'August 9, 3 P.M., aetat. 72, in the summer-house at Streatham.
'After innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, I have retired
hither, to plan a life of greater diligence, in hope that I may yet be
useful, and be daily better prepared to appear before my Creator and
my Judge, from whose infinite mercy I humbly call for assistance and
support.
'My purpose is,
'To pass eight hours every day in some serious employment.
'Having prayed, I purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the Italian
language, for my settled study.'
In autumn he went to Oxford, Birmingham, Lichfield, and Ashbourne, for
which very good reasons might be given in the conjectural yet positive
manner of writers, who are proud to account for every event which they
relate. He himself, however, says, 'The motives of my journey I hardly
know; I omitted it last year, and am not willing to miss it again.'
But some good considerations arise, amongst which is the kindly
recollection of Mr. Hector, surgeon at Birmingham: 'Hector is likewise
an old friend, the only companion of my childhood that passed through
the school with me. We have always loved one another; perhaps we may
be made better by some serious conversation, of which however I have no
distinct hope.' He says too, 'At Lichfield, my native place, I hope to
shew a good example by frequent attendance on publick worship.'
1782: AETAT. 73.]--In 1782, his complaints increased, and the history
of his life this year, is little more than a mournful recital of the
variations of his illness, in the midst of which, however, it will
appear from his letters, that the powers of his mind were in no degree
impaired.
At a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a
shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, which event he thus
communicated to Dr. Lawrence:--
'SIR,--Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was last night eminently
cheerful, died this morning. The man who lay in the same room, hearing
an uncommon noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without
effect, he then called Mr. Holder, the apothecary, who, though when he
came he thought him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. So has
ended the long life of a very useful and very blameless man. I am, Sir,
your most humble servant,
'Jan. 17, 1782.'
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
In one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following
entry:--'January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett was buried in the church-yard
of Bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. He died on Thursday
17, about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. He was an old
and faithful friend; I have known him from about 46. Commendavi. May GOD
have mercy on him. May he have mercy on me.'
On the 30th of August, I informed him that my honoured father had
died that morning; a complaint under which he had long laboured having
suddenly come to a crisis, while I was upon a visit at the seat of
Sir Charles Preston, from whence I had hastened the day before, upon
receiving a letter by express.
In answer to my next letter, I received one from him, dissuading me from
hastening to him as I had proposed; what is proper for publication
is the following paragraph, equally just and tender:--'One expence,
however, I would not have you to spare: let nothing be omitted that can
preserve Mrs. Boswell, though it should be necessary to transplant her
for a time into a softer climate. She is the prop and stay of your life.
How much must your children suffer by losing her.'
My wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and
regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a
very polite and grateful letter:--
'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.
'DEAR LADY,--I have not often received so much pleasure as from your
invitation to Auchinleck. The journey thither and back is, indeed,
too great for the latter part of the year; but if my health were fully
recovered, I would suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough
road to keep me from you. I am, indeed, not without hope of seeing
Auchinleek again; but to make it a pleasant place I must see its lady
well, and brisk, and airy. For my sake, therefore, among many greater
reasons, take care, dear Madam, of your health, spare no expence,
and want no attendance that can procure ease, or preserve it. Be very
careful to keep your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an
account of your recovery to, Madam, yours, &c.
'London, Sept. 7, 1782.'
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
The death of Mr. Thrale had made a very material alteration with respect
to Johnson's reception in that family. The manly authority of the
husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her
vanity had been fully gratified, by having the Colossus of Literature
attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to
please him. Whether her attachment to him was already divided by
another object, I am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that Johnson's
penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the 6th
of October this year, we find him making a 'parting use of the library'
at Streatham, and pronouncing a prayer, which he composed on leaving Mr.
Thrale's family:--
'Almighty God, Father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that I
may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and
conveniences which I have enjoyed at this place; and that I may resign
them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou
givest, and when thou takest away. Have mercy upon me, O Lord, have
mercy upon me.
'To thy fatherly protection, O Lord, I commend this family. Bless,
guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world,
as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for Jesus
Christ's sake. Amen.'
One cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not very favourable
to the lady whose conduct occasioned it.
In one of his memorandum-books I find, 'Sunday, went to church at
Streatham. Templo valedixi cam osculo.'
He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe often at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and other
places, and was a good deal with him at Brighthelmston this
autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated
conversation. Mr. Metcalfe shewed him great respect, and sent him a note
that he might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. Johnson
(3rd October, 1782) returned this polite answer:--'Mr. Johnson is very
much obliged by the kind offer of the carriage, but he has no desire of
using Mr. Metcalfe's carriage, except when he can have the pleasure of
Mr. Metcalfe's company.' Mr. Metcalfe could not but be highly pleased
that his company was thus valued by Johnson, and he frequently attended
him in airings. They also went together to Chichester, and they visited
Petworth, and Cowdry, the venerable seat of the Lords Montacute. 'Sir,
(said Johnson,) I should like to stay here four-and-twenty hours. We see
here how our ancestors lived.'
'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'DEAR SIR,--I heard yesterday of your late disorder, and should think
ill of myself if I had heard of it without alarm. I heard likewise of
your recovery, which I sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. Your
country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and
I of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends: but I hope you will
still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more enjoyment
of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still
reserved for, dear Sir, your most affectionate, &c.
'Brighthelmston, Nov. 14, 1782.'
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
1783: AETAT. 74.]--In 1783, he was more severely afflicted than ever,
as will appear in the course of his correspondence; but still the same
ardour for literature, the same constant piety, the same kindness for
his friends, and the same vivacity both in conversation and writing,
distinguished him.
On Friday, March 21, having arrived in London the night before, I was
glad to find him at Mrs. Thrale's house, in Argyll-street, appearances
of friendship between them being still kept up. I was shewn into his
room, and after the first salutation he said, 'I am glad you are come.
I am very ill.' He looked pale, and was distressed with a difficulty of
breathing; but after the common inquiries he assumed his usual strong
animated style of conversation. Seeing me now for the first time as a
Laird, or proprietor of land, he began thus: 'Sir, the superiority of a
country-gentleman over the people upon his estate is very agreeable; and
he who says he does not feel it to be agreeable, lies; for it must be
agreeable to have a casual superiority over those who are by nature
equal with us.' BOSWELL. 'Yet, Sir, we see great proprietors of land who
prefer living in London.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, the pleasure of living
in London, the intellectual superiority that is enjoyed there, may
counterbalance the other. Besides, Sir, a man may prefer the state
of the country-gentleman upon the whole, and yet there may never be a
moment when he is willing to make the change to quit London for it.'
He talked with regret and indignation of the factious opposition to
Government at this time, and imputed it in a great measure to the
Revolution. 'Sir, (said he, in a low voice, having come nearer to me,
while his old prejudices seemed to be fermenting in his mind,) this
Hanoverian family is isolee here. They have no friends. Now the Stuarts
had friends who stuck by them so late as 1745. When the right of the
King is not reverenced, there will not be reverence for those appointed
by the King.'
He repeated to me his verses on Mr. Levett, with an emotion which gave
them full effect; and then he was pleased to say, 'You must be as much
with me as you can. You have done me good. You cannot think how much
better I am since you came in.
He sent a message to acquaint Mrs. Thrale that I was arrived. I had not
seen her since her husband's death. She soon appeared, and favoured me
with an invitation to stay to dinner, which I accepted. There was no
other company but herself and three of her daughters, Dr. Johnson, and
I. She too said, she was very glad I was come, for she was going to
Bath, and should have been sorry to leave Dr. Johnson before I came.
This seemed to be attentive and kind; and I who had not been informed
of any change, imagined all to be as well as formerly. He was little
inclined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but when he
joined us in the drawing-room, he seemed revived, and was again himself.
Talking of conversation, he said, 'There must, in the first place, be
knowledge, there must be materials; in the second place, there must be
a command of words; in the third place, there must be imagination, to
place things in such views as they are not commonly seen in; and in the
fourth place, there must be presence of mind, and a resolution that is
not to be overcome by failures: this last is an essential requisite; for
want of it many people do not excel in conversation. Now I want it: I
throw up the game upon losing a trick.' I wondered to hear him talk thus
of himself, and said, 'I don't know, Sir, how this may be; but I am sure
you beat other people's cards out of their hands.' I doubt whether he
heard this remark. While he went on talking triumphantly, I was fixed
in admiration, and said to Mrs. Thrale, 'O, for short-hand to take this
down!' 'You'll carry it all in your head, (said she;) a long head is as
good as short-hand.'
It has been observed and wondered at, that Mr. Charles Fox never talked
with any freedom in the presence of Dr. Johnson, though it is well
known, and I myself can witness, that his conversation is various,
fluent, and exceedingly agreeable. Johnson's own experience, however, of
that gentleman's reserve was a sufficient reason for his going on thus:
'Fox never talks in private company; not from any determination not to
talk, but because he has not the first motion. A man who is used to
the applause of the House of Commons, has no wish for that of a private
company. A man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set down to
throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to count his dice. Burke's
talk is the ebullition of his mind; he does not talk from a desire of
distinction, but because his mind is full.'
After musing for some time, he said, 'I wonder how I should have any
enemies; for I do harm to nobody.' BOSWELL. 'In the first place, Sir,
you will be pleased to recollect, that you set out with attacking the
Scotch; so you got a whole nation for your enemies.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I
own, that by my definition of OATS I meant to vex them.' BOSWELL. 'Pray,
Sir, can you trace the cause of your antipathy to the Scotch?' JOHNSON.
'I cannot, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'Old Mr. Sheridan says, it was because they
sold Charles the First.' JOHNSON. 'Then, Sir, old Mr. Sheridan has found
out a very good reason.'
I had paid a visit to General Oglethorpe in the morning,* and was told
by him that Dr. Johnson saw company on Saturday evenings, and he would
meet me at Johnson's that night. When I mentioned this to Johnson,
not doubting that it would please him, as he had a great value for
Oglethorpe, the fretfulness of his disease unexpectedly shewed itself;
his anger suddenly kindled, and he said, with vehemence, 'Did not you
tell him not to come? Am I to be HUNTED in this manner?' I satisfied him
that I could not divine that the visit would not be convenient, and that
I certainly could not take it upon me of my own accord to forbid the
General.
* March 22.--Ed.
I found Dr. Johnson in the evening in Mrs. Williams's room, at tea and
coffee with her and Mrs. Desmoulins, who were also both ill; it was a
sad scene, and he was not in very good humour. He said of a performance
that had lately come out, 'Sir, if you should search all the madhouses
in England, you would not find ten men who would write so, and think it
sense.'
I was glad when General Oglethorpe's arrival was announced, and we
left the ladies. Dr. Johnson attended him in the parlour, and was as
courteous as ever.
On Sunday, March 23, I breakfasted with Dr. Johnson, who seemed much
relieved, having taken opium the night before. He however protested
against it, as a remedy that should be given with the utmost reluctance,
and only in extreme necessity. I mentioned how commonly it was used
in Turkey, and that therefore it could not be so pernicious as he
apprehended. He grew warm and said, 'Turks take opium, and Christians
take opium; but Russel, in his Account of Aleppo, tells us, that it is
as disgraceful in Turkey to take too much opium, as it is with us to get
drunk. Sir, it is amazing how things are exaggerated. A gentleman was
lately telling in a company where I was present, that in France as soon
as a man of fashion marries, he takes an opera girl into keeping; and
this he mentioned as a general custom. "Pray, Sir, (said I,) how many
opera girls may there be?" He answered, "About fourscore." "Well then,
Sir, (said I,) you see there can be no more than fourscore men of
fashion who can do this."'
Mrs. Desmoulins made tea; and she and I talked before him upon a
topick which he had once borne patiently from me when we were by
ourselves,--his not complaining of the world, because he was not called
to some great office, nor had attained to great wealth. He flew into a
violent passion, I confess with some justice, and commanded us to have
done. 'Nobody, (said he,) has a right to talk in this manner, to bring
before a man his own character, and the events of his life, when he does
not choose it should be done. I never have sought the world; the world
was not to seek me. It is rather wonderful that so much has been done
for me. All the complaints which are made of the world are unjust. I
never knew a man of merit neglected: it was generally by his own fault
that he failed of success. A man may hide his head in a hole: he may go
into the country, and publish a book now and then, which nobody reads,
and then complain he is neglected. There is no reason why any person
should exert himself for a man who has written a good book: he has
not written it for any individual. I may as well make a present to the
postman who brings me a letter. When patronage was limited, an authour
expected to find a Maecenas, and complained if he did not find one. Why
should he complain? This Maecenas has others as good as he, or others
who have got the start of him.'
On the subject of the right employment of wealth, Johnson observed, 'A
man cannot make a bad use of his money, so far as regards Society, if he
does not hoard it; for if he either spends it or lends it out, Society
has the benefit. It is in general better to spend money than to give it
away; for industry is more promoted by spending money than by giving it
away. A man who spends his money is sure he is doing good with it: he is
not so sure when he gives it away. A man who spends ten thousand a year
will do more good than a man who spends two thousand and gives away
eight.'
In the evening I came to him again. He was somewhat fretful from his
illness. A gentleman asked him, whether he had been abroad to-day.
'Don't talk so childishly, (said he.) You may as well ask if I hanged
myself to-day.' I mentioned politicks. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I'd as soon have
a man to break my bones as talk to me of publick affairs, internal or
external. I have lived to see things all as bad as they can be.'
He said, 'Goldsmith's blundering speech to Lord Shelburne, which has
been so often mentioned, and which he really did make to him, was only a
blunder in emphasis: "I wonder they should call your Lordship Malagrida,
for Malagrida was a very good man;" meant, I wonder they should use
Malagrida as a term of reproach.'
Soon after this time I had an opportunity of seeing, by means of one of
his friends, a proof that his talents, as well as his obliging service
to authours, were ready as ever. He had revised The Village, an
admirable poem, by the Reverend Mr. Crabbe. Its sentiments as to
the false notions of rustick happiness and rustick virtue were quite
congenial with his own; and he had taken the trouble not only to suggest
slight corrections and variations, but to furnish some lines, when he
thought he could give the writer's meaning better than in the words of
the manuscript.
On Sunday, March 30, I found him at home in the evening, and had the
pleasure to meet with Dr. Brocklesby, whose reading, and knowledge
of life, and good spirits, supply him with a never-failing source of
conversation.
I shall here insert a few of Johnson's sayings, without the formality of
dates, as they have no reference to any particular time or place.
'The more a man extends and varies his acquaintance the better.' This,
however, was meant with a just restriction; for, he on another occasion
said to me, 'Sir, a man may be so much of every thing, that he is
nothing of any thing.'
'It is a very good custom to keep a journal for a man's own use; he may
write upon a card a day all that is necessary to be written, after
he has had experience of life. At first there is a great deal to be
written, because there is a great deal of novelty; but when once a man
has settled his opinions, there is seldom much to be set down.'
Talking of an acquaintance of ours, whose narratives, which abounded
in curious and interesting topicks, were unhappily found to be very
fabulous; I mentioned Lord Mansfield's having said to me, 'Suppose we
believe one HALF of what he tells.' JOHNSON. 'Ay; but we don't know
WHICH half to believe. By his lying we lose not only our reverence for
him, but all comfort in his conversation.' BOSWELL. 'May we not take
it as amusing fiction?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the misfortune is, that you will
insensibly believe as much of it as you incline to believe.'
It is remarkable, that notwithstanding their congeniality in politicks,
he never was acquainted with a late eminent noble judge, whom I have
heard speak of him as a writer, with great respect. Johnson, I know not
upon what degree of investigation, entertained no exalted opinion of
his Lordship's intellectual character. Talking of him to me one day, he
said, 'It is wonderful, Sir, with how little real superiority of mind
men can make an eminent figure in publick life.' He expressed himself to
the same purpose concerning another law-Lord, who, it seems, once took a
fancy to associate with the wits of London; but with so little success,
that Foote said, 'What can he mean by coming among us? He is not only
dull himself, but the cause of dullness in others.' Trying him by the
test of his colloquial powers, Johnson had found him very defective. He
once said to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'This man now has been ten years about
town, and has made nothing of it;' meaning as a companion. He said
to me, 'I never heard any thing from him in company that was at all
striking; and depend upon it, Sir, it is when you come close to a man in
conversation, that you discover what his real abilities are; to make
a speech in a publick assembly is a knack. Now I honour Thurlow, Sir;
Thurlow is a fine fellow; he fairly puts his mind to yours.'
After repeating to him some of his pointed, lively sayings, I said, 'It
is a pity, Sir, you don't always remember your own good things, that you
may have a laugh when you will.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is better that
I forget them, that I may be reminded of them, and have a laugh on their
being brought to my recollection.'
When I recalled to him his having said as we sailed up Loch-lomond,
'That if he wore any thing fine, it should be VERY fine;' I observed
that all his thoughts were upon a great scale. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon
it, Sir, every man will have as fine a thing as he can get; as a large
diamond for his ring.' BOSWELL. 'Pardon me, Sir: a man of a narrow mind
will not think of it, a slight trinket will satisfy him:
"Nec sufferre queat majoris pondera gemmae."'
I told him I should send him some Essays which I had written, which
I hoped he would be so good as to read, and pick out the good ones.
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, send me only the good ones; don't make ME pick
them.'
As a small proof of his kindliness and delicacy of feeling, the
following circumstance may be mentioned: One evening when we were in the
street together, and I told him I was going to sup at Mr. Beauclerk's,
he said, 'I'll go with you.' After having walked part of the way,
seeming to recollect something, he suddenly stopped and said, 'I cannot
go,--but I do not love Beauclerk the less.'