Johnson thought the poems published as translations from Ossian had so
little merit, that he said, 'Sir, a man might write such stuff for ever,
if he would ABANDON his mind to it.'
He said, 'A man should pass a part of his time with THE LAUGHERS,
by which means any thing ridiculous or particular about him might be
presented to his view, and corrected.' I observed, he must have been a
bold laugher who would have ventured to tell Dr. Johnson of any of his
particularities.*
* I am happy, however, to mention a pleasing instance of his
enduring with great gentleness to hear one of his most
striking particularities pointed out:--Miss Hunter, a niece
of his friend Christopher Smart, when a very young girl,
struck by his extraordinary motions, said to him, Pray, Dr.
Johnson, why do you make such strange gestures?' From bad
habit, he replied. 'Do you, my dear, take care to guard
against bad habits.' This I was told by the young lady's
brother at Margate.--Boswell.
Dr. Goldsmith said once to Dr. Johnson, that he wished for some
additional members to THE LITERARY CLUB, to give it an agreeable
variety; for (said he,) there can now be nothing new among us: we have
travelled over one another's minds. Johnson seemed a little angry, and
said, 'Sir, you have not travelled over MY mind, I promise you.' Sir
Joshua, however, thought Goldsmith right; observing, that 'when people
have lived a great deal together, they know what each of them will say
on every subject. A new understanding, therefore, is desirable; because
though it may only furnish the same sense upon a question which would
have been furnished by those with whom we are accustomed to live, yet
this sense will have a different colouring; and colouring is of much
effect in every thing else as well as in painting.'
Johnson used to say that he made it a constant rule to talk as well as
he could both as to sentiment and expression, by which means, what had
been originally effort became familiar and easy. The consequence of
this, Sir Joshua observed, was, that his common conversation in all
companies was such as to secure him universal attention, as something
above the usual colloquial style was expected.
Yet, though Johnson had this habit in company, when another mode was
necessary, in order to investigate truth, he could descend to a language
intelligible to the meanest capacity. An instance of this was witnessed
by Sir Joshua Reynolds, when they were present at an examination of
a little blackguard boy, by Mr. Saunders Welch, the late Westminster
Justice. Welch, who imagined that he was exalting himself in Dr.
Johnson's eyes by using big words, spoke in a manner that was utterly
unintelligible to the boy; Dr. Johnson perceiving it, addressed
himself to the boy, and changed the pompous phraseology into colloquial
language. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was much amused by this procedure,
which seemed a kind of reversing of what might have been expected from
the two men, took notice of it to Dr. Johnson, as they walked away by
themselves. Johnson said, that it was continually the case; and that
he was always obliged to TRANSLATE the Justice's swelling diction,
(smiling,) so as that his meaning might be understood by the vulgar,
from whom information was to be obtained.
Sir Joshua once observed to him, that he had talked above the capacity
of some people with whom they had been in company together. 'No matter,
Sir, (said Johnson;) they consider it as a compliment to be talked to,
as if they were wiser than they are. So true is this, Sir, that Baxter
made it a rule in every sermon that he preached, to say something that
was above the capacity of his audience.'
Johnson's dexterity in retort, when he seemed to be driven to an
extremity by his adversary, was very remarkable. Of his power in this
respect, our common friend, Mr. Windham of Norfolk, has been pleased to
furnish me with an eminent instance. However unfavourable to Scotland,
he uniformly gave liberal praise to George Buchanan, as a writer. In
a conversation concerning the literary merits of the two countries,
in which Buchanan was introduced, a Scotchman, imagining that on this
ground he should have an undoubted triumph over him, exclaimed, 'Ah,
Dr. Johnson, what would you have said of Buchanan, had he been an
Englishman?' 'Why, Sir, (said Johnson, after a little pause,) I should
NOT have said of Buchanan, had he been an ENGLISHMAN, what I will now
say of him as a SCOTCHMAN,--that he was the only man of genius his
country ever produced.'
Though his usual phrase for conversation was TALK, yet he made a
distinction; for when he once told me that he dined the day before at a
friend's house, with 'a very pretty company;' and I asked him if there
was good conversation, he answered, 'No, Sir; we had TALK enough, but no
CONVERSATION; there was nothing DISCUSSED.'
Such was his sensibility, and so much was he affected by pathetick
poetry, that, when he was reading Dr. Beattie's Hermit in my presence,
it brought tears into his eyes.
Mr. Hoole told him, he was born in Moorfields, and had received part of
his early instruction in Grub-street. 'Sir, (said Johnson, smiling,) you
have been REGULARLY educated.' Having asked who was his instructor, and
Mr. Hoole having answered, 'My uncle, Sir, who was a taylor;' Johnson,
recollecting himself, said, 'Sir, I knew him; we called him the
metaphysical taylor. He was of a club in Old-street, with me and George
Psalmanazar, and some others: but pray, Sir, was he a good taylor?' Mr.
Hoole having answered that he believed he was too mathematical, and
used to draw squares and triangles on his shop-board, so that he did not
excel in the cut of a coat;--'I am sorry for it (said Johnson,) for I
would have every man to be master of his own business.'
In pleasant reference to himself and Mr. Hoole, as brother authours, he
often said, 'Let you and I, Sir, go together, and eat a beef-steak in
Grub-street.'
He said to Sir William Scott, 'The age is running mad after innovation;
all the business of the world is to be done in a new way; men are to
be hanged in a new way; Tyburn itself is not safe from the fury of
innovation.' It having been argued that this was an improvement,--'No,
Sir, (said he, eagerly,) it is NOT an improvement: they object that the
old method drew together a number of spectators. Sir, executions are
intended to draw spectators. If they do not draw spectators they don't
answer their purpose. The old method was most satisfactory to all
parties; the publick was gratified by a procession; the criminal was
supported by it. Why is all this to be swept away?' I perfectly agree
with Dr. Johnson upon this head, and am persuaded that executions now,
the solemn procession being discontinued, have not nearly the effect
which they formerly had. Magistrates both in London, and elsewhere,
have, I am afraid, in this had too much regard to their own case.
Johnson's attention to precision and clearness in expression was very
remarkable. He disapproved of parentheses; and I believe in all his
voluminous writings, not half a dozen of them will be found. He never
used the phrases the former and the latter, having observed, that they
often occasioned obscurity; he therefore contrived to construct his
sentences so as not to have occasion for them, and would even rather
repeat the same words, in order to avoid them. Nothing is more common
than to mistake surnames when we hear them carelessly uttered for the
first time. To prevent this, he used not only to pronounce them slowly
and distinctly, but to take the trouble of spelling them; a practice
which I have often followed; and which I wish were general.
Such was the heat and irritability of his blood, that not only did he
pare his nails to the quick; but scraped the joints of his fingers with
a pen-knife, till they seemed quite red and raw.
The heterogeneous composition of human nature was remarkably exemplified
in Johnson. His liberality in giving his money to persons in distress
was extraordinary. Yet there lurked about him a propensity to paultry
saving. One day I owned to him that 'I was occasionally troubled with
a fit of NARROWNESS.' 'Why, Sir, (said he,) so am I. BUT I DO NOT TELL
IT.' He has now and then borrowed a shilling of me; and when I asked for
it again, seemed to be rather out of humour. A droll little circumstance
once occurred: as if he meant to reprimand my minute exactness as a
creditor, he thus addressed me;--'Boswell, LEND me sixpence--NOT TO BE
REPAID.'
This great man's attention to small things was very remarkable. As an
instance of it, he one day said to me, 'Sir, when you get silver in
change for a guinea, look carefully at it; you may find some curious
piece of coin.'
Though a stern TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN, and fully prejudiced against all
other nations, he had discernment enough to see, and candour enough to
censure, the cold reserve too common among Englishmen towards strangers:
'Sir, (said he,) two men of any other nation who are shewn into a room
together, at a house where they are both visitors, will immediately
find some conversation. But two Englishmen will probably go each to a
different window, and remain in obstinate silence. Sir, we as yet do not
enough understand the common rights of humanity.'
Johnson, for sport perhaps, or from the spirit of contradiction, eagerly
maintained that Derrick had merit as a writer. Mr. Morgann* argued with
him directly, in vain. At length he had recourse to this device. 'Pray,
Sir, (said he,) whether do you reckon Derrick or Smart the best poet?'
Johnson at once felt himself roused; and answered, 'Sir, there is no
settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea.'
* Author of the Essay on the Character of Falstaff.--ED.
He was pleased to say to me one morning when we were left alone in
his study, 'Boswell, I think I am easier with you than with almost any
body.'
He would not allow Mr. David Hume any credit for his political
principles, though similar to his own; saying of him, 'Sir, he was a
Tory by chance.'
His acute observation of human life made him remark, 'Sir, there is
nothing by which a man exasperates most people more, than by displaying
a superiour ability or brilliancy in conversation. They seem pleased at
the time; but their envy makes them curse him in their hearts.'
Johnson's love of little children, which he discovered upon all
occasions, calling them 'pretty dears,' and giving them sweetmeats,
was an undoubted proof of the real humanity and gentleness of his
disposition.
His uncommon kindness to his servants, and serious concern, not only
for their comfort in this world, but their happiness in the next,
was another unquestionable evidence of what all, who were intimately
acquainted with him, knew to be true.
Nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness which he
shewed for animals which he had taken under his protection. I never
shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for
whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants
having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. I am,
unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that I am
uneasy when in the room with one; and I own, I frequently suffered a
good deal from the presence of this same Hodge. I recollect him one day
scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction,
while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and
pulled him by the tail; and when I observed he was a fine cat, saying,
'Why yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this;' and
then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is
a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.'
This reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave Mr. Langton, of
the despicable state of a young Gentleman of good family. 'Sir, when I
heard of him last, he was running about town shooting cats.' And then in
a sort of kindly reverie, he bethought himself of his own favourite cat,
and said, 'But Hodge shan't be shot; no, no, Hodge shall not be shot.'
On Thursday, April 10, I introduced to him, at his house in Bolt-court,
the Honourable and Reverend William Stuart, son of the Earl of Bute; a
gentleman truly worthy of being known to Johnson; being, with all the
advantages of high birth, learning, travel, and elegant manners, an
exemplary parish priest in every respect.
After some compliments on both sides, the tour which Johnson and I had
made to the Hebrides was mentioned. JOHNSON. 'I got an acquisition
of more ideas by it than by any thing that I remember. I saw quite a
different system of life.' BOSWELL. 'You would not like to make the same
journey again?' JOHNSON. 'Why no, Sir; not the same: it is a tale told.
Gravina, an Italian critick, observes, that every man desires to see
that of which he has read; but no man desires to read an account of what
he has seen: so much does description fall short of reality. Description
only excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it. Other people may go and
see the Hebrides.' BOSWELL. 'I should wish to go and see some country
totally different from what I have been used to; such as Turkey, where
religion and every thing else are different.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; there
are two objects of curiosity,--the Christian world, and the Mahometan
world. All the rest may be considered as barbarous.' BOSWELL. 'Pray,
Sir, is the Turkish Spy a genuine book?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. Mrs. Manley,
in her Life, says that her father wrote the first two volumes: and
in another book, Dunton's Life and Errours, we find that the rest was
written by one Sault, at two guineas a sheet, under the direction of Dr.
Midgeley.'
About this time he wrote to Mrs. Lucy Porter, mentioning his bad health,
and that he intended a visit to Lichfield. 'It is, (says he,) with no
great expectation of amendment that I make every year a journey into the
country; but it is pleasant to visit those whose kindness has been often
experienced.'
On April 18, (being Good-Friday,) I found him at breakfast, in his usual
manner upon that day, drinking tea without milk, and eating a cross-bun
to prevent faintness; we went to St. Clement's church, as formerly. When
we came home from church, he placed himself on one of the stone-seats at
his garden-door, and I took the other, and thus in the open air and in
a placid frame of mind, he talked away very easily. JOHNSON. 'Were I a
country gentleman, I should not be very hospitable, I should not have
crowds in my house.' BOSWELL. 'Sir Alexander Dick tells me, that he
remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his house:
that is, reckoning each person as one, each time that he dined there.'
JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is about three a day.' BOSWELL. 'How your statement
lessens the idea.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is the good of counting. It
brings every thing to a certainty, which before floated in the mind
indefinitely.'
BOSWELL. 'I wish to have a good walled garden.' JOHNSON. 'I don't think
it would be worth the expence to you. We compute in England, a park wall
at a thousand pounds a mile; now a garden-wall must cost at least as
much. You intend your trees should grow higher than a deer will leap.
Now let us see; for a hundred pounds you could only have forty-four
square yards, which is very little; for two hundred pounds, you may have
eighty-four square yards, which is very well. But when will you get the
value of two hundred pounds of walls, in fruit, in your climate? No,
Sir, such contention with Nature is not worth while. I would plant an
orchard, and have plenty of such fruit as ripen well in your country. My
friend, Dr. Madden, of Ireland, said, that "in an orchard there should
be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to
rot upon the ground." Cherries are an early fruit, you may have them;
and you may have the early apples and pears.' BOSWELL. 'We cannot have
nonpareils.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you can no more have nonpareils than you
can have grapes.' BOSWELL. 'We have them, Sir; but they are very bad.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, never try to have a thing merely to shew that you
CANNOT have it. From ground that would let for forty shillings you may
have a large orchard; and you see it costs you only forty shillings.
Nay, you may graze the ground when the trees are grown up; you cannot
while they are young.' BOSWELL. 'Is not a good garden a very common
thing in England, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Not so common, Sir, as you imagine.
In Lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard; in Staffordshire very little
fruit.' BOSWELL. 'Has Langton no orchard?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' BOSWELL.
'How so, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, from the general negligence of
the county. He has it not, because nobody else has it.' BOSWELL. 'A
hot-house is a certain thing; I may have that.' JOHNSON. 'A hot-house is
pretty certain; but you must first build it, then you must keep fires in
it, and you must have a gardener to take care of it.' BOSWELL. 'But if I
have a gardener at any rate ?--' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes.' BOSWELL. 'I'd have
it near my house; there is no need to have it in the orchard.' JOHNSON.
'Yes, I'd have it near my house. I would plant a great many currants;
the fruit is good, and they make a pretty sweetmeat.'
I record this minute detail, which some may think trifling, in order to
shew clearly how this great man, whose mind could grasp such large and
extensive subjects, as he has shewn in his literary labours, was yet
well-informed in the common affairs of life, and loved to illustrate
them.
Talking of the origin of language; JOHNSON. 'It must have come by
inspiration. A thousand, nay, a million of children could not invent
a language. While the organs are pliable, there is not understanding
enough to form a language; by the time that there is understanding
enough, the organs are become stiff. We know that after a certain age
we cannot learn to pronounce a new language. No foreigner, who comes to
England when advanced in life, ever pronounces English tolerably well;
at least such instances are very rare. When I maintain that language
must have come by inspiration, I do not mean that inspiration is
required for rhetorick, and all the beauties of language; for when
once man has language, we can conceive that he may gradually form
modifications of it. I mean only that inspiration seems to me to be
necessary to give man the faculty of speech; to inform him that he
may have speech; which I think he could no more find out without
inspiration, than cows or hogs would think of such a faculty.' WALKER.
'Do you think, Sir, that there are any perfect synonimes in any
language?' JOHNSON. 'Originally there were not; but by using words
negligently, or in poetry, one word comes to be confounded with
another.'
He talked of Dr. Dodd. 'A friend of mine, (said he,) came to me and told
me, that a lady wished to have Dr. Dodd's picture in a bracelet, and
asked me for a motto. I said, I could think of no better than Currat
Lex. I was very willing to have him pardoned, that is, to have the
sentence changed to transportation: but, when he was once hanged, I did
not wish he should be made a saint.'
Mrs. Burney, wife of his friend Dr. Burney, came in, and he seemed to be
entertained with her conversation.
Garrick's funeral was talked of as extravagantly expensive. Johnson,
from his dislike to exaggeration, would not allow that it was
distinguished by any extraordinary pomp. 'Were there not six horses to
each coach?' said Mrs. Burney. JOHNSON. 'Madam, there were no more six
horses than six phoenixes.'
Time passed on in conversation till it was too late for the service of
the church at three o'clock. I took a walk, and left him alone for
some time; then returned, and we had coffee and conversation again by
ourselves.
We went to evening prayers at St. Clement's, at seven, and then parted.
On Sunday, April 20, being Easter-day, after attending solemn service
at St. Paul's, I came to Dr. Johnson, and found Mr. Lowe, the painter,
sitting with him. Mr. Lowe mentioned the great number of new buildings
of late in London, yet that Dr. Johnson had observed, that the number of
inhabitants was not increased. JOHNSON. Why, Sir, the bills of mortality
prove that no more people die now than formerly; so it is plain no more
live. The register of births proves nothing, for not one tenth of the
people of London are born there.' BOSWELL. 'I believe, Sir, a great many
of the children born in London die early.' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir.'
BOSWELL. 'But those who do live, are as stout and strong people as
any: Dr. Price says, they must be naturally stronger to get through.'
JOHNSON. 'That is system, Sir. A great traveller observes, that it is
said there are no weak or deformed people among the Indians; but he with
much sagacity assigns the reason of this, which is, that the hardship
of their life as hunters and fishers does not allow weak or diseased
children to grow up. Now had I been an Indian, I must have died early;
my eyes would not have served me to get food. I indeed now could fish,
give me English tackle; but had I been an Indian I must have starved,
or they would have knocked me on the head, when they saw I could do
nothing.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps they would have taken care of you: we are
told they are fond of oratory, you would have talked to them.' JOHNSON.
Nay, Sir, I should not have lived long enough to be fit to talk; I
should have been dead before I was ten years old. Depend upon it, Sir, a
savage, when he is hungry, will not carry about with him a looby of
nine years old, who cannot help himself. They have no affection, Sir.'
BOSWELL. 'I believe natural affection, of which we hear so much, is very
small.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, natural affection is nothing: but affection from
principle and established duty is sometimes wonderfully strong.' LOWE.
'A hen, Sir, will feed her chickens in preference to herself.' JOHNSON.
'But we don't know that the hen is hungry; let the hen be fairly hungry,
and I'll warrant she'll peck the corn herself. A cock, I believe,
will feed hens instead of himself; but we don't know that the cock is
hungry.' BOSWELL. 'And that, Sir, is not from affection but gallantry.
But some of the Indians have affection.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, that they help
some of their children is plain; for some of them live, which they could
not do without being helped.'
I dined with him; the company were, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins,
and Mr. Lowe. He seemed not to be well, talked little, grew drowsy soon
after dinner, and retired, upon which I went away.
Having next day gone to Mr. Burke's seat in the country, from whence I
was recalled by an express, that a near relation of mine had killed his
antagonist in a duel, and was himself dangerously wounded, I saw little
of Dr. Johnson till Monday, April 28, when I spent a considerable part
of the day with him, and introduced the subject, which then chiefly
occupied my mind. JOHNSON. 'I do not see, Sir, that fighting is
absolutely forbidden in Scripture; I see revenge forbidden, but not
self-defence.' BOSWELL. 'The Quakers say it is; "Unto him that smiteth
thee on one cheek, offer him also the other."' JOHNSON. 'But stay, Sir;
the text is meant only to have the effect of moderating passion; it is
plain that we are not to take it in a literal sense. We see this from
the context, where there are other recommendations, which I warrant you
the Quaker will not take literally; as, for instance, "From him that
would borrow of thee, turn thou not away." Let a man whose credit is
bad, come to a Quaker, and say, "Well, Sir, lend me a hundred pounds;"
he'll find him as unwilling as any other man. No, Sir, a man may shoot
the man who invades his character, as he may shoot him who attempts to
break into his house.* So in 1745, my friend, Tom Gumming, the Quaker,
said, he would not fight, but he would drive an ammunition cart; and we
know that the Quakers have sent flannel waistcoats to our soldiers, to
enable them to fight better.' BOSWELL. 'When a man is the aggressor, and
by ill-usage forces on a duel in which he is killed, have we not little
ground to hope that he is gone into a state of happiness?' JOHNSON.
'Sir, we are not to judge determinately of the state in which a man
leaves this life. He may in a moment have repented effectually, and it
is possible may have been accepted by GOD.'
* I think it necessary to caution my readers against
concluding that in this or any other conversation of Dr.
Johnson, they have his serious and deliberate opinion on the
subject of duelling. In my Journal of a Tour to the
Hebrides, 3rd edit. p. 386 [p. 366, Oct. 24], it appears
that he made this frank confession:--'Nobody at times, talks
more laxly than I do;' and, ib., p. 231 [Sept. 19, 1773],
'He fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of
duelling.' We may, therefore, infer, that he could not
think that justifiable, which seems so inconsistent with the
spirit of the Gospel.--BOSWELL.
Upon being told that old Mr. Sheridan, indignant at the neglect of his
oratorical plans, had threatened to go to America; JOHNSON. 'I hope
he will go to America.' BOSWELL. 'The Americans don't want oratory.'
JOHNSON. 'But we can want Sheridan.'
On Monday, April 29, I found him at home in the forenoon, and Mr. Seward
with him. Horace having been mentioned; BOSWELL. 'There is a great
deal of thinking in his works. One finds there almost every thing but
religion.' SEWARD. 'He speaks of his returning to it, in his Ode Parcus
Deorum cultor et infrequens.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was not in earnest: this
was merely poetical.' BOSWELL. 'There are, I am afraid, many people who
have no religion at all.' SEWARD. 'And sensible people too.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, not sensible in that respect. There must be either a natural
or a moral stupidity, if one lives in a total neglect of so very
important a concern. SEWARD. 'I wonder that there should be people
without religion.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you need not wonder at this, when you
consider how large a proportion of almost every man's life is passed
without thinking of it. I myself was for some years totally regardless
of religion. It had dropped out of my mind. It was at an early part
of my life. Sickness brought it back, and I hope I have never lost it
since.' BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir, what a man must you have been without
religion! Why you must have gone on drinking, and swearing, and--'
JOHNSON (with a smile,) 'I drank enough and swore enough, to be sure.'
SEWARD. 'One should think that sickness and the view of death would make
more men religious.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, they do not know how to go about it:
they have not the first notion. A man who has never had religion before,
no more grows religious when he is sick, than a man who has never learnt
figures can count when he has need of calculation.'
I mentioned Dr. Johnson's excellent distinction between liberty of
conscience and liberty of teaching. JOHNSON. 'Consider, Sir; if you have
children whom you wish to educate in the principles of the Church of
England, and there comes a Quaker who tries to pervert them to his
principles, you would drive away the Quaker. You would not trust to the
predomination of right, which you believe is in your opinions; you would
keep wrong out of their heads. Now the vulgar are the children of the
State. If any one attempts to teach them doctrines contrary to what the
State approves, the magistrate may and ought to restrain him.' SEWARD.
'Would you restrain private conversation, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir,
it is difficult to say where private conversation begins, and where it
ends. If we three should discuss even the great question concerning the
existence of a Supreme Being by ourselves, we should not be restrained;
for that would be to put an end to all improvement. But if we should
discuss it in the presence of ten boarding-school girls, and as many
boys, I think the magistrate would do well to put us in the stocks, to
finish the debate there.'
'How false (said he,) is all this, to say that in ancient times learning
was not a disgrace to a Peer as it is now. In ancient times a Peer was
as ignorant as any one else. He would have been angry to have it thought
he could write his name. Men in ancient times dared to stand forth with
a degree of ignorance with which nobody would dare now to stand forth.
I am always angry when I hear ancient times praised at the expence of
modern times. There is now a great deal more learning in the world than
there was formerly; for it is universally diffused. You have, perhaps,
no man who knows as much Greek and Latin as Bentley; no man who knows as
much mathematicks as Newton: but you have many more men who know Greek
and Latin, and who know mathematicks.'
On Thursday, May 1, I visited him in the evening along with young Mr.
Burke. He said, 'It is strange that there should be so little reading in
the world, and so much writing. People in general do not willingly read,
if they can have any thing else to amuse them. There must be an external
impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. The progress which the
understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it.
Language is scanty, and inadequate to express the nice gradations and
mixtures of our feelings. No man reads a book of science from pure
inclination. The books that we do read with pleasure are light
compositions, which contain a quick succession of events. However, I
have this year read all Virgil through. I read a book of the Aeneid
every night, so it was done in twelve nights, and I had great delight
in it. The Georgicks did not give me so much pleasure, except the fourth
book. The Eclogues I have almost all by heart. I do not think the story
of the Aeneid interesting. I like the story of the Odyssey much better;
and this not on account of the wonderful things which it contains;
for there are wonderful things enough in the Aeneid;--the ships of the
Trojans turned to sea-nymphs,--the tree at Polydorus's tomb dropping
blood. The story of the Odyssey is interesting, as a great part of it is
domestick. It has been said, there is pleasure in writing, particularly
in writing verses. I allow you may have pleasure from writing, after
it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it
again. I know when I have been writing verses, I have run my finger down
the margin, to see how many I had made, and how few I had to make.'
He seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although I have no note of
the particulars of young Mr. Burke's conversation, it is but justice
to mention in general, that it was such that Dr. Johnson said to me
afterwards, 'He did very well indeed; I have a mind to tell his father.'
I have no minute of any interview with Johnson till Thursday, May 15,
when I find what follows:--BOSWELL. 'I wish much to be in Parliament,
Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, unless you come resolved to support any
administration, you would be the worse for being in Parliament, because
you would be obliged to live more expensively.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps, Sir,
I should be the less happy for being in Parliament. I never would sell
my vote, and I should be vexed if things went wrong.' JOHNSON. 'That's
cant, Sir. It would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery:
publick affairs vex no man.' BOSWELL. 'Have not they vexed yourself
a little, Sir? Have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this
reign, and by that absurd vote of the house of Commons, "That the
influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be
diminished?"' Johnson. 'Sir, I have never slept an hour less, nor eat an
ounce less meat. I would have knocked the factious dogs on the head, to
be sure; but I was not VEXED.' BOSWELL. 'I declare, Sir, upon my honour,
I did imagine I was vexed, and took a pride in it; but it WAS, perhaps,
cant; for I own I neither ate less, nor slept less.' JOHNSON. 'My dear
friend, clear your MIND of cant. You may TALK as other people do: you
may say to a man, "Sir, I am your most humble servant." You are not
his most humble servant. You may say, "These are bad times; it is a
melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." You don't mind the
times. You tell a man, "I am sorry you had such bad weather the last day
of your journey, and were so much wet." You don't care six-pence whether
he is wet or dry. You may TALK in this manner; it is a mode of talking
in Society: but don't THINK foolishly.'
Here he discovered a notion common enough in persons not much accustomed
to entertain company, that there must be a degree of elaborate
attention, otherwise company will think themselves neglected; and
such attention is no doubt very fatiguing. He proceeded: 'I would not,
however, be a stranger in my own county; I would visit my neighbours,
and receive their visits; but I would not be in haste to return visits.
If a gentleman comes to see me, I tell him he does me a great deal of
honour. I do not go to see him perhaps for ten weeks; then we are very
complaisant to each other. No, Sir, you will have much more influence by
giving or lending money where it is wanted, than by hospitality.'
On Saturday, May 17, I saw him for a short time. Having mentioned that I
had that morning been with old Mr. Sheridan, he remembered their former
intimacy with a cordial warmth, and said to me, 'Tell Mr. Sheridan, I
shall be glad to see him, and shake hands with him.' BOSWELL. 'It is to
me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so long.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, it is not altogether resentment that he does not visit me;
it is partly falling out of the habit,--partly disgust, as one has at
a drug that has made him sick. Besides, he knows that I laugh at his
oratory.'
Another day I spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as well as I, had
a very high opinion. He expatiated in his praise; but added, 'Sir, he is
a cursed Whig, a BOTTOMLESS Whig, as they all are now.'
On Monday, May 26, I found him at tea, and the celebrated Miss Burney,
the authour of Evelina and Cecilia, with him. I asked if there would
be any speakers in Parliament, if there were no places to be obtained.
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. Why do you speak here? Either to instruct and
entertain, which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a
selfish motive.' I mentioned Cecilia. JOHNSON. (with an air of animated
satisfaction,) 'Sir, if you talk of Cecilia, talk on.'
We talked of Mr. Barry's exhibition of his pictures. JOHNSON. 'Whatever
the hand may have done, the mind has done its part. There is a grasp of
mind there which you find nowhere else.'
I asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has overcome
wicked inclinations, is the best. JOHNSON. 'Sir, to YOU, the man who
has overcome wicked inclinations is not the best. He has more merit to
HIMSELF: I would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and
so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest
principles. There is a witty satirical story of Foote. He had a small
bust of Garrick placed upon his bureau. "You may be surprized (said he,)
that I allow him to be so near my gold;--but you will observe he has no
hands."'
On Friday, May 29, being to set out for Scotland next morning, I passed
a part of the day with him in more than usual earnestness; as his health
was in a more precarious state than at any time when I had parted
from him. He, however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. I
mentioned one who was a very learned man. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, he has a
great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. There is never one
idea by the side of another; 'tis all entangled: and their he drives it
so aukwardly upon conversation.'
He said, 'Get as much force of mind as you can. Live within your income.
Always have something saved at the end of the year. Let your imports be
more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.
I assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his
acquaintance there never had been any one who had a more sincere respect
and affection for him than I had. He said, 'I believe it, Sir. Were I
in distress, there is no man to whom I should sooner come than to you. I
should like to come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live
mostly on milk, and be taken care of by Mrs. Boswell. She and I are good
friends now; are we not?'
He embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when I was leaving
him for any length of time. I walked from his door to-day, with a
fearful apprehension of what might happen before I returned.
My anxious apprehensions at parting with him this year, proved to be but
too well founded; for not long afterwards he had a dreadful stroke of
the palsy, of which there are very full and accurate accounts in letters
written by himself, to shew with what composure of mind, and resignation
to the Divine Will, his steady piety enabled him to behave.
'TO MR. EDMUND ALLEN.
'DEAR SIR,--It has pleased GOD, this morning, to deprive me of the
powers of speech; and as I do not know but that it may be his further
good pleasure to deprive me soon of my senses, I request you will on the
receipt of this note, come to me, and act for me, as the exigencies of
my case may require. I am, sincerely yours,
'June 17, 1783.'
'SAM. JOHNSON.'