I went home with him, and we had a long quiet conversation.

BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, do people play this trick which I observe now, when

I look at your grate, putting the shovel against it to make the fire

burn?' JOHNSON. 'They play the trick, but it does not make the fire

burn. THERE is a better; (setting the poker perpendicularly up at right

angles with the grate.) In days of superstition they thought, as it made

a cross with the bars, it would drive away the witch.'

BOSWELL. 'By associating with you, Sir, I am always getting an accession

of wisdom. But perhaps a man, after knowing his own character--the

limited strength of his own mind, should not be desirous of having too

much wisdom, considering, quid valeant humeri, how little he can carry.'

JOHNSON. 'Sir, be as wise as you can; let a man be aliis laetus, sapiens

sibi:

"Though pleas'd to see the dolphins play,

I mind my compass and my way."

You may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in company at a

tavern in the evening. Every man is to take care of his own wisdom and

his own virtue, without minding too much what others think.'

He said, 'Dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of an English

Dictionary; but I had long thought of it.' BOSWELL. 'You did not know

what you were undertaking.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knew very well what

I was undertaking,--and very well how to do it,--and have done it very

well.' BOSWELL. 'An excellent climax! and it HAS availed you. In your

Preface you say, "What would it avail me in this gloom of solitude?" You

have been agreeably mistaken.'

In his Life of Milton he observes, 'I cannot but remark a kind

of respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great man by his

biographers: every house in which he resided is historically mentioned,

as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that he honoured by

his presence.' I had, before I read this observation, been desirous of

shewing that respect to Johnson, by various inquiries. Finding him this

evening in a very good humour, I prevailed on him to give me an exact

list of his places of residence, since he entered the metropolis as an

authour, which I subjoin in a note.*

* 1. Exeter-street, off Catherine-street, Strand. 2.

Greenwich. 3. Woodstock-street, near Hanover-square. 4.

Castle-street, Cavendish-square, No. 6. 5. Strand. 6.

Boswell-Court. 7. Strand, again. 8. Bow-street. 9.

Holborn. 10. Fetter-lane. 11. Holborn, again. 12.

Gough-square. 13. Staple Inn. 14. Gray's Inn. 15. Inner

Temple-lane, No. 1. 16. Johnson's-court, No. 7. 17.

Bolt-court. No. 8.--BOSWELL.

On Tuesday, October 12, I dined with him at Mr. Ramsay's, with Lord

Newhaven, and some other company, none of whom I recollect, but a

beautiful Miss Graham, a relation of his Lordship's, who asked Dr.

Johnson to hob or nob with her. He was flattered by such pleasing

attention, and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if she would

drink a glass of water, he was much at her service. She accepted. 'Oho,

Sir! (said Lord Newhaven,) you are caught.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, I do not see

HOW I am CAUGHT; but if I am caught, I don't want to get free again. If

I am caught, I hope to be kept.' Then when the two glasses of water were

brought, smiling placidly to the young lady, he said, 'Madam, let us

RECIPROCATE.'

Lord Newhaven and Johnson carried on an argument for some time,

concerning the Middlesex election. Johnson said, 'Parliament may be

considered as bound by law as a man is bound where there is nobody to

tie the knot. As it is clear that the House of Commons may expel and

expel again and again, why not allow of the power to incapacitate for

that parliament, rather than have a perpetual contest kept up between

parliament and the people.' Lord Newhaven took the opposite side; but

respectfully said, 'I speak with great deference to you, Dr. Johnson; I

speak to be instructed.' This had its full effect on my friend. He bowed

his head almost as low as the table, to a complimenting nobleman; and

called out, 'My Lord, my Lord, I do not desire all this ceremony; let

us tell our minds to one another quietly.' After the debate was over, he

said, 'I have got lights on the subject to-day, which I had not before.'

This was a great deal from him, especially as he had written a pamphlet

upon it.

Of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated Mr. George Whitefield, he said,

'Whitefield never drew as much attention as a mountebank does; he did

not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was

strange. Were Astley to preach a sermon standing upon his head on a

horse's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wise

man would say he had made a better sermon for that. I never treated

Whitefield's ministry with contempt; I believe he did good. He had

devoted himself to the lower classes of mankind, and among them he

was of use. But when familiarity and noise claim the praise due to

knowledge, art, and elegance, we must beat down such pretensions.'

What I have preserved of his conversation during the remainder of my

stay in London at this time, is only what follows: I told him that when

I objected to keeping company with a notorious infidel, a celebrated

friend of ours said to me, 'I do not think that men who live laxly in

the world, as you and I do, can with propriety assume such an authority.

Dr. Johnson may, who is uniformly exemplary in his conduct. But it is

not very consistent to shun an infidel to-day, and get drunk to-morrow.'

JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, this is sad reasoning. Because a man cannot be right

in all things, is he to be right in nothing? Because a man sometimes

gets drunk, is he therefore to steal? This doctrine would very soon

bring a man to the gallows.'

He, I know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aversion to go to

Ireland, where I proposed to him that we should make a tour. JOHNSON.

'It is the last place where I should wish to travel.' BOSWELL. 'Should

you not like to see Dublin, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir! Dublin is only a

worse capital.' BOSWELL. 'Is not the Giant's-Causeway worth seeing?'

JOHNSON. 'Worth seeing? yes; but not worth going to see.'

Yet he had a kindness for the Irish nation, and thus generously

expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, on the subject of an

UNION which artful Politicians have often had in view--'Do not make an

union with us, Sir. We should unite with you, only to rob you. We should

have robbed the Scotch, if they had had any thing of which we could have

robbed them.'

Of an acquaintance of ours, whose manners and every thing about him,

though expensive, were coarse, he said, 'Sir, you see in him vulgar

prosperity.'

A foreign minister of no very high talents, who had been in his company

for a considerable time quite overlooked, happened luckily to mention

that he had read some of his Rambler in Italian, and admired it

much. This pleased him greatly; he observed that the title had been

translated, Il Genio errante, though I have been told it was rendered

more ludicrously, Il Vagabondo; and finding that this minister gave

such a proof of his taste, he was all attention to him, and on the first

remark which he made, however simple, exclaimed, 'The Ambassadour says

well--His Excellency observes--' And then he expanded and enriched

the little that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared

something of consequence. This was exceedingly entertaining to the

company who were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a

pleasant topick of merriment: 'The Ambassadour says well,' became a

laughable term of applause, when no mighty matter had been expressed.

I left London on Monday, October 15, and accompanied Colonel Stuart to

Chester, where his regiment was to lye for some time.

1780: AETAT. 71.]--In 1780, the world was kept in impatience for the

completion of his Lives of the Poets, upon which he was employed so far

as his indolence allowed him to labour.

His friend Dr. Lawrence having now suffered the greatest affliction to

which a man is liable, and which Johnson himself had felt in the most

severe manner; Johnson wrote to him in an admirable strain of sympathy

and pious consolation.

'TO DR. LAWRENCE.

'DEAR SIR,--At a time when all your friends ought to shew their

kindness, and with a character which ought to make all that know you

your friends, you may wonder that you have yet heard nothing from me.

'I have been hindered by a vexatious and incessant cough, for which

within these ten days I have been bled once, fasted four or five times,

taken physick five times, and opiates, I think, six. This day it seems

to remit.

'The loss, dear Sir, which you have lately suffered, I felt many years

ago, and know therefore how much has been taken from you, and how little

help can be had from consolation. He that outlives a wife whom he has

long loved, sees himself disjoined from the only mind that has the same

hopes, and fears, and interest; from the only companion with whom he

has shared much good or evil; and with whom he could set his mind at

liberty, to retrace the past or anticipate the future. The continuity

of being is lacerated; the settled course of sentiment and action is

stopped; and life stands suspended and motionless, till it is driven

by external causes into a new channel. But the time of suspense is

dreadful.

'Our first recourse in this distressed solitude, is, perhaps for want

of habitual piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in necessity. Of two mortal

beings, one must lose the other; but surely there is a higher and better

comfort to be drawn from the consideration of that Providence which

watches over all, and a belief that the living and the dead are equally

in the hands of God, who will reunite those whom he has separated;

or who sees that it is best not to reunite. I am, dear Sir, your most

affectionate, and most humble servant,

'January 20, 1780.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

On the 2nd of May I wrote to him, and requested that we might have

another meeting somewhere in the North of England, in the autumn of this

year.

From Mr. Langton I received soon after this time a letter, of which I

extract a passage, relative both to Mr. Beauclerk and Dr. Johnson.

'The melancholy information you have received concerning Mr. Beauclerk's

death is true. Had his talents been directed in any sufficient degree

as they ought, I have always been strongly of opinion that they were

calculated to make an illustrious figure; and that opinion, as it had

been in part formed upon Dr. Johnson's judgment, receives more and more

confirmation by hearing what, since his death, Dr. Johnson has said

concerning them; a few evenings ago, he was at Mr. Vesey's, where Lord

Althorpe, who was one of a numerous company there, addressed Dr. Johnson

on the subject of Mr. Beauclerk's death, saying, "Our CLUB has had a

great loss since we met last." He replied, "A loss, that perhaps the

whole nation could not repair!" The Doctor then went on to speak of his

endowments, and particularly extolled the wonderful ease with which he

uttered what was highly excellent. He said, that "no man ever was so

free when he was going to say a good thing, from a LOOK that expressed

that it was coming; or, when he had said it, from a look that expressed

that it had come." At Mr. Thrale's, some days before when we were

talking on the same subject, he said, referring to the same idea of his

wonderful facility, "That Beauclerk's talents were those which he

had felt himself more disposed to envy, than those of any whom he had

known."

'On the evening I have spoken of above, at Mr. Vesey's, you would have

been much gratified, as it exhibited an instance of the high importance

in which Dr. Johnson's character is held, I think even beyond any I ever

before was witness to. The company consisted chiefly of ladies, among

whom were the Duchess Dowager of Portland, the Duchess of Beaufort, whom

I suppose from her rank I must name before her mother Mrs. Boscawen, and

her elder sister Mrs. Lewson, who was likewise there; Lady Lucan, Lady

Clermont, and others of note both for their station and understandings.

Among the gentlemen were Lord Althorpe, whom I have before named, Lord

Macartney, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Lord Lucan, Mr. Wraxal, whose book you

have probably seen, The Tour to the Northern Parts of Europe; a very

agreeable ingenious man; Dr. Warren, Mr. Pepys, the Master in Chancery,

whom I believe you know, and Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton. As soon

as Dr. Johnson was come in and had taken a chair, the company began to

collect round him, till they became not less than four, if not five,

deep; those behind standing, and listening over the heads of those

that were sitting near him. The conversation for some time was

chiefly between Dr. Johnson and the Provost of Eton, while the others

contributed occasionally their remarks.'

On his birth-day, Johnson has this note: 'I am now beginning the

seventy-second year of my life, with more strength of body, and greater

vigour of mind, than I think is common at that age.' But still he

complains of sleepless nights and idle days, and forgetfulness, or

neglect of resolutions. He thus pathetically expresses himself,--'Surely

I shall not spend my whole life with my own total disapprobation.'

Mr. Macbean, whom I have mentioned more than once, as one of Johnson's

humble friends, a deserving but unfortunate man, being now oppressed by

age and poverty, Johnson solicited the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, to have

him admitted into the Charterhouse. I take the liberty to insert his

Lordship's answer, as I am eager to embrace every occasion of

augmenting the respectable notion which should ever be entertained of my

illustrious friend:--

'TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

'London, October 24, 1780.

'SIR,

'I have this moment received your letter, dated the 19th, and returned

from Bath.

'In the beginning of the summer I placed one in the Chartreux, without

the sanction of a recommendation so distinct and so authoritative as

yours of Macbean; and I am afraid, that according to the establishment

of the House, the opportunity of making the charity so good amends will

not soon recur. But whenever a vacancy shall happen, if you'll favour me

with notice of it, I will try to recommend him to the place, even though

it should not be my turn to nominate. I am, Sir, with great regard, your

most faithful and obedient servant,

'THURLOW.'

Being disappointed in my hopes of meeting Johnson this year, so that I

could hear none of his admirable sayings, I shall compensate for this

want by inserting a collection of them, for which I am indebted to

my worthy friend Mr. Langton, whose kind communications have been

separately interwoven in many parts of this work. Very few articles of

this collection were committed to writing by himself, he not having

that habit; which he regrets, and which those who know the numerous

opportunities he had of gathering the rich fruits of Johnsonian wit and

wisdom, must ever regret. I however found, in conversations with him,

that a good store of Johnsoniana was treasured in his mind; and I

compared it to Herculaneum, or some old Roman field, which when dug,

fully rewards the labour employed. The authenticity of every article

is unquestionable. For the expression, I, who wrote them down in his

presence, am partly answerable.

'There is nothing more likely to betray a man into absurdity than

CONDESCENSION; when he seems to suppose his understanding too powerful

for his company.'

'Having asked Mr. Langton if his father and mother had sat for their

pictures, which he thought it right for each generation of a family

to do, and being told they had opposed it, he said, "Sir, among the

anfractuosities of the human mind, I know not if it may not be one, that

there is a superstitious reluctance to sit for a picture."'

'John Gilbert Cooper related, that soon after the publication of his

Dictionary, Garrick being asked by Johnson what people said of it, told

him, that among other animadversions, it was objected that he cited

authorities which were beneath the dignity of such a work, and mentioned

Richardson. "Nay, (said Johnson,) I have done worse than that: I have

cited THEE, David."'

'When in good humour he would talk of his own writings with a wonderful

frankness and candour, and would even criticise them with the closest

severity. One day, having read over one of his Ramblers, Mr. Langton

asked him, how he liked that paper; he shook his head, and answered,

"too wordy." At another time, when one was reading his tragedy of Irene

to a company at a house in the country, he left the room; and somebody

having asked him the reason of this, he replied, "Sir, I thought it had

been better."'

'He related, that he had once in a dream a contest of wit with some

other person, and that he was very much mortified by imagining that his

opponent had the better of him. "Now, (said he,) one may mark here the

effect of sleep in weakening the power of reflection; for had not my

judgement failed me, I should have seen, that the wit of this supposed

antagonist, by whose superiority I felt myself depressed, was as much

furnished by me, as that which I thought I had been uttering in my own

character."'

'Of Sir Joshua Reynolds, he said, "Sir, I know no man who has passed

through life with more observation than Reynolds."'

'He repeated to Mr. Langton, with great energy, in the Greek, our

SAVIOUR'S gracious expression concerning the forgiveness of Mary

Magdalen, '[Greek text omitted]. "Thy faith hath saved thee; go

in peace." He said, "the manner of this dismission is exceedingly

affecting."'

'Talking of the Farce of High Life below Stairs, he said, "Here is a

Farce, which is really very diverting when you see it acted; and yet one

may read it, and not know that one has been reading any thing at all."'

'He used at one time to go occasionally to the green room of Drury-lane

Theatre, where he was much regarded by the players, and was very easy

and facetious with them. He had a very high opinion of Mrs. Clive's

comick powers, and conversed more with her than with any of them. He

said, "Clive, Sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always understands

what you say." And she said of him, "I love to sit by Dr. Johnson; he

always entertains me." One night, when The Recruiting Officer was acted,

he said to Mr. Holland, who had been expressing an apprehension that Dr.

Johnson would disdain the works of Farquhar; "No, Sir, I think Farquhar

a man whose writings have considerable merit."'

'His friend Garrick was so busy in conducting the drama, that they could

not have so much intercourse as Mr. Garrick used to profess an anxious

wish that there should be. There might, indeed, be something in the

contemptuous severity as to the merit of acting, which his old preceptor

nourished in himself, that would mortify Garrick after the great

applause which he received from the audience. For though Johnson said of

him, "Sir, a man who has a nation to admire him every night, may well be

expected to be somewhat elated;" yet he would treat theatrical matters

with a ludicrous slight. He mentioned one evening, "I met David coming

off the stage, drest in a woman's riding-hood, when he acted in The

Wonder; I came full upon him, and I believe he was not pleased."'

'Once he asked Tom Davies, whom he saw drest in a fine suit of clothes,

"And what art thou to-night?" Tom answered, "The Thane of Ross;" (which

it will be recollected is a very inconsiderable character.) "O brave!"

said Johnson.

'Of Mr. Longley, at Rochester, a gentleman of very considerable

learning, whom Dr. Johnson met there, he said, "My heart warms towards

him. I was surprised to find in him such a nice acquaintance with the

metre in the learned languages; though I was somewhat mortified that I

had it not so much to myself, as I should have thought."'

'Talking of the minuteness with which people will record the sayings

of eminent persons, a story was told, that when Pope was on a visit to

Spence at Oxford, as they looked from the window they saw a Gentleman

Commoner, who was just come in from riding, amusing himself with

whipping at a post. Pope took occasion to say, "That young gentleman

seems to have little to do." Mr. Beauclerk observed, "Then, to be sure,

Spence turned round and wrote that down;" and went on to say to Dr.

Johnson, "Pope, Sir, would have said the same of you, if he had seen

you distilling." JOHNSON. "Sir, if Pope had told me of my distilling, I

would have told him of his grotto."'

'He would allow no settled indulgence of idleness upon principle, and

always repelled every attempt to urge excuses for it. A friend one

day suggested, that it was not wholesome to study soon after dinner.

JOHNSON. "Ah, Sir, don't give way to such a fancy. At one time of my

life I had taken it into my head that it was not wholesome to study

between breakfast and dinner."'

'Dr. Goldsmith, upon occasion of Mrs. Lennox's bringing out a play, said

to Dr. Johnson at THE CLUB, that a person had advised him to go and hiss

it, because she had attacked Shakspeare in her book called Shakspeare

Illustrated. JOHNSON. "And did not you tell him he was a rascal?"

GOLDSMITH. "No, Sir, I did not. Perhaps he might not mean what he said."

JOHNSON. "Nay, Sir, if he lied, it is a different thing." Colman slily

said, (but it is believed Dr. Johnson did not hear him,) "Then the

proper expression should have been,--Sir, if you don't lie, you're a

rascal."'

'His affection for Topham Beauclerk was so great, that when Beauclerk

was labouring under that severe illness which at last occasioned his

death, Johnson said, (with a voice faultering with emotion,) "Sir,

I would walk to the extent of the diameter of the earth to save

Beauclerk."'

'Johnson was well acquainted with Mr. Dossie, authour of a treatise on

Agriculture; and said of him, "Sir, of the objects which the Society of

Arts have chiefly in view, the chymical effects of bodies operating upon

other bodies, he knows more than almost any man." Johnson, in order

to give Mr. Dossie his vote to be a member of this Society, paid up an

arrear which had run on for two years. On this occasion he mentioned

a circumstance as characteristick of the Scotch. "One of that nation,

(said he,) who had been a candidate, against whom I had voted, came

up to me with a civil salutation. Now, Sir, this is their way. An

Englishman would have stomached it, and been sulky, and never have taken

further notice of you; but a Scotchman, Sir, though you vote nineteen

times against him, will accost you with equal complaisance after each

time, and the twentieth time, Sir, he will get your vote."'

'Talking on the subject of toleration, one day when some friends were

with him in his study, he made his usual remark, that the State has a

right to regulate the religion of the people, who are the children of

the State. A clergyman having readily acquiesced in this, Johnson, who

loved discussion, observed, "But, Sir, you must go round to other States

than your own. You do not know what a Bramin has to say for himself. In

short, Sir, I have got no further than this: Every man has a right to

utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him

down for it. Martyrdom is the test."'

'Goldsmith one day brought to THE CLUB a printed Ode, which he, with

others, had been hearing read by its authour in a publick room at the

rate of five shillings each for admission. One of the company having

read it aloud, Dr. Johnson said, "Bolder words and more timorous

meaning, I think never were brought together."

'Talking of Gray's Odes, he said, "They are forced plants raised in a

hot-bed; and they are poor plants; they are but cucumbers after all." A

gentleman present, who had been running down Ode-writing in general,

as a bad species of poetry, unluckily said, "Had they been literally

cucumbers, they had been better things than Odes."--"Yes, Sir, (said

Johnson,) for a HOG."'

'It is very remarkable, that he retained in his memory very slight and

trivial, as well as important things. As an instance of this, it seems

that an inferiour domestick of the Duke of Leeds had attempted to

celebrate his Grace's marriage in such homely rhimes as he could make;

and this curious composition having been sung to Dr. Johnson he got it

by heart, and used to repeat it in a very pleasant manner. Two of the

stanzas were these:--

"When the Duke of Leeds shall married be

To a fine young lady of high quality,

How happy will that gentlewoman be

In his Grace of Leeds's good company.

She shall have all that's fine and fair,

And the best of silk and satin shall wear;

And ride in a coach to take the air,

And have a house in St. James's-square."

To hear a man, of the weight and dignity of Johnson, repeating such

humble attempts at poetry, had a very amusing effect. He, however,

seriously observed of the last stanza repeated by him, that it nearly

comprized all the advantages that wealth can give.

'An eminent foreigner, when he was shewn the British Museum, was very

troublesome with many absurd inquiries. "Now there, Sir, (said he,) is

the difference between an Englishman and a Frenchman. A Frenchman must

be always talking, whether he knows any thing of the matter or not; an

Englishman is content to say nothing, when he has nothing to say."

'His unjust contempt for foreigners was, indeed, extreme. One evening,

at old Slaughter's coffee-house, when a number of them were talking

loud about little matters, he said, "Does not this confirm old Meynell's

observation--For any thing I see, foreigners are fools."'

'He said, that once, when he had a violent tooth-ache, a Frenchman

accosted him thus:--"Ah, Monsieur vous etudiez trop."'

'Colman, in a note on his translation of Terence, talking of

Shakspeare's learning, asks, "What says Farmer to this? What says

Johnson?" Upon this he observed, "Sir, let Farmer answer for himself: I

never engaged in this controversy. I always said, Shakspeare had Latin

enough to grammaticise his English."'

'A clergyman, whom he characterised as one who loved to say little

oddities, was affecting one day, at a Bishop's table, a sort of slyness

and freedom not in character, and repeated, as if part of The Old Man's

Wish, a song by Dr. Walter Pope, a verse bordering on licentiousness.

Johnson rebuked him in the finest manner, by first shewing him that he

did not know the passage he was aiming at, and thus humbling him:

"Sir, that is not the song: it is thus." And he gave it right. Then

looking stedfastly on him, "Sir, there is a part of that song which I

should wish to exemplify in my own life:--

"May I govern my passions with absolute sway!"'

'He used frequently to observe, that men might be very eminent in a

profession, without our perceiving any particular power of mind in them

in conversation. "It seems strange (said he,) that a man should see so

far to the right, who sees so short a way to the left. Burke is the only

man whose common conversation corresponds with the general fame which

he has in the world. Take up whatever topick you please, he is ready to

meet you."'

'Mr. Langton, when a very young man, read Dodsley's Cleone, a Tragedy,

to him, not aware of his extreme impatience to be read to. As it went

on he turned his face to the back of his chair, and put himself into

various attitudes, which marked his uneasiness. At the end of an

act, however, he said, "Come let's have some more, let's go into the

slaughter-house again, Lanky. But I am afraid there is more blood than

brains."

'Snatches of reading (said he,) will not make a Bentley or a Clarke.

They are, however, in a certain degree advantageous. I would put a

child into a library (where no unfit books are) and let him read at his

choice. A child should not be discouraged from reading any thing that he

takes a liking to, from a notion that it is above his reach. If that

be the ease, the child will soon find it out and desist; if not, he of

course gains the instruction; which is so much the more likely to come,

from the inclination with which he takes up the study.'

'A gentleman who introduced his brother to Dr. Johnson was earnest to

recommend him to the Doctor's notice, which he did by saying, "When

we have sat together some time, you'll find my brother grow very

entertaining."--"Sir, (said Johnson,) I can wait."'

'In the latter part of his life, in order to satisfy himself whether his

mental faculties were impaired, he resolved that he would try to learn

a new language, and fixed upon the Low Dutch, for that purpose, and this

he continued till he had read about one half of Thomas a Kempis; and

finding that there appeared no abatement of his power of acquisition, he

then desisted, as thinking the experiment had been duly tried.'

'Mr. Langton and he having gone to see a Freemason's funeral procession,

when they were at Rochester, and some solemn musick being played on

French horns, he said, "This is the first time that I have ever been

affected by musical sounds;" adding, "that the impression made upon him

was of a melancholy kind." Mr. Langton saying, that this effect was a

fine one,--JOHNSON. "Yes, if it softens the mind, so as to prepare it

for the reception of salutary feelings, it may be good: but inasmuch as

it is melancholy per se, it is bad."'

'Goldsmith had long a visionary project, that some time or other when

his circumstances should be easier, he would go to Aleppo, in order to

acquire a knowledge as far as might be of any arts peculiar to the

East, and introduce them into Britain. When this was talked of in Dr.

Johnson's company, he said, "Of all men Goldsmith is the most unfit to

go out upon such an inquiry; for he is utterly ignorant of such arts

as we already possess, and consequently could not know what would be

accessions to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. Sir, he would

bring home a grinding barrow, which you see in every street in London,

and think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement."'

'Greek, Sir, (said he,) is like lace; every man gets as much of it as he

can.'

'Johnson one day gave high praise to Dr. Bentley's verses in Dodsley's

Collection, which he recited with his usual energy. Dr. Adam Smith,

who was present, observed in his decisive professorial manner, "Very

well--Very well." Johnson however added, "Yes, they ARE very well, Sir;

but you may observe in what manner they are well. They are the forcible

verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accustomed to write verse; for

there is some uncouthness in the expression."'

'Drinking tea one day at Garrick's with Mr. Langton, he was questioned

if he was not somewhat of a heretick as to Shakspeare; said Garrick, "I

doubt he is a little of an infidel."--"Sir, (said Johnson,) I will stand

by the lines I have written on Shakspeare in my Prologue at the opening

of your Theatre." Mr. Langton suggested, that in the line

"And panting Time toil'd after him in vain,"

Johnson might have had in his eye the passage in The Tempest, where

Prospero says of Miranda,

"-----She will outstrip all praise,

And make it halt behind her."

Johnson said nothing. Garrick then ventured to observe, "I do not think

that the happiest line in the praise of Shakspeare." Johnson exclaimed

(smiling,) "Prosaical rogues! next time I write, I'll make both time and

space pant."'

'It is well known that there was formerly a rude custom for those who

were sailing upon the Thames, to accost each other as they passed, in

the most abusive language they could invent, generally, however, with as

much satirical humour as they were capable of producing. Addison gives

a specimen of this ribaldry, in Number 383 of The Spectator, when Sir

Roger de Coverly and he are going to Spring-garden. Johnson was once

eminently successful in this species of contest; a fellow having

attacked him with some coarse raillery, Johnson answered him thus, "Sir,

your wife, under pretence of keeping a bawdy-house, is a receiver of

stolen goods." One evening when he and Mr. Burke and Mr. Langton were

in company together, and the admirable scolding of Timon of Athens was

mentioned, this instance of Johnson's was quoted, and thought to have at

least equal excellence.'

'As Johnson always allowed the extraordinary talents of Mr. Burke, so

Mr. Burke was fully sensible of the wonderful powers of Johnson. Mr.

Langton recollects having passed an evening with both of them, when Mr.

Burke repeatedly entered upon topicks which it was evident he would have

illustrated with extensive knowledge and richness of expression; but

Johnson always seized upon the conversation, in which, however, he

acquitted himself in a most masterly manner. As Mr. Burke and Mr.

Langton were walking home, Mr. Burke observed that Johnson had been very

great that night; Mr. Langton joined in this, but added, he could have

wished to hear more from another person; (plainly intimating that he

meant Mr. Burke.) "O, no (said Mr. Burke,) it is enough for me to have

rung the bell to him."'

'Beauclerk having observed to him of one of their friends, that he was

aukward at counting money, "Why, Sir, (said Johnson,) I am likewise

aukward at counting money. But then, Sir, the reason is plain; I have

had very little money to count."'

'Goldsmith, upon being visited by Johnson one day in the Temple, said

to him with a little jealousy of the appearance of his accommodation, "I

shall soon be in better chambers than these." Johnson at the same time

checked him and paid him a handsome compliment, implying that a man of

his talents should be above attention to such distinctions,--"Nay, Sir,

never mind that. Nil te quaesiveris extra."'

'When Mr. Vesey was proposed as a member of The LITERARY CLUB, Mr.

Burke began by saying that he was a man of gentle manners. "Sir, (said

Johnson,) you need say no more. When you have said a man of gentle

manners; you have said enough."'

'The late Mr. Fitzherbert told Mr. Langton that Johnson said to him,

"Sir, a man has no more right to SAY an uncivil thing, than to ACT one;

no more right to say a rude thing to another than to knock him down"'

'Richardson had little conversation, except about his own works, of

which Sir Joshua Reynolds said he was always willing to talk, and glad

to have them introduced. Johnson when he carried Mr. Langton to see him,

professed that he could bring him out into conversation, and used this

allusive expression, "Sir, I can make him REAR." But he failed; for in

that interview Richardson said little else than that there lay in the

room a translation of his Clarissa into German.'

'Once when somebody produced a newspaper in which there was a letter of

stupid abuse of Sir Joshua Reynolds, of which Johnson himself came in

for a share,--"Pray," said he, "let us have it read aloud from beginning

to end;" which being done, he with a ludicrous earnestness, and not

directing his look to any particular person, called out, "Are we alive

after all this satire!"'

'Of Dr. Goldsmith he said, "No man was more foolish when he had not a

pen in his hand, or more wise when he had."'

'An observation of Bathurst's may be mentioned, which Johnson repeated,

appearing to acknowledge it to be well founded, namely, it was somewhat

remarkable how seldom, on occasion of coming into the company of any new

person, one felt any wish or inclination to see him again.'

1781: AETAT. 72.]--In 1781 Johnson at last completed his Lives of the

Poets, of which he gives this account: 'Some time in March I finished

the Lives of the Poets, which I wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and

hastily, unwilling to work, and working with vigour and haste.' In a

memorandum previous to this, he says of them: 'Written, I hope, in such

a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety.'

The booksellers, justly sensible of the great additional value of the

copy-right, presented him with another hundred pounds, over and above

two hundred, for which his agreement was to furnish such prefaces as he

thought fit.

As he was so good as to make me a present of the greatest part of the

original and indeed only manuscript of this admirable work, I have an

opportunity of observing with wonder, the correctness with which he

rapidly struck off such glowing composition.

The Life of COWLEY he himself considered as the best of the whole, on

account of the dissertation which it contains on the Metaphysical Poets.

While the world in general was filled with admiration of Johnson's

Lives of the Poets, there were narrow circles in which prejudice and

resentment were fostered, and from which attacks of different sorts

issued against him. By some violent Whigs he was arraigned of injustice

to Milton; by some Cambridge men of depreciating Gray; and his

expressing with a dignified freedom what he really thought of George,

Lord Lyttelton, gave offence to some of the friends of that nobleman,

and particularly produced a declaration of war against him from Mrs.

Montagu, the ingenious Essayist on Shakspeare, between whom and his

Lordship a commerce of reciprocal compliments had long been carried on.

In this war the smaller powers in alliance with him were of course led

to engage, at least on the defensive, and thus I for one was excluded

from the enjoyment of 'A Feast of Reason,' such as Mr. Cumberland has

described, with a keen, yet just and delicate pen, in his Observer.

These minute inconveniences gave not the least disturbance to Johnson.

He nobly said, when I talked to him of the feeble, though shrill outcry

which had been raised, 'Sir, I considered myself as entrusted with a

certain portion of truth. I have given my opinion sincerely; let them

shew where they think me wrong.'

I wrote to him in February, complaining of having been troubled by a

recurrence of the perplexing question of Liberty and Necessity;--and

mentioning that I hoped soon to meet him again in London.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,--I hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery.

What have you to do with Liberty and Necessity? Or what more than to

hold your tongue about it? Do not doubt but I shall be most heartily

glad to see you here again, for I love every part about you but your

affectation of distress.

'I have at last finished my Lives, and have laid up for you a load of

copy, all out of order, so that it will amuse you a long time to set it

right. Come to me, my dear Bozzy, and let us be as happy as we can. We

will go again to the Mitre, and talk old times over. I am, dear Sir,

yours affectionately,

'March 14, 1781.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

On Monday, March 19, I arrived in London, and on Tuesday, the 20th, met

him in Fleet-street, walking, or rather indeed moving along; for his

peculiar march is thus described in a very just and picturesque manner,

in a short Life of him published very soon after his death:--'When he

walked the streets, what with the constant roll of his head, and the

concomitant motion of his body, he appeared to make his way by that

motion, independent of his feet.' That he was often much stared at while

he advanced in this manner, may easily be believed; but it was not safe

to make sport of one so robust as he was. Mr. Langton saw him one day,

in a fit of absence, by a sudden start, drive the load off a porter's

back, and walk forward briskly, without being conscious of what he had

done. The porter was very angry, but stood still, and eyed the huge

figure with much earnestness, till he was satisfied that his wisest

course was to be quiet, and take up his burthen again.

Our accidental meeting in the street after a long separation was

a pleasing surprize to us both. He stepped aside with me into

Falcon-court, and made kind inquiries about my family, and as we were

in a hurry going different ways, I promised to call on him next day;

he said he was engaged to go out in the morning. 'Early, Sir?' said I.

JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, a London morning does not go with the sun.'

I waited on him next evening, and he gave me a great portion of his

original manuscript of his Lives of the Poets, which he had preserved

for me.

I found on visiting his friend, Mr. Thrale, that he was now very ill,

and had removed, I suppose by the solicitation of Mrs. Thrale, to a

house in Grosvenor-square. I was sorry to see him sadly changed in his

appearance.

He told me I might now have the pleasure to see Dr. Johnson drink

wine again, for he had lately returned to it. When I mentioned this

to Johnson, he said, 'I drink it now sometimes, but not socially.' The

first evening that I was with him at Thrale's, I observed he poured

a large quantity of it into a glass, and swallowed it greedily. Every

thing about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there

never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, many a year did he

refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciously; when he

did drink wine, it was copiously. He could practise abstinence, but not

temperance.

Mrs. Thrale and I had a dispute, whether Shakspeare or Milton had drawn

the most admirable picture of a man.* I was for Shakspeare; Mrs. Thrale

for Milton; and after a fair hearing, Johnson decided for my opinion.

* The passages considered, according to Boswell's note, were

the portrait of Hamlet's father (Ham. 3. 4. 55-62), and the

portrait of Adam (P. L. 4. 300-303).--ED.

I told him of one of Mr. Burke's playful sallies upon Dean Marlay:

'I don't like the Deanery of Ferns, it sounds so like a BARREN

title.'--'Dr. HEATH should have it;' said I. Johnson laughed, and

condescending to trifle in the same mode of conceit, suggested Dr. MOSS.

He said, 'Mrs. Montagu has dropt me. Now, Sir, there are people whom one

should like very well to drop, but would not wish to be dropped by.' He

certainly was vain of the society of ladies, and could make himself very

agreeable to them, when he chose it; Sir Joshua Reynolds agreed with

me that he could. Mr. Gibbon, with his usual sneer, controverted it,

perhaps in resentment of Johnson's having talked with some disgust of

his ugliness, which one would think a PHILOSOPHER would not mind.

Dean Marlay wittily observed, 'A lady may be vain, when she can turn a

wolf-dog into a lap-dog.'

His notion of the duty of a member of Parliament, sitting upon an

election-committee, was very high; and when he was told of a gentleman

upon one of those committees, who read the newspapers part of the time,

and slept the rest, while the merits of a vote were examined by the

counsel; and as an excuse, when challenged by the chairman for

such behaviour, bluntly answered, 'I had made up my mind upon that

case.'--Johnson, with an indignant contempt, said, 'If he was such a

rogue as to make up his mind upon a case without hearing it, he should

not have been such a fool as to tell it.' 'I think (said Mr. Dudley

Long, now North,) the Doctor has pretty plainly made him out to be both

rogue and fool.'

Johnson's profound reverence for the Hierarchy made him expect from

bishops the highest degree of decorum; he was offended even at

their going to taverns; 'A bishop (said he,) has nothing to do at a

tippling-house. It is not indeed immoral in him to go to a tavern;

neither would it be immoral in him to whip a top in Grosvenor-square.

But, if he did, I hope the boys would fall upon him, and apply the

whip to HIM. There are gradations in conduct; there is

morality,--decency,--propriety. None of these should be violated by

a bishop. A bishop should not go to a house where he may meet a young

fellow leading out a wench.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, every tavern does not

admit women.' JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, any tavern will admit a

well-drest man and a well-drest woman; they will not perhaps admit a

woman whom they see every night walking by their door, in the street.

But a well-drest man may lead in a well-drest woman to any tavern in

London. Taverns sell meat and drink, and will sell them to any body who

can eat and can drink. You may as well say that a mercer will not sell

silks to a woman of the town.'

He also disapproved of bishops going to routs, at least of their staying

at them longer than their presence commanded respect. He mentioned a

particular bishop. 'Poh! (said Mrs. Thrale,) the Bishop of ------ is

never minded at a rout.' BOSWELL. 'When a bishop places himself in a

situation where he has no distinct character, and is of no consequence,

he degrades the dignity of his order.' JOHNSON. 'Mr. Boswell, Madam has

said it as correctly as it could be.'

Johnson and his friend, Beauclerk, were once together in company with

several clergymen, who thought that they should appear to advantage,

by assuming the lax jollity of men of the world; which, as it may be

observed in similar cases, they carried to noisy excess. Johnson, who

they expected would be ENTERTAINED, sat grave and silent for some time;

at last, turning to Beauclerk, he said, by no means in a whisper, 'This

merriment of parsons is mighty offensive.'

On Friday, March 30, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with the

Earl of Charlemont, Sir Annesley Stewart, Mr. Eliot of Port-Eliot, Mr.

Burke, Dean Marlay, Mr. Langton; a most agreeable day, of which I regret

that every circumstance is not preserved; but it is unreasonable to

require such a multiplication of felicity.

Mr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the

Cornish fishermen drink. They call it Mahogany; and it is made of two

parts gin, and one part treacle, well beaten together. I begged to

have some of it made, which was done with proper skill by Mr. Eliot. I

thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart of what is

called Athol Porridge in the Highlands of Scotland, which is a mixture

of whisky and honey. Johnson said, 'that must be a better liquor than

the Cornish, for both its component parts are better.' He also observed,

'Mahogany must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood

called mahogany was known in this country.' I mentioned his scale of

liquors;--claret for boys,--port for men,--brandy for heroes. 'Then

(said Mr. Burke,) let me have claret: I love to be a boy; to have the

careless gaiety of boyish days.' JOHNSON. 'I should drink claret too, if

it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor

men boys. You'll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.'

I ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that Dr.

Johnson was learning to dance of Vestris. Lord Charlemont, wishing to

excite him to talk, proposed in a whisper, that he should be asked,

whether it was true. 'Shall I ask him?' said his Lordship. We were, by

a great majority, clear for the experiment. Upon which his Lordship very

gravely, and with a courteous air said, 'Pray, Sir, is it true that

you are taking lessons of Vestris?' This was risking a good deal, and

required the boldness of a General of Irish Volunteers to make the

attempt. Johnson was at first startled, and in some heat answered, 'How

can your Lordship ask so simple a question?' But immediately recovering

himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, or to appear

deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke: 'Nay,

but if any body were to answer the paragraph, and contradict it, I'd

have a reply, and would say, that he who contradicted it was no friend

either to Vestris or me. For why should not Dr. Johnson add to his

other powers a little corporeal agility? Socrates learnt to dance at an

advanced age, and Cato learnt Greek at an advanced age. Then it might

proceed to say, that this Johnson, not content with dancing on the

ground, might dance on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant

dancing on the rope.'

On Sunday, April 1, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, with Sir Philip

Jennings Clerk and Mr. Perkins, who had the superintendence of Mr.

Thrale's brewery, with a salary of five hundred pounds a year. Sir

Philip had the appearance of a gentleman of ancient family, well

advanced in life. He wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly size,

a black velvet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, and very rich laced

ruffles; which Mrs. Thrale said were old fashioned, but which, for that

reason, I thought the more respectable, more like a Tory; yet Sir Philip

was then in Opposition in Parliament. 'Ah, Sir, (said Johnson,) ancient

ruffles and modern principles do not agree.' Sir Philip defended the

Opposition to the American war ably and with temper, and I joined him.

He said, the majority of the nation was against the ministry. JOHNSON.

'I, Sir, am against the ministry; but it is for having too little of

that, of which Opposition thinks they have too much. Were I minister, if

any man wagged his finger against me, he should be turned out; for that

which it is in the power of Government to give at pleasure to one or to

another, should be given to the supporters of Government. If you will

not oppose at the expence of losing your place, your opposition will

not be honest, you will feel no serious grievance; and the present

opposition is only a contest to get what others have. Sir Robert Walpole

acted as I would do. As to the American war, the SENSE of the nation is

WITH the ministry. The majority of those who can UNDERSTAND is with it;

the majority of those who can only HEAR, is against it; and as those

who can only hear are more numerous than those who can understand,

and Opposition is always loudest, a majority of the rabble will be for

Opposition.'

This boisterous vivacity entertained us; but the truth in my opinion

was, that those who could understand the best were against the American

war, as almost every man now is, when the question has been coolly

considered.

Mrs. Thrale gave high praise to Mr. Dudley Long, (now North). JOHNSON.

'Nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. Mr. Long's character is very SHORT.

It is nothing. He fills a chair. He is a man of genteel appearance, and

that is all. I know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever

there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. They

are provoked to attack it. Now there is Pepys; you praised that man with

such disproportion, that I was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than

he deserves. His blood is upon your head. By the same principle,

your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. And yet,

(looking to her with a leering smile,) she is the first woman in the

world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers;--she would be

the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig.'

Upon the subject of exaggerated praise I took the liberty to say, that I

thought there might be very high praise given to a known character which

deserved it, and therefore it would not be exaggerated. Thus, one might

say of Mr. Edmund Burke, He is a very wonderful man. JOHNSON. 'No,

Sir, you would not be safe if another man had a mind perversely to

contradict. He might answer, "Where is all the wonder? Burke is, to be

sure, a man of uncommon abilities, with a great quantity of matter in

his mind, and a great fluency of language in his mouth. But we are not

to be stunned and astonished by him." So you see, Sir, even Burke would

suffer, not from any fault of his own, but from your folly.'

Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four

thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely miserable, because he could

not talk in company; so miserable, that he was impelled to lament his

situation in the street to ******, whom he hates, and who he knows

despises him. 'I am a most unhappy man, (said he). I am invited

to conversations. I go to conversations; but, alas! I have no

conversation.' JOHNSON. 'Man commonly cannot be successful in different

ways. This gentleman has spent, in getting four thousand pounds a year,

the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.'

Mr. Perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: 'If he had got his four

thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the

same time that he was getting his fortune.'

Some other gentlemen came in. The conversation concerning the person

whose character Dr. Johnson had treated so slightingly, as he did not

know his merit, was resumed. Mrs. Thrale said, 'You think so of him,

Sir, because he is quiet, and does not exert himself with force. You'll

be saying the same thing of Mr. ***** there, who sits as quiet--.' This

was not well-bred; and Johnson did not let it pass without correction.

'Nay, Madam, what right have you to talk thus? Both Mr. ***** and I have

reason to take it ill. You may talk so of Mr. *****; but why do you make

me do it? Have I said anything against Mr. *****? You have set him, that

I might shoot him: but I have not shot him.'

One of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes of Dr.

Johnson's sayings collected by me. 'I must put you right, Sir, (said I,)

for I am very exact in authenticity. You could not see folio volumes,

for I have none: you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. This is

inattention which one should guard against.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is a want

of concern about veracity. He does not know that he saw any volumes. If

he had seen them he could have remembered their size.'

Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. I saw him again on Monday

evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but

early in the morning of Wednesday, the 4th, he expired. Johnson was in

the house, and thus mentions the event: 'I felt almost the last flutter

of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for

fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect and

benignity.' Upon that day there was a Call of The LITERARY CLUB; but

Johnson apologised for his absence by the following note:--

'MR. JOHNSON knows that Sir Joshua Reynolds and the other gentlemen

will excuse his incompliance with the call, when they are told that Mr.

Thrale died this morning.--Wednesday.'

Mr. Thrale's death was a very essential loss to Johnson, who, although

he did not foresee all that afterwards happened, was sufficiently

convinced that the comforts which Mr. Thrale's family afforded him,

would now in a great measure cease. He, however, continued to shew a

kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable;

and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, the office of one of

his executors, the importance of which seemed greater than usual to him,

from his circumstances having been always such, that he had scarcely

any share in the real business of life. His friends of THE CLUB were in

hopes that Mr. Thrale might have made a liberal provision for him for

his life, which, as Mr. Thrale left no son, and a very large fortune, it

would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, considering Dr.

Johnson's age, could not have been of long duration; but he bequeathed

him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his

executors. I could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing Johnson talk

in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns

of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold. Lord Lucan

tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly

characteristical: that when the sale of Thrale's brewery was going

forward, Johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in

his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really

considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of,

answered, 'We are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the

potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice.'

On Friday, April 6, he carried me to dine at a club, which, at his

desire, had been lately formed at the Queen's Arms, in St. Paul's

Church-yard. He told Mr. Hoole, that he wished to have a City Club, and

asked him to collect one; but, said he, 'Don't let them be PATRIOTS.'

The company were to-day very sensible, well-behaved men.

On Friday, April 13, being Good-Friday, I went to St. Clement's church

with him as usual. There I saw again his old fellow-collegian, Edwards,

to whom I said, 'I think, Sir, Dr. Johnson and you meet only at

Church.'--'Sir, (said he,) it is the best place we can meet in, except

Heaven, and I hope we shall meet there too.' Dr. Johnson told me, that

there was very little communication between Edwards and him, after their

unexpected renewal of acquaintance. 'But, (said he, smiling), he met me

once, and said, "I am told you have written a very pretty book called

The Rambler." I was unwilling that he should leave the world in total

darkness, and sent him a set.'

Mr. Berrenger visited him to-day, and was very pleasing. We talked of

an evening society for conversation at a house in town, of which we were

all members, but of which Johnson said, 'It will never do, Sir. There is

nothing served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor

any thing whatever; and depend upon it, Sir, a man does not love to

go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.' I

endeavoured, for argument's sake, to maintain that men of learning and

talents might have very good intellectual society, without the aid of

any little gratifications of the senses. Berrenger joined with Johnson,

and said, that without these any meeting would be dull and insipid. He

would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it would not be

amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a side-board.

'Sir, (said Johnson to me, with an air of triumph,) Mr. Berrenger

knows the world. Every body loves to have good things furnished to them

without any trouble. I told Mrs. Thrale once, that as she did not choose

to have card tables, she should have a profusion of the best sweetmeats,

and she would be sure to have company enough come to her.'

On Sunday, April 15, being Easter-day, after solemn worship in St.

Paul's church, I found him alone; Dr. Scott of the Commons came in.

We talked of the difference between the mode of education at Oxford,

and that in those Colleges where instruction is chiefly conveyed by

lectures. JOHNSON. 'Lectures were once useful; but now, when all can

read, and books are so numerous, lectures are unnecessary. If your

attention fails, and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you

cannot go back as you do upon a book.' Dr. Scott agreed with him. 'But

yet (said I), Dr. Scott, you yourself gave lectures at Oxford.' He

smiled. 'You laughed (then said I,) at those who came to you.'

Dr. Scott left us, and soon afterwards we went to dinner. Our company

consisted of Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins, Mr. Levett, Mr. Allen,

the printer, and Mrs. Hall, sister of the Reverend Mr. John Wesley,

and resembling him, as I thought, both in figure and manner. Johnson

produced now, for the first time, some handsome silver salvers, which he

told me he had bought fourteen years ago; so it was a great day. I was

not a little amused by observing Allen perpetually struggling to talk in

the manner of Johnson, like the little frog in the fable blowing himself

up to resemble the stately ox.

He mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which I had never heard

before,--being CALLED, that is, hearing one's name pronounced by the

voice of a known person at a great distance, far beyond the possibility

of being reached by any sound uttered by human organs. 'An acquaintance,

on whose veracity I can depend, told me, that walking home one evening

to Kilmarnock, he heard himself called from a wood, by the voice of a

brother who had gone to America; and the next packet brought accounts of

that brother's death.' Macbean asserted that this inexplicable CALLING

was a thing very well known. Dr. Johnson said, that one day at Oxford,

as he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his mother

distinctly call SAM. She was then at Lichfleld; but nothing ensued.

This phaenomenon is, I think, as wonderful as any other mysterious fact,

which many people are very slow to believe, or rather, indeed, reject

with an obstinate contempt.

Some time after this, upon his making a remark which escaped my

attention, Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Hall were both together striving to

answer him. He grew angry, and called out loudly, 'Nay, when you both

speak at once, it is intolerable.' But checking himself, and softening,

he said, 'This one may say, though you ARE ladies.' Then he brightened

into gay humour, and addressed them in the words of one of the songs in

The Beggar's Opera:--

'But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.'

'What, Sir, (said I,) are you going to turn Captain Macheath?' There was

something as pleasantly ludicrous in this scene as can be imagined.

The contrast between Macheath, Polly, and Lucy--and Dr. Samuel Johnson,

blind, peevish Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching Mrs. Hall, was

exquisite.

On Friday, April 20, I spent with him one of the happiest days that I

remember to have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. Mrs. Garrick,

whose grief for the loss of her husband was, I believe, as sincere as

wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the

first time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with

her. The company was Miss Hannah More, who lived with her, and whom she

called her Chaplain; Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, Sir Joshua

Reynolds, Dr. Burney, Dr. Johnson, and myself. We found ourselves very

elegantly entertained at her house in the Adelphi, where I have passed

many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened life.' She looked well,

talked of her husband with complacency, and while she cast her eyes on

his portrait, which hung over the chimney-piece, said, that 'death

was now the most agreeable object to her.' The very semblance of David

Garrick was cheering.

We were all in fine spirits; and I whispered to Mrs. Boscawen, 'I

believe this is as much as can be made of life.' In addition to a

splendid entertainment, we were regaled with Lichfield ale, which had

a peculiar appropriated value. Sir Joshua, and Dr. Burney, and I, drank

cordially of it to Dr. Johnson's health; and though he would not join

us, he as cordially answered, 'Gentlemen, I wish you all as well as you

do me.'

The general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond remembrance;

but I do not find much conversation recorded. What I have preserved

shall be faithfully given.

One of the company mentioned Mr. Thomas Hollis, the strenuous Whig,

who used to send over Europe presents of democratical books, with their

boards stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. Mrs. Carter said, 'He

was a bad man. He used to talk uncharitably.' JOHNSON. 'Poh! poh! Madam;

who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? Besides, he was a

dull poor creature as ever lived: and I believe he would not have done

harm to a man whom he knew to be of very opposite principles to his own.

I remember once at the Society of Arts, when an advertisement was to be

drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it best. This, you

will observe, was kindness to me. I however slipt away, and escaped it.'

Mrs. Carter having said of the same person, 'I doubt he was an Atheist.'

JOHNSON. 'I don't know that. He might perhaps have become one, if he had

had time to ripen, (smiling.) He might have EXUBERATED into an Atheist.'

Sir Joshua Reynolds praised Mudge's Sermons. JOHNSON. 'Mudge's Sermons

are good, but not practical. He grasps more sense than he can hold; he

takes more corn than he can make into meal; he opens a wide prospect,

but it is so distant, it is indistinct. I love Blair's Sermons. Though

the dog is a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and every thing he should

not be, I was the first to praise them. Such was my candour,' (smiling.)

MRS. BOSCAWEN. 'Such his great merit to get the better of all your

prejudices.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, let us compound the matter; let us

ascribe it to my candour, and his merit.'

In the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room, several

ladies, the Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Percy, Mr. Chamberlayne, of the

Treasury, &c. &c.

Talking of a very respectable authour, he told us a curious circumstance

in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's devil. REYNOLDS.

'A printer's devil, Sir! Why, I thought a printer's devil was a creature

with a black face and in rags.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I suppose, he

had her face washed, and put clean clothes on her. (Then looking very

serious, and very earnest.) And she did not disgrace him; the woman

had a bottom of good sense.' The word bottom thus introduced, was so

ludicrous when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not

forbear tittering and laughing; though I recollect that the Bishop of

Killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while Miss Hannah

More slyly hid her face behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee

with her. His pride could not bear that any expression of his should

excite ridicule, when he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to

assume and exercise despotick power, glanced sternly around, and called

out in a strong tone, 'Where's the merriment?' Then collecting himself,

and looking aweful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and

as it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly

pronounced, 'I say the WOMAN was FUNDAMENTALLY sensible;' as if he had

said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. We all sat composed as at a

funeral.

He and I walked away together; we stopped a little while by the rails of

the Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and I said to him with some emotion

that I was now thinking of two friends we had lost, who once lived in

the buildings behind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. 'Ay, Sir, (said he,

tenderly,) and two such friends as cannot be supplied.'

For some time after this day I did not see him very often, and of the

conversation which I did enjoy, I am sorry to find I have preserved but

little. I was at this time engaged in a variety of other matters, which

required exertion and assiduity, and necessarily occupied almost all my

time.

On Tuesday, May 8, I had the pleasure of again dining with him and Mr.

Wilkes, at Mr. Dilly's. No NEGOCIATION was now required to bring them

together; for Johnson was so well satisfied with the former interview,

that he was very glad to meet Wilkes again, who was this day seated

between Dr. Beattie and Dr. Johnson; (between Truth and Reason, as

General Paoli said, when I told him of it.) WILKES. 'I have been

thinking, Dr. Johnson, that there should be a bill brought into

parliament that the controverted elections for Scotland should be tried

in that country, at their own Abbey of Holy-Rood House, and not here;

for the consequence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation

of Scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. Now here is Boswell,

who is come up upon the election for his own county, which will not last

a fortnight.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I see no reason why they should be

tried at all; for, you know, one Scotchman is as good as another.'

WILKES. 'Pray, Boswell, how much may be got in a year by an Advocate at

the Scotch bar?' BOSWELL. 'I believe two thousand pounds.' WILKES. 'How

can it be possible to spend that money in Scotland?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir,

the money may be spent in England: but there is a harder question. If

one man in Scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds, what remains

for all the rest of the nation?' WILKES. 'You know, in the last war, the

immense booty which Thurot carried off by the complete plunder of seven

Scotch isles; he re-embarked with THREE AND SIX-PENCE.' Here again

Johnson and Wilkes joined in extravagant sportive raillery upon the

supposed poverty of Scotland, which Dr. Beattie and I did not think it

worth our while to dispute.

The subject of quotation being introduced, Mr. Wilkes censured it as

pedantry. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, it is a good thing; there is a community of

mind in it. Classical quotation is the parole of literary men all over

the world.'

He gave us an entertaining account of Bet Flint, a woman of the town,

who, with some eccentrick talents and much effrontery, forced herself

upon his acquaintance. 'Bet (said he,) wrote her own Life in verse,

which she brought to me, wishing that I would furnish her with a Preface

to it, (laughing.) I used to say of her that she was generally slut

and drunkard; occasionally, whore and thief. She had, however, genteel

lodgings, a spinnet on which she played, and a boy that walked before

her chair. Poor Bet was taken up on a charge of stealing a counterpane,

and tried at the Old Bailey. Chief Justice ------, who loved a wench,

summed up favourably, and she was acquitted. After which Bet said, with

a gay and satisfied air, "Now that the counterpane is MY OWN, I shall

make a petticoat of it."'

Talking of oratory, Mr. Wilkes described it as accompanied with all the

charms of poetical expression. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; oratory is the power

of beating down your adversary's arguments, and putting better in their

place.' WILKES. 'But this does not move the passions.' JOHNSON. 'He

must be a weak man, who is to be so moved.' WILKES. (naming a celebrated

orator,) 'Amidst all the brilliancy of ------'s imagination, and the

exuberance of his wit, there is a strange want of TASTE. It was observed

of Apelles's Venus, that her flesh seemed as if she had been nourished

by roses: his oratory would sometimes make one suspect that he eats

potatoes and drinks whisky.'

Mr. Wilkes said to me, loud enough for Dr. Johnson to hear, 'Dr. Johnson

should make me a present of his Lives of the Poets, as I am a poor

patriot, who cannot afford to buy them.' Johnson seemed to take no

notice of this hint; but in a little while, he called to Mr. Dilly,

'Pray, Sir, be so good as to send a set of my Lives to Mr. Wilkes, with

my compliments.' This was accordingly done; and Mr. Wilkes paid Dr.

Johnson a visit, was courteously received, and sat with him a long time.

The company gradually dropped away. Mr. Dilly himself was called down

stairs upon business; I left the room for some time; when I returned,

I was struck with observing Dr. Samuel Johnson and John Wilkes, Esq.,

literally tete-a-tete; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with

their heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking earnestly,

in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal quarrel between

George the Second and the King of Prussia. Such a scene of perfectly

easy sociality between two such opponents in the war of political

controversy, as that which I now beheld, would have been an excellent

subject for a picture. It presented to my mind the happy days which are

foretold in Scripture, when the lion shall lie down with the kid.

After this day there was another pretty long interval, during which Dr.

Johnson and I did not meet. When I mentioned it to him with regret, he

was pleased to say, 'Then, Sir, let us live double.'

About this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have

evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation

with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These

societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs, the origin of which

title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the

most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was

Mr. Stillingfleet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular

it was observed, that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of

his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that

it used to be said, 'We can do nothing without the blue stockings;'

and thus by degrees the title was established. Miss Hannah More has

admirably described a Blue-stocking Club, in her Bas Bleu, a poem in

which many of the persons who were most conspicuous there are mentioned.

Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and

did not think himself too grave even for the lively Miss Monckton (now

Countess of Corke), who used to have the finest BIT OF BLUE at the house

of her mother, Lady Galway. Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and they

used to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular instance

happened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne's writings

were very pathetick. Johnson bluntly denied it. 'I am sure (said she,)

they have affected ME.' 'Why, (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling

himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce.' When she

some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth

and politeness; 'Madam, if I had thought so, I certainly should not have

said it.'

Another evening Johnson's kind indulgence towards me had a pretty

difficult trial. I had dined at the Duke of Montrose's with a very

agreeable party, and his Grace, according to his usual custom, had

circulated the bottle very freely. Lord Graham and I went together to

Miss Monckton's, where I certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and

above all fear or awe. In the midst of a great number of persons of the

first rank, amongst whom I recollect with confusion, a noble lady of

the most stately decorum, I placed myself next to Johnson, and thinking

myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous

manner, desirous to let the company know how I could contend with Ajax.

I particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the pleasures

of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument, asking him,

'What, Sir, supposing I were to fancy that the ----- (naming the most

charming Duchess in his Majesty's dominions) were in love with me,

should I not be very happy?' My friend with much address evaded my

interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be

conceived how he must have felt. However, when a few days afterwards I

waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the most friendly

gentleness.

While I remained in London this year, Johnson and I dined together at

several places. I recollect a placid day at Dr. Butter's, who had

now removed from Derby to Lower Grosvenor-street, London; but of his

conversation on that and other occasions during this period, I neglected

to keep any regular record, and shall therefore insert here some

miscellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes.

His disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was

passing over him,' appear from the following anecdote, communicated to

me by Mr. John Nichols:--'In the year 1763, a young bookseller, who was

an apprentice to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to his

Shakspeare: and observing that the Doctor made no entry in any book of

the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he would

please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly

inserted in the printed list of subscribers. "I shall print no list

of subscribers;" said Johnson, with great abruptness: but almost

immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, "Sir, I have

two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one,

that I have lost all the names,--the other, that I have spent all the

money."

Johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when

he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his

talents. When, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground,

he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was

pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'My dear

Boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. I'd

rather have you whistle a Scotch tune.'

Care, however, must be taken to distinguish between Johnson when he

'talked for victory,' and Johnson when he had no desire but to inform

and illustrate. 'One of Johnson's principal talents (says an eminent

friend of his) was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of an argument,

and in a splendid perversion of the truth. If you could contrive to

have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias from personal

prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it was wisdom

itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.'

He had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider

conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill; and to this, I

think, we may venture to ascribe that unexampled richness and brilliancy

which appeared in his own. As a proof at once of his eagerness for

colloquial distinction, and his high notion of this eminent friend,

he once addressed him thus:-- '-----, we now have been several hours

together; and you have said but one thing for which I envied you.'

Goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties with him, and

escape unpunished. Beauclerk told me that when Goldsmith talked of a

project for having a third Theatre in London, solely for the exhibition

of new plays, in order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny

of managers, Johnson treated it slightingly; upon which Goldsmith said,

'Ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can now shelter yourself behind

the corner of a pension;' and that Johnson bore this with good-humour.

Johnson had called twice on the Bishop of Killaloe before his Lordship

set out for Ireland, having missed him the first time. He said, 'It

would have hung heavy on my heart if I had not seen him. No man ever

paid more attention to another than he has done to me; and I have

neglected him, not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. Always,

Sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. He whose inclination

prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love

you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.'

I asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small a share

of wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state which are the

objects of ambition. He had only a pension of three hundred a year. Why

was he not in such circumstances as to keep his coach? Why had he not

some considerable office? JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have never complained of the

world; nor do I think that I have reason to complain. It is rather to

be wondered at that I have so much. My pension is more out of the usual

course of things than any instance that I have known. Here, Sir, was

a man avowedly no friend to Government at the time, who got a pension

without asking for it. I never courted the great; they sent for me; but

I think they now give me up. They are satisfied; they have seen enough

of me.'

Strange, however, it is, to consider how few of the great sought his

society; so that if one were disposed to take occasion for satire on

that account, very conspicuous objects present themselves. His noble

friend, Lord Elibank, well observed, that if a great man procured an

interview with Johnson, and did not wish to see him more, it shewed a

mere idle curiosity, and a wretched want of relish for extraordinary

powers of mind. Mrs. Thrale justly and wittily accounted for such

conduct by saying, that Johnson's conversation was by much too strong

for a person accustomed to obsequiousness and flattery; it was mustard

in a young child's mouth!

On Saturday, June 2, I set out for Scotland, and had promised to pay a

visit in my way, as I sometimes did, at Southill, in Bedfordshire, at

the hospitable mansion of 'Squire Dilly, the elder brother of my worthy

friends, the booksellers, in the Poultry. Dr. Johnson agreed to be of

the party this year, with Mr. Charles Dilly and me, and to go and see

Lord Bute's seat at Luton Hoe. He talked little to us in the carriage,

being chiefly occupied in reading Dr. Watson's second volume of Chemical

Essays, which he liked very well, and his own Prince of Abyssinia, on

which he seemed to be intensely fixed; having told us, that he had not

looked at it since it was first published. I happened to take it out of

my pocket this day, and he seized upon it with avidity.

We stopped at Welwyn, where I wished much to see, in company with Dr.

Johnson, the residence of the authour of Night Thoughts, which was then

possessed by his son, Mr. Young. Here some address was requisite, for

I was not acquainted with Mr. Young, and had I proposed to Dr. Johnson

that we should send to him, he would have checked my wish, and perhaps

been offended. I therefore concerted with Mr. Dilly, that I should steal

away from Dr. Johnson and him, and try what reception I could procure

from Mr. Young; if unfavourable, nothing was to be said; but if

agreeable, I should return and notify it to them. I hastened to Mr.

Young's, found he was at home, sent in word that a gentleman desired to

wait upon him, and was shewn into a parlour, where he and a young lady,

his daughter, were sitting. He appeared to be a plain, civil, country

gentleman; and when I begged pardon for presuming to trouble him, but

that I wished much to see his place, if he would give me leave; he

behaved very courteously, and answered, 'By all means, Sir; we are just

going to drink tea; will you sit down?' I thanked him, but said, that

Dr. Johnson had come with me from London, and I must return to the inn

and drink tea with him; that my name was Boswell, I had travelled with

him in the Hebrides. 'Sir, (said he,) I should think it a great honour

to see Dr. Johnson here. Will you allow me to send for him?' Availing

myself of this opening, I said that 'I would go myself and bring him,

when he had drunk tea; he knew nothing of my calling here.' Having been

thus successful, I hastened back to the inn, and informed Dr. Johnson

that 'Mr. Young, son of Dr. Young, the authour of Night Thoughts, whom

I had just left, desired to have the honour of seeing him at the house

where his father lived.' Dr. Johnson luckily made no inquiry how this

invitation had arisen, but agreed to go, and when we entered Mr.

Young's parlour, he addressed him with a very polite bow, 'Sir, I had

a curiosity to come and see this place. I had the honour to know that

great man, your father.' We went into the garden, where we found a

gravel walk, on each side of which was a row of trees, planted by Dr.

Young, which formed a handsome Gothick arch; Dr. Johnson called it a

fine grove. I beheld it with reverence.

We sat some time in the summer-house, on the outside wall of which was

inscribed, 'Ambulantes in horto audiebant vocem Dei;' and in reference

to a brook by which it is situated, 'Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam,'

&c. I said to Mr. Young, that I had been told his father was cheerful.

'Sir, (said he,) he was too well-bred a man not to be cheerful in

company; but he was gloomy when alone. He never was cheerful after my

mother's death, and he had met with many disappointments.' Dr. Johnson

observed to me afterwards, 'That this was no favourable account of Dr.

Young; for it is not becoming in a man to have so little acquiescence in

the ways of Providence, as to be gloomy because he has not obtained as

much preferment as he expected; nor to continue gloomy for the loss

of his wife. Grief has its time.' The last part of this censure was

theoretically made. Practically, we know that grief for the loss of a

wife may be continued very long, in proportion as affection has been

sincere. No man knew this better than Dr. Johnson.

Upon the road we talked of the uncertainty of profit with which authours

and booksellers engage in the publication of literary works. JOHNSON.

'My judgement I have found is no certain rule as to the sale of a book.'

BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, have you been much plagued with authours sending

you their works to revise?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have been thought

a sour, surly fellow.' BOSWELL. 'Very lucky for you, Sir,--in that

respect.' I must however observe, that notwithstanding what he now

said, which he no doubt imagined at the time to be the fact, there was,

perhaps, no man who more frequently yielded to the solicitations even

of very obscure authours, to read their manuscripts, or more liberally

assisted them with advice and correction.

He found himself very happy at 'Squire Dilly's, where there is always

abundance of excellent fare, and hearty welcome.

On Sunday, June 3, we all went to Southill church, which is very near

to Mr. Dilly's house. It being the first Sunday of the month, the holy

sacrament was administered, and I staid to partake of it. When I came

afterwards into Dr. Johnson's room, he said, 'You did right to stay and

receive the communion; I had not thought of it.' This seemed to

imply that he did not choose to approach the altar without a previous

preparation, as to which good men entertain different opinions, some

holding that it is irreverent to partake of that ordinance without

considerable premeditation.

Although upon most occasions I never heard a more strenuous advocate for

the advantages of wealth, than Dr. Johnson: he this day, I know not from

what caprice, took the other side. 'I have not observed (said he,) that

men of very large fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary that

makes happiness. What has the Duke of Bedford? What has the Duke of

Devonshire? The only great instance that I have ever known of the

enjoyment of wealth was, that of Jamaica Dawkins, who, going to visit

Palmyra, and hearing that the way was infested by robbers, hired a troop

of Turkish horse to guard him.'

Dr. Gibbons, the Dissenting minister, being mentioned, he said, 'I took

to Dr. Gibbons.' And addressing himself to Mr. Charles Dilly, added, 'I

shall be glad to see him. Tell him, if he'll call on me, and dawdle over

a dish of tea in an afternoon, I shall take it kind.'

The Reverend Mr. Smith, Vicar of Southill, a very respectable man,

with a very agreeable family, sent an invitation to us to drink tea. I

remarked Dr. Johnson's very respectful politeness. Though always fond of

changing the scene, he said, 'We must have Mr. Dilly's leave. We cannot

go from your house, Sir, without your permission.' We all went, and were

well satisfied with our visit.

When I observed that a housebreaker was in general very timorous;

JOHNSON. 'No wonder, Sir; he is afraid of being shot getting INTO a

house, or hanged when he has got OUT of it.'

He told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of a translation

from the French, adding, 'I should be glad to see it now. I wish that I

had copies of all the pamphlets written against me, as it is said Pope

had. Had I known that I should make so much noise in the world, I should

have been at pains to collect them. I believe there is hardly a day in

which there is not something about me in the newspapers.'

On Monday, June 4, we all went to Luton-Hoe, to see Lord Bute's

magnificent seat, for which I had obtained a ticket. As we entered

the park, I talked in a high style of my old friendship with Lord

Mountstuart, and said, 'I shall probably be much at this place.' The

Sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently checked me: 'Don't you be too

sure of that.' He made two or three peculiar observations; as when shewn

the botanical garden, 'Is not EVERY garden a botanical garden?' When

told that there was a shrubbery to the extent of several miles: 'That is

making a very foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.'

When it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; 'Don't

let us fatigue ourselves. Why should we walk there? Here's a fine

tree, let's get to the top of it.' But upon the whole, he was very much

pleased. He said, 'This is one of the places I do not regret having come

to see. It is a very stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence

is not sacrificed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. The

library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very great; and

the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, beyond hope.'

It happened without any previous concert, that we visited the seat of

Lord Bute upon the King's birthday; we dined and drank his Majesty's

health at an inn, in the village of Luton.

In the evening I put him in mind of his promise to favour me with a copy

of his celebrated Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield, and he was at last

pleased to comply with this earnest request, by dictating it to me from

his memory; for he believed that he himself had no copy. There was an

animated glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded

indignation.

On Tuesday, June 5, Johnson was to return to London. He was very

pleasant at breakfast; I mentioned a friend of mine having resolved

never to marry a pretty woman. JOHNSON. 'Sir it is a very foolish

resolution to resolve not to marry a pretty woman. Beauty is of itself

very estimable. No, Sir, I would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are

objections to her. A pretty woman may be foolish; a pretty woman may be

wicked; a pretty woman may not like me. But there is no such danger in

marrying a pretty woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if

she does not invite persecution. A pretty woman, if she has a mind to be

wicked, can find a readier way than another; and that is all.'

At Shefford I had another affectionate parting from my revered friend,

who was taken up by the Bedford coach and carried to the metropolis. I

went with Messieurs Dilly, to see some friends at Bedford; dined with

the officers of the militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my

journey.

Johnson's charity to the poor was uniform and extensive, both from

inclination and principle. He not only bestowed liberally out of his

own purse, but what is more difficult as well as rare, would beg from

others, when he had proper objects in view. This he did judiciously as

well as humanely. Mr. Philip Metcalfe tells me, that when he has asked

him for some money for persons in distress, and Mr. Metcalfe has offered

what Johnson thought too much, he insisted on taking less, saying, 'No,

no, Sir; we must not PAMPER them.'

I am indebted to Mr. Malone, one of Sir Joshua Reynolds's executors, for

the following note, which was found among his papers after his death,

and which, we may presume, his unaffected modesty prevented him from

communicating to me with the other letters from Dr. Johnson with which

he was pleased to furnish me. However slight in itself, as it does

honour to that illustrious painter, and most amiable man, I am happy to

introduce it.

'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

'DEAR SIR,--It was not before yesterday that I received your splendid

benefaction. To a hand so liberal in distributing, I hope nobody will

envy the power of acquiring. I am, dear Sir, your obliged and most

humble servant,

'June 23, 1781.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'