Dr. Mayo having asked Johnson's opinion of Soame Jenyns's View of the

Internal Evidence of the Christian Religion;--JOHNSON. 'I think it

a pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there seems to be an

affectation of ease and carelessness, as if it were not suitable to his

character to be very serious about the matter.' BOSWELL. 'He may have

intended this to introduce his book the better among genteel people,

who might be unwilling to read too grave a treatise. There is a general

levity in the age. We have physicians now with bag-wigs; may we not have

airy divines, at least somewhat less solemn in their appearance than

they used to be?' JOHNSON. 'Jenyns might mean as you say.' BOSWELL. 'YOU

should like his book, Mrs. Knowles, as it maintains, as you FRIENDS do,

that courage is not a Christian virtue.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Yes, indeed, I

like him there; but I cannot agree with him, that friendship is not a

Christian virtue.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, strictly speaking, he is right.

All friendship is preferring the interest of a friend, to the neglect,

or, perhaps, against the interest of others; so that an old Greek

said, "He that has FRIENDS has NO FRIEND." Now Christianity recommends

universal benevolence, to consider all men as our brethren, which

is contrary to the virtue of friendship, as described by the ancient

philosophers. Surely, Madam, your sect must approve of this; for, you

call all men FRIENDS.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'We are commanded to do good to

all men, "but especially to them who are of the household of Faith."'

JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam. The household of Faith is wide enough.' MRS.

KNOWLES. 'But, Doctor, our Saviour had twelve Apostles, yet there was

ONE whom he LOVED. John was called "the disciple whom JESUS loved."'

JOHNSON. (with eyes sparkling benignantly,) 'Very well, indeed, Madam.

You have said very well.' BOSWELL. 'A fine application. Pray, Sir, had

you ever thought of it?' JOHNSON. 'I had not, Sir.'

From this pleasing subject, he, I know not how or why, made a sudden

transition to one upon which he was a violent aggressor; for he said, 'I

am willing to love all mankind, EXCEPT AN AMERICAN:' and his inflammable

corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and

slaughter;' calling them, Rascals--Robbers--Pirates;' and exclaiming,

he'd 'burn and destroy them.' Miss Seward, looking to him with mild but

steady astonishment, said, 'Sir, this is an instance that we are always

most violent against those whom we have injured.' He was irritated

still more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another

tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the

Atlantick. During this tempest I sat in great uneasiness, lamenting

his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I diverted his attention to other

topicks.

Talking of Miss ------, a literary lady, he said, 'I was obliged to

speak to Miss Reynolds, to let her know that I desired she would not

flatter me so much.' Somebody now observed, 'She flatters Garrick.'

JOHNSON. 'She is in the right to flatter Garrick. She is in the right

for two reasons; first, because she has the world with her, who have

been praising Garrick these thirty years; and secondly, because she is

rewarded for it by Garrick. Why should she flatter ME? I can do nothing

for her. Let her carry her praise to a better market. (Then turning to

Mrs. Knowles.) You, Madam, have been flattering me all the evening; I

wish you would give Boswell a little now. If you knew his merit as well

as I do, you would say a great deal; he is the best travelling companion

in the world.'

Somebody mentioned the Reverend Mr. Mason's prosecution of Mr. Murray,

the bookseller, for having inserted in a collection of Gray's Poems,

only fifty lines, of which Mr. Mason had still the exclusive property,

under the statute of Queen Anne; and that Mr. Mason had persevered,

notwithstanding his being requested to name his own terms of

compensation. Johnson signified his displeasure at Mr. Mason's conduct

very strongly; but added, by way of shewing that he was not surprized at

it, 'Mason's a Whig.' MRS. KNOWLES. (not hearing distinctly,) 'What! a

Prig, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Worse, Madam; a Whig! But he is both.'

Of John Wesley, he said, 'He can talk well on any subject.' BOSWELL.

'Pray, Sir, what has he made of his story of a ghost?' JOHNSON. 'Why,

Sir, he believes it; but not on sufficient authority. He did not take

time enough to examine the girl. It was at Newcastle, where the ghost

was said to have appeared to a young woman several times, mentioning

something about the right to an old house, advising application to be

made to an attorney, which was done; and, at the same time, saying the

attorneys would do nothing, which proved to be the fact. "This (says

John,) is a proof that a ghost knows our thoughts." Now (laughing,) it

is not necessary to know our thoughts, to tell that an attorney will

sometimes do nothing. Charles Wesley, who is a more stationary man, does

not believe the story. I am sorry that John did not take more pains to

inquire into the evidence for it.' MISS SEWARD, (with an incredulous

smile,) 'What, Sir! about a ghost?' JOHNSON. (with solemn vehemence,)

'Yes, Madam: this is a question which, after five thousand years, is

yet undecided; a question, whether in theology or philosophy, one of the

most important that can come before the human understanding.'

Mrs. Knowles mentioned, as a proselyte to Quakerism, Miss ------,

a young lady well known to Dr. Johnson, for whom he had shewn much

affection; while she ever had, and still retained, a great respect for

him. Mrs. Knowles at the same time took an opportunity of letting him

know 'that the amiable young creature was sorry at finding that he was

offended at her leaving the Church of England and embracing a simpler

faith;' and, in the gentlest and most persuasive manner, solicited his

kind indulgence for what was sincerely a matter of conscience. JOHNSON.

(frowning very angrily,) 'Madam, she is an odious wench. She could not

have any proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion,

which is the most important of all subjects, and should be studied with

all care, and with all the helps we can get. She knew no more of the

Church which she left, and that which she embraced, than she did of the

difference between the Copernican and Ptolemaick systems.' MRS. KNOWLES.

'She had the New Testament before her.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, she could not

understand the New Testament, the most difficult book in the world, for

which the study of a life is required.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'It is clear as to

essentials.' JOHNSON. 'But not as to controversial points. The heathens

were easily converted, because they had nothing to give up; but we ought

not, without very strong conviction indeed, to desert the religion

in which we have been educated. That is the religion given you, the

religion in which it may be said Providence has placed you. If you

live conscientiously in that religion, you may be safe. But errour is

dangerous indeed, if you err when you choose a religion for yourself.'

MRS. KNOWLES. 'Must we then go by implicit faith?' JOHNSON. 'Why,

Madam, the greatest part of our knowledge is implicit faith; and as to

religion, have we heard all that a disciple of Confucius, all that a

Mahometan, can say for himself?' He then rose again into passion, and

attacked the young proselyte in the severest terms of reproach, so that

both the ladies seemed to be much shocked.

We remained together till it was pretty late. Notwithstanding occasional

explosions of violence, we were all delighted upon the whole with

Johnson. I compared him at this time to a warm West-Indian climate,

where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage,

luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder,

lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree.

April 17, being Good Friday, I waited on Johnson, as usual. I observed

at breakfast that although it was a part of his abstemious discipline

on this most solemn fast, to take no milk in his tea, yet when Mrs.

Desmoulins inadvertently poured it in, he did not reject it. I talked of

the strange indecision of mind, and imbecility in the common occurrences

of life, which we may observe in some people. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I am

in the habit of getting others to do things for me.' BOSWELL. 'What,

Sir! have you that weakness?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I always think

afterwards I should have done better for myself.'

I expressed some inclination to publish an account of my Travels

upon the continent of Europe, for which I had a variety of materials

collected. JOHNSON. 'I do not say, Sir, you may not publish your

travels; but I give you my opinion, that you would lessen yourself

by it. What can you tell of countries so well known as those upon the

continent of Europe, which you have visited?' BOSWELL. 'But I can

give an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, anecdotes, jeux

d'esprit, and remarks, so as to make very pleasant reading.' JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, most modern travellers in Europe who have published their

travels, have been laughed at: I would not have you added to the number.

The world is now not contented to be merely entertained by a traveller's

narrative; they want to learn something. Now some of my friends asked

me, why I did not give some account of my travels in France. The reason

is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of France than I had. YOU

might have liked my travels in France, and THE CLUB might have liked

them; but, upon the whole, there would have been more ridicule than good

produced by them.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot agree with you, Sir. People would

like to read what you say of any thing. Suppose a face has been painted

by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done by Sir Joshua.'

JOHNSON. 'True, Sir, but Sir Joshua cannot paint a face when he has

not time to look on it.' BOSWELL. 'Sir, a sketch of any sort by him is

valuable. And, Sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my voice,

and shaking my head,) you SHOULD have given us your travels in France. I

am SURE I am right, and THERE'S AN END ON'T.'

I said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend Dempster had

observed in his letter to me upon the subject, that a great part of what

was in his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland had been in his

mind before he left London. JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, the topicks were;

and books of travels will be good in proportion to what a man has

previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe; his power of

contrasting one mode of life with another. As the Spanish proverb says,

"He, who would bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry the

wealth of the Indies with him." So it is in travelling; a man must carry

knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' BOSWELL. 'The

proverb, I suppose, Sir, means, he must carry a large stock with him to

trade with.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.'

It was a delightful day: as we walked to St. Clement's church, I again

remarked that Fleet-street was the most cheerful scene in the world.

'Fleet-street (said I,) is in my mind more delightful than Tempe.'

JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir; but let it be compared with Mull.'

There was a very numerous congregation to-day at St. Clement's church,

which Dr. Johnson said he observed with pleasure.

And now I am to give a pretty full account of one of the most curious

incidents in Johnson's life, of which he himself has made the following

minute on this day: 'In my return from church, I was accosted by

Edwards, an old fellow-collegian, who had not seen me since 1729. He

knew me, and asked if I remembered one Edwards; I did not at first

recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and

told him a conversation that had passed at an ale-house between us. My

purpose is to continue our acquaintance.'

It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. Edwards, who was

a decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls,

accosted Johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while

Johnson returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a

stranger. But as soon as Edwards had brought to his recollection their

having been at Pembroke-College together nine-and-forty years ago, he

seemed much pleased, asked where he lived, and said he should be glad to

see him in Bolt-court. EDWARDS. 'Ah, Sir! we are old men now.' JOHNSON.

(who never liked to think of being old,) 'Don't let us discourage one

another.' EDWARDS. 'Why, Doctor, you look stout and hearty, I am happy

to see you so; for the news-papers told us you were very ill.' JOHNSON.

'Ay, Sir, they are always telling lies of US OLD FELLOWS.'

Wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversation as that

between two fellow-collegians, who had lived forty years in London

without ever having chanced to meet, I whispered to Mr. Edwards that

Dr. Johnson was going home, and that he had better accompany him now.

So Edwards walked along with us, I eagerly assisting to keep up the

conversation. Mr. Edwards informed Dr. Johnson that he had practised

long as a solicitor in Chancery, but that he now lived in the

country upon a little farm, about sixty acres, just by Stevenage in

Hertfordshire, and that he came to London (to Barnard's Inn, No. 6),

generally twice a week. Johnson appearing to me in a reverie, Mr.

Edwards addressed himself to me, and expatiated on the pleasure of

living in the country. BOSWELL. 'I have no notion of this, Sir. What you

have to entertain you, is, I think, exhausted in half an hour.' EDWARDS.

'What? don't you love to have hope realized? I see my grass, and my

corn, and my trees growing. Now, for instance, I am curious to see if

this frost has not nipped my fruit-trees.' JOHNSON. (who we did not

imagine was attending,) 'You find, Sir, you have fears as well as

hopes.'--So well did he see the whole, when another saw but the half of

a subject.

When we got to Dr. Johnson's house, and were seated in his library, the

dialogue went on admirably. EDWARDS. 'Sir, I remember you would not let

us say PRODIGIOUS at College. For even then, Sir, (turning to me,)

he was delicate in language, and we all feared him.'* JOHNSON. (to

Edwards,) 'From your having practised the law long, Sir, I presume you

must be rich.' EDWARDS. 'No, Sir; I got a good deal of money; but I had

a number of poor relations to whom I gave a great part of it.' JOHNSON.

'Sir, you have been rich in the most valuable sense of the word.'

EDWARDS. 'But I shall not die rich.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, sure, Sir, it is

better to LIVE rich than to DIE rich.' EDWARDS. 'I wish I had continued

at College.' JOHNSON. 'Why do you wish that, Sir?' EDWARDS. 'Because I

think I should have had a much easier life than mine has been. I should

have been a parson, and had a good living, like Bloxam and several

others, and lived comfortably.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the life of a parson,

of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. I have always considered a

clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able to maintain.

I would rather have Chancery suits upon my hands than the cure of souls.

No, Sir, I do not envy a clergyman's life as an easy life, nor do I envy

the clergyman who makes it an easy life.' Here taking himself up all

of a sudden, he exclaimed, 'O! Mr. Edwards! I'll convince you that I

recollect you. Do you remember our drinking together at an alehouse

near Pembroke gate? At that time, you told me of the Eton boy, who, when

verses on our SAVIOUR'S turning water into wine were prescribed as an

exercise, brought up a single line, which was highly admired,--

"Vidit et erubuit lympha pudica DEUM,"

and I told you of another fine line in Camden's Remains, an eulogy

upon one of our Kings, who was succeeded by his son, a prince of equal

merit:--

"Mira cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est."'

* Johnson said to me afterwards, 'Sir, they respected me for

my literature: and yet it was not great but by comparison.

Sir, it is amazing how little literature there is in the

world.'--BOSWELL

EDWARDS. 'You are a philosopher, Dr. Johnson. I have tried too in my

time to be a philosopher; but, I don't know how, cheerfulness was

always breaking in.'--Mr. Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Courtenay, Mr.

Malone, and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom I have mentioned this,

have thought it an exquisite trait of character. The truth is, that

philosophy, like religion, is too generally supposed to be hard and

severe, at least so grave as to exclude all gaiety.

EDWARDS. 'I have been twice married, Doctor. You, I suppose, have never

known what it was to have a wife.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have known what it

was to have a wife, and (in a solemn, tender, faultering tone) I have

known what it was to LOSE A WIFE.--It had almost broke my heart.'

EDWARDS. 'How do you live, Sir? For my part, I must have my regular

meals, and a glass of good wine. I find I require it.' JOHNSON. 'I now

drink no wine, Sir. Early in life I drank wine: for many years I

drank none. I then for some years drank a great deal.' EDWARDS. 'Some

hogs-heads, I warrant you.' JOHNSON. 'I then had a severe illness,

and left it off, and I have never begun it again. I never felt any

difference upon myself from eating one thing rather than another,

nor from one kind of weather rather than another. There are people,

I believe, who feel a difference; but I am not one of them. And as to

regular meals, I have fasted from the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's

dinner, without any inconvenience. I believe it is best to eat just as

one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or a man who has a family,

must have stated meals. I am a straggler. I may leave this town and go

to Grand Cairo, without being missed here or observed there.' EDWARDS.

'Don't you eat supper, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' EDWARDS. 'For my part,

now, I consider supper as a turnpike through which one must pass, in

order to get to bed.'

JOHNSON. 'You are a lawyer, Mr. Edwards. Lawyers know life practically.

A bookish man should always have them to converse with. They have what

he wants.' EDWARDS. 'I am grown old: I am sixty-five.' JOHNSON. 'I shall

be sixty-eight next birth-day. Come, Sir, drink water, and put in for a

hundred.'

This interview confirmed my opinion of Johnson's most humane

and benevolent heart. His cordial and placid behaviour to an old

fellow-collegian, a man so different from himself; and his telling him

that he would go down to his farm and visit him, showed a kindness of

disposition very rare at an advanced age. He observed, 'how wonderful it

was that they had both been in London forty years, without having ever

once met, and both walkers in the street too!' Mr. Edwards, when going

away, again recurred to his consciousness of senility, and looking full

in Johnson's face, said to him, 'You'll find in Dr. Young,

"O my coevals! remnants of yourselves."'

Johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with impatience.

Edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased with the honour of having

been thus noticed by Dr. Johnson. When he was gone, I said to Johnson,

I thought him but a weak man. JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir. Here is a man who

has passed through life without experience: yet I would rather have him

with me than a more sensible man who will not talk readily. This man is

always willing to say what he has to say.' Yet Dr. Johnson had himself

by no means that willingness which he praised so much, and I think so

justly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, when

there is a total silence in a company, for any length of time; or, which

is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the conversation is with difficulty

kept up by a perpetual effort?

Johnson once observed to me, 'Tom Tyers described me the best: "Sir,

(said he,) you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken

to."'

The gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was Mr. Thomas Tyers,

son of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder of that excellent place of

publick amusement, Vauxhall Gardens, which must ever be an estate to

its proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taste of the English

nation; there being a mixture of curious show,--gay exhibition, musick,

vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the general ear;--for all

which only a shilling is paid; and, though last, not least, good eating

and drinking for those who choose to purchase that regale. Mr. Thomas

Tyers was bred to the law; but having a handsome fortune, vivacity of

temper, and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine himself to the

regularity of practice. He therefore ran about the world with a pleasant

carelessness, amusing everybody by his desultory conversation. He

abounded in anecdote, but was not sufficiently attentive to accuracy. I

therefore cannot venture to avail myself much of a biographical sketch

of Johnson which he published, being one among the various persons

ambitious of appending their names to that of my illustrious friend.

That sketch is, however, an entertaining little collection of fragments.

Those which he published of Pope and Addison are of higher merit; but

his fame must chiefly rest upon his Political Conferences, in which he

introduces several eminent persons delivering their sentiments in the

way of dialogue, and discovers a considerable share of learning, various

knowledge, and discernment of character. This much may I be allowed to

say of a man who was exceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with

Dr. Johnson in as easy a manner as almost any of his very numerous

acquaintance.

Mr. Edwards had said to me aside, that Dr. Johnson should have been of

a profession. I repeated the remark to Johnson that I might have his own

thoughts on the subject. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it WOULD have been better that I

had been of a profession. I ought to have been a lawyer.' BOSWELL. 'I

do not think, Sir, it would have been better, for we should not have

had the English Dictionary.' JOHNSON. 'But you would have had Reports.'

BOSWELL. 'Ay; but there would not have been another, who could have

written the Dictionary. There have been many very good Judges. Suppose

you had been Lord Chancellor; you would have delivered opinions with

more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than perhaps any

Chancellor ever did, or ever will do. But, I believe, causes have been

as judiciously decided as you could have done.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.

Property has been as well settled.'

Johnson, however, had a noble ambition floating in his mind, and had,

undoubtedly, often speculated on the possibility of his supereminent

powers being rewarded in this great and liberal country by the highest

honours of the state. Sir William Scott informs me, that upon the death

of the late Lord Lichfield, who was Chancellor of the University of

Oxford, he said to Johnson, 'What a pity it is, Sir, that you did not

follow the profession of the law. You might have been Lord Chancellor of

Great Britain, and attained to the dignity of the peerage; and now that

the title of Lichfleld, your native city, is extinct, you might have had

it.' Johnson, upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone,

exclaimed, 'Why will you vex me by suggesting this, when it is too

late?'

But he did not repine at the prosperity of others. The late Dr. Thomas

Leland, told Mr. Courtenay, that when Mr. Edmund Burke shewed Johnson

his fine house and lands near Beaconsfield, Johnson coolly said, 'Non

equidem invideo; miror magis.'*

* I am not entirely without suspicion that Johnson may have

felt a little momentary envy; for no man loved the good

things of this life better than he did and he could not but

be conscious that he deserved a much larger share of them,

than he ever had.--BOSWELL.

Yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature than

Johnson, or was more determined in maintaining the respect which he

justly considered as due to it. Of this, besides the general tenor

of his conduct in society, some characteristical instances may be

mentioned.

He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that once when he dined in a numerous

company of booksellers, where the room being small, the head of the

table, at which he sat, was almost close to the fire, he persevered in

suffering a great deal of inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit

his place, and let one of them sit above him.

Goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, complained one day, in a mixed

company, of Lord Camden. 'I met him (said he,) at Lord Clare's house

in the country, and he took no more notice of me than if I had been an

ordinary man. The company having laughed heartily, Johnson stood forth

in defence of his friend. 'Nay, Gentlemen, (said he,) Dr. Goldsmith

is in the right. A nobleman ought to have made up to such a man as

Goldsmith; and I think it is much against Lord Camden that he neglected

him.'

Nor could he patiently endure to hear that such respect as he thought

due only to higher intellectual qualities, should be bestowed on men

of slighter, though perhaps more amusing talents. I told him, that one

morning, when I went to breakfast with Garrick, who was very vain of his

intimacy with Lord Camden, he accosted me thus:--'Pray now, did you--did

you meet a little lawyer turning the corner, eh?'--'No, Sir, (said I).

Pray what do you mean by the question?'--'Why, (replied Garrick, with an

affected indifference, yet as if standing on tip-toe,) Lord Camden has

this moment left me. We have had a long walk together.' JOHNSON. 'Well,

Sir, Garrick talked very properly. Lord Camden WAS A LITTLE LAWYER to be

associating so familiarly with a player.'

Sir Joshua Reynolds observed, with great truth, that Johnson considered

Garrick to be as it were his PROPERTY. He would allow no man either to

blame or to praise Garrick in his presence, without contradicting him.

Having fallen into a very serious frame of mind, in which mutual

expressions of kindness passed between us, such as would be thought

too vain in me to repeat, I talked with regret of the sad inevitable

certainty that one of us must survive the other. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir,

that is an affecting consideration. I remember Swift, in one of his

letters to Pope, says, "I intend to come over, that we may meet once

more; and when we must part, it is what happens to all human beings."'

BOSWELL. 'The hope that we shall see our departed friends again must

support the mind.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'There is a strange

unwillingness to part with life, independent of serious fears as to

futurity. A reverend friend of ours (naming him) tells me, that he

feels an uneasiness at the thoughts of leaving his house, his study, his

books.' JOHNSON. 'This is foolish in *****. A man need not be uneasy on

these grounds; for, as he will retain his consciousness, he may say with

the philosopher, Omnia mea mecum porto.' BOSWELL. 'True, Sir: we may

carry our books in our heads; but still there is something painful in

the thought of leaving for ever what has given us pleasure. I remember,

many years ago, when my imagination was warm, and I happened to be in

a melancholy mood, it distressed me to think of going into a state of

being in which Shakspeare's poetry did not exist. A lady whom I then

much admired, a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me

by saying, "The first thing you will meet in the other world, will be

an elegant copy of Shakspeare's works presented to you."' Dr. Johnson

smiled benignantly at this, and did not appear to disapprove of the

notion.

We went to St. Clement's church again in the afternoon, and then

returned and drank tea and coffee in Mrs. Williams's room; Mrs.

Desmoulins doing the honours of the tea-table. I observed that he would

not even look at a proof-sheet of his Life of Waller on Good-Friday.

On Saturday, April 14, I drank tea with him. He praised the late Mr.

Duncombe, of Canterbury, as a pleasing man. 'He used to come to me: I

did not seek much after HIM. Indeed I never sought much after any body.'

BOSWELL. 'Lord Orrery, I suppose.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I never went to

him but when he sent for me.' BOSWELL. 'Richardson?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.

But I sought after George Psalmanazar the most. I used to go and sit

with him at an alehouse in the city.'

I am happy to mention another instance which I discovered of his SEEKING

AFTER a man of merit. Soon after the Honourable Daines Barrington had

published his excellent Observations on the Statutes, Johnson waited

on that worthy and learned gentleman; and, having told him his name,

courteously said, 'I have read your book, Sir, with great pleasure, and

wish to be better known to you.' Thus began an acquaintance, which was

continued with mutual regard as long as Johnson lived.

Talking of a recent seditious delinquent, he said, 'They should set him

in the pillory, that he may be punished in a way that would disgrace

him.' I observed, that the pillory does not always disgrace. And I

mentioned an instance of a gentleman who I thought was not dishonoured

by it. JOHNSON. 'Ay, but he was, Sir. He could not mouth and strut as he

used to do, after having been there. People are not willing to ask a man

to their tables who has stood in the pillory.'

Johnson attacked the Americans with intemperate vehemence of abuse. I

said something in their favour; and added, that I was always sorry when

he talked on that subject. This, it seems, exasperated him; though he

said nothing at the time. The cloud was charged with sulphureous vapour,

which was afterwards to burst in thunder.--We talked of a gentleman who

was running out his fortune in London; and I said, 'We must get him out

of it. All his friends must quarrel with him, and that will soon drive

him away.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; we'll send YOU to him. If your company

does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.' This was a

horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. I afterwards asked

him why he had said so harsh a thing. JOHNSON. Because, Sir, you made

me angry about the Americans.' BOSWELL. 'But why did you not take your

revenge directly?' JOHNSON. (smiling,) 'Because, Sir, I had nothing

ready. A man cannot strike till he has his weapons.' This was a candid

and pleasant confession.

He shewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly fitted up; and

said, 'Mrs. Thrale sneered when I talked of my having asked you and your

lady to live at my house. I was obliged to tell her, that you would be

in as respectable a situation in my house as in hers. Sir, the insolence

of wealth will creep out.' BOSWELL. 'She has a little both of the

insolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts.' JOHNSON. 'The insolence

of wealth is a wretched thing; but the conceit of parts has some

foundation. To be sure it should not be. But who is without it?'

BOSWELL. 'Yourself, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I play no tricks: I lay no

traps.' BOSWELL. 'No, Sir. You are six feet high, and you only do not

stoop.'

We talked of the numbers of people that sometimes have composed the

household of great families. I mentioned that there were a hundred

in the family of the present Earl of Eglintoune's father. Dr. Johnson

seeming to doubt it, I began to enumerate. 'Let us see: my Lord and my

Lady two.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, if you are to count by twos, you may

be long enough.' BOSWELL. 'Well, but now I add two sons and seven

daughters, and a servant for each, that will make twenty; so we have

the fifth part already.' JOHNSON. 'Very true. You get at twenty pretty

readily; but you will not so easily get further on. We grow to five feet

pretty readily; but it is not so easy to grow to seven.'

On Monday, April 20, I found him at home in the morning. We talked of a

gentleman who we apprehended was gradually involving his circumstances

by bad management. JOHNSON. 'Wasting a fortune is evaporation by a

thousand imperceptible means. If it were a stream, they'd stop it. You

must speak to him. It is really miserable. Were he a gamester, it could

be said he had hopes of winning. Were he a bankrupt in trade, he might

have grown rich; but he has neither spirit to spend nor resolution to

spare. He does not spend fast enough to have pleasure from it. He has

the crime of prodigality, and the wretchedness of parsimony. If a man is

killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has been killed; but it is

a sad thing for a man to lie down and die; to bleed to death, because he

has not fortitude enough to sear the wound, or even to stitch it up.' I

cannot but pause a moment to admire the fecundity of fancy, and

choice of language, which in this instance, and, indeed, on almost all

occasions, he displayed. It was well observed by Dr. Percy, now Bishop

of Dromore, 'The conversation of Johnson is strong and clear, and may be

compared to an antique statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct

and bold. Ordinary conversation resembles an inferiour cast.'

On Saturday, April 25, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with

the learned Dr. Musgrave, Counsellor Leland of Ireland, son to the

historian, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and some more ladies.

'Demosthenes Taylor, as he was called, (that is, the Editor of

Demosthenes) was the most silent man, the merest statue of a man that I

have ever seen. I once dined in company with him, and all he said during

the whole time was no more than Richard. How a man should say only

Richard, it is not easy to imagine. But it was thus: Dr. Douglas was

talking of Dr. Zachary Grey, and ascribing to him something that was

written by Dr. Richard Grey. So, to correct him, Taylor said, (imitating

his affected sententious emphasis and nod,) "RICHARD."'

Mrs. Cholmondeley, in a high flow of spirits, exhibited some lively

sallies of hyperbolical compliment to Johnson, with whom she had been

long acquainted, and was very easy. He was quick in catching the MANNER

of the moment, and answered her somewhat in the style of the hero of a

romance, 'Madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.'

We talked of a lady's verses on Ireland. MISS REYNOLDS. 'Have you seen

them, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. I have seen a translation from Horace,

by one of her daughters. She shewed it me.' MISS REYNOLDS. 'And how was

it, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, very well for a young Miss's verses;--that

is to say, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the

person who wrote them. I am vexed at being shewn verses in that manner.'

MISS REYNOLDS. 'But if they should be good, why not give them hearty

praise?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, because I have not then got the better

of my bad humour from having been shown them. You must consider, Madam;

beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. Nobody has a right to put

another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the person

by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not true.'

BOSWELL. 'A man often shews his writings to people of eminence, to

obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not

being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may

afterwards avail himself.' JOHNSON. 'Very true, Sir. Therefore the man,

who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, is put to the

torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; so that what he says is

not considered as his opinion; yet he has said it, and cannot retract

it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a cannister

at his tail, can say, "I would not have published, had not Johnson, or

Reynolds, or Musgrave, or some other good judge, commended the work."

Yet I consider it as a very difficult question in conscience, whether

one should advise a man not to publish a work, if profit be his object;

for the man may say, "Had it not been for you, I should have had the

money." Now you cannot be sure; for you have only your own opinion, and

the publick may think very differently.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'You must

upon such an occasion have two judgements; one as to the real value

of the work, the other as to what may please the general taste at the

time.' JOHNSON. 'But you can be SURE of neither; and therefore I should

scruple much to give a suppressive vote. Both Goldsmith's comedies

were once refused; his first by Garrick, his second by Colman, who was

prevailed on at last by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to

bring it on. His Vicar of Wakefield I myself did not think would have

had much success. It was written and sold to a bookseller before his

Traveller; but published after; so little expectation had the bookseller

from it. Had it been sold after the Traveller he might have had twice

as much money for it, though sixty guineas was no mean price. The

bookseller had the advantage of Goldsmith's reputation from The

Traveller in the sale, though Goldsmith had it not in selling the copy.'

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'The Beggar's Opera affords a proof how strangely

people will differ in opinion about a literary performance. Burke thinks

it has no merit.' JOHNSON. 'It was refused by one of the houses; but I

should have thought it would succeed, not from any great excellence in

the writing, but from the novelty, and the general spirit and gaiety of

the piece, which keeps the audience always attentive, and dismisses them

in good humour.'

We went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable increase of

company. Several of us got round Dr. Johnson, and complained that he

would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there might be a

complete edition. He smiled, and evaded our entreaties. That he intended

to do it, I have no doubt, because I have heard him say so; and I

have in my possession an imperfect list, fairly written out, which he

entitles Historia Studiorum. I once got from one of his friends a list,

which there was pretty good reason to suppose was accurate, for it was

written down in his presence by this friend, who enumerated each article

aloud, and had some of them mentioned to him by Mr. Levett, in concert

with whom it was made out; and Johnson, who heard all this, did not

contradict it. But when I shewed a copy of this list to him, and

mentioned the evidence for its exactness, he laughed, and said, 'I was

willing to let them go on as they pleased, and never interfered.' Upon

which I read it to him, article by article, and got him positively to

own or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty so far, I got some

other articles confirmed by him directly; and afterwards, from time to

time, made additions under his sanction.

The conversation having turned on Bon-Mots, be quoted, from one of the

Ana, an exquisite instance of flattery in a maid of honour in France,

who being asked by the Queen what o'clock it was, answered, 'What your

Majesty pleases.' He admitted that Mr. Burke's classical pun upon Mr.

Wilkes's being carried on the shoulders of the mob,--

'-------------Numerisque fertur

Lege solutus,'

was admirable; and though he was strangely unwilling to allow to that

extraordinary man the talent of wit, he also laughed with approbation at

another of his playful conceits; which was, that 'Horace has in one line

given a description of a good desirable manour:--

"Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines;"

that is to say, a modus as to the tithes and certain fines.'

He observed, 'A man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except

he relates simple facts; as, "I was at Richmond:" or what depends

on mensuration; as, "I am six feet high." He is sure he has been at

Richmond; he is sure he is six feet high: but he cannot be sure he is

wise, or that he has any other excellence. Then, all censure of a man's

self is oblique praise. It is in order to shew how much he can spare.

It has all the invidiousness of self-praise, and all the reproach of

falsehood.'

On Tuesday, April 28, he was engaged to dine at General Paoli's,

where, as I have already observed, I was still entertained in elegant

hospitality, and with all the ease and comfort of a home. I called on

him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. We stopped first at the

bottom of Hedgelane, into which he went to leave a letter, 'with good

news for a poor man in distress,' as he told me. I did not question him

particularly as to this. He himself often resembled Lady Bolingbroke's

Lively description of Pope; that 'he was un politique aux choux et aux

raves.' He would say, 'I dine to-day in Grosvenor-square;' this might be

with a Duke: or, perhaps, 'I dine to-day at the other end of the town:'

or, 'A gentleman of great eminence called on me yesterday.' He loved

thus to keep things floating in conjecture: Omne ignotum pro magnifico

est. I believe I ventured to dissipate the cloud, to unveil the mystery,

more freely and frequently than any of his friends. We stopped again at

Wirgman's, the well-known toy-shop, in St. James's-street, at the corner

of St. James's-place, to which he had been directed, but not clearly,

for he searched about some time, and could not find it at first; and

said, 'To direct one only to a corner shop is TOYING with one.' I

suppose he meant this as a play upon the word toy: it was the first time

that I knew him stoop to such sport. After he had been some time in the

shop, he sent for me to come out of the coach, and help him to choose

a pair of silver buckles, as those he had were too small. Probably this

alteration in dress had been suggested by Mrs. Thrale, by associating

with whom, his external appearance was much improved. He got better

cloaths; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, was

enlivened by metal buttons. His wigs, too, were much better; and during

their travels in France, he was furnished with a Paris-made wig,

of handsome construction. This choosing of silver buckles was a

negociation: 'Sir, (said he,) I will not have the ridiculous large ones

now in fashion; and I will give no more than a guinea for a pair.' Such

were the PRINCIPLES of the business; and, after some examination, he was

fitted. As we drove along, I found him in a talking humour, of which I

availed myself. BOSWELL. 'I was this morning in Ridley's shop, Sir; and

was told, that the collection called Johnsoniana has sold very much.'

JOHNSON. 'Yet the Journey to the Hebrides has not had a great sale.'

BOSWELL. 'That is strange.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; for in that book I have

told the world a great deal that they did not know before.'

BOSWELL. 'I drank chocolate, Sir, this morning with Mr. Eld; and, to my

no small surprize, found him to be a Staffordshire Whig, a being which

I did not believe had existed.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there are rascals in all

countries.' BOSWELL. 'Eld said, a Tory was a creature generated between

a non-juring parson and one's grandmother.' JOHNSON. 'And I have always

said, the first Whig was the Devil.' BOSWELL. 'He certainly was, Sir.

The Devil was impatient of subordination; he was the first who resisted

power:--

"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven."'

At General Paoli's were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Marchese

Gherardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spottiswoode the younger, of

Spottiswoode, the solicitor.

We talked of drinking wine. JOHNSON. 'I require wine only when I

am alone. I have then often wished for it, and often taken it.'

SPOTTISWOODE. 'What, by way of a companion, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'To get rid

of myself, to send myself away. Wine gives great pleasure; and every

pleasure is of itself a good. It is a good, unless counterbalanced by

evil. A man may have a strong reason not to drink wine; and that may be

greater than the pleasure. Wine makes a man better pleased with himself.

I do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others. Sometimes it

does. But the danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with

himself, he may be growing less pleasing to others. Wine gives a man

nothing. It neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man,

and enables him to bring out what a dread of the company had repressed.

It only puts in motion what has been locked up in frost. But this may

be good, or it may be bad.' SPOTTISWOODE. 'So, Sir, wine is a key which

opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.' JOHNSON. 'Nay,

Sir, conversation is the key: wine is a pick-lock, which forces open the

box and injures it. A man should cultivate his mind so as to have that

confidence and readiness without wine, which wine gives.' BOSWELL. 'The

great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. For instance,

a good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, which he has had twenty

years in his cellar.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, all this notion about benevolence

arises from a man's imagining himself to be of more importance to

others, than he really is. They don't care a farthing whether he drinks

wine or not.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yes, they do for the time.' JOHNSON.

'For the time!--If they care this minute, they forget it the next. And

as for the good worthy man; how do you know he is good and worthy? No

good and worthy man will insist upon another man's drinking wine. As to

the wine twenty years in the cellar,--of ten men, three say this, merely

because they must say something;--three are telling a lie, when they

say they have had the wine twenty years;--three would rather save the

wine;--one, perhaps, cares. I allow it is something to please one's

company: and people are always pleased with those who partake pleasure

with them. But after a man has brought himself to relinquish the

great personal pleasure which arises from drinking wine, any other

consideration is a trifle. To please others by drinking wine, is

something only, if there be nothing against it. I should, however, be

sorry to offend worthy men:--

"Curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow,

That tends to make one worthy man my foe."'

BOSWELL. 'Curst be the SPRING, the WATER.' JOHNSON. 'But let us consider

what a sad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do any

thing else that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we are.'

LANGTON. 'By the same rule you must join with a gang of cut-purses.'

JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir: but yet we must do justice to wine; we must allow it

the power it possesses. To make a man pleased with himself, let me tell

you, is doing a very great thing;

"Si patriae volumus, si Nobis vivere cari."'

I was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by Johnson's

recommendation. JOHNSON. 'Boswell is a bolder combatant than Sir Joshua:

he argues for wine without the help of wine; but Sir Joshua with it.'

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'But to please one's company is a strong motive.'

JOHNSON. (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body who drank

wine to be elevated,) 'I won't argue any more with you, Sir. You are too

far gone.' SIR JOSHUA. 'I should have thought so indeed, Sir, had I made

such a speech as you have now done.' JOHNSON. (drawing himself in, and,

I really thought blushing,) 'Nay, don't be angry. I did not mean to

offend you.' SIR JOSHUA. 'At first the taste of wine was disagreeable to

me; but I brought myself to drink it, that I might be like other

people. The pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with pleasing your

company, that altogether there is something of social goodness in it.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, this is only saying the same thing over again.' SIR

JOSHUA. 'No, this is new.' JOHNSON. 'You put it in new words, but it is

an old thought. This is one of the disadvantages of wine. It makes a man

mistake words for thoughts.' BOSWELL. 'I think it is a new thought; at

least, it is in a new ATTITUDE.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is only in a new

coat; or an old coat with a new facing. (Then laughing heartily,) It

is the old dog in a new doublet.--An extraordinary instance however

may occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him, unless he will

drink: THERE may be a good reason for drinking.'

I mentioned a nobleman, who I believed was really uneasy if his company

would not drink hard. JOHNSON. 'That is from having had people about him

whom he has been accustomed to command.' BOSWELL. 'Supposing I should be

tete-a-tete with him at table.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no more reason

for your drinking with HIM, than his being sober with YOU.' BOSWELL.

'Why, that is true; for it would do him less hurt to be sober, than

it would do me to get drunk.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and from what I have

heard of him, one would not wish to sacrifice himself to such a man. If

he must always have somebody to drink with him, he should buy a slave,

and then he would be sure to have it. They who submit to drink as

another pleases, make themselves his slaves.' Boswell. 'But, Sir, you

will surely make allowance for the duty of hospitality. A gentleman who

loves drinking, comes to visit me.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, a man knows whom he

visits; he comes to the table of a sober man.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir,

you and I should not have been so well received in the Highlands and

Hebrides, if I had not drunk with our worthy friends. Had I drunk water

only as you did, they would not have been so cordial.' JOHNSON. 'Sir

William Temple mentions that in his travels through the Netherlands he

had two or three gentlemen with him; and when a bumper was necessary, he

put it on THEM. Were I to travel again through the islands, I would have

Sir Joshua with me to take the bumpers.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, let me put

a case. Suppose Sir Joshua should take a jaunt into Scotland; he does me

the honour to pay me a visit at my house in the country; I am overjoyed

at seeing him; we are quite by ourselves, shall I unsociably and

churlishly let him sit drinking by himself? No, no, my dear Sir Joshua,

you shall not be treated so, I WILL take a bottle with you.'

On Wednesday, April 29, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramsay's, where

were Lord Binning, Dr. Robertson the historian, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and

the Honourable Mrs. Boscawen, widow of the Admiral, and mother of the

present Viscount Falmouth; of whom, if it be not presumptuous in me to

praise her, I would say, that her manners are the most agreeable,

and her conversation the best, of any lady with whom I ever had the

happiness to be acquainted. Before Johnson came we talked a good deal of

him; Ramsay said he had always found him a very polite man, and that he

treated him with great respect, which he did very sincerely. I said I

worshipped him. ROBERTSON. 'But some of you spoil him; you should

not worship him; you should worship no man.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot help

worshipping him, he is so much superiour to other men.' ROBERTSON. In

criticism, and in wit in conversation, he is no doubt very excellent;

but in other respects he is not above other men; he will believe

any thing, and will strenuously defend the most minute circumstance

connected with the Church of England.' BOSWELL. 'Believe me, Doctor,

you are much mistaken as to this; for when you talk with him calmly in

private, he is very liberal in his way of thinking.' ROBERTSON. 'He

and I have been always very gracious; the first time I met him was one

evening at Strahan's, when he had just had an unlucky altercation with

Adam Smith, to whom he had been so rough, that Strahan, after Smith was

gone, had remonstrated with him, and told him that I was coming soon,

and that he was uneasy to think that he might behave in the same manner

to me. "No, no, Sir, (said Johnson,) I warrant you Robertson and I

shall do very well." Accordingly he was gentle and good-humoured, and

courteous with me the whole evening; and he has been so upon every

occasion that we have met since. I have often said (laughing,) that I

have been in a great measure indebted to Smith for my good reception.'

BOSWELL. 'His power of reasoning is very strong, and he has a peculiar

art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good portrait painting.'

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'He is undoubtedly admirable in this; but, in order

to mark the characters which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives

people more than they really have, whether of good or bad.'

No sooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking so easily, arrive,

than we were all as quiet as a school upon the entrance of the

head-master; and were very soon set down to a table covered with such

variety of good things, as contributed not a little to dispose him to be

pleased.

RAMSAY. 'I am old enough to have been a contemporary of Pope. His poetry

was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than after his

death.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it has not been less admired since his death;

no authours ever had so much fame in their own life-time as Pope and

Voltaire; and Pope's poetry has been as much admired since his death

as during his life; it has only not been as much talked of, but that is

owing to its being now more distant, and people having other writings to

talk of. Virgil is less talked of than Pope, and Homer is less talked of

than Virgil; but they are not less admired. We must read what the world

reads at the moment. It has been maintained that this superfoetation,

this teeming of the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good

literature, because it obliges us to read so much of what is of

inferiour value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are

neglected for want of time, because a man will have more gratification

of his vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, than from

having read the best works of antiquity. But it must be considered, that

we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now,

which is a great extension. Modern writers are the moons of literature;

they shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients.

Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; Rome of elegance.'

RAMSAY. 'I suppose Homer's Iliad to be a collection of pieces which had

been written before his time. I should like to see a translation of it

in poetical prose like the book of Ruth or Job.' ROBERTSON. 'Would you,

Dr. Johnson, who are master of the English language, but try your hand

upon a part of it.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you could not read it without the

pleasure of verse.

Dr. Robertson expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman; that he

was one of the strongest-minded men that ever lived; that he would sit

in company quite sluggish, while there was nothing to call forth his

intellectual vigour; but the moment that any important subject was

started, for instance, how this country is to be defended against a

French invasion, he would rouse himself, and shew his extraordinary

talents with the most powerful ability and animation. JOHNSON. 'Yet this

man cut his own throat. The true strong and sound mind is the mind that

can embrace equally great things and small. Now I am told the King of

Prussia will say to a servant, "Bring me a bottle of such a wine, which

came in such a year; it lies in such a corner of the cellars." I would

have a man great in great things, and elegant in little things.' He said

to me afterwards, when we were by ourselves, 'Robertson was in a mighty

romantick humour, he talked of one whom he did not know; but I DOWNED

him with the King of Prussia.' 'Yes, Sir, (said I,) you threw a BOTTLE

at his head.'

An ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both Robertson

and Ramsay agreed that he had a constant firmness of mind; for after

a laborious day, and amidst a multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he

would sit down with his sisters and he quite cheerful and good-humoured.

Such a disposition, it was observed, was a happy gift of nature.

JOHNSON. 'I do not think so; a man has from nature a certain portion of

mind; the use he makes of it depends upon his own free will. That a man

has always the same firmness of mind I do not say; because every man

feels his mind less firm at one time than another; but I think a man's

being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' I, however, could

not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his

will.

Next day, Thursday, April 30, I found him at home by himself. JOHNSON.

'Well, Sir, Ramsay gave us a splendid dinner. I love Ramsay. You will

not find a man in whose conversation there is more instruction, more

information, and more elegance, than in Ramsay's.' BOSWELL. 'What I

admire in Ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' JOHNSON. 'Why,

yes, Sir, it is to be admired. I value myself upon this, that there is

nothing of the old man in my conversation. I am now sixty-eight, and I

have no more of it than at twenty-eight.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, would not

you wish to know old age? He who is never an old man, does not know

the whole of human life; for old age is one of the divisions of it.'

JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, what talk is this?' BOSWELL. 'I mean, Sir, the

Sphinx's description of it;--morning, noon, and night. I would know

night, as well as morning and noon.' JOHNSON. 'What, Sir, would you know

what it is to feel the evils of old age? Would you have the gout?

Would you have decrepitude?'--Seeing him heated, I would not argue any

farther; but I was confident that I was in the right. I would, in due

time, be a Nestor, an elder of the people; and there SHOULD be some

difference between the conversation of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. A

grave picture should not be gay. There is a serene, solemn, placid old

age. JOHNSON. 'Mrs. Thrale's mother said of me what flattered me much.

A clergyman was complaining of want of society in the country where

he lived; and said, "They talk of RUNTS;" (that is, young cows). "Sir,

(said Mrs. Salusbury,) Mr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts:"

meaning that I was a man who would make the most of my situation,

whatever it was.' He added, 'I think myself a very polite man.'

On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where

there was a very large company, and a great deal of conversation; but

owing to some circumstance which I cannot now recollect, I have no

record of any part of it, except that there were several people there

by no means of the Johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid

to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary

offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that I was vexed and

angry, because it gave those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon

his supposed ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends. I was so

much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away from him

for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to

Scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been

reconciled. To such unhappy chances are human friendships liable.

On Friday, May 8, I dined with him at Mr. Langton's. I was reserved and

silent, which I suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause.

After dinner when Mr. Langton was called out of the room, and we were

by ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of

conciliating courtesy, 'Well, how have you done?' Boswell. 'Sir, you

have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last

at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. You know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater

respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the

world to serve you. Now to treat me so--.' He insisted that I

had interrupted him, which I assured him was not the case; and

proceeded--'But why treat me so before people who neither love you nor

me?' JOHNSON. 'Well, I am sorry for it. I'll make it up to you twenty

different ways, as you please.' BOSWELL. 'I said to-day to Sir Joshua,

when he observed that you TOSSED me sometimes--I don't care how often,

or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then I fall

upon soft ground: but I do not like falling on stones, which is the

case when enemies are present.--I think this a pretty good image, Sir.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is one of the happiest I have ever heard.'

The truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at

any time, unless they were irritated by some malignant infusion by other

hands. We were instantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in

hearty laugh at some ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our

friends. BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, it is always culpable to laugh at

a man to his face?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that depends upon the man and

the thing. If it is a slight man, and a slight thing, you may; for you

take nothing valuable from him.'

When Mr. Langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' went on. An eminent

authour being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'He is not a pleasant man. His

conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant. He does not talk as

if impelled by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. His

conversation is like that of any other sensible man. He talks with no

wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he thinks it does not

become ------ ------ to sit in a company and say nothing.'

Mr. Langton having repeated the anecdote of Addison having distinguished

between his powers in conversation and in writing, by saying 'I

have only nine-pence in my pocket; but I can draw for a thousand

pounds;'--JOHNSON. 'He had not that retort ready, Sir; he had prepared

it before-hand.' LANGTON. (turning to me,) 'A fine surmise. Set a thief

to catch a thief.'

JOHNSON. 'I shall be at home to-morrow.' BOSWELL. 'Then let us dine by

ourselves at the Mitre, to keep up the old custom, "the custom of the

manor," the custom of the mitre.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, so it shall be.'

On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our purpose of dining by ourselves at

the Mitre, according to old custom. There was, on these occasions, a

little circumstance of kind attention to Mrs. Williams, which must not

be omitted. Before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave

her her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice

thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest.

On Tuesday, May 12, I waited on the Earl of Marchmont, to know if his

Lordship would favour Dr. Johnson with information concerning Pope,

whose Life he was about to write. Johnson had not flattered himself with

the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he said to

me, when I mentioned Lord Marchmont as one who could tell him a great

deal about Pope,--'Sir, he will tell ME nothing.' I had the honour of

being known to his Lordship, and applied to him of myself, without being

commissioned by Johnson. His Lordship behaved in the most polite and

obliging manner, promised to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was

so very courteous as to say, 'Tell Dr. Johnson I have a great respect

for him, and am ready to shew it in any way I can. I am to be in the

city to-morrow, and will call at his house as I return.' His Lordship

however asked, 'Will he write the Lives of the Poets impartially? He was

the first that brought Whig and Tory into a Dictionary. And what do

you think of his definition of Excise? Do you know the history of his

aversion to the word transpire?' Then taking down the folio Dictionary,

he shewed it with this censure on its secondary sense: '"To escape

from secrecy to notice; a sense lately innovated from France, without

necessity." The truth was Lord Bolingbroke, who left the Jacobites,

first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. He should have shewn

what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.' I afterwards put the

question to Johnson: 'Why, Sir, (said he,) GET ABROAD.' BOSWELL. 'That,

Sir, is using two words.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no end of this. You

may as well insist to have a word for old age.' BOSWELL. 'Well, Sir,

Senectus.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, to insist always that there should be

one word to express a thing in English, because there is one in another

language, is to change the language.'

I proposed to Lord Marchmont that he should revise Johnson's Life

of Pope: 'So (said his Lordship,) you would put me in a dangerous

situation. You know he knocked down Osborne the bookseller.'

Elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material

and respectable aid to Johnson for his very favourite work, The Lives

of the Poets, I hastened down to Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, where he now

was, that I might insure his being at home next day; and after dinner,

when I thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, I

announced it eagerly: 'I have been at work for you to-day, Sir. I have

been with Lord Marchmont. He bade me tell you he has a great respect for

you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all

he knows about Pope.'--Here I paused, in full expectation that he would

be pleased with this intelligence, would praise my active merit, and

would be alert to embrace such an offer from a nobleman. But whether I

had shewn an over-exultation, which provoked his spleen; or whether he

was seized with a suspicion that I had obtruded him on Lord Marchmont,

and humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing more than an

unlucky fit of ill-humour, I know not; but, to my surprize, the result

was,--JOHNSON. 'I shall not be in town to-morrow. I don't care to know

about Pope.' MRS. THRALE. (surprized as I was, and a little angry,) 'I

suppose, Sir, Mr. Boswell thought, that as you are to write Pope's Life,

you would wish to know about him.' JOHNSON. 'Wish! why yes. If it rained

knowledge I'd hold out my hand; but I would not give myself the trouble

to go in quest of it.' There was no arguing with him at the moment. Some

time afterwards he said, 'Lord Marchmont will call on me, and then

I shall call on Lord Marchmont.' Mr. Thrale was uneasy at his

unaccountable caprice; and told me, that if I did not take care to bring

about a meeting between Lord Marchmont and him, it would never take

place, which would be a great pity. I sent a card to his Lordship, to be

left at Johnson's house, acquainting him, that Dr. Johnson could not be

in town next day, but would do himself the honour of waiting on him at

another time. I give this account fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy

temper with which this great and good man had occasionally to struggle,

from something morbid in his constitution. Let the most censorious of

my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to

have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone, and when in such a

state to be asked a question; and if he has any candour, he will not

be surprized at the answers which Johnson sometimes gave in moments of

irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely painful. But it

must not be erroneously supposed that he was, in the smallest degree,

careless concerning any work which he undertook, or that he was

generally thus peevish. It will be seen, that in the following year he

had a very agreeable interview with Lord Marchmont, at his Lordship's

house; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any fretfulness, and fell

into conversation as usual.

JOHNSON. 'How foolish was it in Pope to give all his friendship to

Lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to choose

such Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, and Bolingbroke! Bathurst was

negative, a pleasing man; and I have heard no ill of Marchmont; and then

always saying, "I do not value you for being a Lord;" which was a sure

proof that he did. I never say, I do not value Boswell more for being

born to an estate, because I do not care.' BOSWELL. 'Nor for being

a Scotchman?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I do value you more for being a

Scotchman. You are a Scotchman without the faults of a Scotchman.

You would not have been so valuable as you are, had you not been a

Scotchman.'

Amongst the numerous prints pasted on the walls of the dining-room at

Streatham, was Hogarth's 'Modern Midnight Conversation.' I asked him

what he knew of Parson Ford, who makes a conspicuous figure in the

riotous group. JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was my acquaintance and relation,

my mother's nephew. He had purchased a living in the country, but not

simoniacally. I never saw him but in the country. I have been told he

was a man of great parts; very profligate, but I never heard he was

impious.' BOSWELL. 'Was there not a story of his ghost having appeared?'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, in which house

Ford died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not knowing that

Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the story, he

met him; going down again he met him a second time. When he came up, he

asked some of the people of the house what Ford could be doing there.

They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a fever, in which he lay

for some time. When he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to

some women from Ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. He walked

out; he was followed; but somewhere about St. Paul's they lost him.

He came back, and said he had delivered the message, and the women

exclaimed, "Then we are all undone!" Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous

man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said, the evidence

was irresistible. My wife went to the Hummums; (it is a place where

people get themselves cupped.) I believe she went with intention to hear

about this story of Ford. At first they were unwilling to tell her; but,

after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was

true. To be sure the man had a fever; and this vision may have been the

beginning of it. But if the message to the women, and their behaviour

upon it, were true as related, there was something supernatural. That

rests upon his word; and there it remains.'

I staid all this day* with him at Streatham. He talked a great deal, in

very good humour.

* Wednesday, May 13.--ED.

Looking at Messrs. Dilly's splendid edition of Lord Chesterfield's

miscellaneous works, he laughed, and said, 'Here now are two speeches

ascribed to him, both of which were written by me: and the best of it

is, they have found out that one is like Demosthenes, and the other like

Cicero.'

BOSWELL. 'Is not modesty natural?' JOHNSON. 'I cannot say, Sir, as we

find no people quite in a state of nature; but I think the more they

are taught, the more modest they are. The French are a gross, ill-bred,

untaught people; a lady there will spit on the floor and rub it with

her foot. What I gained by being in France was, learning to be better

satisfied with my own country. Time may be employed to more advantage

from nineteen to twenty-four almost in any way than in travelling; when

you set travelling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is

better to be sure; but how much more would a young man improve were he

to study during those years. Indeed, if a young man is wild, and must

run after women and bad company, it is better this should be done

abroad, as, on his return, he can break off such connections, and begin

at home a new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make.

How little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man who

has travelled; how little to Beauclerk!' BOSWELL. 'What say you to Lord

------?' JOHNSON. 'I never but once heard him talk of what he had

seen, and that was of a large serpent in one of the Pyramids of Egypt.'

BOSWELL. 'Well, I happened to hear him tell the same thing, which made

me mention him.'

I talked of a country life. JOHNSON. 'Were I to live in the country, I

would not devote myself to the acquisition of popularity; I would live

in a much better way, much more happily; I would have my time at my own

command.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, is it not a sad thing to be at a distance

from all our literary friends?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you will by and by have

enough of this conversation, which now delights you so much.'

As he was a zealous friend of subordination, he was at all times

watchful to repress the vulgar cant against the manners of the great;

'High people, Sir, (said he,) are the best; take a hundred ladies of

quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers, more willing

to sacrifice their own pleasure to their children than a hundred other

women. Tradeswomen (I mean the wives of tradesmen) in the city, who are

worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are the worst creatures

upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and thinking viciousness fashionable.

Farmers, I think, are often worthless fellows. Few lords will cheat;

and, if they do, they'll be ashamed of it: farmers cheat and are not

ashamed of it: they have all the sensual vices too of the nobility, with

cheating into the bargain. There is as much fornication and adultery

among farmers as amongst noblemen.' BOSWELL. 'The notion of the world,

Sir, however is, that the morals of women of quality are worse than

those in lower stations.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, the licentiousness of

one woman of quality makes more noise than that of a number of women in

lower stations; then, Sir, you are to consider the malignity of women

in the city against women of quality, which will make them believe any

thing of them, such as that they call their coachmen to bed. No, Sir, so

far as I have observed, the higher in rank, the richer ladies are, they

are the better instructed and the more virtuous.'

On Tuesday, May 19, I was to set out for Scotland in the evening. He was

engaged to dine with me at Mr. Dilly's, I waited upon him to remind

him of his appointment and attend him thither; he gave me some salutary

counsel, and recommended vigorous resolution against any deviation from

moral duty. BOSWELL. 'But you would not have me to bind myself by a

solemn obligation?' JOHNSON. (much agitated,) 'What! a vow--O, no, Sir,

a vow is a horrible thing, it is a snare for sin. The man who cannot go

to Heaven without a vow--may go--' Here, standing erect, in the middle

of his library, and rolling grand, his pause was truly a curious

compound of the solemn and the ludicrous; he half-whistled in his usual

way, when pleasant, and he paused, as if checked by religious awe.

Methought he would have added--to Hell--but was restrained. I humoured

the dilemma. 'What! Sir, (said I,) In caelum jusseris ibit?' alluding to

his imitation of it,--

'And bid him go to Hell, to Hell he goes.'

We had a quiet comfortable meeting at Mr. Dilly's; nobody there but

ourselves. My illustrious friend and I parted with assurances of

affectionate regard.

Mr. Langton has been pleased, at my request, to favour me with some

particulars of Dr. Johnson's visit to Warley-camp, where this gentleman

was at the time stationed as a Captain in the Lincolnshire militia. I

shall give them in his own words in a letter to me.

'It was in the summer of the year 1778, that he complied with my

invitation to come down to the Camp at Warley, and he staid with me

about a week; the scene appeared, notwithstanding a great degree of ill

health that he seemed to labour under, to interest and amuse him, as

agreeing with the disposition that I believe you know he constantly

manifested towards enquiring into subjects of the military kind. He

sate, with a patient degree of attention, to observe the proceedings of

a regimental court-martial, that happened to be called, in the time

of his stay with us; and one night, as late as at eleven o'clock, he

accompanied the Major of the regiment in going what are styled the

Rounds, where he might observe the forms of visiting the guards, for

the seeing that they and their sentries are ready in their duty on

their several posts. He took occasion to converse at times on military

topicks, one in particular, that I see the mention of, in your Journal

of a Tour to the Hebrides, which lies open before me, as to gun-powder;

which he spoke of to the same effect, in part, that you relate.

'On one occasion, when the regiment were going through their exercise,

he went quite close to the men at one of the extremities of it, and

watched all their practices attentively; and, when he came away,

his remark was, "The men indeed do load their muskets and fire with

wonderful celerity." He was likewise particular in requiring to know

what was the weight of the musquet balls in use, and within what

distance they might be expected to take effect when fired off.

'In walking among the tents, and observing the difference between

those of the officers and private men, he said that the superiority of

accommodation of the better conditions of life, to that of the inferiour

ones, was never exhibited to him in so distinct a view. The civilities

paid to him in the camp were, from the gentlemen of the Lincolnshire

regiment, one of the officers of which accommodated him with a tent in

which he slept; and from General Hall, who very courteously invited him

to dine with him, where he appeared to be very well pleased with

his entertainment, and the civilities he received on the part of the

General; the attention likewise, of the General's aide-de-camp, Captain

Smith, seemed to be very welcome to him, as appeared by their engaging

in a great deal of discourse together.'

We surely cannot but admire the benevolent exertions of this great and

good man, especially when we consider how grievously he was afflicted

with bad health, and how uncomfortable his home was made by the

perpetual jarring of those whom he charitably accommodated under his

roof. He has sometimes suffered me to talk jocularly of his group of

females, and call them his Seraglio. He thus mentions them, together

with honest Levett, in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale: 'Williams

hates every body; Levett hates Desmoulins, and does not love Williams;

Desmoulins hates them both; Poll* loves none of them.'**

* Miss Carmichael.

** A year later he wrote: At Bolt-court there is much

malignity, but of late little hostility.'--ED.

In 1779, Johnson gave the world a luminous proof that the vigour of his

mind in all its faculties, whether memory, judgement, or imagination,

was not in the least abated; for this year came out the first four

volumes of his Prefaces, biographical and critical, to the most eminent

of the English Poets, published by the booksellers of London. The

remaining volumes came out in the year 1780. The Poets were selected by

the several booksellers who had the honorary copy right, which is still

preserved among them by mutual compact, notwithstanding the decision of

the House of Lords against the perpetuity of Literary Property. We have

his own authority, that by his recommendation the poems of Blackmore,

Watts, Pomfret, and Yalden, were added to the collection.

On the 22nd of January, I wrote to him on several topicks, and mentioned

that as he had been so good as to permit me to have the proof sheets of

his Lives of the Poets, I had written to his servant, Francis, to take

care of them for me.

On the 23rd of February I wrote to him again, complaining of his

silence, as I had heard he was ill, and had written to Mr. Thrale, for

information concerning him; and I announced my intention of soon being

again in London.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,--Why should you take such delight to make a bustle, to write

to Mr. Thrale that I am negligent, and to Francis to do what is so very

unnecessary. Thrale, you may be sure, cared not about it; and I shall

spare Francis the trouble, by ordering a set both of the Lives and Poets

to dear Mrs. Boswell,* in acknowledgement of her marmalade. Persuade her

to accept them, and accept them kindly. If I thought she would receive

them scornfully, I would send them to Miss Boswell, who, I hope, has yet

none of her mamma's ill-will to me. . . .

'Mrs. Thrale waits in the coach. I am, dear Sir, &c.,

'March 13, 1779.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

* He sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, which was received

as a very handsome present.--BOSWELL

This letter crossed me on the road to London, where I arrived on Monday,

March 15, and next morning at a late hour, found Dr. Johnson sitting

over his tea, attended by Mrs. Desmoulins, Mr. Levett, and a clergyman,

who had come to submit some poetical pieces to his revision. It is

wonderful what a number and variety of writers, some of them even

unknown to him, prevailed on his good-nature to look over their works,

and suggest corrections and improvements. My arrival interrupted for

a little while the important business of this true representative of

Bayes; upon its being resumed, I found that the subject under immediate

consideration was a translation, yet in manuscript, of the Carmen

Seculare of Horace, which had this year been set to musick, and

performed as a publick entertainment in London, for the joint benefit of

monsieur Philidor and Signor Baretti. When Johnson had done reading,

the authour asked him bluntly, 'If upon the whole it was a good

translation?' Johnson, whose regard for truth was uncommonly strict,

seemed to be puzzled for a moment, what answer to make; as he certainly

could not honestly commend the performance: with exquisite address he

evaded the question thus, 'Sir, I do not say that it may not be made

a very good translation.' Here nothing whatever in favour of the

performance was affirmed, and yet the writer was not shocked. A printed

Ode to the Warlike Genius of Britain, came next in review; the bard was

a lank bony figure, with short black hair; he was writhing himself

in agitation, while Johnson read, and shewing his teeth in a grin of

earnestness, exclaimed in broken sentences, and in a keen sharp tone,

'Is that poetry, Sir?--Is it Pindar?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, there is here

a great deal of what is called poetry.' Then, turning to me, the poet

cried, 'My muse has not been long upon the town, and (pointing to the

Ode) it trembles under the hand of the great critick.' Johnson, in a

tone of displeasure, asked him, 'Why do you praise Anson?' I did not

trouble him by asking his reason for this question. He proceeded, 'Here

is an errour, Sir; you have made Genius feminine.' 'Palpable, Sir;

(cried the enthusiast,) I know it. But (in a lower tone,) it was to

pay a compliment to the Duchess of Devonshire, with which her Grace was

pleased. She is walking across Coxheath, in the military uniform, and I

suppose her to be the Genius of Britain.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you are giving

a reason for it; but that will not make it right. You may have a reason

why two and two should make five; but they will still make but four.'

Although I was several times with him in the course of the following

days, such it seems were my occupations, or such my negligence, that I

have preserved no memorial of his conversation till Friday, March 26,

when I visited him. He said he expected to be attacked on account of his

Lives of the Poets. 'However (said he,) I would rather be attacked than

unnoticed. For the worst thing you can do to an authour is to be silent

as to his works. An assault upon a town is a bad thing; but starving it

is still worse; an assault may be unsuccessful; you may have more

men killed than you kill; but if you starve the town, you are sure of

victory.'

Talking of a friend of ours associating with persons of very discordant

principles and characters; I said he was a very universal man, quite a

man of the world. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; but one may be so much a man

of the world as to be nothing in the world. I remember a passage in

Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, which he was afterwards fool enough to

expunge: "I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing."' BOSWELL.

'That was a fine passage.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir: there was another fine

passage too, which be struck out: "When I was a young man, being anxious

to distinguish myself, I was perpetually starting new propositions.

But I soon gave this over; for, I found that generally what was new was

false."' I said I did not like to sit with people of whom I had not a

good opinion. JOHNSON. 'But you must not indulge your delicacy too much;

or you will be a tete-a-tete man all your life.'

During my stay in London this spring, I find I was unaccountably

negligent in preserving Johnson's sayings, more so than at any time when

I was happy enough to have an opportunity of hearing his wisdom and wit.

There is no help for it now. I must content myself with presenting such

scraps as I have. But I am nevertheless ashamed and vexed to think how

much has been lost. It is not that there was a bad crop this year; but

that I was not sufficiently careful in gathering it in. I, therefore, in

some instances can only exhibit a few detached fragments.

Talking of the wonderful concealment of the authour of the celebrated

letters signed Junius; he said, 'I should have believed Burke to be

Junius, because I know no man but Burke who is capable of writing these

letters; but Burke spontaneously denied it to me. The case would

have been different had I asked him if he was the authour; a man so

questioned, as to an anonymous publication, may think he has a right to

deny it.'

On Wednesday, March 31, when I visited him, and confessed an excess of

which I had very seldom been guilty; that I had spent a whole night

in playing at cards, and that I could not look back on it with

satisfaction; instead of a harsh animadversion, he mildly said, 'Alas,

Sir, on how few things can we look back with satisfaction.'

On Friday, April 2, being Good-Friday, I visited him in the morning as

usual; and finding that we insensibly fell into a train of ridicule upon

the foibles of one of our friends, a very worthy man, I, by way of a

check, quoted some good admonition from The Government of the Tongue,

that very pious book. It happened also remarkably enough, that the

subject of the sermon preached to us to-day by Dr. Burrows, the rector

of St. Clement Danes, was the certainty that at the last day we must

give an account of 'the deeds done in the body;' and, amongst various

acts of culpability he mentioned evil-speaking. As we were moving slowly

along in the crowd from church, Johnson jogged my elbow, and said, 'Did

you attend to the sermon?' 'Yes, Sir, (said I,) it was very applicable

to US.' He, however, stood upon the defensive. 'Why, Sir, the sense

of ridicule is given us, and may be lawfully used. The authour of The

Government of the Tongue would have us treat all men alike.'

In the interval between morning and evening service, he endeavoured

to employ himself earnestly in devotional exercises; and as he has

mentioned in his Prayers and Meditations, gave me Les Pensees de

Paschal, that I might not interrupt him. I preserve the book with

reverence. His presenting it to me is marked upon it with his own hand,

and I have found in it a truly divine unction. We went to church again

in the afternoon.

On Wednesday, April 7, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. I have

not marked what company was there. Johnson harangued upon the qualities

of different liquors; and spoke with great contempt of claret, as so

weak, that a man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.' He

was persuaded to drink one glass of it, that he might judge, not from

recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation. He shook

his head, and said, 'Poor stuff! No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys;

port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling), must drink

brandy. In the first place, the flavour of brandy is most grateful to

the palate; and then brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking CAN

do for him. There are, indeed, few who are able to drink brandy. That is

a power rather to be wished for than attained. And yet, (proceeded he,)

as in all pleasure hope is a considerable part, I know not but fruition

comes too quick by brandy. Florence wine I think the worst; it is wine

only to the eye; it is wine neither while you are drinking it, nor after

you have drunk it; it neither pleases the taste, nor exhilarates the

spirits.' I reminded him how heartily he and I used to drink wine

together, when we were first acquainted; and how I used to have a

head-ache after sitting up with him. He did not like to have this

recalled, or, perhaps, thinking that I boasted improperly, resolved to

have a witty stroke at me: 'Nay, Sir, it was not the WINE that made your

head ache, but the SENSE that I put into it.' BOSWELL. 'What, Sir! will

sense make the head ache?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, (with a smile,) when it

is not used to it.'--No man who has a true relish of pleasantry could be

offended at this; especially if Johnson in a long intimacy had given him

repeated proofs of his regard and good estimation. I used to say, that

as he had given me a thousand pounds in praise, he had a good right now

and then to take a guinea from me.

On Thursday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramsay's, with

Lord Graham and some other company. We talked of Shakspeare's witches.

JOHNSON. 'They are beings of his own creation; they are a compound of

malignity and meanness, without any abilities; and are quite different

from the Italian magician. King James says in his Daemonology,

'Magicians command the devils: witches are their servants. The Italian

magicians are elegant beings.' RAMSAY. 'Opera witches, not Drury-lane

witches.' Johnson observed, that abilities might be employed in a narrow

sphere, as in getting money, which he said he believed no man could do,

without vigorous parts, though concentrated to a point. RAMSAY. 'Yes,

like a strong horse in a mill; he pulls better.'

Lord Graham, while he praised the beauty of Lochlomond, on the banks of

which is his family seat, complained of the climate, and said he could

not bear it. JOHNSON. 'Nay, my Lord, don't talk so: you may bear it well

enough. Your ancestors have borne it more years than I can tell.' This

was a handsome compliment to the antiquity of the House of Montrose. His

Lordship told me afterwards, that he had only affected to complain of

the climate; lest, if he had spoken as favourably of his country as he

really thought, Dr. Johnson might have attacked it. Johnson was very

courteous to Lady Margaret Macdonald. 'Madam, (said he,) when I was in

the Isle of Sky, I heard of the people running to take the stones off

the road, lest Lady Margaret's horse should stumble.'

Lord Graham commended Dr. Drummond at Naples, as a man of extraordinary

talents; and added, that he had a great love of liberty. JOHNSON. 'He is

YOUNG, my Lord; (looking to his Lordship with an arch smile,) all BOYS

love liberty, till experience convinces them they are not so fit to

govern themselves as they imagined. We are all agreed as to our own

liberty; we would have as much of it as we can get; but we are not

agreed as to the liberty of others: for in proportion as we take, others

must lose. I believe we hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to

govern us. When that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty

not to have candles in his windows.' RAMSAY. 'The result is, that order

is better than confusion.' JOHNSON. 'The result is, that order cannot be

had but by subordination.'

On Friday, April 16, I had been present at the trial of the unfortunate

Mr. Hackman, who, in a fit of frantick jealous love, had shot Miss Ray,

the favourite of a nobleman. Johnson, in whose company I dined to-day

with some other friends, was much interested by my account of what

passed, and particularly with his prayer for the mercy of heaven. He

said, in a solemn fervid tone, 'I hope he SHALL find mercy.'

This day a violent altercation arose between Johnson and Beauclerk,

which having made much noise at the time, I think it proper, in order to

prevent any future misrepresentation, to give a minute account of it.

In talking of Hackman, Johnson argued, as Judge Blackstone had done,

that his being furnished with two pistols was a proof that he meant to

shoot two persons. Mr. Beauclerk said, 'No; for that every wise man who

intended to shoot himself, took two pistols, that he might be sure of

doing it at once. Lord ------ ------' cook shot himself with one pistol,

and lived ten days in great agony. Mr. ------, who loved buttered

muffins, but durst not eat them because they disagreed with his stomach,

resolved to shoot himself; and then he eat three buttered muffins

for breakfast, before shooting himself, knowing that he should not be

troubled with indigestion: HE had two charged pistols; one was found

lying charged upon the table by him, after he had shot himself with the

other.' 'Well, (said Johnson, with an air of triumph,) you see here one

pistol was sufficient.' Beauclerk replied smartly, 'Because it happened

to kill him.' And either then or a very little afterwards, being piqued

at Johnson's triumphant remark, added, 'This is what you don't know,

and I do.' There was then a cessation of the dispute; and some minutes

intervened, during which, dinner and the glass went on cheerfully; when

Johnson suddenly and abruptly exclaimed, 'Mr. Beauclerk, how came you

to talk so petulantly to me, as "This is what you don't know, but what I

know"? One thing I know, which YOU don't seem to know, that you are very

uncivil.' BEAUCLERK. 'Because YOU began by being uncivil, (which you

always are.)' The words in parenthesis were, I believe, not heard by Dr.

Johnson. Here again there was a cessation of arms. Johnson told me, that

the reason why he waited at first some time without taking any notice of

what Mr. Beauclerk said, was because he was thinking whether he should

resent it. But when he considered that there were present a young Lord

and an eminent traveller, two men of the world with whom he had never

dined before, he was apprehensive that they might think they had a right

to take such liberties with him as Beauclerk did, and therefore resolved

he would not let it pass; adding, that 'he would not appear a coward.'

A little while after this, the conversation turned on the violence of

Hackman's temper. Johnson then said, 'It was his business to COMMAND his

temper, as my friend, Mr. Beauclerk, should have done some time ago.'

BEAUCLERK. 'I should learn of YOU, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have given

ME opportunities enough of learning, when I have been in YOUR company.

No man loves to be treated with contempt.' BEAUCLERK. (with a polite

inclination towards Johnson,) 'Sir, you have known me twenty years, and

however I may have treated others, you may be sure I could never

treat you with contempt.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have said more than was

necessary.' Thus it ended; and Beauclerk's coach not having come for him

till very late, Dr. Johnson and another gentleman sat with him a long

time after the rest of the company were gone; and he and I dined at

Beauclerk's on the Saturday se'nnight following.

After this tempest had subsided, I recollect the following particulars

of his conversation:--

'I am always for getting a boy forward in his learning; for that is a

sure good. I would let him at first read ANY English book which happens

to engage his attention; because you have done a great deal when you

have brought him to have entertainment from a book. He'll get better

books afterwards.'

'To be contradicted, in order to force you to talk, is mighty

unpleasing. You SHINE, indeed; but it is by being GROUND.'

On Saturday, April 24, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, with Sir

Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Jones, (afterwards Sir William,) Mr. Langton, Mr.

Steevens, Mr. Paradise, and Dr. Higgins. I mentioned that Mr. Wilkes

had attacked Garrick to me, as a man who had no friend. 'I believe he is

right, Sir. [Greek text omitted]--He had friends, but no friend. Garrick

was so diffused, he had no man to whom he wished to unbosom himself. He

found people always ready to applaud him, and that always for the same

thing: so he saw life with great uniformity.' I took upon me, for once,

to fight with Goliath's weapons, and play the sophist.--Garrick did

not need a friend, as he got from every body all he wanted. What is

a friend? One who supports you and comforts you, while others do not.

Friendship, you know, Sir, is the cordial drop, "to make the nauseous

draught of life go down:" but if the draught be not nauseous, if it be

all sweet, there is no occasion for that drop.' JOHNSON. 'Many men would

not be content to live so. I hope I should not. They would wish to have

an intimate friend, with whom they might compare minds, and cherish

private virtues. One of the company mentioned Lord Chesterfield, as

a man who had no friend. JOHNSON. 'There were more materials to make

friendship in Garrick, had he not been so diffused.' BOSWELL. 'Garrick

was pure gold, but beat out to thin leaf. Lord Chesterfield was tinsel.'

JOHNSON. 'Garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his age;

a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give indulgence

to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely, money acquired by

himself. He began the world with a great hunger for money; the son of a

half-pay officer, bred in a family, whose study was to make four-pence

do as much as others made four-pence halfpenny do. But, when he had got

money, he was very liberal.' I presumed to animadvert on his eulogy on

Garrick, in his Lives of the Poets. 'You say, Sir, his death eclipsed

the gaiety of nations.' JOHNSON. 'I could not have said more nor less.

It is the truth; ECLIPSED, not EXTINGUISHED; and his death DID eclipse;

it was like a storm.' BOSWELL. 'But why nations? Did his gaiety extend

farther than his own nation?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, some exaggeration must

be allowed. Besides, nations may be said--if we allow the Scotch to be a

nation, and to have gaiety,--which they have not. YOU are an exception,

though. Come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one

Scotchman who is cheerful.' BEAUCLERK. 'But he is a very unnatural

Scotchman.' I, however, continued to think the compliment to Garrick

hyperbolically untrue. His acting had ceased some time before his death;

at any rate he had acted in Ireland but a short time, at an early period

of his life, and never in Scotland. I objected also to what appears

an anticlimax of praise, when contrasted with the preceding

panegyrick,--'and diminished the public stock of harmless

pleasure!'--'Is not HARMLESS PLEASURE very tame?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir,

harmless pleasure is the highest praise. Pleasure is a word of dubious

import; pleasure is in general dangerous, and pernicious to virtue; to

be able therefore to furnish pleasure that is harmless, pleasure pure

and unalloyed, is as great a power as man can possess.' This was,

perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could be made; still, however, I was

not satisfied.

Talking of celebrated and successful irregular practisers in physick; he

said, 'Taylor was the most ignorant man I ever knew; but sprightly.

Ward the dullest. Taylor challenged me once to talk Latin with him;

(laughing). I quoted some of Horace, which he took to be a part of my

own speech. He said a few words well enough.' BEAUCLERK. 'I remember,

Sir, you said that Taylor was an instance how far impudence could carry

ignorance.' Mr. Beauclerk was very entertaining this day, and told us a

number of short stories in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of

THE WORLD which has I know not what impressive effect, as if there were

something more than is expressed, or than perhaps we could perfectly

understand. As Johnson and I accompanied Sir Joshua Reynolds in his

coach, Johnson said, 'There is in Beauclerk a predominance over his

company, that one does not like. But he is a man who has lived so much

in the world, that he has a short story on every occasion; he is always

ready to talk, and is never exhausted.'

Soon after this time a little incident occurred, which I will not

suppress, because I am desirous that my work should be, as much as

is consistent with the strictest truth, an antidote to the false and

injurious notions of his character, which have been given by others, and

therefore I infuse every drop of genuine sweetness into my biographical

cup.

'TO DR. JOHNSON.

'MY DEAR SIR,--I am in great pain with an inflamed foot, and obliged

to keep my bed, so am prevented from having the pleasure to dine at Mr.

Ramsay's to-day, which is very hard; and my spirits are sadly sunk. Will

you be so friendly as to come and sit an hour with me in the evening. I

am ever your most faithful, and affectionate humble servant,

'South Audley-street, Monday, April 26.'

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'TO MR. BOSWELL.

'Mr. Johnson laments the absence of Mr. Boswell, and will come to

him.--Harley-street.'

He came to me in the evening, and brought Sir Joshua Reynolds. I need

scarcely say, that their conversation, while they sate by my bedside,

was the most pleasing opiate to pain that could have been administered.

Johnson being now better disposed to obtain information concerning Pope

than he was last year, sent by me to my Lord Marchmont a present

of those volumes of his Lives of the Poets which were at this time

published, with a request to have permission to wait on him; and his

Lordship, who had called on him twice, obligingly appointed Saturday,

the first of May, for receiving us.

On that morning Johnson came to me from Streatham, and after drinking

chocolate at General Paoli's, in South-Audley-street, we proceeded to

Lord Marchmont's in Curzon-street. His Lordship met us at the door of

his library, and with great politeness said to Johnson, 'I am not going

to make an encomium upon MYSELF, by telling you the high respect I have

for YOU, Sir.' Johnson was exceedingly courteous; and the interview,

which lasted about two hours, during which the Earl communicated his

anecdotes of Pope, was as agreeable as I could have wished. When we

came out, I said to Johnson, that considering his Lordship's civility, I

should have been vexed if he had again failed to come. 'Sir, (said

he,) I would rather have given twenty pounds than not have come.' I

accompanied him to Streatham, where we dined, and returned to town in

the evening.

He had, before I left London, resumed the conversation concerning the

appearance of a ghost at Newcastle upon Tyne, which Mr. John Wesley

believed, but to which Johnson did not give credit. I was, however,

desirous to examine the question closely, and at the same time wished to

be made acquainted with Mr. John Wesley; for though I differed from him

in some points, I admired his various talents, and loved his pious zeal.

At my request, therefore, Dr. Johnson gave me a letter of introduction

to him.

'TO THE REVEREND MR. JOHN WESLEY.

'SIR,--Mr. Boswell, a gentleman who has been long known to me, is

desirous of being known to you, and has asked this recommendation, which

I give him with great willingness, because I think it very much to be

wished that worthy and religious men should be acquainted with each

other. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

'May 3, 1779.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

Mr. Wesley being in the course of his ministry at Edinburgh, I presented

this letter to him, and was very politely received. I begged to have it

returned to me, which was accordingly done. His state of the evidence as

to the ghost did not satisfy me.

My readers will not be displeased at being told every slight

circumstance of the manner in which Dr. Johnson contrived to amuse his

solitary hours. He sometimes employed himself in chymistry, sometimes

in watering and pruning a vine, sometimes in small experiments, at which

those who may smile, should recollect that there are moments which admit

of being soothed only by trifles.*

* In one of his manuscript Diaries, there is the following

entry, which marks his curious minute attention: 'July 26,

1768. I shaved my nail by accident in whetting the knife,

about an eighth of an inch from the bottom, and about a

fourth from the top. This I measure that I may know the

growth of nails; the whole is about five eighths of an

inch.'

Another of the same kind appears, 'Aug. 7, 1779, Partem

brachii dextri carpo proximum et cutem pectoris circa

mamillam dextram rasi, ut notum fieret quanto temporis pili

renovarentur.'

And, 'Aug. 15, 1773. I cut from the vine 41 leaves, which

weighed five oz. and a half, and eight scruples:--I lay them

upon my bookcase, to see what weight they will lose by

drying.'--BOSWELL.

My friend Colonel James Stuart, second son of the Earl of Bute, who had

distinguished himself as a good officer of the Bedfordshire militia,

had taken a publick-spirited resolution to serve his country in its

difficulties, by raising a regular regiment, and taking the command of

it himself. This, in the heir of the immense property of Wortley, was

highly honourable. Having been in Scotland recruiting, he obligingly

asked me to accompany him to Leeds, then the head-quarters of his corps;

from thence to London for a short time, and afterwards to other places

to which the regiment might be ordered. Such an offer, at a time of the

year when I had full leisure, was very pleasing; especially as I was to

accompany a man of sterling good sense, information, discernment, and

conviviality; and was to have a second crop in one year of London and

Johnson. Of this I informed my illustrious friend, in characteristical

warm terms, in a letter dated the 30th of September, from Leeds.

On Monday, October 4, I called at his house before he was up. He sent

for me to his bedside, and expressed his satisfaction at this incidental

meeting, with as much vivacity as if he had been in the gaiety of youth.

He called briskly, 'Frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfast IN

SPLENDOUR.'

On Sunday, October 10, we dined together at Mr. Strahan's. The

conversation having turned on the prevailing practice of going to the

East-Indies in quest of wealth;--JOHNSON. 'A man had better have ten

thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in England, than twenty

thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in India, because you

must compute what you GIVE for money; and a man who has lived ten

years in India, has given up ten years of social comfort and all those

advantages which arise from living in England. The ingenious Mr. Brown,

distinguished by the name of Capability Brown, told me, that he was

once at the seat of Lord Clive, who had returned from India with great

wealth; and that he shewed him at the door of his bed-chamber a large

chest, which he said he had once had full of gold; upon which Brown

observed, "I am glad you can bear it so near your bed-chamber."'

We talked of the state of the poor in London.--JOHNSON. 'Saunders Welch,

the Justice, who was once High-Constable of Holborn, and had the

best opportunities of knowing the state of the poor, told me, that I

under-rated the number, when I computed that twenty a week, that is,

above a thousand a year, died of hunger; not absolutely of immediate

hunger; but of the wasting and other diseases which are the consequences

of hunger. This happens only in so large a place as London, where people

are not known. What we are told about the great sums got by begging is

not true: the trade is overstocked. And, you may depend upon it, there

are many who cannot get work. A particular kind of manufacture fails:

those who have been used to work at it, can, for some time, work at

nothing else. You meet a man begging; you charge him with idleness:

he says, "I am willing to labour. Will you give me work?"--"I

cannot."--"Why, then you have no right to charge me with idleness."' We

left Mr. Strahan's at seven, as Johnson had said he intended to go to

evening prayers. As we walked along, he complained of a little gout

in his toe, and said, 'I shan't go to prayers to-night; I shall go

to-morrow: Whenever I miss church on a Sunday, I resolve to go another

day. But I do not always do it.' This was a fair exhibition of that

vibration between pious resolutions and indolence, which many of us have

too often experienced.