On his return from Heale he wrote to Dr. Burney:--

'I came home on the 18th at noon to a very disconsolate house. You and

I have lost our friends; but you have more friends at home. My domestick

companion is taken from me. She is much missed, for her acquisitions

were many, and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of every

conversation. I am not well enough to go much out; and to sit, and eat,

or fast alone, is very wearisome. I always mean to send my compliments

to all the ladies.'

His fortitude and patience met with severe trials during this year. The

stroke of the palsy has been related circumstantially; but he was also

afflicted with the gout, and was besides troubled with a complaint which

not only was attended with immediate inconvenience, but threatened him

with a chirurgical operation, from which most men would shrink. The

complaint was a sarcocele, which Johnson bore with uncommon firmness,

and was not at all frightened while he looked forward to amputation. He

was attended by Mr. Pott and Mr. Cruikshank.

Happily the complaint abated without his being put to the torture of

amputation. But we must surely admire the manly resolution which he

discovered while it hung over him.

He this autumn received a visit from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. He

gives this account of it in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale:--

'Mrs. Siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great modesty and

propriety, and left nothing behind her to be censured or despised.

Neither praise nor money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind, seem

to have depraved her. I shall be glad to see her again. Her brother

Kemble calls on me, and pleases me very well. Mrs. Siddons and I talked

of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this winter the

characters of Constance, Catharine, and Isabella, in Shakspeare.'

Mr. Kemble has favoured me with the following minute of what passed at

this visit:--

'When Mrs. Siddons came into the room, there happened to be no chair

ready for her, which he observing, said with a smile, "Madam, you who

so often occasion a want of seats to other people, will the more easily

excuse the want of one yourself."

'Having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour entered upon

a consideration of the English drama; and, among other inquiries,

particularly asked her which of Shakspeare's characters she was most

pleased with. Upon her answering that she thought the character of Queen

Catharine, in Henry the Eighth, the most natural:--"I think so too,

Madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, I will once more hobble

out to the theatre myself." Mrs. Siddons promised she would do herself

the honour of acting his favourite part for him; but many circumstances

happened to prevent the representation of King Henry the Eighth during

the Doctor's life.

'In the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon the merits

of some of the principal performers whom he remembered to have seen upon

the stage. "Mrs. Porter in the vehemence of rage, and Mrs. Clive in

the sprightliness of humour, I have never seen equalled. What Clive did

best, she did better than Garrick; but could not do half so many things

well; she was a better romp than any I ever saw in nature. Pritchard, in

common life, was a vulgar ideot; she would talk of her GOWND: but, when

she appeared upon the stage, seemed to be inspired by gentility and

understanding. I once talked with Colley Cibber, and thought him

ignorant of the principles of his art. Garrick, Madam; was no declaimer;

there was not one of his own scene-shifters who could not have spoken To

be, or not to be, better than he did; yet he was the only actor I ever

saw, whom I could call a master both in tragedy and comedy; though I

liked him best in comedy. A true conception of character, and natural

expression of it, were his distinguished excellencies." Having

expatiated, with his usual force and eloquence, on Mr. Garrick's

extraordinary eminence as an actor, he concluded with this compliment

to his social talents: "And after all, Madam, I thought him less to be

envied on the stage than at the head of a table."'

Johnson, indeed, had thought more upon the subject of acting than might

be generally supposed. Talking of it one day to Mr. Kemble, he said,

'Are you, Sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe yourself transformed

into the very character you represent?' Upon Mr. Kemble's answering that

he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself; 'To be sure not, Sir,

(said Johnson;) the thing is impossible. And if Garrick really believed

himself to be that monster, Richard the Third, he deserved to be hanged

every time he performed it.'

I find in this, as in former years, notices of his kind attention to

Mrs. Gardiner, who, though in the humble station of a tallow-chandler

upon Snow-hill, was a woman of excellent good sense, pious, and

charitable. She told me, she had been introduced to him by Mrs. Masters,

the poetess, whose volumes he revised, and, it is said, illuminated here

and there with a ray of his own genius. Mrs. Gardiner was very zealous

for the support of the Ladies' charity-school, in the parish of St.

Sepulchre. It is confined to females; and, I am told, it afforded a hint

for the story of Betty Broom in The Idler.

The late ingenious Mr. Mickle, some time before his death, wrote me a

letter concerning Dr. Johnson, in which he mentions,--'I was upwards of

twelve years acquainted with him, was frequently in his company, always

talked with ease to him, and can truly say, that I never received from

him one rough word.'

Mr. Mickle reminds me in this letter of a conversation, at dinner

one day at Mr. Hoole's with Dr. Johnson, when Mr. Nicol the King's

bookseller and I attempted to controvert the maxim, 'better that

ten guilty should escape, than one innocent person suffer;' and were

answered by Dr. Johnson with great power of reasoning and eloquence. I

am very sorry that I have no record of that day: but I well recollect my

illustrious friend's having ably shewn, that unless civil institutions

insure protection to the innocent, all the confidence which mankind

should have in them would be lost.

Notwithstanding the complication of disorders under which Johnson now

laboured, he did not resign himself to despondency and discontent, but

with wisdom and spirit endeavoured to console and amuse his mind with

as many innocent enjoyments as he could procure. Sir John Hawkins has

mentioned the cordiality with which he insisted that such of the members

of the old club in Ivy-lane as survived, should meet again and dine

together, which they did, twice at a tavern and once at his house: and

in order to insure himself society in the evening for three days in the

week, he instituted a club at the Essex Head, in Essex-street, then kept

by Samuel Greaves, an old servant of Mr. Thrale's.

'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

'DEAR SIR,--It is inconvenient to me to come out, I should else have

waited on you with an account of a little evening Club which we are

establishing in Essex-street, in the Strand, and of which you are

desired to be one. It will be held at the Essex Head, now kept by an old

servant of Thrale's. The company is numerous, and, as you will see by

the list, miscellaneous. The terms are lax, and the expences light. Mr.

Barry was adopted by Dr. Brocklesby, who joined with me in forming the

plan. We meet thrice a week, and he who misses forfeits two-pence.

'If you are willing to become a member, draw a line under your name.

Return the list. We meet for the first time on Monday at eight. I am,

&c.

'Dec. 4, 1783.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

It did not suit Sir Joshua to be one of this Club. But when I mention

only Mr. Daines Barrington, Dr. Brocklesby, Mr. Murphy, Mr. John

Nichols, Mr. Cooke, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. Paradise, Dr. Horsley, Mr.

Windham,* I shall sufficiently obviate the misrepresentation of it by

Sir John Hawkins, as if it had been a low ale-house association, by

which Johnson was degraded. Johnson himself, like his namesake Old Ben,

composed the Rules of his Club.

* I was in Scotland when this Club was founded, and during

all the winter. Johnson, however, declared I should be a

member, and invented a word upon the occasion: Boswell (said

he,) is a very CLUBABLE man.' When I came to town I was

proposed by Mr. Barrington, and chosen. I believe there are

few societies where there is better conversation or more

decorum, several of us resolved to continue it after our

great founder was removed by death. Other members were

added; and now, above eight years since that loss, we go on

happily.--BOSWELL.

In the end of this year he was seized with a spasmodick asthma of

such violence, that he was confined to the house in great pain, being

sometimes obliged to sit all night in his chair, a recumbent posture

being so hurtful to his respiration, that he could not endure lying in

bed; and there came upon him at the same time that oppressive and

fatal disease, a dropsy. It was a very severe winter, which probably

aggravated his complaints; and the solitude in which Mr. Levett and Mrs.

Williams had left him, rendered his life very gloomy. Mrs. Desmoulins,

who still lived, was herself so very ill, that she could contribute very

little to his relief. He, however, had none of that unsocial shyness

which we commonly see in people afflicted with sickness. He did not

hide his head from the world, in solitary abstraction; he did not deny

himself to the visits of his friends and acquaintances; but at all

times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was ready for conversation as

in his best days.

'TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.

'DEAR MADAM,--You may perhaps think me negligent that I have not

written to you again upon the loss of your brother; but condolences and

consolations are such common and such useless things, that the omission

of them is no great crime: and my own diseases occupy my mind,

and engage my care. My nights are miserably restless, and my days,

therefore, are heavy. I try, however, to hold up my head as high as I

can.

'I am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the spring and the

summer may, in some degree, restore it: but if not, we must submit to

the inconveniences of time, as to the other dispensations of Eternal

Goodness. Pray for me, and write to me, or let Mr. Pearson write for

you. I am, &c.

'London, Nov. 29, 1783.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

1784: AETAT. 75.]--And now I am arrived at the last year of the life

of SAMUEL JOHNSON, a year in which, although passed in severe

indisposition, he nevertheless gave many evidences of the continuance

of those wondrous powers of mind, which raised him so high in the

intellectual world. His conversation and his letters of this year were

in no respect inferiour to those of former years.

In consequence of Johnson's request that I should ask our physicians

about his case, and desire Sir Alexander Dick to send his opinion, I

transmitted him a letter from that very amiable Baronet, then in his

eighty-first year, with his faculties as entire as ever; and mentioned

his expressions to me in the note accompanying it: 'With my most

affectionate wishes for Dr. Johnson's recovery, in which his friends,

his country, and all mankind have so deep a stake:' and at the same time

a full opinion upon his case by Dr. Gillespie, who, like Dr. Cullen,

had the advantage of having passed through the gradations of surgery and

pharmacy, and by study and practice had attained to such skill, that

my father settled on him two hundred pounds a year for five years, and

fifty pounds a year during his life, as an honorarium to secure his

particular attendance.

I also applied to three of the eminent physicians who had chairs in our

celebrated school of medicine at Edinburgh, Doctors Cullen, Hope, and

Monro.

All of them paid the most polite attention to my letter, and its

venerable object. Dr. Cullen's words concerning him were, 'It would give

me the greatest pleasure to be of any service to a man whom the publick

properly esteem, and whom I esteem and respect as much as I do Dr.

Johnson.' Dr. Hope's, 'Few people have a better claim on me than your

friend, as hardly a day passes that I do not ask his opinion about this

or that word.' Dr. Monro's, 'I most sincerely join you in sympathizing

with that very worthy and ingenious character, from whom his country has

derived much instruction and entertainment.'

'TO THE REVEREND DR. TAYLOR, ASHBOURNE, DERBYSHIRE.

'DEAR SIR,--What can be the reason that I hear nothing from you? I hope

nothing disables you from writing. What I have seen, and what I have

felt, gives me reason to fear every thing. Do not omit giving me the

comfort of knowing, that after all my losses I have yet a friend left.

'I want every comfort. My life is very solitary and very cheerless.

Though it has pleased GOD wonderfully to deliver me from the dropsy,

I am yet very weak, and have not passed the door since the 13th of

December. I hope for some help from warm weather, which will surely come

in time.

'I could not have the consent of the physicians to go to church

yesterday; I therefore received the holy sacrament at home, in the room

where I communicated with dear Mrs. Williams, a little before her death.

O! my friend, the approach of death is very dreadful. I am afraid to

think on that which I know I cannot avoid. It is vain to look round and

round for that help which cannot be had. Yet we hope and hope, and fancy

that he who has lived to-day may live to-morrow. But let us learn to

derive our hope only from GOD.

'In the mean time, let us be kind to one another. I have no friend now

living but you and Mr. Hector, that was the friend of my youth. Do not

neglect, dear Sir, yours affectionately,

'London, Easter-Monday, April 12, 1784.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

What follows is a beautiful specimen of his gentleness and complacency

to a young lady his god-child, one of the daughters of his friend Mr.

Langton, then I think in her seventh year. He took the trouble to write

it in a large round hand, nearly resembling printed characters, that

she might have the satisfaction of reading it herself. The original lies

before me, but shall be faithfully restored to her; and I dare say will

be preserved by her as a jewel as long as she lives.

'TO MISS JANE LANGTON, IN ROCHESTER, KENT.

'MY DEAREST MISS JENNY,--I am sorry that your pretty letter has been so

long without being answered; but, when I am not pretty well, I do not

always write plain enough for young ladies. I am glad, my dear, to see

that you write so well, and hope that you mind your pen, your book,

and your needle, for they are all necessary. Your books will give you

knowledge, and make you respected; and your needle will find you useful

employment when you do not care to read. When you are a little older, I

hope you will be very diligent in learning arithmetick, and, above all,

that through your whole life you will carefully say your prayers, and

read your Bible. I am, my dear, your most humble servant,

'May 10, 1784.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

On Wednesday, May 5, I arrived in London, and next morning had the

pleasure to find Dr. Johnson greatly recovered. I but just saw him;

for a coach was waiting to carry him to Islington, to the house of his

friend the Reverend Mr. Strahan, where he went sometimes for the benefit

of good air, which, notwithstanding his having formerly laughed at the

general opinion upon the subject, he now acknowledged was conducive to

health.

One morning afterwards, when I found him alone, he communicated to

me, with solemn earnestness, a very remarkable circumstance which had

happened in the course of his illness, when he was much distressed by

the dropsy. He had shut himself up, and employed a day in particular

exercises of religion--fasting, humiliation, and prayer. On a sudden

he obtained extraordinary relief, for which he looked up to Heaven with

grateful devotion. He made no direct inference from this fact; but from

his manner of telling it, I could perceive that it appeared to him as

something more than an incident in the common course of events. For my

own part, I have no difficulty to avow that cast of thinking, which by

many modern pretenders to wisdom is called SUPERSTITIOUS. But here

I think even men of dry rationality may believe, that there was an

intermediate interposition of Divine Providence, and that 'the fervent

prayer of this righteous man' availed.

On Saturday, May 15, I dined with him at Dr. Brocklesby's, where were

Colonel Vallancy, Mr. Murphy, and that ever-cheerful companion Mr.

Devaynes, apothecary to his Majesty. Of these days, and others on which

I saw him, I have no memorials, except the general recollection of his

being able and animated in conversation, and appearing to relish

society as much as the youngest man. I find only these three small

particulars:--When a person was mentioned, who said, 'I have lived

fifty-one years in this world without having had ten minutes of

uneasiness;' he exclaimed, 'The man who says so, lies: he attempts to

impose on human credulity.' The Bishop of Exeter in vain observed, that

men were very different. His Lordship's manner was not impressive, and

I learnt afterwards that Johnson did not find out that the person who

talked to him was a Prelate; if he had, I doubt not that he would have

treated him with more respect; for once talking of George Psalmanazar,

whom he reverenced for his piety, he said, 'I should as soon think of

contradicting a BISHOP.' One of the company* provoked him greatly by

doing what he could least of all bear, which was quoting something of

his own writing, against what he then maintained. 'What, Sir, (cried the

gentleman,) do you say to

"The busy day, the peaceful night,

Unfelt, uncounted, glided by?"'--

Johnson finding himself thus presented as giving an instance of a man

who had lived without uneasiness, was much offended, for he looked upon

such a quotation as unfair. His anger burst out in an unjustifiable

retort, insinuating that the gentleman's remark was a sally of ebriety;

'Sir, there is one passion I would advise you to command: when you have

drunk out that glass, don't drink another.' Here was exemplified what

Goldsmith said of him, with the aid of a very witty image from one of

Cibber's Comedies: 'There is no arguing with Johnson; for if his pistol

misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.' Another was

this: when a gentleman of eminence in the literary world was violently

censured for attacking people by anonymous paragraphs in news-papers;

he, from the spirit of contradiction as I thought, took up his defence,

and said, 'Come, come, this is not so terrible a crime; he means only

to vex them a little. I do not say that I should do it; but there is a

great difference between him and me; what is fit for Hephaestion is not

fit for Alexander.' Another, when I told him that a young and handsome

Countess had said to me, 'I should think that to be praised by Dr.

Johnson would make one a fool all one's life;' and that I answered,

'Madam, I shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him,' he

said, 'I am too old to be made a fool; but if you say I am made a fool,

I shall not deny it. I am much pleased with a compliment, especially

from a pretty woman.'

* Boswell himself, likely enough.--HILL.

On the evening of Saturday, May 15, he was in fine spirits, at our

Essex-Head Club. He told us, 'I dined yesterday at Mrs. Garrick's, with

Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny Burney. Three such women

are not to be found: I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs.

Lennox, who is superiour to them all.' BOSWELL. 'What! had you them all

to yourself, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'I had them all as much as they were had;

but it might have been better had there been more company there.'

BOSWELL. 'Might not Mrs. Montagu have been a fourth?' JOHNSON. 'Sir,

Mrs. Montagu does not make a trade of her wit; but Mrs. Montagu is a

very extraordinary woman; she has a constant stream of conversation, and

it is always impregnated; it has always meaning.' BOSWELL. 'Mr. Burke

has a constant stream of conversation.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; if a man

were to go by chance at the same time with Burke under a shed, to shun a

shower, he would say--"this is an extraordinary man." If Burke should go

into a stable to see his horse drest, the ostler would say--"we have had

an extraordinary man here."' BOSWELL. 'Foote was a man who never failed

in conversation. If he had gone into a stable--' JOHNSON. 'Sir, if he

had gone into a stable, the ostler would have said, "here has been a

comical fellow"; but he would not have respected him.' BOSWELL. 'And,

Sir, the ostler would have answered him, would have given him as good

as he brought, as the common saying is.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and Foote

would have answered the ostler.--When Burke does not descend to be

merry, his conversation is very superiour indeed. There is no proportion

between the powers which he shews in serious talk and in jocularity.

When he lets himself down to that, he is in the kennel.' I have in

another place opposed, and I hope with success, Dr. Johnson's very

singular and erroneous notion as to Mr. Burke's pleasantry. Mr. Windham

now said low to me, that he differed from our great friend in this

observation; for that Mr. Burke was often very happy in his merriment.

It would not have been right for either of us to have contradicted

Johnson at this time, in a Society all of whom did not know and value

Mr. Burke as much as we did. It might have occasioned something more

rough, and at any rate would probably have checked the flow of Johnson's

good-humour. He called to us with a sudden air of exultation, as the

thought started into his mind, 'O! Gentlemen, I must tell you a very

great thing. The Empress of Russia has ordered the Rambler to be

translated into the Russian language: so I shall be read on the banks of

the Wolga. Horace boasts that his fame would extend as far as the banks

of the Rhone; now the Wolga is farther from me than the Rhone was

from Horace.' BOSWELL. 'You must certainly be pleased with this, Sir.'

JOHNSON. 'I am pleased, Sir, to be sure. A man is pleased to find he has

succeeded in that which he has endeavoured to do.'

One of the company mentioned his having seen a noble person driving in

his carriage, and looking exceedingly well, notwithstanding his great

age. JOHNSON. 'Ah, Sir; that is nothing. Bacon observes, that a stout

healthy old man is like a tower undermined.'

On Sunday, May 16, I found him alone; he talked of Mrs. Thrale with much

concern, saying, 'Sir, she has done every thing wrong, since

Thrale's bridle was off her neck;' and was proceeding to mention some

circumstances which have since been the subject of publick discussion,

when he was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of

Salisbury.

In one of his little manuscript diaries, about this time, I find a

short notice, which marks his amiable disposition more certainly than

a thousand studied declarations.--'Afternoon spent cheerfully and

elegantly, I hope without offence to GOD or man; though in no holy duty,

yet in the general exercise and cultivation of benevolence.'

On Monday, May 17, I dined with him at Mr. Dilly's, where were Colonel

Vallancy, the Reverend Dr. Gibbons, and Mr. Capel Lofft, who, though a

most zealous Whig, has a mind so full of learning and knowledge, and so

much exercised in various departments, and withal so much liberality,

that the stupendous powers of the literary Goliath, though they did not

frighten this little David of popular spirit, could not but excite his

admiration. There was also Mr. Braithwaite of the Post-office, that

amiable and friendly man, who, with modest and unassuming manners, has

associated with many of the wits of the age. Johnson was very quiescent

to-day. Perhaps too I was indolent. I find nothing more of him in my

notes, but that when I mentioned that I had seen in the King's library

sixty-three editions of my favourite Thomas a Kempis, amongst which

it was in eight languages, Latin, German, French, Italian, Spanish,

English, Arabick, and Armenian, he said, he thought it unnecessary to

collect many editions of a book, which were all the same, except as

to the paper and print; he would have the original, and all the

translations, and all the editions which had any variations in the text.

He approved of the famous collection of editions of Horace by Douglas,

mentioned by Pope, who is said to have had a closet filled with them;

and he added, every man should try to collect one book in that manner,

and present it to a publick library.'

On Wednesday, May 19, I sat a part of the evening with him, by

ourselves. I observed, that the death of our friends might be a

consolation against the fear of our own dissolution, because we might

have more friends in the other world than in this. He perhaps felt this

as a reflection upon his apprehension as to death; and said, with heat,

'How can a man know WHERE his departed friends are, or whether they will

be his friends in the other world? How many friendships have you known

formed upon principles of virtue? Most friendships are formed by caprice

or by chance, mere confederacies in vice or leagues in folly.'

We talked of our worthy friend Mr. Langton. He said, 'I know not who

will go to Heaven if Langton does not. Sir, I could almost say, Sit

anima mea cum Langtono.' I mentioned a very eminent friend as a virtuous

man. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; but ------ has not the evangelical virtue of

Langton. ------, I am afraid, would not scruple to pick up a wench.'

He however charged Mr. Langton with what he thought want of judgment

upon an interesting occasion. 'When I was ill, (said he,) I desired he

would tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty. Sir, he

brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts

of Scripture, recommending christian charity. And when I questioned him

what occasion I had given for such an animadversion, all that he

could say amounted to this,--that I sometimes contradicted people in

conversation. Now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?'

BOSWELL. 'I suppose he meant the MANNER of doing it; roughly,--and

harshly.' JOHNSON. 'And who is the worse for that?' BOSWELL. 'It hurts

people of weak nerves.' JOHNSON. 'I know no such weak-nerved people.'

Mr. Burke, to whom I related this conference, said, 'It is well, if

when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience than

having been a little rough in conversation.'

Johnson, at the time when the paper was presented to him, though at

first pleased with the attention of his friend, whom he thanked in an

earnest manner, soon exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, 'What is your

drift, Sir?' Sir Joshua Reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a

scene for a comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and

belabour his confessor.

He had dined that day at Mr. Hoole's, and Miss Helen Maria Williams

being expected in the evening, Mr. Hoole put into his hands her

beautiful Ode on the Peace: Johnson read it over, and when this elegant

and accomplished young lady was presented to him, he took her by the

hand in the most courteous manner, and repeated the finest stanza of her

poem; this was the most delicate and pleasing compliment he could pay.

Her respectable friend, Dr. Kippis, from whom I had this anecdote, was

standing by, and was not a little gratified.

Miss Williams told me, that the only other time she was fortunate enough

to be in Dr. Johnson's company, he asked her to sit down by him, which

she did, and upon her inquiring how he was, he answered, 'I am very ill

indeed, Madam. I am very ill even when you are near me; what should I be

were you at a distance?'

He had now a great desire to go to Oxford, as his first jaunt after his

illness; we talked of it for some days, and I had promised to accompany

him. He was impatient and fretful to-night, because I did not at once

agree to go with him on Thursday. When I considered how ill he had been,

and what allowance should be made for the influence of sickness upon

his temper, I resolved to indulge him, though with some inconvenience to

myself, as I wished to attend the musical meeting in honour of Handel,

in Westminster-Abbey, on the following Saturday.

In the midst of his own diseases and pains, he was ever compassionate to

the distresses of others, and actively earnest in procuring them aid, as

appears from a note to Sir Joshua Reynolds, of June, in these words:--'I

am ashamed to ask for some relief for a poor man, to whom, I hope, I

have given what I can be expected to spare. The man importunes me, and

the blow goes round. I am going to try another air on Thursday.'

On Thursday, June 3, the Oxford post-coach took us up in the morning

at Bolt-court. The other two passengers were Mrs. Beresford and her

daughter, two very agreeable ladies from America; they were going to

Worcestershire, where they then resided. Frank had been sent by his

master the day before to take places for us; and I found, from

the waybill, that Dr. Johnson had made our names be put down. Mrs.

Beresford, who had read it, whispered me, 'Is this the great Dr.

Johnson?' I told her it was; so she was then prepared to listen. As she

soon happened to mention in a voice so low that Johnson did not hear it,

that her husband had been a member of the American Congress, I cautioned

her to beware of introducing that subject, as she must know how very

violent Johnson was against the people of that country. He talked a

great deal, but I am sorry I have preserved little of the conversation.

Miss Beresford was so much charmed, that she said to me aside, 'How he

does talk! Every sentence is an essay.' She amused herself in the coach

with knotting; he would scarcely allow this species of employment any

merit. 'Next to mere idleness (said he,) I think knotting is to be

reckoned in the scale of insignificance; though I once attempted to

learn knotting. Dempster's sister (looking to me,) endeavoured to teach

me it; but I made no progress.'

I was surprised at his talking without reserve in the publick post-coach

of the state of his affairs; 'I have (said he,) about the world I think

above a thousand pounds, which I intend shall afford Frank an annuity

of seventy pounds a year.' Indeed his openness with people at a first

interview was remarkable. He said once to Mr. Langton, 'I think I am

like Squire Richard in The Journey to London, "I'm never strange in a

strange place."' He was truly SOCIAL. He strongly censured what is

much too common in England among persons of condition,--maintaining

an absolute silence, when unknown to each other; as for instance, when

occasionally brought together in a room before the master or mistress

of the house has appeared. 'Sir, that is being so uncivilised as not to

understand the common rights of humanity.'

At the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatisfied with some

roast mutton which we had for dinner. The ladies I saw wondered to see

the great philosopher, whose wisdom and wit they had been admiring all

the way, get into ill-humour from such a cause. He scolded the waiter,

saying, 'It is as bad as bad can be: it is ill-fed, ill-killed,

ill-kept, and ill-drest.'

He bore the journey very well, and seemed to feel himself elevated as

he approached Oxford, that magnificent and venerable seat of learning,

Orthodoxy, and Toryism. Frank came in the heavy coach, in readiness to

attend him; and we were received with the most polite hospitality at the

house of his old friend Dr. Adams, Master of Pembroke College, who had

given us a kind invitation. Before we were set down, I communicated to

Johnson, my having engaged to return to London directly, for the reason

I have mentioned, but that I would hasten back to him again. He was

pleased that I had made this journey merely to keep him company. He was

easy and placid with Dr. Adams, Mrs. and Miss Adams, and Mrs. Kennicot,

widow of the learned Hebraean, who was here on a visit. He soon

dispatched the inquiries which were made about his illness and recovery,

by a short and distinct narrative; and then assuming a gay air, repeated

from Swift,--

'Nor think on our approaching ills,

And talk of spectacles and pills.'

I fulfilled my intention by going to London, and returned to Oxford on

Wednesday the 9th of June, when I was happy to find myself again in the

same agreeable circle at Pembroke College, with the comfortable prospect

of making some stay. Johnson welcomed my return with more than ordinary

glee.

Next morning at breakfast, he pointed out a passage in Savage's

Wanderer, saying, 'These are fine verses.' 'If (said he,) I had written

with hostility of Warburton in my Shakspeare, I should have quoted this

couplet:--

"Here Learning, blinded first and then beguil'd,

Looks dark as Ignorance, as Fancy wild."

You see they'd have fitted him to a T,' (smiling.) Dr. ADAMS. 'But you

did not write against Warburton.' JOHNSON. No, Sir, I treated him with

great respect both in my Preface and in my Notes.'

After dinner, when one of us talked of there being a great enmity

between Whig and Tory;--Johnson. 'Why not so much, I think, unless when

they come into competition with each other. There is none when they are

only common acquaintance, none when they are of different sexes. A Tory

will marry into a Whig family, and a Whig into a Tory family, without

any reluctance. But indeed, in a matter of much more concern than

political tenets, and that is religion, men and women do not concern

themselves much about difference of opinion; and ladies set no value on

the moral character of men who pay their addresses to them; the greatest

profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue,

and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three

times a day.' Our ladies endeavoured to defend their sex from this

charge; but he roared them down! 'No, no, a lady will take Jonathan Wild

as readily as St. Austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse,

her parents will give her to him. Women have a perpetual envy of our

vices; they are less vicious than we, not from choice, but because we

restrict them; they are the slaves of order and fashion; their virtue is

of more consequence to us than our own, so far as concerns this world.'

Miss Adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, and said,

'Suppose I had a mind to marry that gentleman, would my parents

consent?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, they'd consent, and you'd go. You'd go though

they did not consent.' Miss ADAMS. 'Perhaps their opposing might make me

go.' JOHNSON. 'O, very well; you'd take one whom you think a bad man,

to have the pleasure of vexing your parents. You put me in mind of Dr.

Barrowby, the physician, who was very fond of swine's flesh. One day,

when he was eating it, he said, "I wish I was a Jew." "Why so? (said

somebody;) the Jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat."

"Because, (said he,) I should then have the gust of eating it, with the

pleasure of sinning."' Johnson then proceeded in his declamation.

Miss Adams soon afterwards made an observation that I do not recollect,

which pleased him much: he said with a good-humoured smile, 'That there

should be so much excellence united with so much DEPRAVITY, is strange.'

Indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, and accomplishments, and her

constant attention to Dr. Johnson, were not lost upon him. She happened

to tell him that a little coffeepot, in which she had made his coffee,

was the only thing she could call her own. He turned to her with a

complacent gallantry, 'Don't say so, my dear; I hope you don't reckon my

heart as nothing.'

On Friday, June 11, we talked at breakfast, of forms of prayer. JOHNSON.

'I know of no good prayers but those in the Book of Common Prayer.' DR.

ADAMS. (in a very earnest manner:) 'I wish, Sir, you would compose some

family prayers.' JOHNSON. 'I will not compose prayers for you, Sir,

because you can do it for yourself. But I have thought of getting

together all the books of prayers which I could, selecting those which

should appear to me the best, putting out some, inserting others, adding

some prayers of my own, and prefixing a discourse on prayer.' We all now

gathered about him, and two or three of us at a time joined in pressing

him to execute this plan. He seemed to be a little displeased at the

manner of our importunity, and in great agitation called out, 'Do not

talk thus of what is so aweful. I know not what time GOD will allow me

in this world. There are many things which I wish to do.' Some of us

persisted, and Dr. Adams said, 'I never was more serious about any thing

in my life.' JOHNSON. 'Let me alone, let me alone; I am overpowered.'

And then he put his hands before his face, and reclined for some time

upon the table.

Dr. Johnson and I went in Dr. Adams's coach to dine with Dr. Nowell,

Principal of St. Mary Hall, at his beautiful villa at Iffley, on the

banks of the Isis, about two miles from Oxford. While we were upon the

road, I had the resolution to ask Johnson whether he thought that the

roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would

not have done more good if he had been more gentle. I proceeded to

answer myself thus: 'Perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given

weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such

authority without it.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have done more good as I

am. Obscenity and Impiety have always been repressed in my company.'

BOSWELL. 'True, Sir; and that is more than can be said of every Bishop.

Greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a Bishop, though a

very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding

such awe. Yet, Sir, many people who might have been benefited by your

conversation, have been frightened away. A worthy friend of ours has

told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.' JOHNSON. 'Sir,

he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. If he

had not, it was better he did not talk.'

We talked of a certain clergyman of extraordinary character, who by

exerting his talents in writing on temporary topicks, and displaying

uncommon intrepidity, had raised himself to affluence. I maintained that

we ought not to be indignant at his success; for merit of every sort

was entitled to reward. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I will not allow this man to

have merit. No, Sir; what he has is rather the contrary; I will, indeed,

allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him credit. We

have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a

fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back.

Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is

always respected, even when it is associated with vice.'

Mr. Henderson, with whom I had sauntered in the venerable walks of

Merton College, and found him a very learned and pious man, supped with

us. Dr. Johnson surprised him not a little, by acknowledging with a look

of horrour, that he was much oppressed by the fear of death. The amiable

Dr. Adams suggested that GOD was infinitely good. JOHNSON. 'That he is

infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his nature will allow, I

certainly believe; but it is necessary for good upon the whole, that

individuals should be punished. As to an INDIVIDUAL, therefore, he is

not infinitely good; and as I cannot be SURE that I have fulfilled the

conditions on which salvation is granted, I am afraid I may be one of

those who shall be damned.' (looking dismally). DR. ADAMS. 'What do you

mean by damned?' JOHNSON. (passionately and loudly,) 'Sent to Hell, Sir,

and punished everlastingly!' DR. ADAMS. 'I don't believe that doctrine.'

JOHNSON. 'Hold, Sir, do you believe that some will be punished at all?'

DR. ADAMS. 'Being excluded from Heaven will be a punishment; yet there

may be no great positive suffering.' JOHNSON. Well, Sir; but, if you

admit any degree of punishment, there is an end of your argument for

infinite goodness simply considered; for, infinite goodness would

inflict no punishment whatever. There is not infinite goodness

physically considered; morally there is.' BOSWELL. 'But may not a man

attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy from the fear of

death?' JOHNSON. 'A man may have such a degree of hope as to keep him

quiet. You see I am not quiet, from the vehemence with which I talk; but

I do not despair.' MRS. ADAMS. 'You seem, Sir, to forget the merits

of our Redeemer.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, I do not forget the merits of my

Redeemer; but my Redeemer has said that he will set some on his right

hand and some on his left.' He was in gloomy agitation, and said, 'I'll

have no more on't.' If what has now been stated should be urged by

the enemies of Christianity, as if its influence on the mind were

not benignant, let it be remembered, that Johnson's temperament was

melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of futurity are often a

common effect. We shall presently see that when he approached nearer to

his aweful change, his mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much

fortitude as becomes a thinking man in that situation.

From the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, whether it was

upon the whole more happy or miserable. Johnson was decidedly for the

balance of misery: in confirmation of which I maintained, that no man

would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced.

Johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms.

On Sunday, June 13, our philosopher was calm at breakfast. There was

something exceedingly pleasing in our leading a College life, without

restraint, and with superiour elegance, in consequence of our living

in the Master's house, and having the company of ladies. Mrs. Kennicot

related, in his presence, a lively saying of Dr. Johnson to Miss Hannah

More, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who had written Paradise

Lost should write such poor Sonnets:--'Milton, Madam, was a genius

that could cut a Colossus from a rock; but could not carve heads upon

cherry-stones.'

On Monday, June 14, and Tuesday, 15, Dr. Johnson and I dined, on one

of them, I forget which, with Mr. Mickle, translator of the Lusiad, at

Wheatley, a very pretty country place a few miles from Oxford; and on

the other with Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College. From Dr.

Wetherell's he went to visit Mr. Sackville Parker, the bookseller; and

when he returned to us, gave the following account of his visit, saying,

'I have been to see my old friend, Sack Parker; I find he has married

his maid; he has done right. She had lived with him many years in great

confidence, and they had mingled minds; I do not think he could have

found any wife that would have made him so happy. The woman was very

attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with

them, and to say what I liked, and she would be sure to get it for me.

Poor Sack! He is very ill, indeed. We parted as never to meet again.

It has quite broke me down.' This pathetic narrative was strangely

diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man's having married

his maid. I could not but feel it as in some degree ludicrous.

In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, while we sat at Dr. Adams's, we

talked of a printed letter from the Reverend Herbert Croft, to a young

gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the

end of whatever books he should begin to read. JOHNSON. 'This is surely

a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen

to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life. A book may be

good for nothing; or there may be only one thing in it worth knowing;

are we to read it all through? These Voyages, (pointing to the three

large volumes of Voyages to the South Sea, which were just come out) WHO

will read them through? A man had better work his way before the mast,

than read them through; they will be eaten by rats and mice, before they

are read through. There can be little entertainment in such books; one

set of Savages is like another.' BOSWELL. 'I do not think the people of

Otaheite can be reckoned Savages.' JOHNSON. 'Don't cant in defence of

Savages.' BOSWELL. 'They have the art of navigation.' JOHNSON. 'A dog or

a cat can swim.' BOSWELL. 'They carve very ingeniously.' JOHNSON. 'A cat

can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.' I perceived this was

none of the mollia tempora fandi; so desisted.

Upon his mentioning that when he came to College he wrote his first

exercise twice over; but never did so afterwards; MISS ADAMS. 'I

suppose, Sir, you could not make them better?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam, to

be sure, I could make them better. Thought is better than no thought.'

MISS ADAMS. 'Do you think, Sir, you could make your Ramblers better?'

JOHNSON. 'Certainly I could.' BOSWELL. 'I'll lay a bet, Sir, you

cannot.' JOHNSON. 'But I will, Sir, if I choose. I shall make the best

of them you shall pick out, better.' BOSWELL. 'But you may add to them.

I will not allow of that.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, there are three ways of

making them better;--putting out,--adding,--or correcting.'

During our visit at Oxford, the following conversation passed between

him and me on the subject of my trying my fortune at the English bar:

Having asked whether a very extensive acquaintance in London, which was

very valuable, and of great advantage to a man at large, might not

be prejudicial to a lawyer, by preventing him from giving sufficient

attention to his business;--JOHNSON. 'Sir, you will attend to business,

as business lays hold of you. When not actually employed, you may see

your friends as much as you do now. You may dine at a Club every day,

and sup with one of the members every night; and you may be as much at

publick places as one who has seen them all would wish to be. But you

must take care to attend constantly in Westminster-Hall; both to mind

your business, as it is almost all learnt there, (for nobody reads now;)

and to shew that you want to have business. And you must not be too

often seen at publick places, that competitors may not have it to say,

"He is always at the Playhouse or at Ranelagh, and never to be found at

his chambers." And, Sir, there must be a kind of solemnity in the manner

of a professional man. I have nothing particular to say to you on the

subject. All this I should say to any one; I should have said it to Lord

Thurlow twenty years ago.'

On Wednesday, June 19, Dr. Johnson and I returned to London; he was not

well to-day, and said very little, employing himself chiefly in reading

Euripides. He expressed some displeasure at me, for not observing

sufficiently the various objects upon the road. 'If I had your eyes,

Sir, (said he,) I should count the passengers.' It was wonderful how

accurate his observation of visual objects was, notwithstanding his

imperfect eyesight, owing to a habit of attention. That he was much

satisfied with the respect paid to him at Dr. Adams's is thus attested

by himself: 'I returned last night from Oxford, after a fortnight's

abode with Dr. Adams, who treated me as well as I could expect or wish;

and he that contents a sick man, a man whom it is impossible to please,

has surely done his part well.'

After his return to London from this excursion, I saw him frequently,

but have few memorandums: I shall therefore here insert some particulars

which I collected at various times.

It having been mentioned to Dr. Johnson that a gentleman who had a son

whom he imagined to have an extreme degree of timidity, resolved to send

him to a publick school, that he might acquire confidence;--'Sir, (said

Johnson,) this is a preposterous expedient for removing his infirmity;

such a disposition should be cultivated in the shade. Placing him at a

publick school is forcing an owl upon day.'

Speaking of a gentleman whose house was much frequented by low company;

'Rags, Sir, (said he,) will always make their appearance where they have

a right to do it.'

Of the same gentleman's mode of living, he said, 'Sir, the servants,

instead of doing what they are bid, stand round the table in idle

clusters, gaping upon the guests; and seem as unfit to attend a company,

as to steer a man of war.'

A dull country magistrate gave Johnson a long tedious account of his

exercising his criminal jurisdiction, the result of which was his having

sentenced four convicts to transportation. Johnson, in an agony of

impatience to get rid of such a companion, exclaimed, 'I heartily wish,

Sir, that I were a fifth.'

Johnson was present when a tragedy was read, in which there occurred

this line:--

'Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free.'

The company having admired it much, 'I cannot agree with you (said

Johnson). It might as well be said,--

'Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.'

Johnson having argued for some time with a pertinacious gentleman; his

opponent, who had talked in a very puzzling manner, happened to say, 'I

don't understand you, Sir:' upon which Johnson observed, 'Sir, I

have found you an argument; but I am not obliged to find you an

understanding.'

Talking to me of Horry Walpole, (as Horace late Earl of Orford was

often called,) Johnson allowed that he got together a great many curious

little things, and told them in an elegant manner. Mr. Walpole thought

Johnson a more amiable character after reading his Letters to Mrs.

Thrale: but never was one of the true admirers of that great man. We may

suppose a prejudice conceived, if he ever heard Johnson's account to Sir

George Staunton, that when he made the speeches in parliament for the

Gentleman's Magazine, 'he always took care to put Sir Robert Walpole

in the wrong, and to say every thing he could against the electorate

of Hanover.' The celebrated Heroick Epistle, in which Johnson is

satyrically introduced, has been ascribed both to Mr. Walpole and

Mr. Mason. One day at Mr. Courtenay's, when a gentleman expressed his

opinion that there was more energy in that poem than could be expected

from Mr. Walpole; Mr. Warton, the late Laureat, observed, 'It may have

been written by Walpole, and BUCKRAM'D by Mason.'

Sir Joshua Reynolds having said that he took the altitude of a man's

taste by his stories and his wit, and of his understanding by the

remarks which he repeated; being always sure that he must be a weak

man who quotes common things with an emphasis as if they were oracles;

Johnson agreed with him; and Sir Joshua having also observed that the

real character of a man was found out by his amusements,--Johnson added,

'Yes, Sir; no man is a hypocrite in his pleasures.'

I have mentioned Johnson's general aversion to a pun. He once, however,

endured one of mine. When we were talking of a numerous company in

which he had distinguished himself highly, I said, 'Sir, you were a COD

surrounded by smelts. Is not this enough for you? at a time too when you

were not FISHING for a compliment?' He laughed at this with a complacent

approbation. Old Mr. Sheridan observed, upon my mentioning it to him,

'He liked your compliment so well, he was willing to take it with

PUN SAUCE.' For my own part, I think no innocent species of wit or

pleasantry should be suppressed; and that a good pun may be admitted

among the smaller excellencies of lively conversation.

Mr. Burke uniformly shewed Johnson the greatest respect; and when Mr.

Townshend, now Lord Sydney, at a period when he was conspicuous in

opposition, threw out some reflection in parliament upon the grant of

a pension to a man of such political principles as Johnson; Mr. Burke,

though then of the same party with Mr. Townshend, stood warmly forth

in defence of his friend, to whom, he justly observed, the pension

was granted solely on account of his eminent literary merit. I am well

assured, that Mr. Townshend's attack upon Johnson was the occasion of

his 'hitching in a rhyme;' for, that in the original copy of Goldsmith's

character of Mr. Burke, in his Retaliation, another person's name stood

in the couplet where Mr. Townshend is now introduced:--

'Though fraught with all learning kept straining his throat,

To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote.'

It may be worth remarking, among the minutiae of my collection, that

Johnson was once drawn to serve in the militia, the Trained Bands of the

City of London, and that Mr. Rackstrow, of the Museum in Fleet-street,

was his Colonel. It may be believed he did not serve in person; but the

idea, with all its circumstances, is certainly laughable. He upon that

occasion provided himself with a musket, and with a sword and belt,

which I have seen hanging in his closet.

An authour of most anxious and restless vanity being mentioned, 'Sir,

(said he,) there is not a young sapling upon Parnassus more severely

blown about by every wind of criticism than that poor fellow.'

The difference, he observed, between a well-bred and an ill-bred man is

this: 'One immediately attracts your liking, the other your aversion.

You love the one till you find reason to hate him; you hate the other

till you find reason to love him.'

A foppish physician once reminded Johnson of his having been in

company with him on a former occasion; 'I do not remember it, Sir.' The

physician still insisted; adding that he that day wore so fine a coat

that it must have attracted his notice. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) had you

been dipt in Pactolus I should not have noticed you.'

He seemed to take a pleasure in speaking in his own style; for when he

had carelessly missed it, he would repeat the thought translated into

it. Talking of the Comedy of The Rehearsal, he said, 'It has not wit

enough to keep it sweet.' This was easy; he therefore caught himself,

and pronounced a more round sentence; 'It has not vitality enough to

preserve it from putrefaction.'

Though he had no taste for painting, he admired much the manner in which

Sir Joshua Reynolds treated of his art, in his Discourses to the Royal

Academy. He observed one day of a passage in them, 'I think I might as

well have said this myself:' and once when Mr. Langton was sitting

by him, he read one of them very eagerly, and expressed himself

thus:--'Very well, Master Reynolds; very well, indeed. But it will not

be understood.'

When I observed to him that Painting was so far inferiour to Poetry,

that the story or even emblem which it communicates must be previously

known, and mentioned as a natural and laughable instance of this, that

a little Miss on seeing a picture of Justice with the scales, had

exclaimed to me, 'See, there's a woman selling sweetmeats;' he said,

'Painting, Sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform.'

No man was more ready to make an apology when he had censured unjustly,

than Johnson. When a proof-sheet of one of his works was brought to him,

he found fault with the mode in which a part of it was arranged, refused

to read it, and in a passion desired that the compositor might be sent

to him. The compositor was Mr. Manning, a decent sensible man, who

had composed about one half of his Dictionary, when in Mr. Strahan's

printing-house; and a great part of his Lives of the Poets, when in

that of Mr. Nichols; and who (in his seventy-seventh year), when in Mr.

Baldwin's printing-house, composed a part of the first edition of this

work concerning him. By producing the manuscript, he at once satisfied

Dr. Johnson that he was not to blame. Upon which Johnson candidly

and earnestly said to him, 'Mr. Compositor, I ask your pardon. Mr.

Compositor, I ask your pardon, again and again.'

His generous humanity to the miserable was almost beyond example. The

following instance is well attested:--Coming home late one night, he

found a poor woman lying in the street, so much exhausted that she could

not walk; he took her upon his back, and carried her to his house, where

he discovered that she was one of those wretched females who had fallen

into the lowest state of vice, poverty, and disease. Instead of harshly

upbraiding her, he had her taken care of with all tenderness for a long

time, at considerable expence, till she was restored to health, and

endeavoured to put her into a virtuous way of living.

He once in his life was known to have uttered what is called a BULL:

Sir Joshua Reynolds, when they were riding together in Devonshire,

complained that he had a very bad horse, for that even when going down

hill he moved slowly step by step. 'Ay (said Johnson,) and when he goes

up hill, he STANDS STILL.'

He had a great aversion to gesticulating in company. He called once to a

gentleman who offended him in that point, 'Don't ATTITUDENISE.' And

when another gentleman thought he was giving additional force to what

he uttered, by expressive movements of his hands, Johnson fairly seized

them, and held them down.

Mr. Steevens, who passed many a social hour with him during their long

acquaintance, which commenced when they both lived in the Temple, has

preserved a good number of particulars concerning him, most of which

are to be found in the department of Apothegms, &c. in the Collection

of Johnson's Works. But he has been pleased to favour me with the

following, which are original:--

'Dr. Johnson once assumed a character in which perhaps even Mr. Boswell

never saw him. His curiosity having been excited by the praises bestowed

on the celebrated Torre's fireworks at Marybone-Gardens, he desired Mr.

Steevens to accompany him thither. The evening had proved showery; and

soon after the few people present were assembled, publick notice was

given, that the conductors to the wheels, suns, stars, &c., were

so thoroughly water-soaked, that it was impossible any part of the

exhibition should be made. "This is a mere excuse, (says the Doctor,)

to save their crackers for a more profitable company. Let us but hold up

our sticks, and threaten to break those coloured lamps that surround the

Orchestra, and we shall soon have our wishes gratified. The core of

the fireworks cannot be injured; let the different pieces be touched

in their respective centers, and they will do their offices as well as

ever." Some young men who overheard him, immediately began the violence

he had recommended, and an attempt was speedily made to fire some of

the wheels which appeared to have received the smallest damage; but to

little purpose were they lighted, for most of them completely failed.

The authour of The Rambler, however, may be considered, on this

occasion, as the ringleader of a successful riot, though not as a

skilful pyrotechnist.'

'It has been supposed that Dr. Johnson, so far as fashion was concerned,

was careless of his appearance in publick. But this is not altogether

true, as the following slight instance may show:--Goldsmith's last

Comedy was to be represented during some court-mourning: and Mr.

Steevens appointed to call on Dr. Johnson, and carry him to the tavern

where he was to dine with others of the Poet's friends. The Doctor was

ready dressed, but in coloured cloaths; yet being told that he would

find every one else in black, received the intelligence with a profusion

of thanks, hastened to change his attire, all the while repeating his

gratitude for the information that had saved him from an appearance so

improper in the front row of a front box. "I would not (added he,) for

ten pounds, have seemed so retrograde to any general observance."

'He would sometimes found his dislikes on very slender circumstances.

Happening one day to mention Mr. Flexman, a Dissenting Minister, with

some compliment to his exact memory in chronological matters; the Doctor

replied, "Let me hear no more of him, Sir. That is the fellow who made

the Index to my Ramblers, and set down the name of Milton thus: Milton,

MR. John."'

In the course of this work a numerous variety of names has been

mentioned, to which many might be added. I cannot omit Lord and Lady

Lucan, at whose house he often enjoyed all that an elegant table and the

best company can contribute to happiness; he found hospitality united

with extraordinary accomplishments, and embellished with charms of which

no man could be insensible.

On Tuesday, June 22, I dined with him at THE LITERARY CLUB, the last

time of his being in that respectable society. The other members present

were the Bishop of St. Asaph, Lord Eliot, Lord Palmerston, Dr. Fordyce,

and Mr. Malone. He looked ill; but had such a manly fortitude, that he

did not trouble the company with melancholy complaints. They all shewed

evident marks of kind concern about him, with which he was much pleased,

and he exerted himself to be as entertaining as his indisposition

allowed him.

The anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a life, as long as

human means might be supposed to have influence, made them plan for him

a retreat from the severity of a British winter, to the mild climate

of Italy. This scheme was at last brought to a serious resolution at

General Paoli's, where I had often talked of it. One essential matter,

however, I understood was necessary to be previously settled, which

was obtaining such an addition to his income, as would be sufficient to

enable him to defray the expence in a manner becoming the first literary

character of a great nation, and independent of all his other merits,

the Authour of THE DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. The person

to whom I above all others thought I should apply to negociate this

business, was the Lord Chancellor, because I knew that he highly valued

Johnson, and that Johnson highly valued his Lordship; so that it was no

degradation of my illustrious friend to solicit for him the favour of

such a man. I have mentioned what Johnson said of him to me when he was

at the bar; and after his Lordship was advanced to the seals, he said

of him, 'I would prepare myself for no man in England but Lord Thurlow.

When I am to meet with him I should wish to know a day before.' How he

would have prepared himself I cannot conjecture. Would he have selected

certain topicks, and considered them in every view so as to be in

readiness to argue them at all points? and what may we suppose those

topicks to have been? I once started the curious inquiry to the great

man who was the subject of this compliment: he smiled, but did not

pursue it.

I first consulted with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who perfectly coincided in

opinion with me; and I therefore, though personally very little known

to his Lordship, wrote to him, stating the case, and requesting his good

offices for Dr. Johnson. I mentioned that I was obliged to set out for

Scotland early in the following week, so that if his Lordship should

have any commands for me as to this pious negociation, he would be

pleased to send them before that time; otherwise Sir Joshua Reynolds

would give all attention to it.

This application was made not only without any suggestion on the part of

Johnson himself, but was utterly unknown to him, nor had he the smallest

suspicion of it. Any insinuations, therefore, which since his death have

been thrown out, as if he had stooped to ask what was superfluous, are

without any foundation. But, had he asked it, it would not have been

superfluous; for though the money he had saved proved to be more than

his friends imagined, or than I believe he himself, in his carelessness

concerning worldly matters, knew it to be, had he travelled upon the

Continent, an augmentation of his income would by no means have been

unnecessary.

On Thursday, June 24, I dined with him at Mr. Dilly's, where were the

Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Knox, master of Tunbridge-school, Mr. Smith, Vicar

of Southill, Dr. Beattie, Mr. Pinkerton, authour of various literary

performances, and the Rev. Dr. Mayo. At my desire old Mr. Sheridan was

invited, as I was earnest to have Johnson and him brought together

again by chance, that a reconciliation might be effected. Mr. Sheridan

happened to come early, and having learned that Dr. Johnson was to be

there, went away; so I found, with sincere regret, that my friendly

intentions were hopeless. I recollect nothing that passed this day,

except Johnson's quickness, who, when Dr. Beattie observed, as something

remarkable which had happened to him, that he had chanced to see both

No. 1, and No. 1000, of the hackney-coaches, the first and the last;

'Why, Sir, (said Johnson,) there is an equal chance for one's seeing

those two numbers as any other two.'

On Friday, June 25, I dined with him at General Paoli's, where, he says

in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, 'I love to dine.' There was a

variety of dishes much to his taste, of all which he seemed to me to eat

so much, that I was afraid he might be hurt by it; and I whispered to

the General my fear, and begged he might not press him. 'Alas! (said the

General,) see how very ill he looks; he can live but a very short time.

Would you refuse any slight gratifications to a man under sentence

of death? There is a humane custom in Italy, by which persons in that

melancholy situation are indulged with having whatever they like best to

eat and drink, even with expensive delicacies.'

On Sunday, June 27, I found him rather better. I mentioned to him

a young man who was going to Jamaica with his wife and children, in

expectation of being provided for by two of her brothers settled in that

island, one a clergyman, and the other a physician. JOHNSON. 'It is a

wild scheme, Sir, unless he has a positive and deliberate invitation.

There was a poor girl, who used to come about me, who had a cousin in

Barbadoes, that, in a letter to her, expressed a wish she should come

out to that Island, and expatiated on the comforts and happiness of her

situation. The poor girl went out: her cousin was much surprised, and

asked her how she could think of coming. "Because, (said she,) you

invited me." "Not I," answered the cousin. The letter was then produced.

"I see it is true, (said she,) that I did invite you: but I did not

think you would come." They lodged her in an out-house, where she passed

her time miserably; and as soon as she had an opportunity she returned

to England. Always tell this, when you hear of people going abroad to

relations, upon a notion of being well received. In the case which

you mention, it is probable the clergyman spends all he gets, and the

physician does not know how much he is to get.'

We this day dined at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with General Paoli, Lord

Eliot, (formerly Mr. Eliot, of Port Eliot,) Dr. Beattie, and some

other company. Talking of Lord Chesterfield;--JOHNSON. 'His manner

was exquisitely elegant, and he had more knowledge than I expected.'

BOSWELL. 'Did you find, Sir, his conversation to be of a superiour

style?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, in the conversation which I had with him I

had the best right to superiority, for it was upon philology and

literature.' Lord Eliot, who had travelled at the same time with Mr.

Stanhope, Lord Chesterfield's natural son, justly observed, that it was

strange that a man who shewed he had so much affection for his son as

Lord Chesterfield did, by writing so many long and anxious letters to

him, almost all of them when he was Secretary of State, which certainly

was a proof of great goodness of disposition, should endeavour to make

his son a rascal. His Lordship told us, that Foote had intended to bring

on the stage a father who had thus tutored his son, and to shew the son

an honest man to every one else, but practising his father's maxims upon

him, and cheating him. JOHNSON. 'I am much pleased with this design;

but I think there was no occasion to make the son honest at all. No; he

should be a consummate rogue: the contrast between honesty and knavery

would be the stronger. It should be contrived so that the father should

be the only sufferer by the son's villainy, and thus there would be

poetical justice.'

A young gentleman present took up the argument against him, and

maintained that no man ever thinks of the NOSE OF THE MIND, not

adverting that though that figurative sense seems strange to us, as very

unusual, it is truly not more forced than Hamlet's 'In my MIND'S EYE,

Horatio.' He persisted much too long, and appeared to Johnson as putting

himself forward as his antagonist with too much presumption; upon which

he called to him in a loud tone, 'What is it you are contending for, if

you BE contending?' And afterwards imagining that the gentleman retorted

upon him with a kind of smart drollery, he said, 'Mr. ***** it does not

become you to talk so to me. Besides, ridicule is not your talent; you

have THERE neither intuition nor sagacity.' The gentleman protested that

he had intended no improper freedom, but had the greatest respect

for Dr. Johnson. After a short pause, during which we were somewhat

uneasy,--JOHNSON. 'Give me your hand, Sir. You were too tedious, and I

was too short.' Mr. *****. 'Sir, I am honoured by your attention in any

way.' JOHNSON. 'Come, Sir, let's have no more of it. We offended

one another by our contention; let us not offend the company by our

compliments.'

He now said, 'He wished much to go to Italy, and that he dreaded

passing the winter in England.' I said nothing; but enjoyed a secret

satisfaction in thinking that I had taken the most effectual measures to

make such a scheme practicable.

On Monday, June 28, I had the honour to receive from the Lord Chancellor

the following letter:--

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'SIR,--I should have answered your letter immediately, if (being much

engaged when I received it) I had not put it in my pocket, and forgot to

open it till this morning.

'I am much obliged to you for the suggestion; and I will adopt and press

it as far as I can. The best argument, I am sure, and I hope it is not

likely to fail, is Dr. Johnson's merit. But it will be necessary, if

I should be so unfortunate as to miss seeing you, to converse with Sir

Joshua on the sum it will be proper to ask,--in short, upon the means

of setting him out. It would be a reflection on us all, if such a man

should perish for want of the means to take care of his health. Yours,

&c.

'THURLOW.'

This letter gave me a very high satisfaction; I next day went and shewed

it to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was exceedingly pleased with it. He

thought that I should now communicate the negociation to Dr. Johnson,

who might afterwards complain if the attention with which he had been

honoured, should be too long concealed from him. I intended to set out

for Scotland next morning; but Sir Joshua cordially insisted that I

should stay another day, that Johnson and I might dine with him, that

we three might talk of his Italian Tour, and, as Sir Joshua expressed

himself, 'have it all out.' I hastened to Johnson, and was told by him

that he was rather better to-day. BOSWELL. 'I am very anxious about you,

Sir, and particularly that you should go to Italy for the winter, which

I believe is your own wish.' JOHNSON. 'It is, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'You have

no objection, I presume, but the money it would require.' JOHNSON. 'Why,

no, Sir.' Upon which I gave him a particular account of what had been

done, and read to him the Lord Chancellor's letter. He listened with

much attention; then warmly said, 'This is taking prodigious pains about

a man.' 'O! Sir, (said I, with most sincere affection,) your friends

would do every thing for you.' He paused, grew more and more agitated,

till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent emotion,

'GOD bless you all.' I was so affected that I also shed tears. After a

short silence, he renewed and extended his grateful benediction, 'GOD

bless you all, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake.' We both remained for some time

unable to speak. He rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted

in tenderness. He staid but a short time, till he had recovered his

firmness; soon after he returned I left him, having first engaged him

to dine at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, next day. I never was again under that

roof which I had so long reverenced.

On Wednesday, June 30, the friendly confidential dinner with Sir Joshua

Reynolds took place, no other company being present. Had I known

that this was the last time that I should enjoy in this world, the

conversation of a friend whom I so much respected, and from whom I

derived so much instruction and entertainment, I should have been deeply

affected. When I now look back to it, I am vexed that a single word

should have been forgotten.

Both Sir Joshua and I were so sanguine in our expectations, that we

expatiated with confidence on the liberal provision which we were

sure would be made for him, conjecturing whether munificence would be

displayed in one large donation, or in an ample increase of his pension.

He himself catched so much of our enthusiasm, as to allow himself to

suppose it not impossible that our hopes might in one way or other be

realised. He said that he would rather have his pension doubled than a

grant of a thousand pounds; 'For, (said he,) though probably I may

not live to receive as much as a thousand pounds, a man would have

the consciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life in

splendour, how long soever it might be.' Considering what a moderate

proportion an income of six hundred pounds a year bears to innumerable

fortunes in this country, it is worthy of remark, that a man so truly

great should think it splendour.

As an instance of extraordinary liberality of friendship, he told us,

that Dr. Brocklesby had upon this occasion offered him a hundred a year

for his life. A grateful tear started into his eye, as he spoke this in

a faultering tone.

Sir Joshua and I endeavoured to flatter his imagination with agreeable

prospects of happiness in Italy. 'Nay, (said he,) I must not expect much

of that; when a man goes to Italy merely to feel how he breathes the

air, he can enjoy very little.'

Our conversation turned upon living in the country, which Johnson, whose

melancholy mind required the dissipation of quick successive variety,

had habituated himself to consider as a kind of mental imprisonment.

'Yet, Sir, (said I,) there are many people who are content to live in

the country.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is in the intellectual world as in the

physical world; we are told by natural philosophers that a body is at

rest in the place that is fit for it; they who are content to live in

the country, are FIT for the country.'

Talking of various enjoyments, I argued that a refinement of taste was

a disadvantage, as they who have attained to it must be seldomer pleased

than those who have no nice discrimination, and are therefore satisfied

with every thing that comes in their way. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; that is a

paltry notion. Endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect.'

I accompanied him in Sir Joshua Reynolds's coach, to the entry of

Bolt-court. He asked me whether I would not go with him to his house;

I declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. We bade

adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage. When he had got

down upon the foot-pavement, he called out, 'Fare you well;' and without

looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness, if I may

use that expression, which seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal

uneasiness, and impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long

separation.

I remained one day more in town, to have the chance of talking over

my negociation with the Lord Chancellor; but the multiplicity of his

Lordship's important engagements did not allow of it; so I left the

management of the business in the hands of Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Soon after this time Dr. Johnson had the mortification of being informed

by Mrs. Thrale, that, 'what she supposed he never believed,' was true;

namely, that she was actually going to marry Signor Piozzi, an Italian

musick-master. He endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain. If she would

publish the whole of the correspondence that passed between Dr.

Johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full view of his

real sentiments. As it is, our judgement must be biassed by that

characteristick specimen which Sir John Hawkins has given us: 'Poor

Thrale! I thought that either her virtue or her vice would have

restrained her from such a marriage. She is now become a subject for

her enemies to exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to

forget, or pity.'

It must be admitted that Johnson derived a considerable portion of

happiness from the comforts and elegancies which he enjoyed in Mr.

Thrale's family; but Mrs. Thrale assures us he was indebted for these to

her husband alone, who certainly respected him sincerely.

Having left the PIOUS NEGOCIATION, as I called it, in the best hands,

I shall here insert what relates to it. Johnson wrote to Sir Joshua

Reynolds on July 6, as follows:--

'I am going, I hope, in a few days, to try the air of Derbyshire, but

hope to see you before I go. Let me, however, mention to you what I have

much at heart. If the Chancellor should continue his attention to Mr.

Boswell's request, and confer with you on the means of relieving my

languid state, I am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking

money upon false pretences. I desire you to represent to his

Lordship, what, as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive to be

reasonable,--That, if I grow much worse, I shall be afraid to leave

my physicians, to suffer the inconveniences of travel, and pine in the

solitude of a foreign country; That, if I grow much better, of which

indeed there is now little appearance, I shall not wish to leave my

friends and my domestick comforts; for I do not travel, for pleasure

or curiosity; yet if I should recover, curiosity would revive. In my

present state, I am desirous to make a struggle for a little longer

life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer climate. Do for me what

you can.'

By a letter from Sir Joshua Reynolds I was informed, that the Lord

Chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him that the application

had not been successful; but that his Lordship, after speaking highly

in praise of Johnson, as a man who was an honour to his country, desired

Sir Joshua to let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension,

he should draw on his Lordship to the amount of five or six hundred

pounds; and that his Lordship explained the meaning of the mortgage to

be, that he wished the business to be conducted in such a manner, that

Dr. Johnson should appear to be under the least possible obligation. Sir

Joshua mentioned, that he had by the same post communicated all this to

Dr. Johnson.

How Johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear from what he

wrote to Sir Joshua Reynolds:--

'Ashbourne, Sept. 9. Many words I hope are not necessary between you

and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart by the

Chancellor's liberality, and your kind offices. . . .

'I have enclosed a letter to the Chancellor, which, when you have read

it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or any other general seal,

and convey it to him: had I sent it directly to him, I should have

seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention.'

'TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR.

'MY LORD,--After a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the

generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than

gratitude. Bounty, so liberally bestowed, I should gladly receive, if my

condition made it necessary; for, to such a mind, who would not be proud

to own his obligations? But it has pleased GOD to restore me to so

great a measure of health, that if I should now appropriate so much of

a fortune destined to do good, I could not escape from myself the charge

of advancing a false claim. My journey to the continent, though I once

thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and I

was very desirous that your Lordship should be told of it by Sir Joshua

Reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if I grew much better,

I should not be willing, if much worse, not able, to migrate. Your

Lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but, when I was told

that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, I did not expect

to hear of a refusal; yet, as I have had no long time to brood hope,

and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been

scarce a disappointment; and, from your Lordship's kindness, I have

received a benefit, which only men like you are able to bestow. I shall

now live mihi carior, with a higher opinion of my own merit. I am,

my Lord, your Lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble

servant,

'September, 1784.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

Upon this unexpected failure I abstain from presuming to make any

remarks, or to offer any conjectures.

Let us now contemplate Johnson thirty years after the death of his wife,

still retaining for her all the tenderness of affection.

'TO THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT BROMLEY.

'SIR,--Perhaps you may remember, that in the year 1753, you committed

to the ground my dear wife. I now entreat your permission to lay a stone

upon her; and have sent the inscription, that, if you find it proper,

you may signify your allowance.

'You will do me a great favour by showing the place where she lies, that

the stone may protect her remains.

'Mr. Ryland will wait on you for the inscription, and procure it to

be engraved. You will easily believe that I shrink from this mournful

office. When it is done, if I have strength remaining, I will visit

Bromley once again, and pay you part of the respect to which you have a

right from, Reverend Sir, your most humble servant,

'July 12, 1784.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

Next day he set out on a jaunt to Staffordshire and Derbyshire,

flattering himself that he might be in some degree relieved.

During his absence from London he kept up a correspondence with several

of his friends, from which I shall select what appears to me proper for

publication, without attending nicely to chronological order.