Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd this solemn and soothing letter:--

'TO THE REVEREND DR. DODD.

'DEAR SIR,--That which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you.

Outward circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below

the notice of an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity,

before the Supreme Judge of heaven and earth. Be comforted: your crime,

morally or religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude.

It corrupted no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. It involved

only a temporary and reparable injury. Of this, and of all other sins,

you are earnestly to repent; and may GOD, who knoweth our frailty, and

desireth not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his SON

JESUS CHRIST our Lord.

'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so

emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions

one petition for my eternal welfare. I am, dear Sir, your affectionate

servant,

'June 26, 1777.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

Under the copy of this letter I found written, in Johnson's own hand,

'Next day, June 27, he was executed.'

Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson having mentioned to me the

extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by Dr. Taylor, I rode

out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had

sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had

been offered a hundred and thirty. Taylor thus described to me his old

schoolfellow and friend, Johnson: 'He is a man of a very clear head,

great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no

disputing with him. He will not hear you, and having a louder voice than

you, must roar you down.'

In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward, of Lichfield, who was passing

through Ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. Johnson described

him thus:--'Sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he goes to

Buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen to him.

And, Sir, he is a valetudinarian, one of those who are always mending

themselves. I do not know a more disagreeable character than a

valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and

indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the

state of a hog in a stye.'

Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had

omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's

interval. Dr. Johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick, disapproved

much of periodical bleeding. 'For (said he,) you accustom yourself to

an evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herself, and therefore she

cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any other cause,

omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. You may accustom yourself to

other periodical evacuations, because should you omit them, Nature can

supply the omission; but Nature cannot open a vein to blood you.'--'I

do not like to take an emetick, (said Taylor,) for fear of breaking some

small vessels.'--'Poh! (said Johnson,) if you have so many things that

will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end

on't. You will break no small vessels:' (blowing with high derision.)

The horrour of death which I had always observed in Dr. Johnson,

appeared strong to-night. I ventured to tell him, that I had been,

for moments in my life, not afraid of death; therefore I could suppose

another man in that state of mind for a considerable space of time. He

said, 'he never had a moment in which death was not terrible to him.' He

added, that it had been observed, that scarce any man dies in publick,

but with apparent resolution; from that desire of praise which never

quits us. I said, Dr. Dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of

hopes of happiness. 'Sir, (said he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his

hands and both his legs to have lived. The better a man is, the more

afraid he is of death, having a clearer view of infinite purity.' He

owned, that our being in an unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was

mysterious; and said, 'Ah! we must wait till we are in another state of

being, to have many things explained to us.' Even the powerful mind of

Johnson seemed foiled by futurity.

On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. Butter, physician at Derby, drank tea

with us; and it was settled that Dr. Johnson and I should go on Friday

and dine with him. Johnson said, 'I'm glad of this.' He seemed weary of

the uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's.

Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities

should be mentioned, because they mark his character. JOHNSON. 'Sir,

there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's

vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned

that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more

easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be

done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth.' Here was an

instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes and

he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I well

remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A

Panegyrick, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to write

A Life, he must represent it really as it was:' and when I objected to

the danger of telling that Parnell drank to excess, he said, that 'it

would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was

seen, that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be debased by

it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my Journal,

that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if he writes his

life.

Thursday, September 18. Last night Dr. Johnson had proposed that the

crystal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's large room, should be

lighted up some time or other. Taylor said, it should be lighted up

next night. 'That will do very well, (said I,) for it is Dr. Johnson's

birth-day.' When we were in the Isle of Sky, Johnson had desired me not

to mention his birth-day. He did not seem pleased at this time that I

mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly,) 'he would not have the lustre

lighted the next day.'

Some ladies, who had been present yesterday when I mentioned his

birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally,

by wishing him joy. I know not why he disliked having his birth-day

mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer

to death, of which he had a constant dread.

I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low

spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly

placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'Sir,

(said Johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different

turn.'

He observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a

bad style of poetry of late. 'He puts (said he,) a very common thing

in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other

people do not know it.' BOSWELL. 'That is owing to his being so much

versant in old English poetry.' JOHNSON. 'What is that to the purpose,

Sir? If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking

much drink, the matter is not mended. No, Sir, ------ has taken to an

odd mode. For example, he'd write thus:

"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,

Wearing out life's evening gray."

Gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd think

fine.--Stay;--we'll make out the stanza:

"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,

Wearing out life's evening gray;

Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,

What is bliss? and which the way?"'

BOSWELL. 'But why smite his bosom, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, to shew he

was in earnest,' (smiling.)--He at an after period added the following

stanza:

'Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd;

--Scarce repress'd the starting tear;--

When the smiling sage reply'd--

--Come, my lad, and drink some beer.'

I cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as

also the three first lines of the second. Its last line is an excellent

burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. And, perhaps,

the advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied

being:--'Don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and

be merry.'

Friday, September 19, after breakfast Dr. Johnson and I set out in Dr.

Taylor's chaise to go to Derby. The day was fine, and we resolved to

go by Keddlestone, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, that I might see his

Lordship's fine house. I was struck with the magnificence of the

building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with

deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The number of old oaks, of an

immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one

of them sixty pounds was offered. The excellent smooth gravel roads; the

large piece of water formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with

a handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the family

chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated

and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'One should think

(said I,) that the proprietor of all this MUST be happy.'--'Nay, Sir,

(said Johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty.'

Our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most

distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which I need not describe, as

there is an account of it published in Adam's Works in Architecture. Dr.

Johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before; for he

had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'It would do excellently for

a town-hall. The large room with the pillars (said he,) would do for the

Judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber;

and the room above for prisoners.' Still he thought the large room ill

lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the bed-chambers

but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it cost was

injudiciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his APPEARING

pleased with the house. 'But (said he,) that was when Lord Scarsdale was

present. Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a man's works when

he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to question you. You may

therefore pay compliments without saying what is not true. I should say

to Lord Scarsdale of his large room, "My Lord, this is the most COSTLY

room that I ever saw;" which is true.'

Dr. Manningham, physician in London, who was visiting at Lord

Scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon

afterwards my Lord himself, to whom Dr. Johnson was known, appeared, and

did the honours of the house. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnson, with

a warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'The earth does

not bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton.' We saw a good many fine

pictures, which I think are described in one of Young's Tours. There is

a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my hand;

I should like to view them at leisure. I was much struck with Daniel

interpreting Nebuchadnezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were shown a pretty

large library. In his Lordship's dressing-room lay Johnson's small

Dictionary: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying, 'Look'ye!

Quae terra nostri non plena laboris.' He observed, also, Goldsmith's

Animated Nature; and said, 'Here's our friend! The poor Doctor would

have been happy to hear of this.'

In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in

a post-chaise. 'If (said he,) I had no duties, and no reference to

futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with

a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would

add something to the conversation.' I observed, that we were this day to

stop just where the Highland army did in 1745. JOHNSON. 'It was a noble

attempt.' BOSWELL. 'I wish we could have an authentick history of it.'

JOHNSON. 'If you were not an idle dog you might write it, by collecting

from every body what they can tell, and putting down your authorities.'

BOSWELL. 'But I could not have the advantage of it in my life-time.'

JOHNSON. 'You might have the satisfaction of its fame, by printing it in

Holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was before writing came

to be considered in a pecuniary view. Baretti says, he is the first man

that ever received copy-money in Italy.' I said that I would endeavour

to do what Dr. Johnson suggested and I thought that I might write so as

to venture to publish my History of the Civil War in Great-Britain in

1745 and 1746, without being obliged to go to a foreign press.

When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us to see the

manufactory of china there. I admired the ingenuity and delicate art

with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot,

while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. I thought

this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in ITS

species. Yet I had no respect for this potter. Neither, indeed, has a

man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose numbers,

however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. The china was beautiful,

but Dr. Johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he could have

vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were here made of

porcelain.

I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always have in

walking about any town to which I am not accustomed. There is an

immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which

life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where

upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. The minute diversities in

every thing are wonderful. Talking of shaving the other night at Dr.

Taylor's, Dr. Johnson said, 'Sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not

shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' I thought this

not possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in

shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long

or short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the

under;--at the right side or the left side. Indeed, when one considers

what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass

of a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of

difference there may be in the application of a razor.

We dined with Dr. Butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin Sir John

Douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of

Queensberry. Johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation.

Johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of Dr.

Nichols's discourse De Animia Medica. He told us 'that whatever a man's

distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a physician, if his

mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have any

influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none

of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife

privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said no. He

continued his attendance some time, still without success. At length the

man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs WERE

in a bad way. When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him, "Your

pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of fever

which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith answered it was not.'

Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when some of Dr. Dodd's pious friends

were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a

wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant:--'No,

no, (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' Johnson added,

'I respect Dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for

several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness.

He told us, that Dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand

pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape.

He added, that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate

for some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five

hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys

who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much

circumspection. He said, Dodd's friends had an image of him made of wax,

which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was carried

into the prison.

Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world persuaded that The

Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren was of his own writing. 'But,

Sir, (said I,) you contributed to the deception; for when Mr. Seward

expressed a doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, because it had a

great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be his, you

answered,--"Why should you think so? Depend upon it, Sir, when a man

knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind

wonderfully."' JOHNSON. Sir, as Dodd got it from me to pass as his own,

while that could do him any good, there was an IMPLIED PROMISE that I

should not own it. To own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie,

with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply

telling a lie to make it be believed it was Dodd's. Besides, Sir, I did

not DIRECTLY tell a lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I thought

that Seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what I said;

but I would not put it in his power to say I had owned it.'

He said, 'Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late. There appeared

nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got

high in fame, one of his friends began to recollect something of his

being distinguished at College. Goldsmith in the same manner recollected

more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.'

I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four,

and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the

window open, which he called taking an air bath; after which he went to

bed again, and slept two hours more. Johnson, who was always ready to

beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with disproportionate

importance, thus observed: 'I suppose, Sir, there is no more in it than

this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills himself, and

makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.'

I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. Johnson told

me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager

in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had

a contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn

a string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with

a strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no

difficulty in getting up.' But I said THAT was my difficulty; and wished

there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise without

pain, which I never did, unless after lying in bed a very long time.

Johnson advised me to-night not to REFINE in the education of my

children. 'Life (said he,) will not bear refinement: you must do as

other people do.'

As we drove back to Ashbourne, Dr. Johnson recommended to me, as he had

often done, to drink water only: 'For (said he,) you are then sure not

to get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never sure.' I said,

drinking wine was a pleasure which I was unwilling to give up, 'Why,

Sir, (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great

deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' He however owned, that in

his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life; and said, he would

not give less for the life of a certain Scotch Lord (whom he named)

celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a sober man. 'But stay,

(said he, with his usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,) does it

take much wine to make him drunk?' I answered, 'a great deal either of

wine or strong punch.'--'Then (said he,) that is the worse.' I presume

to illustrate my friend's observation thus: 'A fortress which soon

surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and obstinate

resistance is made.'

I ventured to mention a person who was as violent a Scotsman as he was

an Englishman; and literally had the same contempt for an Englishman

compared with a Scotsman, that he had for a Scotsman compared with an

Englishman; and that he would say of Dr. Johnson, 'Damned rascal! to

talk as he does of the Scotch.' This seemed, for a moment, 'to give him

pause.' It, perhaps, presented his extreme prejudice against the Scotch

in a point of view somewhat new to him, by the effect of CONTRAST.

By the time when we returned to Ashbourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed.

Johnson and I sat up a long time by ourselves.

On Saturday, September 20, after breakfast, when Taylor was gone out to

his farm, Dr. Johnson and I had a serious conversation by ourselves on

melancholy and madness.

We entered seriously upon a question of much importance to me, which

Johnson was pleased to consider with friendly attention. I had long

complained to him that I felt myself discontented in Scotland, as too

narrow a sphere, and that I wished to make my chief residence in London,

the great scene of ambition, instruction, and amusement: a scene, which

was to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth. JOHNSON. 'Why,

Sir, I never knew any one who had such a GUST for London as you have:

and I cannot blame you for your wish to live there: yet, Sir, were I in

your father's place, I should not consent to your settling there; for

I have the old feudal notions, and I should be afraid that Auchinleck

would be deserted, as you would soon find it more desirable to have a

country-seat in a better climate.'

I suggested a doubt, that if I were to reside in London, the exquisite

zest with which I relished it in occasional visits might go off, and

I might grow tired of it. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you find no man, at all

intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is

tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that

life can afford.'

He said, 'A country gentleman should bring his lady to visit London as

soon as he can, that they may have agreeable topicks for conversation

when they are by themselves.'

We talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the

mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who have a

tendency to melancholy; and I mentioned to him a saying which somebody

had related of an American savage, who, when an European was expatiating

on all the advantages of money, put this question: 'Will it purchase

OCCUPATION?' JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this saying is too refined

for a savage. And, Sir, money WILL purchase occupation; it will purchase

all the conveniences of life; it will purchase variety of company; it

will purchase all sorts of entertainment.'

I talked to him of Forster's Voyage to the South Seas, which pleased

me; but I found he did not like it. 'Sir, (said he,) there is a great

affectation of fine writing in it.' BOSWELL. 'But he carries you along

with him.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he does not carry ME along with him: he

leaves me behind him: or rather, indeed, he sets me before him; for he

makes me turn over many leaves at a time.'

On Sunday, September 21, we went to the church of Ashbourne, which is

one of the largest and most luminous that I have seen in any town of the

same size. I felt great satisfaction in considering that I was supported

in my fondness for solemn publick worship by the general concurrence and

munificence of mankind.

Johnson and Taylor were so different from each other, that I wondered

at their preserving an intimacy. Their having been at school and college

together, might, in some degree, account for this; but Sir Joshua

Reynolds has furnished me with a stronger reason; for Johnson mentioned

to him, that he had been told by Taylor he was to be his heir. I shall

not take upon me to animadvert upon this; but certain it is, that

Johnson paid great attention to Taylor. He now, however, said to me,

'Sir, I love him; but I do not love him more; my regard for him does not

increase. As it is said in the Apocrypha, "his talk is of bullocks:" I

do not suppose he is very fond of my company. His habits are by no means

sufficiently clerical: this he knows that I see; and no man likes to

live under the eye of perpetual disapprobation.'

I have no doubt that a good many sermons were composed for Taylor by

Johnson. At this time I found, upon his table, a part of one which he

had newly begun to write: and Concio pro Tayloro appears in one of his

diaries. When to these circumstances we add the internal evidence from

the power of thinking and style, in the collection which the Reverend

Mr. Hayes has published, with the SIGNIFICANT title of 'Sermons LEFT FOR

PUBLICATION by the Reverend John Taylor, LL.D.,' our conviction will be

complete.

I, however, would not have it thought, that Dr. Taylor, though he could

not write like Johnson, (as, indeed, who could?) did not sometimes

compose sermons as good as those which we generally have from very

respectable divines. He shewed me one with notes on the margin in

Johnson's handwriting; and I was present when he read another to

Johnson, that he might have his opinion of it, and Johnson said it was

'very well.' These, we may be sure, were not Johnson's; for he was above

little arts, or tricks of deception.

I mentioned to Johnson a respectable person of a very strong mind, who

had little of that tenderness which is common to human nature; as an

instance of which, when I suggested to him that he should invite his

son, who had been settled ten years in foreign parts, to come home and

pay him a visit, his answer was, 'No, no, let him mind his business.

JOHNSON. 'I do not agree with him, Sir, in this. Getting money is not

all a man's business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the

business of life.'

In the evening, Johnson, being in very good spirits, entertained us with

several characteristical portraits. I regret that any of them escaped

my retention and diligence. I found, from experience, that to collect

my friend's conversation so as to exhibit it with any degree of its

original flavour, it was necessary to write it down without delay. To

record his sayings, after some distance of time, was like preserving or

pickling long-kept and faded fruits, or other vegetables, which, when in

that state, have little or nothing of their taste when fresh.

I shall present my readers with a series of what I gathered this evening

from the Johnsonian garden.

'Did we not hear so much said of Jack Wilkes, we should think more

highly of his conversation. Jack has great variety of talk, Jack is a

scholar, and Jack has the manners of a gentleman. But after hearing his

name sounded from pole to pole, as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we

are disappointed in his company. He has always been AT ME: but I would

do Jack a kindness, rather than not. The contest is now over.'

'Colley Cibber once consulted me as to one of his birthday Odes, a long

time before it was wanted. I objected very freely to several passages.

Cibber lost patience, and would not read his Ode to an end. When we

had done with criticism, we walked over to Richardson's, the authour of

Clarissa and I wondered to find Richardson displeased that I "did not

treat Cibber with more RESPECT." Now, Sir, to talk of RESPECT for a

PLAYER!' (smiling disdainfully.) BOSWELL. 'There, Sir, you are always

heretical: you never will allow merit to a player.' JOHNSON. 'Merit,

Sir! what merit? Do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?'

BOSWELL. 'No, Sir: but we respect a great player, as a man who can

conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them gracefully.' JOHNSON.

'What, Sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his

leg, and cries "I am Richard the Third"? Nay, Sir, a ballad-singer is

a higher man, for he does two things; he repeats and he sings: there is

both recitation and musick in his performance: the player only recites.'

BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir! you may turn anything into ridicule. I allow,

that a player of farce is not entitled to respect; he does a little

thing: but he who can represent exalted characters, and touch the

noblest passions, has very respectable powers; and mankind have agreed

in admiring great talents for the stage. We must consider, too, that

a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very

rare faculty. WHO can repeat Hamlet's soliloquy, "To be, or not to be,"

as Garrick does it?' JOHNSON. 'Any body may. Jemmy, there (a boy about

eight years old, who was in the room,) will do it as well in a week.'

BOSWELL. 'No, no, Sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting,

and of the value which mankind set upon it, Garrick has got a hundred

thousand pounds.' JOHNSON. 'Is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof

of excellence? That has been done by a scoundrel commissary.'

This was most fallacious reasoning. I was SURE, for once, that I had

the best side of the argument. I boldly maintained the just distinction

between a tragedian and a mere theatrical droll; between those who rouse

our terrour and pity, and those who only make us laugh. 'If (said I,)

Betterton and Foote were to walk into this room, you would respect

Betterton much more than Foote.' JOHNSON. 'If Betterton were to walk

into this room with Foote, Foote would soon drive him out of it. Foote,

Sir, quatenus Foote, has powers superiour to them all.'

On Monday, September 22, when at breakfast, I unguardedly said to Dr.

Johnson, 'I wish I saw you and Mrs. Macaulay together.' He grew very

angry; and, after a pause, while a cloud gathered on his brow, he burst

out, 'No, Sir; you would not see us quarrel, to make you sport. Don't

you know that it is very uncivil to PIT two people against one another?'

Then, checking himself, and wishing to be more gentle, he added, 'I

do not say you should be hanged or drowned for this; but it IS very

uncivil.' Dr. Taylor thought him in the wrong, and spoke to him

privately of it; but I afterwards acknowledged to Johnson that I was to

blame, for I candidly owned, that I meant to express a desire to see a

contest between Mrs. Macaulay and him; but then I knew how the contest

would end; so that I was to see him triumph. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you cannot

be sure how a contest will end; and no man has a right to engage two

people in a dispute by which their passions may be inflamed, and they

may part with bitter resentment against each other. I would sooner keep

company with a man from whom I must guard my pockets, than with a man

who contrives to bring me into a dispute with somebody that he may

hear it. This is the great fault of ------,(naming one of our friends,)

endeavouring to introduce a subject upon which he knows two people

in the company differ.' BOSWELL. 'But he told me, Sir, he does it for

instruction.' JOHNSON. 'Whatever the motive be, Sir, the man who does

so, does very wrong. He has no more right to instruct himself at such

risk, than he has to make two people fight a duel, that he may learn how

to defend himself.'

He found great fault with a gentleman of our acquaintance for keeping

a bad table. 'Sir, (said he,) when a man is invited to dinner, he is

disappointed if he does not get something good. I advised Mrs. Thrale,

who has no card-parties at her house, to give sweet-meats, and such good

things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and she would find

company enough come to her; for every body loves to have things which

please the palate put in their way, without trouble or preparation.'

Such was his attention to the minutiae of life and manners.

Mr. Burke's Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, on the affairs of

America, being mentioned, Johnson censured the composition much, and he

ridiculed the definition of a free government, viz. 'For any practical

purpose, it is what the people think so.'--'I will let the King of

France govern me on those conditions, (said he,) for it is to be

governed just as I please.' And when Dr. Taylor talked of a girl being

sent to a parish workhouse, and asked how much she could be obliged to

work, 'Why, (said Johnson,) as much as is reasonable: and what is that?

as much as SHE THINKS reasonable.'

Dr. Johnson obligingly proposed to carry me to see Islam, a romantick

scene, now belonging to a family of the name of Port, but formerly the

seat of the Congreves. I suppose it is well described in some of the

Tours. Johnson described it distinctly and vividly, at which I could not

but express to him my wonder; because, though my eyes, as he observed,

were better than his, I could not by any means equal him in representing

visible objects. I said, the difference between us in this respect was

as that between a man who has a bad instrument, but plays well on

it, and a man who has a good instrument, on which he can play very

imperfectly.

I recollect a very fine amphitheatre, surrounded with hills covered with

woods, and walks neatly formed along the side of a rocky steep, on

the quarter next the house with recesses under projections of rock,

overshadowed with trees; in one of which recesses, we were told,

Congreve wrote his Old Bachelor. We viewed a remarkable natural

curiosity at Islam; two rivers bursting near each other from the rock,

not from immediate springs, but after having run for many miles under

ground. Plott, in his History of Staffordshire, gives an account of

this curiosity; but Johnson would not believe it, though we had the

attestation of the gardener, who said, he had put in corks, where the

river Manyfold sinks into the ground, and had catched them in a net,

placed before one of the openings where the water bursts out. Indeed,

such subterraneous courses of water are found in various parts of our

globe.

Talking of Dr. Johnson's unwillingness to believe extraordinary things

I ventured to say, 'Sir, you come near Hume's argument against miracles,

"That it is more probable witnesses should lie, or be mistaken,

than that they should happen." JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Hume, taking the

proposition simply, is right. But the Christian revelation is not proved

by the miracles alone, but as connected with prophecies, and with the

doctrines in confirmation of which the miracles were wrought.'

In the evening, a gentleman-farmer, who was on a visit at Dr. Taylor's,

attempted to dispute with Johnson in favour of Mungo Campbell, who shot

Alexander, Earl of Eglintoune, upon his having fallen, when retreating

from his Lordship, who he believed was about to seize his gun, as he

had threatened to do. He said, he should have done just as Campbell did.

JOHNSON. 'Whoever would do as Campbell did, deserves to be hanged; not

that I could, as a juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but

I am glad they found means to convict him.' The gentleman-farmer said,

'A poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and Campbell had THAT

to defend.' Johnson exclaimed, 'A poor man has no honour.' The English

yeoman, not dismayed, proceeded: 'Lord Eglintoune was a damned fool to

run on upon Campbell, after being warned that Campbell would shoot him

if he did.' Johnson, who could not bear any thing like swearing,

angrily replied, 'He was NOT a DAMNED fool: he only thought too well of

Campbell. He did not believe Campbell would be such a DAMNED scoundrel,

as to do so DAMNED a thing.' His emphasis on DAMNED, accompanied with

frowning looks, reproved his opponent's want of decorum in HIS presence.

During this interview at Ashbourne, Johnson seemed to be more uniformly

social, cheerful, and alert, than I had almost ever seen him. He was

prompt on great occasions and on small. Taylor, who praised every thing

of his own to excess; in short, 'whose geese were all swans,' as the

proverb says, expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, which,

he told us, was 'perfectly well shaped.' Johnson, after examining the

animal attentively, thus repressed the vain-glory of our host:--'No,

Sir, he is NOT well shaped; for there is not the quick transition

from the thickness of the fore-part, to the TENUITY--the thin

part--behind,--which a bull-dog ought to have.' This TENUITY was the

only HARD WORD that I heard him use during this interview, and it will

be observed, he instantly put another expression in its place. Taylor

said, a small bull-dog was as good as a large one. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir;

for, in proportion to his size, he has strength: and your argument would

prove, that a good bull-dog may be as small as a mouse.' It was amazing

how he entered with perspicuity and keenness upon every thing that

occurred in conversation. Most men, whom I know, would no more think of

discussing a question about a bull-dog, than of attacking a bull.

I cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my memory concerning

the great subject of this work to be lost. Though a small particular

may appear trifling to some, it will be relished by others; while every

little spark adds something to the general blaze: and to please the

true, candid, warm admirers of Johnson, and in any degree increase the

splendour of his reputation, I bid defiance to the shafts of ridicule,

or even of malignity. Showers of them have been discharged at my Journal

of a Tour to the Hebrides; yet it still sails unhurt along the stream of

time, and, as an attendant upon Johnson,

'Pursues the triumph, and partakes the gale.'

One morning after breakfast, when the sun shone bright, we walked

out together, and 'pored' for some time with placid indolence upon an

artificial water-fall, which Dr. Taylor had made by building a strong

dyke of stone across the river behind the garden. It was now somewhat

obstructed by branches of trees and other rubbish, which had come down

the river, and settled close to it. Johnson, partly from a desire to see

it play more freely, and partly from that inclination to activity which

will animate, at times, the most inert and sluggish mortal, took a long

pole which was lying on a bank, and pushed down several parcels of this

wreck with painful assiduity, while I stood quietly by, wondering to

behold the sage thus curiously employed, and smiling with an humorous

satisfaction each time when he carried his point. He worked till he was

quite out of breath; and having found a large dead cat so heavy that he

could not move it after several efforts, 'Come,' said he, (throwing down

the pole,) 'YOU shall take it now;' which I accordingly did, and being

a fresh man, soon made the cat tumble over the cascade. This may be

laughed at as too trifling to record; but it is a small characteristick

trait in the Flemish picture which I give of my friend, and in which,

therefore I mark the most minute particulars. And let it be remembered,

that Aesop at play is one of the instructive apologues of antiquity.

Talking of Rochester's Poems, he said, he had given them to Mr. Steevens

to castrate for the edition of the poets, to which he was to write

Prefaces. Dr. Taylor (the only time I ever heard him say any thing

witty) observed, that if Rochester had been castrated himself, his

exceptionable poems would not have been written.' I asked if Burnet

had not given a good Life of Rochester. JOHNSON. 'We have a good Death:

there is not much Life.' I asked whether Prior's Poems were to be

printed entire: Johnson said they were. I mentioned Lord Hailes's

censure of Prior, in his Preface to a collection of Sacred Poems, by

various hands, published by him at Edinburgh a great many years ago,

where he mentions, 'those impure tales which will be the eternal

opprobrium of their ingenious authour.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, Lord Hailes has

forgot. There is nothing in Prior that will excite to lewdness. If Lord

Hailes thinks there is, he must be more combustible than other people.'

I instanced the tale of Paulo Purganti and his Wife. JOHNSON. Sir, there

is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed when poor Paulo

was out of pocket. No, Sir, Prior is a lady's book. No lady is ashamed

to have it standing in her library.'

The hypochondriack disorder being mentioned, Dr. Johnson did not think

it so common as I supposed. 'Dr. Taylor (said he,) is the same one day

as another. Burke and Reynolds are the same; Beauclerk, except when

in pain, is the same. I am not so myself; but this I do not mention

commonly.'

Dr. Johnson advised me to-day, to have as many books about me as I

could; that I might read upon any subject upon which I had a desire

for instruction at the time. 'What you read THEN (said he,) you will

remember; but if you have not a book immediately ready, and the subject

moulds in your mind, it is a chance if you again have a desire to study

it.' He added, 'If a man never has an eager desire for instruction, he

should prescribe a task for himself. But it is better when a man reads

from immediate inclination.'

He repeated a good many lines of Horace's Odes, while we were in the

chaise. I remember particularly the Ode Eheu fugaces.

He told me that Bacon was a favourite authour with him; but he had never

read his works till he was compiling the English Dictionary, in which,

he said, I might see Bacon very often quoted. Mr. Seward recollects his

having mentioned, that a Dictionary of the English Language might be

compiled from Bacon's writings alone, and that he had once an intention

of giving an edition of Bacon, at least of his English works, and

writing the Life of that great man. Had he executed this intention,

there can be no doubt that he would have done it in a most masterly

manner.

Wishing to be satisfied what degree of truth there was in a story

which a friend of Johnson's and mine had told me to his disadvantage, I

mentioned it to him in direct terms; and it was to this effect: that

a gentleman who had lived in great intimacy with him, shewn him much

kindness, and even relieved him from a spunging-house, having afterwards

fallen into bad circumstances, was one day, when Johnson was at dinner

with him, seized for debt, and carried to prison; that Johnson sat still

undisturbed, and went on eating and drinking; upon which the gentleman's

sister, who was present, could not suppress her indignation: 'What,

Sir, (said she,) are you so unfeeling, as not even to offer to go to my

brother in his distress; you who have been so much obliged to him?' And

that Johnson answered, 'Madam, I owe him no obligation; what he did for

me he would have done for a dog.'

Johnson assured me, that the story was absolutely false: but like a man

conscious of being in the right, and desirous of completely vindicating

himself from such a charge, he did not arrogantly rest on a mere denial,

and on his general character, but proceeded thus:--'Sir, I was very

intimate with that gentleman, and was once relieved by him from an

arrest; but I never was present when he was arrested, never knew that he

was arrested, and I believe he never was in difficulties after the time

when he relieved me. I loved him much; yet, in talking of his general

character, I may have said, though I do not remember that I ever did say

so, that as his generosity proceeded from no principle, but was a part

of his profusion, he would do for a dog what he would do for a friend:

but I never applied this remark to any particular instance, and

certainly not to his kindness to me. If a profuse man, who does not

value his money, and gives a large sum to a whore, gives half as much,

or an equally large sum to relieve a friend, it cannot be esteemed as

virtue. This was all that I could say of that gentleman; and, if said at

all, it must have been said after his death. Sir, I would have gone to

the world's end to relieve him. The remark about the dog, if made by me,

was such a sally as might escape one when painting a man highly.'

On Tuesday, September 23, Johnson was remarkably cordial to me. It being

necessary for me to return to Scotland soon, I had fixed on the next

day for my setting out, and I felt a tender concern at the thought of

parting with him. He had, at this time, frankly communicated to me many

particulars, which are inserted in this work in their proper places; and

once, when I happened to mention that the expence of my jaunt would come

to much more than I had computed, he said, 'Why, Sir, if the expence

were to be an inconvenience, you would have reason to regret it: but,

if you have had the money to spend, I know not that you could have

purchased as much pleasure with it in any other way.'

I perceived that he pronounced the word heard, as if spelt with a double

e, heerd, instead of sounding it herd, as is most usually done. He said,

his reason was, that if it was pronounced herd, there would be a single

exception from the English pronunciation of the syllable ear, and he

thought it better not to have that exception.

In the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, entertained

themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the fiddle.

Johnson desired to have 'Let ambition fire thy mind,' played over again,

and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me

that he was very insensible to the power of musick. I told him, that it

affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully,

producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetick dejection, so

that I was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that I was

inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. 'Sir, (said he,)

I should never hear it, if it made me such a fool.'

This evening, while some of the tunes of ordinary composition were

played with no great skill, my frame was agitated, and I was conscious

of a generous attachment to Dr. Johnson, as my preceptor and friend,

mixed with an affectionate regret that he was an old man, whom I should

probably lose in a short time. I thought I could defend him at the point

of my sword. My reverence and affection for him were in full glow. I

said to him, 'My dear Sir, we must meet every year, if you don't quarrel

with me.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me,

than I with you. My regard for you is greater almost than I have words

to express; but I do not choose to be always repeating it; write it down

in the first leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again.'

I talked to him of misery being 'the doom of man' in this life, as

displayed in his Vanity of Human Wishes. Yet I observed that things were

done upon the supposition of happiness; grand houses were built, fine

gardens were made, splendid places of publick amusement were contrived,

and crowded with company. JOHNSON. 'Alas, Sir, these are all only

struggles for happiness. When I first entered Ranelagh, it gave an

expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as I never experienced any

where else. But, as Xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and

considered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred

years afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not

one in all that brilliant circle, that was not afraid to go home

and think; but that the thoughts of each individual there, would be

distressing when alone.'

I suggested, that being in love, and flattered with hopes of success;

or having some favourite scheme in view for the next day, might prevent

that wretchedness of which we had been talking. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it

may sometimes be so as you suppose; but my conclusion is in general but

too true.'

While Johnson and I stood in calm conference by ourselves in Dr.

Taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour in a serene autumn night, looking

up to the heavens, I directed the discourse to the subject of a future

state. My friend was in a placid and most benignant frame. 'Sir,

(said he,) I do not imagine that all things will be made clear to

us immediately after death, but that the ways of Providence will be

explained to us very gradually.' He talked to me upon this aweful and

delicate question in a gentle tone, and as if afraid to be decisive.

After supper I accompanied him to his apartment, and at my request he

dictated to me an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming

his liberty, in an action in the Court of Session in Scotland. He had

always been very zealous against slavery in every form, in which I, with

all deference, thought that he discovered 'a zeal without knowledge.'

Upon one occasion, when in company with some very grave men at Oxford,

his toast was, 'Here's to the next insurrection of the negroes in the

West Indies.' His violent prejudice against our West Indian and American

settlers appeared whenever there was an opportunity. Towards the

conclusion of his Taxation no Tyranny, he says, 'how is it that we hear

the loudest YELPS for liberty among the drivers of negroes?'

When I said now to Johnson, that I was afraid I kept him too late up.

'No, Sir, (said he,) I don't care though I sit all night with you.' This

was an animated speech from a man in his sixty-ninth year.

Had I been as attentive not to displease him as I ought to have been,

I know not but this vigil might have been fulfilled; but I unluckily

entered upon the controversy concerning the right of Great-Britain to

tax America, and attempted to argue in favour of our fellow-subjects on

the other side of the Atlantick. I insisted that America might be very

well governed, and made to yield sufficient revenue by the means of

INFLUENCE, as exemplified in Ireland, while the people might be pleased

with the imagination of their participating of the British constitution,

by having a body of representatives, without whose consent money could

not be exacted from them. Johnson could not bear my thus opposing his

avowed opinion, which he had exerted himself with an extreme degree of

heat to enforce; and the violent agitation into which he was thrown,

while answering, or rather reprimanding me, alarmed me so, that I

heartily repented of my having unthinkingly introduced the subject.

I myself, however, grew warm, and the change was great, from the calm

state of philosophical discussion in which we had a little before been

pleasingly employed.

We were fatigued by the contest, which was produced by my want of

caution; and he was not then in the humour to slide into easy and

cheerful talk. It therefore so happened, that we were after an hour or

two very willing to separate and go to bed.

On Wednesday, September 24, I went into Dr. Johnson's room before he got

up, and finding that the storm of the preceding night was quite laid,

I sat down upon his bed-side, and he talked with as much readiness and

good-humour as ever. He recommended to me to plant a considerable part

of a large moorish farm which I had purchased, and he made several

calculations of the expence and profit: for he delighted in exercising

his mind on the science of numbers. He pressed upon me the importance

of planting at the first in a very sufficient manner, quoting the saying

'In bello non licet bis errare:' and adding, 'this is equally true in

planting.'

I spoke with gratitude of Dr. Taylor's hospitality; and, as evidence

that it was not on account of his good table alone that Johnson visited

him often, I mentioned a little anecdote which had escaped my friend's

recollection, and at hearing which repeated, he smiled. One evening,

when I was sitting with him, Frank delivered this message: 'Sir, Dr.

Taylor sends his compliments to you, and begs you will dine with him

to-morrow. He has got a hare.'--'My compliments (said Johnson,) and I'll

dine with him--hare or rabbit.'

After breakfast I departed, and pursued my journey northwards. I took

my post-chaise from the Green Man, a very good inn at Ashbourne, the

mistress of which, a mighty civil gentlewoman, courtseying very low,

presented me with an engraving of the sign of her house; to which she

had subjoined, in her own hand-writing, an address in such singular

simplicity of style, that I have preserved it pasted upon one of the

boards of my original Journal at this time, and shall here insert it for

the amusement of my readers:--

'M. KILLINGLEY's duty waits upon Mr. Boswell, is exceedingly obliged to

him for this favour; whenever he comes this way, hopes for a continuance

of the same. Would Mr. Boswell name the house to his extensive

acquaintance, it would be a singular favour conferr'd on one who has it

not in her power to make any other return but her most grateful thanks,

and sincerest prayers for his happiness in time, and in a blessed

eternity.--Tuesday morn.'

I cannot omit a curious circumstance which occurred at Edensor-inn,

close by Chatsworth, to survey the magnificence of which I had gone a

considerable way out of my road to Scotland. The inn was then kept by

a very jolly landlord, whose name, I think, was Malton. He happened

to mention that 'the celebrated Dr. Johnson had been in his house.' I

inquired WHO this Dr. Johnson was, that I might hear mine host's notion

of him. 'Sir, (said he,) Johnson, the great writer; ODDITY, as they call

him. He's the greatest writer in England; he writes for the ministry; he

has a correspondence abroad, and lets them know what's going on.'

My friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the authenticity of my

relation without any EMBELLISHMENT, as FALSEHOOD or FICTION is too

gently called, laughed a good deal at this representation of himself.

On Wednesday, March 18,* I arrived in London, and was informed by good

Mr. Francis that his master was better, and was gone to Mr. Thrale's at

Streatham, to which place I wrote to him, begging to know when he would

be in town. He was not expected for some time; but next day having

called on Dr. Taylor, in Dean's-yard, Westminster, I found him there,

and was told he had come to town for a few hours. He met me with his

usual kindness, but instantly returned to the writing of something

on which he was employed when I came in, and on which he seemed much

intent. Finding him thus engaged, I made my visit very short.

* 1778.

On Friday, March 20, I found him at his own house, sitting with Mrs.

Williams, and was informed that the room formerly allotted to me was now

appropriated to a charitable purpose; Mrs. Desmoulins, and I think her

daughter, and a Miss Carmichael, being all lodged in it. Such was his

humanity, and such his generosity, that Mrs. Desmoulins herself told me,

he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. Let it be remembered, that this was

above a twelfth part of his pension.

His liberality, indeed, was at all periods of his life very remarkable.

Mr. Howard, of Lichfield, at whose father's house Johnson had in his

early years been kindly received, told me, that when he was a boy at

the Charter-House, his father wrote to him to go and pay a visit to

Mr. Samuel Johnson, which he accordingly did, and found him in an upper

room, of poor appearance. Johnson received him with much courteousness,

and talked a great deal to him, as to a school-boy, of the course of his

education, and other particulars. When he afterwards came to know and

understand the high character of this great man, he recollected his

condescension with wonder. He added, that when he was going away, Mr.

Johnson presented him with half-a-guinea; and this, said Mr. Howard, was

at a time when he probably had not another.

We retired from Mrs. Williams to another room. Tom Davies soon after

joined us. He had now unfortunately failed in his circumstances, and

was much indebted to Dr. Johnson's kindness for obtaining for him many

alleviations of his distress. After he went away, Johnson blamed his

folly in quitting the stage, by which he and his wife got five hundred

pounds a year. I said, I believed it was owing to Churchill's attack

upon him,

'He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.'

JOHNSON. 'I believe so too, Sir. But what a man is he, who is to be

driven from the stage by a line? Another line would have driven him from

his shop.'

He returned next day to Streatham, to Mr. Thrale's; where, as Mr.

Strahan once complained to me, 'he was in a great measure absorbed from

the society of his old friends.' I was kept in London by business, and

wrote to him on the 27th, that a separation from him for a week, when we

were so near, was equal to a separation for a year, when we were at four

hundred miles distance. I went to Streatham on Monday, March 30. Before

he appeared, Mrs. Thrale made a very characteristical remark:--'I do not

know for certain what will please Dr. Johnson: but I know for certain

that it will displease him to praise any thing, even what he likes,

extravagantly.'

At dinner he laughed at querulous declamations against the age, on

account of luxury,--increase of London,--scarcity of provisions,--and

other such topicks. 'Houses (said he,) will be built till rents fall:

and corn is more plentiful now than ever it was.'

I had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me by an old man

who had been a passenger with me in the stage-coach to-day. Mrs. Thrale,

having taken occasion to allude to it in talking to me, called it 'The

story told you by the old WOMAN.'--'Now, Madam, (said I,) give me leave

to catch you in the fact; it was not an old WOMAN, but an old MAN, whom

I mentioned as having told me this.' I presumed to take an opportunity,

in presence of Johnson, of shewing this lively lady how ready she was,

unintentionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narration.

Next morning, while we were at breakfast, Johnson gave a very

earnest recommendation of what he himself practised with the utmost

conscientiousness: I mean a strict attention to truth, even in the most

minute particulars. 'Accustom your children (said he,) constantly to

this; if a thing happened at one window, and they, when relating it,

say that it happened at another, do not let it pass, but instantly check

them; you do not know where deviation from truth will end.' BOSWELL. 'It

may come to the door: and when once an account is at all varied in one

circumstance, it may by degrees be varied so as to be totally different

from what really happened.' Our lively hostess, whose fancy was

impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say, 'Nay,

this is too much. If Mr. Johnson should forbid me to drink tea, I would

comply, as I should feel the restraint only twice a day; but little

variations in narrative must happen a thousand times a day, if one is

not perpetually watching.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam, and you OUGHT to be

perpetually watching. It is more from carelessness about truth than from

intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world.'

He was indeed so much impressed with the prevalence of falsehood,

voluntary or unintentional, that I never knew any person who upon

hearing an extraordinary circumstance told, discovered more of the

incredulus odi. He would say, with a significant look and decisive

tone, 'It is not so. Do not tell this again.' He inculcated upon all

his friends the importance of perpetual vigilance against the slightest

degrees of falsehood; the effect of which, as Sir Joshua Reynolds

observed to me, has been, that all who were of his SCHOOL are

distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they would not

have possessed in the same degree, if they had not been acquainted with

Johnson.

Talking of ghosts, he said, 'It is wonderful that five thousand years

have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is

undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit

of any person appearing after death. All argument is against it; but all

belief is for it.'

He said, 'John Wesley's conversation is good, but he is never at

leisure. He is always obliged to go at a certain hour. This is very

disagreeable to a man who loves to fold his legs and have out his talk,

as I do.'

On Friday, April 3, I dined with him in London, in a company* where

were present several eminent men, whom I shall not name, but distinguish

their parts in the conversation by different letters.

* The Club. Hill identifies E. as Burke and J. as Sir

Joshua Reynolds.--ED.

E. 'We hear prodigious complaints at present of emigration. I am

convinced that emigration makes a country more populous.' J. 'That

sounds very much like a paradox.' E. 'Exportation of men, like

exportation of all other commodities, makes more be produced.' JOHNSON.

'But there would be more people were there not emigration, provided

there were food for more.' E. 'No; leave a few breeders, and you'll have

more people than if there were no emigration.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is

plain there will be more people, if there are more breeders. Thirty cows

in good pasture will produce more calves than ten cows, provided they

have good bulls.' E. 'There are bulls enough in Ireland.' JOHNSON.

(smiling,) 'So, Sir, I should think from your argument.'

E. 'I believe, in any body of men in England, I should have been in the

Minority; I have always been in the Minority.' P. 'The House of

Commons resembles a private company. How seldom is any man convinced by

another's argument; passion and pride rise against it.' R. 'What would

be the consequence, if a Minister, sure of a majority in the House of

Commons, should resolve that there should be no speaking at all upon his

side.' E. 'He must soon go out. That has been tried; but it was found it

would not do.' . . . .

JOHNSON. 'I have been reading Thicknesse's Travels, which I think are

entertaining.' BOSWELL. 'What, Sir, a good book?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir,

to read once; I do not say you are to make a study of it, and digest it;

and I believe it to be a true book in his intention.'

E. 'From the experience which I have had,--and I have had a great

deal,--I have learnt to think BETTER of mankind.' JOHNSON. 'From my

experience I have found them worse in commercial dealings, more disposed

to cheat, than I had any notion of; but more disposed to do one another

good than I had conceived.' J. 'Less just and more beneficent.' JOHNSON.

'And really it is wonderful, considering how much attention is necessary

for men to take care of themselves, and ward off immediate evils which

press upon them, it is wonderful how much they do for others. As it is

said of the greatest liar, that he tells more truth than falsehood;

so it may be said of the worst man, that he does more good than evil.'

BOSWELL. 'Perhaps from experience men may be found HAPPIER than we

suppose.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; the more we enquire, we shall find men the

less happy.'

E. 'I understand the hogshead of claret, which this society was favoured

with by our friend the Dean, is nearly out; I think he should be written

to, to send another of the same kind. Let the request be made with a

happy ambiguity of expression, so that we may have the chance of his

sending IT also as a present.' JOHNSON. 'I am willing to offer my

services as secretary on this occasion.' P. 'As many as are for Dr.

Johnson being secretary hold up your hands.--Carried unanimously.'

BOSWELL. 'He will be our Dictator.' JOHNSON. 'No, the company is

to dictate to me. I am only to write for wine; and I am quite

disinterested, as I drink none; I shall not be suspected of having

forged the application. I am no more than humble SCRIBE.' E. 'Then you

shall PREscribe.' BOSWELL. 'Very well. The first play of words to-day.'

J. 'No, no; the BULLS in Ireland.' JOHNSON. 'Were I your Dictator you

should have no wine. It would be my business cavere ne quid detrimenti

Respublica caperet, and wine is dangerous. Rome was ruined by luxury,'

(smiling.) E. 'If you allow no wine as Dictator, you shall not have me

for your master of horse.'

On Saturday, April 4, I drank tea with Johnson at Dr. Taylor's, where he

had dined.

He was very silent this evening; and read in a variety of books:

suddenly throwing down one, and taking up another.

He talked of going to Streatham that night. TAYLOR. 'You'll be robbed

if you do: or you must shoot a highwayman. Now I would rather be robbed

than do that; I would not shoot a highwayman.' JOHNSON. 'But I would

rather shoot him in the instant when he is attempting to rob me, than

afterwards swear against him at the Old-Bailey, to take away his life,

after he has robbed me. I am surer I am right in the one case than in

the other. I may be mistaken as to the man, when I swear: I cannot be

mistaken, if I shoot him in the act. Besides, we feel less reluctance to

take away a man's life, when we are heated by the injury, than to do it

at a distance of time by an oath, after we have cooled.' BOSWELL. 'So,

Sir, you would rather act from the motive of private passion, than that

of publick advantage.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, when I shoot the highwayman

I act from both.' BOSWELL. 'Very well, very well--There is no catching

him.' JOHNSON. 'At the same time one does not know what to say. For

perhaps one may, a year after, hang himself from uneasiness for having

shot a man. Few minds are fit to be trusted with so great a thing.'

BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you would not shoot him?' JOHNSON. 'But I might be

vexed afterwards for that too.'

Thrale's carriage not having come for him, as he expected, I accompanied

him some part of the way home to his own house. I told him, that I had

talked of him to Mr. Dunning a few days before, and had said, that in

his company we did not so much interchange conversation, as listen to

him; and that Dunning observed, upon this, 'One is always willing to

listen to Dr. Johnson:' to which I answered, 'That is a great deal from

you, Sir.'--'Yes, Sir, (said Johnson,) a great deal indeed. Here is a

man willing to listen, to whom the world is listening all the rest of

the year.' BOSWELL. 'I think, Sir, it is right to tell one man of such

a handsome thing, which has been said of him by another. It tends to

increase benevolence.' JOHNSON. 'Undoubtedly it is right, Sir.'

On Tuesday, April 7, I breakfasted with him at his house. He said,

'nobody was content.' I mentioned to him a respectable person in

Scotland whom he knew; and I asserted, that I really believed he was

always content. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, he is not content with the present;

he has always some new scheme, some new plantation, something which is

future. You know he was not content as a widower; for he married again.'

BOSWELL. 'But he is not restless.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he is only locally at

rest. A chymist is locally at rest; but his mind is hard at work. This

gentleman has done with external exertions. It is too late for him to

engage in distant projects.' BOSWELL. 'He seems to amuse himself quite

well; to have his attention fixed, and his tranquillity preserved by

very small matters. I have tried this; but it would not do with

me.' JOHNSON. (laughing,) 'No, Sir; it must be born with a man to be

contented to take up with little things. Women have a great advantage

that they may take up with little things, without disgracing themselves:

a man cannot, except with fiddling. Had I learnt to fiddle, I should

have done nothing else.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, did you ever play on any

musical instrument?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. I once bought me a flagelet;

but I never made out a tune.' BOSWELL. 'A flagelet, Sir!--so small an

instrument? I should have liked to hear you play on the violoncello.

THAT should have been YOUR instrument.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I might as

well have played on the violoncello as another; but I should have done

nothing else. No, Sir; a man would never undertake great things, could

he be amused with small. I once tried knotting. Dempster's sister

undertook to teach me; but I could not learn it.' BOSWELL. 'So, Sir; it

will be related in pompous narrative, "Once for his amusement he

tried knotting; nor did this Hercules disdain the distaff."' JOHNSON.

'Knitting of stockings is a good amusement. As a freeman of Aberdeen I

should be a knitter of stockings.' He asked me to go down with him and

dine at Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to which I agreed. I had lent him An

Account of Scotland, in 1702, written by a man of various enquiry, an

English chaplain to a regiment stationed there. JOHNSON. 'It is sad

stuff, Sir, miserably written, as books in general then were. There is

now an elegance of style universally diffused. No man now writes so ill

as Martin's Account of the Hebrides is written. A man could not write so

ill, if he should try. Set a merchant's clerk now to write, and he'll do

better.'

He talked to me with serious concern of a certain female friend's

'laxity of narration, and inattention to truth.'--'I am as much vexed

(said he,) at the ease with which she hears it mentioned to her, as at

the thing itself. I told her, "Madam, you are contented to hear every

day said to you, what the highest of mankind have died for, rather than

bear."--You know, Sir, the highest of mankind have died rather than

bear to be told they had uttered a falsehood. Do talk to her of it: I am

weary.'

BOSWELL. 'Was not Dr. John Campbell a very inaccurate man in his

narrative, Sir? He once told me, that he drank thirteen bottles of port

at a sitting.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I do not know that Campbell ever lied

with pen and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing he told

you in conversation: if there was fact mixed with it. However, I loved

Campbell: he was a solid orthodox man: he had a reverence for religion.

Though defective in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did

nothing grossly wrong that I have heard.'

Talking of drinking wine, he said, 'I did not leave off wine, because I

could not bear it; I have drunk three bottles of port without being the

worse for it. University College has witnessed this.' BOSWELL. 'Why,

then, Sir, did you leave it off?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, because it is so

much better for a man to be sure that he is never to be intoxicated,

never to lose the power over himself. I shall not begin to drink wine

again, till I grow old, and want it.' BOSWELL. 'I think, Sir, you once

said to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life.'

JOHNSON. 'It is a diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but I do not say

a diminution of happiness. There is more happiness in being rational.'

BOSWELL. 'But if we could have pleasure always, should not we be

happy? The greatest part of men would compound for pleasure.' JOHNSON.

'Supposing we could have pleasure always, an intellectual man would not

compound for it. The greatest part of men would compound, because the

greatest part of men are gross.'

I mentioned to him that I had become very weary in a company where I

heard not a single intellectual sentence, except that 'a man who had

been settled ten years in Minorca was become a much inferiour man to

what he was in London, because a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow

place.' JOHNSON. 'A man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place, whose

mind is enlarged only because he has lived in a large place: but what is

got by books and thinking is preserved in a narrow place as well as in

a large place. A man cannot know modes of life as well in Minorca as in

London; but he may study mathematicks as well in Minorca.' BOSWELL. 'I

don't know, Sir: if you had remained ten years in the Isle of Col, you

would not have been the man that you now are.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, if I

had been there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five

to thirty-five.' BOSWELL. 'I own, Sir, the spirits which I have in

London make me do every thing with more readiness and vigour. I can talk

twice as much in London as any where else.'

Of Goldsmith he said, 'He was not an agreeable companion, for he talked

always for fame. A man who does so never can be pleasing. The man who

talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you. An eminent

friend of ours is not so agreeable as the variety of his knowledge would

otherwise make him, because he talks partly from ostentation.'

Soon after our arrival at Thrale's, I heard one of the maids calling

eagerly on another, to go to Dr. Johnson. I wondered what this could

mean. I afterwards learnt, that it was to give her a Bible, which he had

brought from London as a present to her.

He was for a considerable time occupied in reading Memoires de

Fontenelle, leaning and swinging upon the low gate into the court,

without his hat.

At dinner, Mrs. Thrale expressed a wish to go and see Scotland. JOHNSON.

'Seeing Scotland, Madam, is only seeing a worse England. It is seeing

the flower gradually fade away to the naked stalk. Seeing the Hebrides,

indeed, is seeing quite a different scene.'

On Thursday, April 9, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with

the Bishop of St. Asaph, (Dr. Shipley,) Mr. Allan Ramsay, Mr. Gibbon,

Mr. Cambridge, and Mr. Langton.

Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson observed, that it was long before

his merit came to be acknowledged. That he once complained to him, in

ludicrous terms of distress, 'Whenever I write any thing, the publick

MAKE A POINT to know nothing about it:' but that his Traveller brought

him into high reputation. LANGTON. 'There is not one bad line in that

poem; not one of Dryden's careless verses. SIR JOSHUA. 'I was glad to

hear Charles Fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the English

language.' LANGTON. 'Why was you glad? You surely had no doubt of

this before.' JOHNSON. 'No; the merit of The Traveller is so well

established, that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his censure

diminish it.' SIR JOSHUA. 'But his friends may suspect they had too

great a partiality for him.' JOHNSON. Nay, Sir, the partiality of his

friends was always against him. It was with difficulty we could give

him a hearing. Goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so

he talked always at random. It seemed to be his intention to blurt out

whatever was in his mind, and see what would become of it. He was angry

too, when catched in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from

falling into another the next minute. I remember Chamier, after talking

with him for some time, said, "Well, I do believe he wrote this poem

himself: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal." Chamier

once asked him, what he meant by slow, the last word in the first line

of The Traveller,

"Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow."

Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say something

without consideration, answered, "Yes." I was sitting by, and said,

"No, Sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that

sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude." Chamier

believed then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me

write it. Goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did

it better than any other man could do. He deserved a place in

Westminster-Abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved

it better. He had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with

knowledge. He transplanted it from one place to another; and it did not

settle in his mind; so he could not tell what was in his own books.'

We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. 'No wise man will go to

live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better

done in the country. For instance: if he is to shut himself up for a

year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than

to an opposite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there

is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in

London, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. A great city is, to

be sure, the school for studying life; and "The proper study of mankind

is man," as Pope observes.' BOSWELL. 'I fancy London is the best place

for society; though I have heard that the very first society of Paris is

still beyond any thing that we have here.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I question

if in Paris such a company as is sitting round this table could be got

together in less than half a year. They talk in France of the felicity

of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the men are

not higher than the women, they know no more than the women do, and they

are not held down in their conversation by the presence of women.'

We talked of old age. Johnson (now in his seventieth year,) said, 'It is

a man's own fault, it is from want of use, if his mind grows torpid in

old age.' The Bishop asked, if an old man does not lose faster than he

gets. JOHNSON. 'I think not, my Lord, if he exerts himself.' One of the

company rashly observed, that he thought it was happy for an old man

that insensibility comes upon him. JOHNSON. (with a noble elevation and

disdain,) 'No, Sir, I should never be happy by being less rational.'

BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. 'Your wish then, Sir, is [Greek text omitted].'

JOHNSON. 'Yes, my Lord.'

This season there was a whimsical fashion in the newspapers of applying

Shakspeare's words to describe living persons well known in the world;

which was done under the title of Modern Characters from Shakspeare;

many of which were admirably adapted. The fancy took so much, that they

were afterwards collected into a pamphlet. Somebody said to Johnson,

across the table, that he had not been in those characters. 'Yes (said

he,) I have. I should have been sorry to be left out.' He then repeated

what had been applied to him,

'I must borrow GARAGANTUA'S mouth.'

Miss Reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, he was obliged

to explain it to her, which had something of an aukward and ludicrous

effect. 'Why, Madam, it has a reference to me, as using big words, which

require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them. Garagantua is the name

of a giant in Rabelais.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, there is another amongst

them for you:

"He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

Or Jove for his power to thunder."'

JOHNSON. 'There is nothing marked in that. No, Sir, Garagantua is the

best.' Notwithstanding this ease and good humour, when I, a little while

afterwards, repeated his sarcasm on Kenrick, which was received with

applause, he asked, 'WHO said that?' and on my suddenly answering,

Garagantua, he looked serious, which was a sufficient indication that he

did not wish it to be kept up.

When we went to the drawing-room there was a rich assemblage. Besides

the company who had been at dinner, there were Mr. Garrick, Mr. Harris

of Salisbury, Dr. Percy, Dr. Burney, Honourable Mrs. Cholmondeley, Miss

Hannah More, &c. &c.

After wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction for some time,

I got into a corner, with Johnson, Garrick, and Harris. GARRICK. (to

Harris,) 'Pray, Sir, have you read Potter's Aeschylus?' HARRIS. 'Yes;

and think it pretty.' GARRICK. (to Johnson,) 'And what think you, Sir,

of it?' JOHNSON. 'I thought what I read of it VERBIAGE: but upon Mr.

Harris's recommendation, I will read a play. (To Mr. Harris,) Don't

prescribe two.' Mr. Harris suggested one, I do not remember which.

JOHNSON. 'We must try its effect as an English poem; that is the way to

judge of the merit of a translation. Translations are, in general, for

people who cannot read the original.' I mentioned the vulgar saying,

that Pope's Homer was not a good representation of the original.

JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that has ever

been produced.' BOSWELL. 'The truth is, it is impossible perfectly to

translate poetry. In a different language it may be the same tune,

but it has not the same tone. Homer plays it on a bassoon; Pope on a

flagelet.' HARRIS. 'I think Heroick poetry is best in blank verse;

yet it appears that rhyme is essential to English poetry, from our

deficiency in metrical quantities. In my opinion, the chief excellence

of our language is numerous prose.' JOHNSON. 'Sir William Temple was

the first writer who gave cadence to English prose. Before his time they

were careless of arrangement, and did not mind whether a sentence ended

with an important word or an insignificant word, or with what part of

speech it was concluded.'

GARRICK. 'Of all the translations that ever were attempted, I think

Elphinston's Martial the most extraordinary. He consulted me upon it,

who am a little of an epigrammatist myself, you know. I told him freely,

"You don't seem to have that turn." I asked him if he was serious; and

finding he was, I advised him against publishing. Why, his translation

is more difficult to understand than the original. I thought him a man

of some talents; but he seems crazy in this.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have

done what I had not courage to do. But he did not ask my advice, and I

did not force it upon him, to make him angry with me.' GARRICK. 'But as

a friend, Sir--.' JOHNSON. 'Why, such a friend as I am with him--no.'

GARRICK. 'But if you see a friend going to tumble over a precipice?'

JOHNSON. 'That is an extravagant case, Sir. You are sure a friend will

thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a precipice; but, in the

other case, I should hurt his vanity, and do him no good. He would not

take my advice. His brother-in-law, Strahan, sent him a subscription

of fifty pounds, and said he would send him fifty more, if he would not

publish.' GARRICK. 'What! eh! is Strahan a good judge of an Epigram? Is

not he rather an OBTUSE man, eh?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he may not be

a judge of an Epigram: but you see he is a judge of what is not an

Epigram.' BOSWELL. 'It is easy for you, Mr. Garrick, to talk to an

authour as you talked to Elphinston; you, who have been so long the

manager of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. You are

an old Judge, who have often pronounced sentence of death. You are a

practiced surgeon, who have often amputated limbs; and though this may

have been for the good of your patients, they cannot like you. Those

who have undergone a dreadful operation, are not very fond of seeing

the operator again.' GARRICK. 'Yes, I know enough of that. There was

a reverend gentleman, (Mr. Hawkins,) who wrote a tragedy, the SIEGE

of something, which I refused.' HARRIS. 'So, the siege was raised.'

JOHNSON. 'Ay, he came to me and complained; and told me, that Garrick

said his play was wrong in the CONCOCTION. Now, what is the concoction

of a play?' (Here Garrick started, and twisted himself, and seemed

sorely vexed; for Johnson told me, he believed the story was true.)

GARRICK. 'I--I--I--said FIRST concoction.' JOHNSON. (smiling,) 'Well,

he left out FIRST. And Rich, he said, refused him IN FALSE ENGLISH:

he could shew it under his hand.' GARRICK. 'He wrote to me in violent

wrath, for having refused his play: "Sir, this is growing a very serious

and terrible affair. I am resolved to publish my play. I will appeal

to the world; and how will your judgement appear?" I answered, "Sir,

notwithstanding all the seriousness, and all the terrours, I have no

objection to your publishing your play; and as you live at a great

distance, (Devonshire, I believe,) if you will send it to me, I will

convey it to the press." I never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!'

On Friday, April 10, I found Johnson at home in the morning. We resumed

the conversation of yesterday. He put me in mind of some of it which

had escaped my memory, and enabled me to record it more perfectly than

I otherwise could have done. He was much pleased with my paying so

great attention to his recommendation in 1763, the period when our

acquaintance began, that I should keep a journal; and I could perceive

he was secretly pleased to find so much of the fruit of his mind

preserved; and as he had been used to imagine and say that he always

laboured when he said a good thing--it delighted him, on a review, to

find that his conversation teemed with point and imagery.

I said to him, 'You were yesterday, Sir, in remarkably good humour:

but there was nothing to offend you, nothing to produce irritation

or violence. There was no bold offender. There was not one capital

conviction. It was a maiden assize. You had on your white gloves.'

He found fault with our friend Langton for having been too silent. 'Sir,

(said I,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up Sir Joshua

for being glad that Charles Fox had praised Goldsmith's Traveller, and

you joined him.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knocked Fox on the head, without

ceremony. Reynolds is too much under Fox and Burke at present. He is

under the Fox star and the Irish constellation. He is always under some

planet.' BOSWELL. 'There is no Fox star.' JOHNSON. 'But there is a dog

star.' BOSWELL. 'They say, indeed, a fox and a dog are the same animal.'

We dined together with Mr. Scott (now Sir William Scott his Majesty's

Advocate General,) at his chambers in the Temple, nobody else there. The

company being small, Johnson was not in such spirits as he had been the

preceding day, and for a considerable time little was said.

Talking of fame, for which there is so great a desire, I observed how

little there is of it in reality, compared with the other objects of

human attention. 'Let every man recollect, and he will be sensible

how small a part of his time is employed in talking or thinking of

Shakspeare, Voltaire, or any of the most celebrated men that have ever

lived, or are now supposed to occupy the attention and admiration of the

world. Let this be extracted and compressed; into what a narrow space

will it go!' I then slily introduced Mr. Garrick's fame, and his

assuming the airs of a great man. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is wonderful how

LITTLE Garrick assumes. No, Sir, Garrick fortunam reverenter habet.

Consider, Sir: celebrated men, such as you have mentioned, have had

their applause at a distance; but Garrick had it dashed in his face,

sounded in his ears, and went home every night with the plaudits of a

thousand in his CRANIUM. Then, Sir, Garrick did not FIND, but MADE his

way to the tables, the levees, and almost the bed-chambers of the great.

Then, Sir, Garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from

fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his

talents, were constantly submissive to him. And here is a man who has

advanced the dignity of his profession. Garrick has made a player a

higher character.' SCOTT. 'And he is a very sprightly writer too.'

JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own

acquisition. If all this had happened to me, I should have had a couple

of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down every body

that stood in the way. Consider, if all this had happened to Cibber

or Quin, they'd have jumped over the moon--Yet Garrick speaks to US.'

(smiling.) BOSWELL. 'And Garrick is a very good man, a charitable man.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, a liberal man. He has given away more money than any man

in England. There may be a little vanity mixed; but he has shewn, that

money is not his first object.' BOSWELL. 'Yet Foote used to say of

him, that he walked out with an intention to do a generous action; but,

turning the corner of a street, he met with the ghost of a half-penny,

which frightened him.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that is very true, too; for

I never knew a man of whom it could be said with less certainty to-day,

what he will do to-morrow, than Garrick; it depends so much on his

humour at the time.' SCOTT. 'I am glad to hear of his liberality. He has

been represented as very saving.' JOHNSON. 'With his domestick saving we

have nothing to do. I remember drinking tea with him long ago, when Peg

Woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for making it too strong.*

He had then begun to feel money in his purse, and did not know when he

should have enough of it.'

* When Johnson told this little anecdote to Sir Joshua

Reynolds, he mentioned a circumstance which he omitted

to-day:--'Why, (said Garrick,) it is as red as blood.'

--BOSWELL

We talked of war. JOHNSON. 'Every man thinks meanly of himself for

not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.' BOSWELL. 'Lord

Mansfield does not.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, if Lord Mansfield were in a company

of General Officers and Admirals who have been in service, he would

shrink; he'd wish to creep under the table.' BOSWELL. 'No; he'd think he

could TRY them all.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, if he could catch them: but they'd

try him much sooner. No, Sir; were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth of

Sweden both present in any company, and Socrates to say, "Follow me,

and hear a lecture on philosophy;" and Charles, laying his hand on

his sword, to say, "Follow me, and dethrone the Czar;" a man would be

ashamed to follow Socrates. Sir, the impression is universal; yet it is

strange.'

He talked of Mr. Charles Fox, of whose abilities he thought highly, but

observed, that he did not talk much at our CLUB. I have heard Mr.

Gibbon remark, 'that Mr. Fox could not be afraid of Dr. Johnson; yet he

certainly was very shy of saying any thing in Dr. Johnson's presence.'

He expressed great indignation at the imposture of the Cock-lane Ghost,

and related, with much satisfaction, how he had assisted in detecting

the cheat, and had published an account of it in the news-papers. Upon

this subject I incautiously offended him, by pressing him with too many

questions, and he shewed his displeasure. I apologised, saying that 'I

asked questions in order to be instructed and entertained; I repaired

eagerly to the fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the

moment he put a lock upon the well, I desisted.'--'But, Sir, (said he),

that is forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to

rate me. 'Nay, Sir, (said I,) when you have put a lock upon the well,

so that I can no longer drink, do not make the fountain of your wit play

upon me and wet me.'

He sometimes could not bear being teazed with questions. I was once

present when a gentleman asked so many as, 'What did you do, Sir?' 'What

did you say, Sir?' that he at last grew enraged, and said, 'I will not

be put to the QUESTION. Don't you consider, Sir, that these are not the

manners of a gentleman? I will not be baited with WHAT, and WHY; what

is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail

bushy?' The gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance, said,

'Why, Sir, you are so good, that I venture to trouble you.' Johnson.

'Sir, my being so GOOD is no reason why you should be so ILL.'

He talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into distant

countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that an acquisition

of dignity of character was derived from it. He expressed a particular

enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of China. I catched it for

the moment, and said I really believed I should go and see the wall of

China had I not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 'Sir,

(said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of importance in

raising your children to eminence. There would be a lustre reflected

upon them from your spirit and curiosity. They would be at all times

regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of

China. I am serious, Sir.'

When we had left Mr. Scott's, he said 'Will you go home with me?' 'Sir,

(said I,) it is late; but I'll go with you for three minutes.' JOHNSON.

'Or four.' We went to Mrs. Williams's room, where we found Mr. Allen

the printer, who was the landlord of his house in Bolt-court, a worthy,

obliging man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceedingly

amusing, though he was of a very diminutive size, he used, even in

Johnson's presence, to imitate the stately periods and slow and solemn

utterance of the great man.--I this evening boasted, that although I

did not write what is called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated

characters devised for the purpose, I had a method of my own of writing

half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet to keep the

substance and language of any discourse which I had heard so much in

view, that I could give it very completely soon after I had taken it

down.

On Sunday, April 12, I found him at home before dinner. He and I, and

Mrs. Williams, went to dine with the Reverend Dr. Percy.

And here I shall record a scene of too much heat between Dr. Johnson

and Dr. Percy, which I should have suppressed, were it not that it gave

occasion to display the truely tender and benevolent heart of Johnson,

who, as soon as he found a friend was at all hurt by any thing which

he had 'said in his wrath,' was not only prompt and desirous to be

reconciled, but exerted himself to make ample reparation.

Books of Travels having been mentioned, Johnson praised Pennant very

highly, as he did at Dunvegan, in the Isle of Sky. Dr. Percy, knowing

himself to be the heir male of the ancient Percies, and having

the warmest and most dutiful attachment to the noble House of

Northumberland, could not sit quietly and hear a man praised, who

had spoken disrespectfully of Alnwick-Castle and the Duke's pleasure

grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels. He therefore

opposed Johnson eagerly. JOHNSON. 'Pennant in what he has said of

Alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you very angry.'

PERCY. 'He has said the garden is TRIM, which is representing it like a

citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of

fine turf and gravel walks.' JOHNSON. 'According to your own account,

Sir, Pennant is right. It IS trim. Here is grass cut close, and gravel

rolled smooth. Is not that trim? The extent is nothing against that; a

mile may be as trim as a square yard. Your extent puts me in mind of the

citizen's enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef, and two puddings.

There is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the ground,

no trees.' PERCY. 'He pretends to give the natural history of

Northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immense number of trees

planted there of late.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, has nothing to do with

the NATURAL history; that is CIVIL history. A man who gives the natural

history of the oak, is not to tell how many oaks have been planted in

this place or that. A man who gives the natural history of the cow, is

not to tell how many cows are milked at Islington. The animal is the

same, whether milked in the Park or at Islington.' PERCY. 'Pennant does

not describe well; a carrier who goes along the side of Loch-lomond

would describe it better.' JOHNSON. 'I think he describes very well.'

PERCY. 'I travelled after him.' JOHNSON. 'And I travelled after him.'

PERCY. 'But, my good friend, you are short-sighted, and do not see so

well as I do.' I wondered at Dr. Percy's venturing thus. Dr. Johnson

said nothing at the time; but inflammable particles were collecting for

a cloud to burst. In a little while Dr. Percy said something more in

disparagement of Pennant. JOHNSON. (pointedly,) 'This is the

resentment of a narrow mind, because he did not find every thing in

Northumberland.' PERCY. (feeling the stroke,) 'Sir, you may be as rude

as you please.' JOHNSON. 'Hold, Sir! Don't talk of rudeness; remember,

Sir, you told me (puffing hard with passion struggling for a vent,) I

was shortsighted. We have done with civility. We are to be as rude as

we please.' PERCY. 'Upon my honour, Sir, I did not mean to be uncivil.'

JOHNSON. 'I cannot say so, Sir; for I DID mean to be uncivil, thinking

YOU had been uncivil.' Dr. Percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him

by the hand, assured him affectionately that his meaning had been

misunderstood; upon which a reconciliation instantly took place.

JOHNSON. 'My dear Sir, I am willing you shall HANG Pennant.' PERCY.

(resuming the former subject,) 'Pennant complains that the helmet is not

hung out to invite to the hall of hospitality. Now I never heard that it

was a custom to hang out a HELMET.' JOHNSON. 'Hang him up, hang him up.'

BOSWELL. (humouring the joke,) 'Hang out his skull instead of a helmet,

and you may drink ale out of it in your hall of Odin, as he is your

enemy; that will be truly ancient. THERE will be Northern Antiquities.'

JOHNSON. 'He's a WHIG, Sir; a SAD DOG. (smiling at his own violent

expressions, merely for political difference of opinion.) But he's the

best traveller I ever read; he observes more things than any one else

does.'

On Monday, April 13, I dined with Johnson at Mr. Langton's, where were

Dr. Porteus, then Bishop of Chester, now of London, and Dr. Stinton. He

was at first in a very silent mood. Before dinner he said nothing but

'Pretty baby,' to one of the children. Langton said very well to me

afterwards, that he could repeat Johnson's conversation before dinner,

as Johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of The

Natural History of Iceland, from the Danish of Horrebow, the whole of

which was exactly thus:--

'CHAP. LXXII. Concerning snakes.

'There are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole island.'

Mr. Topham Beauclerk came in the evening, and he and Dr. Johnson and I

staid to supper. It was mentioned that Dr. Dodd had once wished to be a

member of THE LITERARY CLUB. JOHNSON. 'I should be sorry if any of

our Club were hanged. I will not say but some of them deserve it.'

BEAUCLERK. (supposing this to be aimed at persons for whom he had at

that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did not last long,) was

irritated, and eagerly said, 'You, Sir, have a friend, (naming him) who

deserves to be hanged; for he speaks behind their backs against

those with whom he lives on the best terms, and attacks them in the

newspapers. HE certainly ought to be KICKED.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we all do

this in some degree, "Veniam petimus damusque vicissim." To be sure it

may be done so much, that a man may deserve to be kicked.' BEAUCLERK.

'He is very malignant.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he is not malignant. He is

mischievous, if you will. He would do no man an essential injury; he

may, indeed, love to make sport of people by vexing their vanity. I,

however, once knew an old gentleman who was absolutely malignant.

He really wished evil to others, and rejoiced at it.' BOSWELL. 'The

gentleman, Mr. Beauclerk, against whom you are so violent, is, I know,

a man of good principles.' BEAUCLERK. 'Then he does not wear them out in

practice.'

Dr. Johnson, who, as I have observed before, delighted in discrimination

of character, and having a masterly knowledge of human nature, was

willing to take men as they are, imperfect and with a mixture of good

and bad qualities, I suppose though he had said enough in defence of his

friend, of whose merits, notwithstanding his exceptional points, he had

a just value; and added no more on the subject.

On Wednesday, April 15, I dined with Dr. Johnson at Mr. Dilly's, and

was in high spirits, for I had been a good part of the morning with

Mr. Orme, the able and eloquent historian of Hindostan, who expressed a

great admiration of Johnson. 'I do not care (said he,) on what subject

Johnson talks; but I love better to hear him talk than any body. He

either gives you new thoughts, or a new colouring. It is a shame to the

nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. Had I been George

the Third, and thought as he did about America, I would have given

Johnson three hundred a year for his Taxation no Tyranny alone.' I

repeated this, and Johnson was much pleased with such praise from such a

man as Orme.

At Mr. Dilly's to-day were Mrs. Knowles, the ingenious Quaker lady, Miss

Seward, the poetess of Lichfield, the Reverend Dr. Mayo, and the Rev.

Mr. Beresford, Tutor to the Duke of Bedford. Before dinner Dr. Johnson

seized upon Mr. Charles Sheridan's Account of the late Revolution in

Sweden, and seemed to read it ravenously, as if he devoured it, which

was to all appearance his method of studying. 'He knows how to read

better than any one (said Mrs. Knowles;) he gets at the substance of a

book directly; he tears out the heart of it.' He kept it wrapt up in the

tablecloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to have

one entertainment in readiness when he should have finished another;

resembling (if I may use so coarse a simile) a dog who holds a bone in

his paws in reserve, while he eats something else which has been thrown

to him.

The subject of cookery having been very naturally introduced at a table

where Johnson, who boasted of the niceness of his palate, owned that 'he

always found a good dinner,' he said, 'I could write a better book

of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should be a book upon

philosophical principles. Pharmacy is now made much more simple. Cookery

may be made so too. A prescription which is now compounded of five

ingredients, had formerly fifty in it. So in cookery, if the nature of

the ingredients be well known, much fewer will do. Then as you cannot

make bad meat good, I would tell what is the best butcher's meat,

the best beef, the best pieces; how to choose young fowls; the proper

seasons of different vegetables; and then how to roast and boil, and

compound.' DILLY. 'Mrs. Glasse's Cookery, which is the best, was written

by Dr. Hill. Half the TRADE know this.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir. This shews

how much better the subject of cookery may be treated by a philosopher.

I doubt if the book be written by Dr. Hill; for, in Mrs. Glasse's

Cookery, which I have looked into, salt-petre and sal-prunella

are spoken of as different substances whereas sal-prunella is only

salt-petre burnt on charcoal; and Hill could not be ignorant of this.

However, as the greatest part of such a book is made by transcription,

this mistake may have been carelessly adopted. But you shall see what

a Book of Cookery I shall make! I shall agree with Mr. Dilly for the

copy-right.' Miss SEWARD. 'That would be Hercules with the distaff

indeed.' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. Women can spin very well; but they cannot

make a good book of Cookery.'

Mrs. Knowles affected to complain that men had much more liberty allowed

them than women. JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, women have all the liberty they

should wish to have. We have all the labour and the danger, and

the women all the advantage. We go to sea, we build houses, we do

everything, in short, to pay our court to the women.' MRS. KNOWLES.

'The Doctor reasons very wittily, but not convincingly. Now, take the

instance of building; the mason's wife, if she is ever seen in liquor,

is ruined; the mason may get himself drunk as often as he pleases, with

little loss of character; nay, may let his wife and children starve.'

JOHNSON. 'Madam, you must consider, if the mason does get himself drunk,

and let his wife and children starve, the parish will oblige him to find

security for their maintenance. We have different modes of restraining

evil. Stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound for

beasts. If we require more perfection from women than from ourselves,

it is doing them honour. And women have not the same temptations that

we have: they may always live in virtuous company; men must mix in the

world indiscriminately. If a woman has no inclination to do what is

wrong being secured from it is no restraint to her. I am at liberty to

walk into the Thames; but if I were to try it, my friends would restrain

me in Bedlam, and I should be obliged to them.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Still,

Doctor, I cannot help thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is

allowed to men than to women. It gives a superiority to men, to which I

do not see how they are entitled.' JOHNSON. 'It is plain, Madam, one or

other must have the superiority. As Shakspeare says, "If two men ride

on a horse, one must ride behind."' DILLY. 'I suppose, Sir, Mrs. Knowles

would have them to ride in panniers, one on each side.' JOHNSON. 'Then,

Sir, the horse would throw them both.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Well, I hope that

in another world the sexes will be equal.' BOSWELL. 'That is being too

ambitious, Madam. WE might as well desire to be equal with the angels.

We shall all, I hope, be happy in a future state, but we must not

expect to be all happy in the same degree. It is enough if we be happy

according to our several capacities. A worthy carman will get to heaven

as well as Sir Isaac Newton. Yet, though equally good, they will not

have the same degrees of happiness.' JOHNSON. 'Probably not.'