr. Johnson

jocularly proposed me to write a Prologue for the occasion: 'A Prologue,

by James Boswell, Esq. from the Hebrides.' I was really inclined to take

the hint. Methought, 'Prologue, spoken before Dr. Samuel Johnson, at

Lichfield, 1776;' would have sounded as well as, 'Prologue, spoken

before the Duke of York, at Oxford,' in Charles the Second's time.

Much might have been said of what Lichfield had done for Shakspeare, by

producing Johnson and Garrick. But I found he was averse to it.

We went and viewed the museum of Mr. Richard Green, apothecary here,

who told me he was proud of being a relation of Dr. Johnson's. It

was, truely, a wonderful collection, both of antiquities and natural

curiosities, and ingenious works of art. He had all the articles

accurately arranged, with their names upon labels, printed at his own

little press; and on the staircase leading to it was a board, with the

names of contributors marked in gold letters. A printed catalogue of

the collection was to be had at a bookseller's. Johnson expressed his

admiration of the activity and diligence and good fortune of Mr. Green,

in getting together, in his situation, so great a variety of things; and

Mr. Green told me that Johnson once said to him, 'Sir, I should as soon

have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting such a museum.'

Mr. Green's obliging alacrity in shewing it was very pleasing.

We drank tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, where was Mrs. Aston,

one of the maiden sisters of Mrs. Walmsley, wife of Johnson's first

friend, and sister also of the lady of whom Johnson used to speak with

the warmest admiration, by the name of Molly Aston, who was afterwards

married to Captain Brodie of the navy.

On Sunday, March 24, we breakfasted with Mrs. Cobb, a widow lady, who

lived in an agreeable sequestered place close by the town, called the

Friary, it having been formerly a religious house. She and her niece,

Miss Adey, were great admirers of Dr. Johnson; and he behaved to them

with a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we see between old and

intimate acquaintance. He accompanied Mrs. Cobb to St. Mary's church,

and I went to the cathedral, where I was very much delighted with the

musick, finding it to be peculiarly solemn and accordant with the words

of the service.

We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively humour, and

verified Johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as much as

his brother David, he might have equally excelled in it. He was to-day

quite a London narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that

earnestness and attempt at mimicry which we usually find in the wits

of the metropolis. Dr. Johnson went with me to the cathedral in the

afternoon. It was grand and pleasing to contemplate this illustrious

writer, now full of fame, worshipping in the 'solemn temple' of his

native city.

I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and then found Dr.

Johnson at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, Canon Residentiary, who inhabited

the Bishop's palace, in which Mr. Walmsley lived, and which had been the

scene of many happy hours in Johnson's early life.

On monday, March 25, we breakfasted at Mrs. Lucy Porter's. Johnson

had sent an express to Dr. Taylor's, acquainting him of our being at

Lichfield, and Taylor had returned an answer that his postchaise should

come for us this day. While we sat at breakfast, Dr. Johnson received a

letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him very much. When he

had read it, he exclaimed, 'One of the most dreadful things that has

happened in my time.' The phrase my time, like the word age, is usually

understood to refer to an event of a publick or general nature. I

imagined something like an assassination of the King--like a gunpowder

plot carried into execution--or like another fire of London. When asked,

'What is it, Sir?' he answered, 'Mr. Thrale has lost his only son!' This

was, no doubt, a very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, which

their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner in which

the intelligence of it was communicated by Johnson, it appeared for

the moment to be comparatively small. I, however, soon felt a sincere

concern, and was curious to observe, how Dr. Johnson would be affected.

He said, 'This is a total extinction to their family, as much as if

they were sold into captivity.' Upon my mentioning that Mr. Thrale had

daughters, who might inherit his wealth;--'Daughters, (said Johnson,

warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than--' I was going to

speak.--'Sir, (said he,) don't you know how you yourself think? Sir, he

wishes to propagate his name.' In short, I saw male succession strong in

his mind, even where there was no name, no family of any long standing.

I said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune happened.

JOHNSON. 'It is lucky for ME. People in distress never think that you

feel enough.' BOSWELL. 'And Sir, they will have the hope of seeing you,

which will be a relief in the mean time; and when you get to them, the

pain will be so far abated, that they will be capable of being consoled

by you, which, in the first violence of it, I believe, would not be the

case.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain of

body, MUST be severely felt.' BOSWELL. 'I own, Sir, I have not so much

feeling for the distress of others, as some people have, or pretend to

have: but I know this, that I would do all in my power to relieve them.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of

others, as much as they do themselves. It is equally so, as if one

should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is cutting off,

as he does. No, Sir; you have expressed the rational and just nature

of sympathy. I would have gone to the extremity of the earth to have

preserved this boy.'

He was soon quite calm. The letter was from Mr. Thrale's clerk, and

concluded, 'I need not say how much they wish to see you in London.' He

said, 'We shall hasten back from Taylor's.'

Mrs. Lucy Porter and some other ladies of the place talked a great

deal of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration but

affection. It pleased me to find that he was so much BELOVED in his

native city.

Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the preceding night, and her sister, Mrs.

Gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and pleasure-ground,

prettily situated upon Stowhill, a gentle eminence, adjoining to

Lichfield. Johnson walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myself

without any apology; I wondered at this want of that facility of

manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a friend to a

house where he is intimate; I felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in

solitude in a country town, where I was an entire stranger, and began to

think myself unkindly deserted; but I was soon relieved, and convinced

that my friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted

the matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following note in

his handwriting: 'Mrs. Gastrel, at the lower house on Stowhill, desires

Mr. Boswell's company to dinner at two.' I accepted of the invitation,

and had here another proof how amiable his character was in the opinion

of those who knew him best. I was not informed, till afterwards,

that Mrs. Gastrel's husband was the clergyman who, while he lived at

Stratford upon Avon, where he was proprietor of Shakspeare's garden,

with Gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-tree, and, as Dr. Johnson

told me, did it to vex his neighbours. His lady, I have reason to

believe, on the same authority, participated in the guilt of what the

enthusiasts for our immortal bard deem almost a species of sacrilege.

After dinner Dr. Johnson wrote a letter to Mrs. Thrale on the death of

her son. I said it would be very distressing to Thrale, but she would

soon forget it, as she had so many things to think of. JOHNSON. 'No,

Sir, Thrale will forget it first. SHE has many things that she MAY think

of. HE has many things that he MUST think of.' This was a very just

remark upon the different effect of those light pursuits which occupy

a vacant and easy mind, and those serious engagements which arrest

attention, and keep us from brooding over grief.

In the evening we went to the Town-hall, which was converted into a

temporary theatre, and saw Theodosius, with The Stratford Jubilee. I was

happy to see Dr. Johnson sitting in a conspicuous part of the pit, and

receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance. We were quite

gay and merry. I afterwards mentioned to him that I condemned myself for

being so, when poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were in such distress. JOHNSON.

'You are wrong, Sir; twenty years hence Mr. and Mrs. Thrale will not

suffer much pain from the death of their son. Now, Sir, you are to

consider, that distance of place, as well as distance of time, operates

upon the human feelings. I would not have you be gay in the presence

of the distressed, because it would shock them; but you may be gay at a

distance. Pain for the loss of a friend, or of a relation whom we love,

is occasioned by the want which we feel. In time the vacuity is filled

with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes up of itself.'

Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearson, another clergyman here, supt with us at our

inn, and after they left us, we sat up late as we used to do in London.

Here I shall record some fragments of my friend's conversation during

this jaunt.

'Marriage, Sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman; for he

is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts. You will

recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that I had often

wondered why young women should marry, as they have so much more

freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while unmarried, than

when married. I indeed did not mention the STRONG reason for their

marrying--the MECHANICAL reason.' BOSWELL. 'Why, that IS a strong one.

But does not imagination make it much more important than it is in

reality? Is it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in us as well as

in women?' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but it is a delusion that is always

beginning again.' BOSWELL. 'I don't know but there is upon the whole

more misery than happiness produced by that passion.' JOHNSON. 'I don't

think so, Sir.'

'Never speak of a man in his own presence. It is always indelicate, and

may be offensive.'

'Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen. It is

assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong to question a man

concerning himself. There may be parts of his former life which he may

not wish to be made known to other persons, or even brought to his own

recollection.'

'A man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own

disadvantage. People may be amused and laugh at the time, but they

will be remembered, and brought out against him upon some subsequent

occasion.'

'Much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular object.

By doing so, Norton has made himself the great lawyer that he is allowed

to be.'

On Tuesday, March 26, there came for us an equipage properly suited to a

wealthy well-beneficed clergyman;--Dr. Taylor's large roomy post-chaise,

drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly

postillions, which conveyed us to Ashbourne; where I found my friend's

schoolfellow living upon an establishment perfectly corresponding

with his substantial creditable equipage: his house, garden,

pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing good, and no scantiness

appearing. Every man should form such a plan of living as he can execute

completely. Let him not draw an outline wider than he can fill up. I

have seen many skeletons of shew and magnificence which excite at once

ridicule and pity. Dr. Taylor had a good estate of his own, and good

preferment in the church, being a prebendary of Westminster, and rector

of Bosworth. He was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over

the town of Ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he was

very liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the

preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them as

stood in need of his assistance. He had consequently a considerable

political interest in the county of Derby, which he employed to support

the Devonshire family; for though the schoolfellow and friend of

Johnson, he was a Whig. I could not perceive in his character much

congeniality of any sort with that of Johnson, who, however, said to

me, 'Sir, he has a very strong understanding.' His size, and figure, and

countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty English 'Squire, with the

parson super-induced: and I took particular notice of his upper servant,

Mr. Peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white

wig, like the butler or major domo of a Bishop.

Dr. Johnson and Dr. Taylor met with great cordiality; and Johnson soon

gave him the same sad account of their school-fellow, Congreve, that he

had given to Mr. Hector; adding a remark of such moment to the rational

conduct of a man in the decline of life, that it deserves to be

imprinted upon every mind: 'There is nothing against which an old

man should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to nurse.

Innumerable have been the melancholy instances of men once distinguished

for firmness, resolution, and spirit, who in their latter days have been

governed like children, by interested female artifice.

Dr. Taylor commended a physician who was known to him and Dr. Johnson,

and said, 'I fight many battles for him, as many people in the country

dislike him.' JOHNSON. 'But you should consider, Sir, that by every

one of your victories he is a loser; for, every man of whom you get the

better, will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him; whereas

if people get the better of you in argument about him, they'll think,

"We'll send for Dr. ****** nevertheless."' This was an observation deep

and sure in human nature.

Next day, as Dr. Johnson had acquainted Dr. Taylor of the reason for

his returning speedily to London, it was resolved that we should set out

after dinner. A few of Dr. Taylor's neighbours were his guests that day.

Dr. Johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the state

of the philosophical wise man, that is to have no want of any thing.

'Then, Sir, (said I,) the savage is a wise man.' 'Sir, (said he,) I do

not mean simply being without,--but not having a want.' I maintained,

against this proposition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for

instance, than not to feel the want of them. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir;

fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of

procuring respect. Was Charles the Twelfth, think you, less respected

for his coarse blue coat and black stock? And you find the King

of Prussia dresses plain, because the dignity of his character is

sufficient.' I here brought myself into a scrape, for I heedlessly said,

'Would not YOU, Sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?' JOHNSON.

'Sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your opponent

himself. Have you no better manners? There is YOUR WANT.' I apologised

by saying, I had mentioned him as an instance of one who wanted as

little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might receive some

additional lustre from dress.

Having left Ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses at

Derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the conversation of

my countryman, Dr. Butter, then physician there. He was in great

indignation because Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch militia had

been lost. Dr. Johnson was as violent against it. 'I am glad, (said he,)

that Parliament has had the spirit to throw it out. You wanted to take

advantage of the timidity of our scoundrels;' (meaning, I suppose, the

ministry). It may be observed, that he used the epithet scoundrel very

commonly not quite in the sense in which it is generally understood, but

as a strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly answered Mrs.

Thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'Ready to become a scoundrel,

Madam; with a little more spoiling you will, I think, make me a complete

rascal:' he meant, easy to become a capricious and self-indulgent

valetudinarian; a character for which I have heard him express great

disgust. We lay this night at Loughborough.

On Thursday, March 28, we pursued our journey. He said, 'It is commonly

a weak man who marries for love.' We then talked of marrying women of

fortune; and I mentioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the

whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very small portion, because a

woman of fortune will be proportionally expensive; whereas a woman who

brings none will be very moderate in expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it,

Sir, this is not true. A woman of fortune being used to the handling of

money, spends it judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money

for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it,

that she throws it away with great profusion.'

He praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were more

faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every respect, than in

former times, because their understandings were better cultivated.

At Leicester we read in the news-paper that Dr. James was dead. I

thought that the death of an old school-fellow, and one with whom he

had lived a good deal in London, would have affected my fellow-traveller

much: but he only said, Ah! poor Jamy.' Afterwards, however, when we

were in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness, 'Since I set out on

this jaunt, I have lost an old friend and a young one;--Dr. James, and

poor Harry.' (Meaning Mr. Thrale's son.)

I enjoyed the luxury of our approach to London, that metropolis which we

both loved so much, for the high and varied intellectual pleasure which

it furnishes. I experienced immediate happiness while whirled along with

such a companion, and said to him, 'Sir, you observed one day at General

Oglethorpe's, that a man is never happy for the present, but when he

is drunk. Will you not add,--or when driving rapidly in a post-chaise?'

JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, you are driving rapidly FROM something, or TO

something.'

Talking of melancholy, he said, 'Some men, and very thinking men too,

have not those vexing thoughts. Sir Joshua Reynolds is the same all the

year round. Beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, is the same. But I

believe most men have them in the degree in which they are capable

of having them. If I were in the country, and were distressed by that

malady, I would force myself to take a book; and every time I did it

I should find it the easier. Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by

every means but drinking.'

We stopped at Messieurs Dillys, booksellers in the Poultry; from whence

he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough.

I called at his house in the evening, having promised to acquaint Mrs.

Williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, I found him sitting

with her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very good humour: for, it

seems, when he had got to Mr. Thrale's, he found the coach was at the

door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and Signor Baretti, their

Italian master, to Bath. This was not shewing the attention which might

have been expected to the 'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend,' the Imlac

who had hastened from the country to console a distressed mother, who he

understood was very anxious for his return. They had, I found, without

ceremony, proceeded on their intended journey. I was glad to understand

from him that it was still resolved that his tour to Italy with Mr. and

Mrs. Thrale should take place, of which he had entertained some

doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his doubts

afterwards proved to be well-founded. He observed, indeed very justly,

that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going abroad; and

if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the party, he

would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his advice was

asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished on

his own account.' I was not pleased that his intimacy with Mr.

Thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and

enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint: not, as has been

grossly suggested, that it was required of him as a task to talk for the

entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite

at his ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest

pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too

compliant.

On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity

which I had discovered, his Translation of Lobo's Account of Abyssinia,

which Sir John Pringle had lent me, it being then little known as one

of his works. He said, 'Take no notice of it,' or 'don't talk of it.' He

seemed to think it beneath him, though done at six-and-twenty. I said to

him, 'Your style, Sir, is much improved since you translated this.' He

answered with a sort of triumphant smile, 'Sir, I hope it is.'

On Wednesday, April 3, in the morning I found him very busy putting his

books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of dust

were flying around him. He had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers

use. His present appearance put me in mind of my uncle, Dr. Boswell's

description of him, 'A robust genius, born to grapple with whole

libraries.'

He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of the South Sea

Islands, after he had been some time in this country. He was struck with

the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: 'Sir, he had

passed his time, while in England, only in the best company; so that

all that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. As a proof of this,

Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one day at Streatham; they sat

with their backs to the light fronting me, so that I could not see

distinctly; and there was so little of the savage in Omai, that I was

afraid to speak to either, lest I should mistake one for the other.'

We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern after the rising of the

House of Lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the Douglas

Estate, in which I was one of the counsel, was to come on.

I introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the

Universities of England are too rich; so that learning does not flourish

in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller salaries, and

depended on their assiduity for a great part of their income. JOHNSON.

'Sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the English Universities

are not rich enough. Our fellowships are only sufficient to support

a man during his studies to fit him for the world, and accordingly

in general they are held no longer than till an opportunity offers of

getting away. Now and then, perhaps, there is a fellow who grows old

in his college; but this is against his will, unless he be a man very

indolent indeed. A hundred a year is reckoned a good fellowship, and

that is no more than is necessary to keep a man decently as a scholar.

We do not allow our fellows to marry, because we consider academical

institutions as preparatory to a settlement in the world. It is only by

being employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than

a livelihood. To be sure a man, who has enough without teaching, will

probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. In the same

manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not exert himself.

Gresham College was intended as a place of instruction for London;

able professors were to read lectures gratis, they contrived to have no

scholars; whereas, if they had been allowed to receive but sixpence a

lecture from each scholar, they would have been emulous to have had many

scholars. Every body will agree that it should be the interest of those

who teach to have scholars and this is the case in our Universities.

That they are too rich is certainly not true; for they have nothing good

enough to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life. In

the foreign Universities a professorship is a high thing. It is as much

almost as a man can make by his learning; and therefore we find the most

learned men abroad are in the Universities. It is not so with us.

Our Universities are impoverished of learning, by the penury of their

provisions. I wish there were many places of a thousand a-year

at Oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from quitting the

University.'

I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneasiness on account of a degree of

ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in Goldsmith's

History of Animated Nature, in which that celebrated mathematician is

represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to

render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story altogether

unfounded, but for the publication of which the law would give no

reparation. This led us to agitate the question, whether legal redress

could be obtained, even when a man's deceased relation was calumniated

in a publication.

On Friday, April 5, being Good Friday, after having attended the morning

service at St. Clement's Church, I walked home with Johnson. We talked

of the Roman Catholick religion. JOHNSON. 'In the barbarous ages, Sir,

priests and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there were

gross corruptions introduced by the clergy, such as indulgencies to

priests to have concubines, and the worship of images, not, indeed,

inculcated, but knowingly permitted.' He strongly censured the licensed

stews at Rome. BOSWELL. 'So then, Sir, you would allow of no irregular

intercourse whatever between the sexes?' JOHNSON. 'To be sure I would

not, Sir. I would punish it much more than it is done, and so restrain

it. In all countries there has been fornication, as in all countries

there has been theft; but there may be more or less of the one, as

well as of the other, in proportion to the force of law. All men will

naturally commit fornication, as all men will naturally steal. And, Sir,

it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that prostitutes are

necessary to prevent the violent effects of appetite from violating the

decent order of life; nay, should be permitted, in order to preserve the

chastity of our wives and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, severe laws,

steadily enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would

promote marriage.'

Mr. Thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss of his son

with a manly composure. There was no affectation about him; and he

talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects. He seemed to me to hesitate

as to the intended Italian tour, on which, I flattered myself, he and

Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson were soon to set out; and, therefore, I

pressed it as much as I could. I mentioned, that Mr. Beauclerk had said,

that Baretti, whom they were to carry with them, would keep them so long

in the little towns of his own district, that they would not have time

to see Rome. I mentioned this, to put them on their guard. JOHNSON.

'Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for supposing that we are to be

directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, by my advice, to Mr.

Jackson, (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for seeing the most

that can be seen in the time that we have to travel. We must, to be

sure, see Rome, Naples, Florence, and Venice, and as much more as we

can.' (Speaking with a tone of animation.)

When I expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on Italy, he said, 'I

do not see that I could make a book upon Italy; yet I should be glad to

get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds, by such a work.' This

shewed both that a journal of his Tour upon the Continent was not wholly

out of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to that strange

opinion, which his indolent disposition made him utter: 'No man but a

blockhead ever wrote, except for money.' Numerous instances to refute

this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature.

He gave us one of the many sketches of character which were treasured in

his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite unexpectedly in a very

entertaining manner. 'I lately, (said he,) received a letter from the

East Indies, from a gentleman whom I formerly knew very well; he had

returned from that country with a handsome fortune, as it was reckoned,

before means were found to acquire those immense sums which have been

brought from thence of late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and

lived very prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he

took to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. One evening he lost

a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name I am sorry I have forgotten.

Next morning he sent the gentleman five hundred pounds, with an apology

that it was all he had in the world. The gentleman sent the money back

to him, declaring he would not accept of it; and adding, that if Mr.

------ had occasion for five hundred pounds more, he would lend it

to him. He resolved to go out again to the East Indies, and make

his fortune anew. He got a considerable appointment, and I had some

intention of accompanying him. Had I thought then as I do now, I should

have gone: but, at that time, I had objections to quitting England.'

It was a very remarkable circumstance about Johnson, whom shallow

observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that very

few men had seen greater variety of characters; and none could observe

them better, as was evident from the strong, yet nice portraits which he

often drew. I have frequently thought that if he had made out what the

French call une catalogue raisonnee of all the people who had passed

under his observation, it would have afforded a very rich fund of

instruction and entertainment. The suddenness with which his accounts

of some of them started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than

surprizing. I remember he once observed to me, 'It is wonderful, Sir,

what is to be found in London. The most literary conversation that I

ever enjoyed, was at the table of Jack Ellis, a money-scrivener behind

the Royal Exchange, with whom I at one period used to dine generally

once a week.'

Volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and various

acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot; and could describe and

discriminate them all with precision and vivacity. He associated with

persons the most widely different in manners, abilities, rank, and

accomplishments. He was at once the companion of the brilliant Colonel

Forrester of the Guards, who wrote The Polite Philosopher, and of the

aukward and uncouth Robert Levet; of Lord Thurlow, and Mr. Sastres,

the Italian master; and has dined one day with the beautiful, gay,

and fascinating Lady Craven, and the next with good Mrs. Gardiner, the

tallow-chandler, on Snow-hill.

On my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much of the knowledge

peculiar to different professions, he told me, 'I learnt what I know of

law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow, a very able man. I learnt some, too, from

Chambers; but was not so teachable then. One is not willing to be taught

by a young man.' When I expressed a wish to know more about Mr. Ballow,

Johnson said, 'Sir, I have seen him but once these twenty years. The

tide of life has driven us different ways.' I was sorry at the time

to hear this; but whoever quits the creeks of private connections,

and fairly gets into the great ocean of London, will, by imperceptible

degrees, unavoidably experience such cessations of acquaintance.

'My knowledge of physick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. James, whom I

helped in writing the proposals for his Dictionary and also a little

in the Dictionary itself. I also learnt from Dr. Lawrence, but was then

grown more stubborn.'

A curious incident happened to-day, while Mr. Thrale and I sat with

him. Francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from the

post-office, said to have come from Lisbon, and it was charged SEVEN

POUNDS TEN SHILLINGS. He would not receive it, supposing it to be some

trick, nor did he even look at it. But upon enquiry afterwards he found

that it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the East

Indies of whom he had been speaking; and the ship which carried it

having come to Portugal, this packet, with others, had been put into the

post-office at Lisbon.

I mentioned a new gaming-club, of which Mr. Beauclerk had given me

an account, where the members played to a desperate extent. JOHNSON.

'Depend upon it, Sir, this is mere talk. WHO is ruined by gaming? You

will not find six instances in an age. There is a strange rout made

about deep play: whereas you have many more people ruined by adventurous

trade, and yet we do not hear such an outcry against it.' THRALE. 'There

may be few people absolutely ruined by deep play; but very many are much

hurt in their circumstances by it.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and so are very

many by other kinds of expence.' I had heard him talk once before in the

same manner; and at Oxford he said, 'he wished he had learnt to play at

cards.' The truth, however, is, that he loved to display his ingenuity

in argument; and therefore would sometimes in conversation maintain

opinions which he was sensible were wrong, but in supporting which, his

reasoning and wit would be most conspicuous. He would begin thus: 'Why,

Sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing--' 'Now, (said Garrick,) he

is thinking which side he shall take.' He appeared to have a pleasure in

contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered with

an air of confidence; so that there was hardly any topick, if not one of

the great truths of Religion and Morality, that he might not have been

incited to argue, either for or against. Lord Elibank had the highest

admiration of his powers. He once observed to me, 'Whatever opinion

Johnson maintains, I will not say that he convinces me; but he never

fails to shew me, that he has good reasons for it.' I have heard Johnson

pay his Lordship this high compliment: 'I never was in Lord Elibank's

company without learning something.'

We sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service. Thrale

said he had come with intention to go to church with us. We went at

seven to evening prayers at St. Clement's church, after having drank

coffee; an indulgence, which I understood Johnson yielded to on this

occasion, in compliment to Thrale.

On Sunday, April 7, Easter-day, after having been at St. Paul's

Cathedral, I came to Dr. Johnson, according to my usual custom. It

seemed to me, that there was always something peculiarly mild and placid

in his manner upon this holy festival, the commemoration of the most

joyful event in the history of our world, the resurrection of our LORD

and SAVIOUR, who, having triumphed over death and the grave, proclaimed

immortality to mankind.

I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who

maintained, that her husband's having been guilty of numberless

infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they were

reciprocal. JOHNSON. 'This is miserable stuff, Sir. To the contract of

marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third party--Society;

and if it be considered as a vow--GOD: and, therefore, it cannot be

dissolved by their consent alone. Laws are not made for particular

cases, but for men in general. A woman may be unhappy with her husband;

but she cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil

and ecclesiastical power. A man may be unhappy, because he is not so

rich as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property with his

own hand.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, this lady does not want that the contract

should be dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in

gallantries with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she takes

care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. You know, Sir,

what Macrobius has told us of Julia.' JOHNSON. 'This lady of yours, Sir,

I think, is very fit for a brothel.'

Mr. Macbean, authour of the Dictionary of ancient Geography, came in.

He mentioned that he had been forty years absent from Scotland. 'Ah,

Boswell! (said Johnson, smiling,) what would you give to be forty years

from Scotland?' I said, 'I should not like to be so long absent from

the seat of my ancestors.' This gentleman, Mrs. Williams, and Mr. Levet,

dined with us.

Mrs. Williams was very peevish; and I wondered at Johnson's patience

with her now, as I had often done on similar occasions. The truth is,

that his humane consideration of the forlorn and indigent state in which

this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the

utmost tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amusement,

so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with

him to their houses, where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of

her blindness, she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice

sensations.

After coffee, we went to afternoon service in St. Clement's church.

Observing some beggars in the street as we walked along, I said to him

I supposed there was no civilized country in the world, where the misery

of want in the lowest classes of the people was prevented. JOHNSON.

'I believe, Sir, there is not; but it is better that some should be

unhappy, than that none should be happy, which would be the case in a

general state of equality.'

When the service was ended, I went home with him, and we sat quietly by

ourselves.

Upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of vicious actions

would do well to force himself into solitude and sadness; JOHNSON. 'No,

Sir, unless it prevent him from being vicious again. With some people,

gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside down. A man may be

gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has recourse again

to criminal indulgencies.'

On Wednesday, April 10, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, where were Mr.

Murphy and some other company. Before dinner, Dr. Johnson and I passed

some time by ourselves. I was sorry to find it was now resolved that the

proposed journey to Italy should not take place this year. He said, 'I

am disappointed, to be sure; but it is not a great disappointment.' I

wondered to see him bear, with a philosophical calmness, what would have

made most people peevish and fretful. I perceived, however, that he had

so warmly cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could

not easily part with the scheme; for he said: 'I shall probably contrive

to get to Italy some other way. But I won't mention it to Mr. and Mrs.

Thrale, as it might vex them.' I suggested, that going to Italy might

have done Mr. and Mrs. Thrale good. JOHNSON. 'I rather believe not, Sir.

While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must

wait till grief be DIGESTED, and then amusement will dissipate the

remains of it.'

I said, I disliked the custom which some people had of bringing their

children into company, because it in a manner forced us to pay foolish

compliments to please their parents. JOHNSON. 'You are right, Sir. We

may be excused for not caring much about other people's children, for

there are many who care very little about their own children. It may be

observed, that men, who from being engaged in business, or from their

course of life in whatever way, seldom see their children, do not care

much about them. I myself should not have had much fondness for a child

of my own.' MRS. THRALE. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so?' JOHNSON. 'At

least, I never wished to have a child.'

He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour; observing,

that 'he was thirty years in preparing his History, and that he employed

a man to point it for him; as if (laughing) another man could point his

sense better than himself.' Mr. Murphy said, he understood his history

was kept back several years for fear of Smollet. JOHNSON. 'This seems

strange to Murphy and me, who never felt that anxiety, but sent what we

wrote to the press, and let it take its chance.' MRS. THRALE. 'The time

has been, Sir, when you felt it.' JOHNSON. 'Why, really, Madam, I do not

recollect a time when that was the case.'

On Thursday, April 11, I dined with him at General Paoli's, in whose

house I now resided, and where I had ever afterwards the honour of being

entertained with the kindest attention as his constant guest, while I

was in London, till I had a house of my own there. I mentioned my having

that morning introduced to Mr. Garrick, Count Neni, a Flemish Nobleman

of great rank and fortune, to whom Garrick talked of Abel Drugger as A

SMALL PART; and related, with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman who had

seen him in one of his low characters, exclaimed, 'Comment! je ne le

crois pas. Ce n'est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme!' Garrick

added, with an appearance of grave recollection, 'If I were to begin

life again, I think I should not play those low characters.' Upon which

I observed, 'Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence

is your variety of playing, your representing so well, characters so

very different.' JOHNSON. 'Garrick, Sir, was not in earnest in what

he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety; and,

perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted

by somebody else, as he could do it.' BOSWELL. 'Why then, Sir, did he

talk so?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, to make you answer as you did.' BOSWELL.

'I don't know, Sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the

reflection.' JOHNSON. 'He had not far to dip, Sir: he said the same

thing, probably, twenty times before.'

Of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he

said, 'His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but would not be

distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts.'

A journey to Italy was still in his thoughts. He said, 'A man who has

not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not

having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of

travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores

were the four great Empires of the world; the Assyrian, the Persian, the

Grecian, and the Roman.--All our religion, almost all our law, almost

all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us

from the shores of the Mediterranean.' The General observed, that 'THE

MEDITERRANEAN would be a noble subject for a poem.'

We talked of translation. I said, I could not define it, nor could I

think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to me

the translation of poetry could be only imitation. JOHNSON. 'You may

translate books of science exactly. You may also translate history, in

so far as it is not embellished with oratory, which is poetical. Poetry,

indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that

preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a

language, if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a

translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any

language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the

language.'

'Goldsmith (he said,) referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and

his vices too, were from that motive. He was not a social man. He never

exchanged mind with you.'

We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. Mr. Mickle, the excellent

translator of The Lusiad, was there. I have preserved little of the

conversation of this evening. Dr. Johnson said, 'Thomson had a true

poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light.

His fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly

peep through. Shiels, who compiled Cibber's Lives of the Poets, was one

day sitting with me. I took down Thomson, and read aloud a large portion

of him, and then asked,--Is not this fine? Shiels having expressed the

highest admiration. Well, Sir, (said I,) I have omitted every other

line.'

I related a dispute between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert Dodsley, one

day when they and I were dining at Tom Davies's, in 1762. Goldsmith

asserted, that there was no poetry produced in this age. Dodsley

appealed to his own Collection, and maintained, that though you could

not find a palace like Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, you had

villages composed of very pretty houses; and he mentioned particularly

The Spleen. JOHNSON. 'I think Dodsley gave up the question. He and

Goldsmith said the same thing; only he said it in a softer manner than

Goldsmith did; for he acknowledged that there was no poetry, nothing

that towered above the common mark. You may find wit and humour in

verse, and yet no poetry. Hudibras has a profusion of these; yet it is

not to be reckoned a poem. The Spleen, in Dodsley's Collection, on which

you say he chiefly rested, is not poetry.' BOSWELL. 'Does not Gray's

poetry, Sir, tower above the common mark?' JOHNSON. Yes, Sir; but we

must attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if

they would, and what every man may do if he would. Sixteen-string Jack*

towered above the common mark.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, what is poetry?'

JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is much easier to say what it is not. We all KNOW

what light is; but it is not easy to TELL what it is.'

* A noted highwayman, who after having been several times

tried and acquitted, was at last hanged. He was remarkable

for foppery in his dress, and particularly for wearing a

bunch of sixteen strings at the knees of his breeches.

--BOSWELL.

On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom Davies's.

He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. Murphy's having paid him the highest

compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for

repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story.

Johnson and I supt this evening at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in

company with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Nairne, now one of

the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dunsinan, and my very worthy

friend, Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo.

We discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation and

benevolence. Sir Joshua maintained it did. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir: before

dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who

are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. When

they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that

modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he

is only not sensible of his defects.' Sir Joshua said the Doctor was

talking of the effects of excess in wine; but that a moderate glass

enlivened the mind, by giving a proper circulation to the blood. 'I

am (said he,) in very good spirits, when I get up in the morning. By

dinner-time I am exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when I

got up; and I am sure that moderate drinking makes people talk better.'

JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but

tumultuous, noisy, clamorous merriment. I have heard none of those

drunken,--nay, drunken is a coarse word,--none of those VINOUS flights.'

SIR JOSHUA. 'Because you have sat by, quite sober, and felt an envy

of the happiness of those who were drinking.' JOHNSON. 'Perhaps,

contempt.--And, Sir, it is not necessary to be drunk one's self, to

relish the wit of drunkenness. Do we not judge of the drunken wit, of

the dialogue between Iago and Cassio, the most excellent in its kind,

when we are quite sober? Wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced;

and, if good, will appear so at all times. I admit that the spirits

are raised by drinking, as by the common participation of any pleasure:

cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as

drinking does, though surely they will not improve conversation. I also

admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as

there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten. There are such

men, but they are medlars. I indeed allow that there have been a very

few men of talents who were improved by drinking; but I maintain that

I am right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it

be considered, that there is no position, however false in its

universality, which is not true of some particular man.' Sir William

Forbes said, 'Might not a man warmed with wine be like a bottle of

beer, which is made brisker by being set before the fire?'--'Nay, (said

Johnson, laughing,) I cannot answer that: that is too much for me.'

I observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming, confusing, and

irritating their minds; but that the experience of mankind had declared

in favour of moderate drinking. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not say it is wrong

to produce self complacency by drinking; I only deny that it improves

the mind. When I drank wine, I scorned to drink it when in company. I

have drunk many a bottle by myself; in the first place, because I had

need of it to raise my spirits; in the second place, because I would

have nobody to witness its effects upon me.'

He told us, 'almost all his Ramblers were written just as they were

wanted for the press; that he sent a certain portion of the copy of

an essay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was

printing. When it was wanted, and he had fairly sat down to it, he was

sure it would be done.'

He said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever his

immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a man has

a science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely advance. He added,

'what we read with inclination makes a much stronger impression. If

we read without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the

attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what we read.' He

told us, he read Fielding's Amelia through without stopping. He

said, 'if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an

inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. He

may perhaps not feel again the inclination.'

Soon after this day, he went to Bath with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I had

never seen that beautiful city, and wished to take the opportunity of

visiting it, while Johnson was there.

On the 26th of April, I went to Bath; and on my arrival at the Pelican

inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Thrale,

by whom I was agreeably entertained almost constantly during my stay.

They were gone to the rooms; but there was a kind note from Dr. Johnson,

that he should sit at home all the evening. I went to him directly, and

before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we had by ourselves some hours of

tea-drinking and talk.

I shall group together such of his sayings as I preserved during the few

days that I was at Bath.

It having been mentioned, I know not with what truth, that a certain

female political writer, whose doctrines he disliked, had of late become

very fond of dress, sat hours together at her toilet, and even put on

rouge:--Johnson. 'She is better employed at her toilet, than using

her pen. It is better she should be reddening her own cheeks, than

blackening other people's characters.'

He would not allow me to praise a lady then at Bath; observing, 'She

does not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty-headed.' He was, indeed,

a stern critick upon characters and manners. Even Mrs. Thrale did not

escape his friendly animadversion at times. When he and I were one day

endeavouring to ascertain, article by article, how one of our friends

could possibly spend as much money in his family as he told us he did,

she interrupted us by a lively extravagant sally, on the expence of

clothing his children, describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful

manner. Johnson looked a little angry, and said, 'Nay, Madam, when you

are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.' At

another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'I don't like to fly.'

JOHNSON. 'With YOUR wings, Madam, you MUST fly: but have a care, there

are CLIPPERS abroad.'

On Monday, April 29, he and I made an excursion to Bristol, where I was

entertained with seeing him enquire upon the spot, into the authenticity

of 'Rowley's Poetry,' as I had seen him enquire upon the spot into the

authenticity of 'Ossian's Poetry.' George Catcot, the pewterer, who was

as zealous for Rowley, as Dr. Hugh Blair was for Ossian, (I trust my

Reverend friend will excuse the comparison,) attended us at our inn, and

with a triumphant air of lively simplicity called out, 'I'll make Dr.

Johnson a convert.' Dr. Johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of

Chatterton's fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at the back of his

chair, moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet,

and now and then looking into Dr. Johnson's face, wondering that he was

not yet convinced. We called on Mr. Barret, the surgeon, and saw some

of the ORIGINALS as they were called, which were executed very

artificially; but from a careful inspection of them, and a consideration

of the circumstances with which they were attended, we were quite

satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been clearly demonstrated

from internal evidence, by several able criticks.

Honest Catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any objections, but

insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we should go with him to

the tower of the church of St. Mary, Redcliff, and VIEW WITH OUR OWN

EYES the ancient chest in which the manuscripts were found. To this, Dr.

Johnson good-naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a shortness of

breathing, laboured up a long flight of steps, till we came to the place

where the wonderous chest stood. 'THERE, (said Cateot, with a bouncing

confident credulity,) THERE is the very chest itself.' After this

OCULAR DEMONSTRATION, there was no more to be said. He brought to my

recollection a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too, and who had

seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his reasons for

the authenticity of Fingal:--'I have heard all that poem when I was

young.'--'Have you, Sir? Pray what have you heard?'--'I have heard

Ossian, Oscar, and EVERY ONE OF THEM.'

Johnson said of Chatterton, 'This is the most extraordinary young man

that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the whelp has

written such things.'

We were by no means pleased with our inn at Bristol. 'Let us see

now, (said I,) how we should describe it.' Johnson was ready with his

raillery. 'Describe it, Sir?--Why, it was so bad that Boswell wished to

be in Scotland!'

After Dr. Johnson's return to London, I was several times with him

at his house, where I occasionally slept, in the room that had

been assigned to me. I dined with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General

Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To avoid a tedious minuteness, I

shall group together what I have preserved of his conversation during

this period also, without specifying each scene where it passed, except

one, which will be found so remarkable as certainly to deserve a very

particular relation.

'Garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of Archer in The Beaux

Stratagem well. The gentleman should break out through the footman,

which is not the case as he does it.'

'That man is never happy for the present is so true, that all his relief

from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for a little while. Life is

a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment.'

'Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, I think, might be made a very

pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it should be put into the

hands of every young gentleman. An elegant manner and easiness of

behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. No man can say "I'll

be genteel." There are ten genteel women for one genteel man, because

they are more restrained. A man without some degree of restraint is

insufferable; but we are all less restrained than women. Were a woman

sitting in company to put out her legs before her as most men do, we

should be tempted to kick them in.'

No man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those in

whose company he happened to be, than Johnson; or, however strange it

may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its refinements. Lord

Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and he were at dinner at

a gentleman's house in London, upon Lord Chesterfield's Letters being

mentioned, Johnson surprized the company by this sentence: 'Every man

of any education would rather be called a rascal, than accused of

deficiency in THE GRACES.' Mr. Gibbon, who was present, turned to a

lady who knew Johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint

manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus: 'Don't you think, Madam,

(looking towards Johnson,) that among ALL your acquaintance, you could

find ONE exception?' The lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce.

The uncommon vivacity of General Oglethorpe's mind, and variety of

knowledge, having sometimes made his conversation seem too desultory,

Johnson observed, 'Oglethorpe, Sir, never COMPLETES what he has to say.'

He on the same account made a similar remark on Patrick Lord Elibank:

'Sir, there is nothing CONCLUSIVE in his talk.'

When I complained of having dined at a splendid table without hearing

one sentence of conversation worthy of being remembered, he said, 'Sir,

there seldom is any such conversation.' BOSWELL. 'Why then meet at

table?' JOHNSON. 'Why, to eat and drink together, and to promote

kindness; and, Sir, this is better done when there is no solid

conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get

into bad humour, or some of the company who are not capable of such

conversation, are left out, and feel themselves uneasy. It was for this

reason, Sir Robert Walpole said, he always talked bawdy at his table,

because in that all could join.'

Being irritated by hearing a gentleman* ask Mr. Levett a variety of

questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out, 'Sir,

you have but two topicks, yourself and me. I am sick of both.' 'A

man, (said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of any particular

person. He should take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore,

should avoid having any one topick of which people can say, "We shall

hear him upon it." There was a Dr. Oldfield, who was always talking of

the Duke of Marlborough. He came into a coffee-house one day, and told

that his Grace had spoken in the House of Lords for half an hour.

"Did he indeed speak for half an hour?" (said Belehier,

the surgeon,)--"Yes."--"And what did he say of Dr.

Oldfield?"--"Nothing"--"Why then, Sir, he was very ungrateful; for Dr.

Oldfield could not have spoken for a quarter of an hour, without saying

something of him."'

* Most likely Boswell himself.--HILL.

I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's Life, which

fell under my own observation; of which pars magna fui, and which I am

persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.

My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description,

had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to Dr.

Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could

perhaps not be selected out of all mankind. They had even attacked one

another with some asperity in their writings; yet I lived in habits of

friendship with both. I could fully relish the excellence of each; for

I have ever delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can separate

good qualities from evil in the same person.

Sir John Pringle, 'mine own friend and my Father's friend,' between

whom and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to establish an acquaintance, as I

respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once,

very ingeniously, 'It is not in friendship as in mathematicks, where two

things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. You agree

with Johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle

quality; but Johnson and I should not agree.' Sir John was not

sufficiently flexible; so I desisted; knowing, indeed, that the

repulsion was equally strong on the part of Johnson; who, I know

not from what cause, unless his being a Scotchman, had formed a very

erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish, if

possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage

it, was a nice and difficult matter.

My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry, at

whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen a greater number of

literary men, than at any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had

invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen on Wednesday, May

15. 'Pray (said I,) let us have Dr. Johnson.'--'What with Mr. Wilkes?

not for the world, (said Mr. Edward Dilly:) Dr. Johnson would never

forgive me.'--'Come, (said I,) if you'll let me negotiate for you, I

will be answerable that all shall go well.' DILLY. 'Nay, if you will

take it upon you, I am sure I shall be very happy to see them both

here.'

Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnson,

I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of

contradiction, and by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I

was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct proposal, 'Sir,

will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?' he would have flown into a

passion, and would probably have answered, 'Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir!

I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch.' I therefore, while we were sitting

quietly by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open

my plan thus:--'Mr. Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you,

and would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on

Wednesday next along with me, as I must soon go to Scotland.' JOHNSON.

'Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him--' BOSWELL.

'Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have, is

agreeable to you.' JOHNSON. 'What do you mean, Sir? What do you take me

for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to imagine that I am

to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?'

BOSWELL. 'I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing to prevent you from

meeting people whom you might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what

he calls his patriotick friends with him.' Johnson. 'Well, Sir, and what

then? What care I for his PATRIOTICK FRIENDS? Poh!' BOSWELL. 'I should

not be surprized to find Jack Wilkes there.' Johnson. 'And if Jack

Wilkes SHOULD be there, what is that to ME, Sir? My dear friend, let us

have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you; but really it is

treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not meet any company

whatever, occasionally.' BOSWELL. 'Pray forgive me, Sir: I meant well.

But you shall meet whoever comes, for me.' Thus I secured him, and told

Dilly that he would find him very well pleased to be one of his guests

on the day appointed.

Upon the much-expected Wednesday, I called on him about half an hour

before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out together, to see

that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting

his books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no

preparation for going abroad. 'How is this, Sir? (said I.) Don't you

recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly's?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I did not

think of going to Dilly's: it went out of my head. I have ordered dinner

at home with Mrs. Williams.' BOSWELL. 'But, my dear Sir, you know you

were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect you, and

will be much disappointed if you don't come.' JOHNSON. 'You must talk to

Mrs. Williams about this.'

Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I had

secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to shew Mrs.

Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some

restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he would

not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her

I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine

this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his

engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. 'Yes, Sir, (said she, pretty

peevishly,) Dr. Johnson is to dine at home.'--'Madam, (said I,) his

respect for you is such, that I know he will not leave you unless you

absolutely desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope

you will be good enough to forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very

worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr.

Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And then,

Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the message, and I

assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come, and no doubt he has made

a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honour he expected

to have. I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there.' She

gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest

as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously

pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson, 'That all things considered,

she thought he should certainly go.' I flew back to him, still in dust,

and careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice

to go or stay;' but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams'

consent, he roared, 'Frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon drest.

When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as

much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with

him to set out for Gretna-Green.

When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst

of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent, watching

how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly,

'Who is that gentleman, Sir?'--'Mr. Arthur Lee.'--JOHNSON. 'Too, too,

too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings. Mr.

Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not

only a PATRIOT but an AMERICAN. He was afterwards minister from the

United States at the court of Madrid. 'And who is the gentleman in

lace?'--'Mr. Wilkes, Sir.' This information confounded him still more;

he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat

down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it

intently for some time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare

say, were aukward enough. But he no doubt recollected his having rated

me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any company,

and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy

man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and

manners of those whom he might chance to meet.

The cheering sound of 'Dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his reverie,

and we ALL sat down without any symptom of ill humour. There were

present, beside Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Arthur Lee, who was an old companion

of mine when he studied physick at Edinburgh, Mr. (now Sir John) Miller,

Dr. Lettsom, and Mr. Slater the druggist. Mr. Wilkes placed himself

next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much attention and

politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly. No man eat more heartily

than Johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes was

very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'Pray give me leave,

Sir:--It is better here--A little of the brown--Some fat, Sir--A little

of the stuffing--Some gravy--Let me have the pleasure of giving you some

butter--Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the lemon,

perhaps, may have more zest.'--'Sir, Sir, I am obliged to you, Sir,'

cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a look for some

time of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of complacency.

Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, 'He is not a good mimick.' One of

the company added, 'A merry Andrew, a buffoon.' JOHNSON. 'But he has

wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of

imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill

up his part. One species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of

escape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; but he's gone, Sir,

when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over your

head. Then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand

between him and a jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is

under many restraints from which Foote is free.' WILKES. 'Garrick's wit

is more like Lord Chesterfield's.' JOHNSON. 'The first time I was in

company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of the

fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult

to please a man against his will. I went on eating my dinner pretty

sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical,

that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back upon

my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible. He upon

one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of

his powers of entertaining. Amongst the many and various modes which he

tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer,

and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers

amongst his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his

small-beer; but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink

it. They were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being

afraid of offending their master, who they knew liked Foote much as a

companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather

a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and

having invested him with the whole authority of the kitchen, he was to

inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that

they would drink Foote's small-beer no longer. On that day Foote

happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was

so delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when

he went down stairs, he told them, "This is the finest man I have ever

seen. I will not deliver your message. I will drink his small-beer."'

Somebody observed that Garrick could not have done this. WILKES.

'Garrick would have made the small-beer still smaller. He is now leaving

the stage; but he will play Scrub all his life.' I knew that Johnson

would let nobody attack Garrick but himself, as Garrick once said to

me, and I had heard him praise his liberality; so to bring out his

commendation of his celebrated pupil, I said, loudly, 'I have heard

Garrick is liberal.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I know that Garrick has given

away more money than any man in England that I am acquainted with, and

that not from ostentatious views. Garrick was very poor when he began

life; so when he came to have money, he probably was very unskilful

in giving away, and saved when he should not. But Garrick began to be

liberal as soon as he could; and I am of opinion, the reputation of

avarice which he has had, has been very lucky for him, and prevented his

having many enemies. You despise a man for avarice, but do not hate

him. Garrick might have been much better attacked for living with more

splendour than is suitable to a player: if they had had the wit to have

assaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him more. But they

have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has rescued him from much

obloquy and envy.'

Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information for

biography, Johnson told us, 'When I was a young fellow I wanted to write

the Life of Dryden, and in order to get materials, I applied to the only

two persons then alive who had seen him; these were old Swinney, and

old Cibber. Swinney's information was no more than this, "That at Will's

coffee-house Dryden had a particular chair for himself, which was set

by the fire in winter, and was then called his winter-chair; and that

it was carried out for him to the balcony in summer, and was then called

his summer-chair." Cibber could tell no more but "That he remembered him

a decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at Will's." You are

to consider that Cibber was then at a great distance from Dryden, had

perhaps one leg only in the room, and durst not draw in the other.'

BOSWELL. 'Yet Cibber was a man of observation?' JOHNSON. 'I think not.'

BOSWELL. 'You will allow his Apology to be well done.' JOHNSON. 'Very

well done, to be sure, Sir. That book is a striking proof of the justice

of Pope's remark:

"Each might his several province well command,

Would all but stoop to what they understand."'

BOSWELL. 'And his plays are good.' JOHNSON. 'Yes; but that was his

trade; l'esprit du corps: he had been all his life among players and

play-writers. I wondered that he had so little to say in conversation,

for he had kept the best company, and learnt all that can be got by the

ear. He abused Pindar to me, and then shewed me an Ode of his own, with

an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's wing. I told him

that when the ancients made a simile, they always made it like something

real.'

Mr. Wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of Shakspeare's

imagination, the boldest was making Birnamwood march to Dunsinane;

creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in Scotland!

ha! ha! ha!' And he also observed, that 'the clannish slavery of the

Highlands of Scotland was the single exception to Milton's remark of

"The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty," being worshipped in all hilly

countries.'--'When I was at Inverary (said he,) on a visit to my old

friend, Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his dependents congratulated me on

being such a favourite of his Grace. I said, "It is then, gentlemen,

truely lucky for me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had wished

it, there is not a Campbell among you but would have been ready to bring

John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It would have been only,

'Off with his head! So much for Aylesbury.'"