'DEAR MADAM,
'Life is full of troubles. I have just lost my dear friend Thrale. I
hope he is happy; but I have had a great loss. I am otherwise pretty
well. I require some care of myself, but that care is not ineffectual;
and when I am out of order, I think it often my own fault.
'The spring is now making quick advances. As it is the season in which
the whole world is enlivened and invigorated, I hope that both you and I
shall partake of its benefits. My desire is to see Lichfield; but being
left executor to my friend, I know not whether I can be spared; but I
will try, for it is now long since we saw one another, and how little we
can promise ourselves many more interviews, we are taught by hourly
examples of mortality. Let us try to live so as that mortality may not
be an evil. Write to me soon, my dearest; your letters will give me
great pleasure.
'I am sorry that Mr. Porter has not had his box; but by sending it to
Mr. Mathias, who very readily undertook its conveyance, I did the best I
could, and perhaps before now he has it.
'Be so kind as to make my compliments to my friends; I have a great
value for their kindness, and hope to enjoy it before summer is past. Do
write to me. I am, dearest love,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, April 12, 1781.'
On Friday, April 13, being Good-Friday, I went to St. Clement's church
with him as usual. There I saw again his old fellow-collegian,
Edwards[291], to whom I said, 'I think, Sir, Dr. Johnson and you meet
only at Church.'--'Sir, (said he,) it is the best place we can meet in,
except Heaven, and I hope we shall meet there too.' Dr. Johnson told me,
that there was very little communication between Edwards and him, after
their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. 'But (said he, smiling) he met
me once, and said, "I am told you have written a very pretty book called
_The Rambler_." I was unwilling that he should leave the world in total
darkness, and sent him a set.'
Mr. Berrenger[292] visited him to-day, and was very pleasing. We talked
of an evening society for conversation at a house in town, of which we
were all members, but of which Johnson said, 'It will never do, Sir.
There is nothing served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor
lemonade, nor any thing whatever; and depend upon it, Sir, a man does
not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went
in.' I endeavoured, for argument's sake, to maintain that men of
learning and talents might have very good intellectual society, without
the aid of any little gratifications of the senses. Berrenger joined
with Johnson, and said, that without these any meeting would be dull and
insipid. He would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it
would not be amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a
side-board. 'Sir, (said Johnson to me, with an air of triumph,) Mr.
Berrenger knows the world. Every body loves to have good things
furnished to them without any trouble. I told Mrs. Thrale once, that as
she did not choose to have card tables, she should have a profusion of
the best sweetmeats, and she would be sure to have company enough come
to her[293].' I agreed with my illustrious friend upon this subject;
for it has pleased GOD to make man a composite animal, and where there
is nothing to refresh the body, the mind will languish.
On Sunday, April 15, being Easter-day, after solemn worship in St.
Paul's church, I found him alone; Dr. Scott of the Commons came in. He
talked of its having been said that Addison wrote some of his best
papers in _The Spectator_ when warm with wine[294]. Dr. Johnson did not
seem willing to admit this. Dr. Scott, as a confirmation of it, related,
that Blackstone, a sober man, composed his _Commentaries_ with a bottle
of port before him; and found his mind invigorated and supported in the
fatigue of his great work, by a temperate use of it[295].
I told him, that in a company where I had lately been, a desire was
expressed to know his authority for the shocking story of Addison's
sending an execution into Steele's house[296]. 'Sir, (said he,) it is
generally known, it is known to all who are acquainted with the literary
history of that period. It is as well known, as that he wrote _Cato_.'
Mr. Thomas Sheridan once defended Addison to me, by alledging that he
did it in order to cover Steele's goods from other creditors, who were
going to seize them.
We talked of the difference between the mode of education at Oxford,
and that in those Colleges where instruction is chiefly conveyed by
lectures[297]. JOHNSON. 'Lectures were once useful; but now, when all
can read, and books are so numerous, lectures are unnecessary. If your
attention fails, and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you
cannot go back as you do upon a book.' Dr. Scott agreed with him. 'But
yet (said I), Dr. Scott, you yourself gave lectures at Oxford[298].' He
smiled. 'You laughed (then said I) at those who came to you.'
Dr. Scott left us, and soon afterwards we went to dinner. Our company
consisted of Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins, Mr. Levett, Mr. Allen, the
printer, and Mrs. Hall[299], sister of the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, and
resembling him, as I thought, both in figure and manner. Johnson
produced now, for the first time, some handsome silver salvers, which he
told me he had bought fourteen years ago; so it was a great day. I was
not a little amused by observing Allen perpetually struggling to talk in
the manner of Johnson, like the little frog in the fable blowing himself
up to resemble the stately ox[300].
I mentioned a kind of religious Robinhood Society[301], which met every
Sunday evening, at Coachmakers'-hall, for free debate; and that the
subject for this night was, the text which relates, with other miracles,
which happened at our SAVIOUR'S death, 'And the graves were opened, and
many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves
after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto
many[302].' Mrs. Hall said it was a very curious subject, and she should
like to hear it discussed. JOHNSON, (somewhat warmly) 'One would not go
to such a place to hear it,--one would not be seen in such a place--to
give countenance to such a meeting.' I, however, resolved that I would
go. 'But, Sir, (said she to Johnson,) I should like to hear _you_
discuss it.' He seemed reluctant to engage in it. She talked of the
resurrection of the human race in general, and maintained that we shall
be raised with the same bodies. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Madam, we see that it is
not to be the same body; for the Scripture uses the illustration of
grain sown, and we know that the grain which grows is not the same with
what is sown[303]. You cannot suppose that we shall rise with a diseased
body; it is enough if there be such a sameness as to distinguish
identity of person.' She seemed desirous of knowing more, but he left
the question in obscurity.
Of apparitions[304], he observed, 'A total disbelief of them is adverse
to the opinion of the existence of the soul between death and the last
day; the question simply is, whether departed spirits ever have the
power of making themselves perceptible to us; a man who thinks he has
seen an apparition, can only be convinced himself; his authority will
not convince another, and his conviction, if rational, must be founded
on being told something which cannot be known but by supernatural means.'
He mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which I had never heard
before,--being _called_, that is, hearing one's name pronounced by the
voice of a known person at a great distance, far beyond the possibility
of being reached by any sound uttered by human organs. 'An acquaintance,
on whose veracity I can depend, told me, that walking home one evening
to Kilmarnock, he heard himself called from a wood, by the voice of a
brother who had gone to America; and the next packet brought accounts of
that brother's death.' Macbean[305] asserted that this inexplicable
_calling_ was a thing very well known. Dr. Johnson said, that one day at
Oxford, as he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his mother
distinctly call Sam. She was then at Lichfield; but nothing ensued[306].
This phaenomenon is, I think, as wonderful as any other mysterious
fact, which many people are very slow to believe, or rather, indeed,
reject with an obstinate contempt.
Some time after this, upon his making a remark which escaped my
attention, Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Hall were both together striving to
answer him. He grew angry, and called out loudly, 'Nay, when you both
speak at once, it is intolerable.' But checking himself, and softening,
he said, 'This one may say, though you _are_ ladies.' Then he brightened
into gay humour, and addressed them in the words of one of the songs in
_The Beggar's Opera_[307]:--
'But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.'
'What, Sir, (said I,) are you going to turn Captain Macheath?' There was
something as pleasantly ludicrous in this scene as can be imagined. The
contrast between Macheath, Polly, and Lucy--and Dr. Samuel Johnson,
blind, peevish Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching Mrs. Hall, was
exquisite.
I stole away to Coachmakers'-hall, and heard the difficult text of which
we had talked, discussed with great decency, and some intelligence, by
several speakers. There was a difference of opinion as to the appearance
of ghosts in modern times, though the arguments for it, supported by Mr.
Addison's authority[308], preponderated. The immediate subject of debate
was embarrassed by the _bodies_ of the saints having been said to rise,
and by the question what became of them afterwards; did they return
again to their graves? or were they translated to heaven? Only one
evangelist mentions the fact[309], and the commentators whom I have
looked at, do not make the passage clear. There is, however, no occasion
for our understanding it farther, than to know that it was one of the
extraordinary manifestations of divine power, which accompanied the most
important event that ever happened.
On Friday, April 20, I spent with him one of the happiest days that I
remember to have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. Mrs. Garrick,
whose grief for the loss of her husband was, I believe, as sincere as
wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the
first time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with
her[310]. The company was Miss Hannah More, who lived with her, and whom
she called her Chaplain[311]; Mrs. Boscawen[312], Mrs. Elizabeth Carter,
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Burney, Dr. Johnson, and myself. We found
ourselves very elegantly entertained at her house in the Adelphi[313],
where I have passed many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened
life[314].' She looked well, talked of her husband with complacency, and
while she cast her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the
chimney-piece, said, that 'death was now the most agreeable object to
her[315].' The very semblance of David Garrick was cheering. Mr.
Beauclerk, with happy propriety, inscribed under that fine portrait of
him, which by Lady Diana's kindness is now the property of my friend Mr.
Langton, the following passage from his beloved Shakspeare:--
'A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
Which his fair tongue (Conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished:
So sweet and voluble is his discourse[316].'
We were all in fine spirits; and I whispered to Mrs. Boscawen, 'I
believe this is as much as can be made of life.' In addition to a
splendid entertainment, we were regaled with Lichfield ale[317], which
had a peculiar appropriated value. Sir Joshua, and Dr. Burney, and I,
drank cordially of it to Dr. Johnson's health; and though he would not
join us, he as cordially answered, 'Gentlemen, I wish you all as well as
you do me.'
The general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond remembrance;
but I do not find much conversation recorded. What I have preserved
shall be faithfully given.
One of the company mentioned Mr. Thomas Hollis, the strenuous Whig, who
used to send over Europe presents of democratical books, with their
boards stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. Mrs. Carter said, 'He
was a bad man. He used to talk uncharitably.' JOHNSON. 'Poh! poh! Madam;
who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? Besides, he was a
dull poor creature as ever lived: And I believe he would not have done
harm to a man whom he knew to be of very opposite principles to his own.
I remember once at the Society of Arts, when an advertisement was to be
drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it best. This, you
will observe, was kindness to me. I however slipt away, and escaped it.'
Mrs. Carter having said of the same person, 'I doubt he was an
Atheist[318].' JOHNSON. 'I don't know that. He might perhaps have
become one, if he had had time to ripen, (smiling.) He might have
_exuberated_ into an Atheist.'
Sir Joshua Reynolds praised _Mudge's Sermons_[319]. JOHNSON. 'Mudge's
Sermons are good, but not practical. He grasps more sense than he can
hold; he takes more corn than he can make into meal; he opens a wide
prospect, but it is so distant, it is indistinct. I love _Blair's
Sermons_. Though the dog is a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and every
thing he should not be, I was the first to praise them[320]. Such was my
candour.' (smiling.) MRS. BOSCAWEN. 'Such his great merit to get the
better of all your prejudices.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, let us compound
the matter; let us ascribe it to my candour, and his merit.'
In the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room, several
ladies, the Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Percy, Mr. Chamberlayne[321], of the
Treasury, &c. &c. Somebody said the life of a mere literary man could
not be very entertaining. JOHNSON. 'But it certainly may. This is a
remark which has been made, and repeated, without justice; why should
the life of a literary man be less entertaining than the life of any
other man? Are there not as interesting varieties in such a life[322]?
As _a literary life_ it may be very entertaining.' BOSWELL. 'But it must
be better surely, when it is diversified with a little active variety--
such as his having gone to Jamaica; or--his having gone to the
Hebrides.' Johnson was not displeased at this.
Talking of a very respectable authour, he told us a curious circumstance
in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's devil. REYNOLDS.
'A printer's devil, Sir! Why, I thought a printer's devil was a creature
with a black face and in rags.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I suppose, he
had her face washed, and put clean clothes on her. (Then looking very
serious, and very earnest.) And she did not disgrace him; the woman had
a bottom of good sense. The word _bottom_ thus introduced, was so
ludicrous when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not
forbear tittering and laughing; though I recollect that the Bishop of
Killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while Miss Hannah
More slyly hid her face behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee
with her. His pride could not bear that any expression of his should
excite ridicule, when he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to
assume and exercise despotick power, glanced sternly around, and called
out in a strong tone, 'Where's the merriment?' Then collecting himself,
and looking aweful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and
as it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly
pronounced, 'I say the _woman_ was _fundamentally_ sensible;' as if he
had said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. We all sat composed as
at a funeral[323].
He and I walked away together; we stopped a little while by the rails of
the Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and I said to him with some emotion
that I was now thinking of two friends we had lost, who once lived in
the buildings behind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. 'Ay, Sir, (said he,
tenderly) and two such friends as cannot be supplied[324].'
For some time after this day I did not see him very often, and of the
conversation which I did enjoy, I am sorry to find I have preserved but
little. I was at this time engaged in a variety of other matters, which
required exertion and assiduity, and necessarily occupied almost all
my time.
One day having spoken very freely of those who were then in power, he
said to me, 'Between ourselves, Sir, I do not like to give opposition
the satisfaction of knowing how much I disapprove of the ministry.' And
when I mentioned that Mr. Burke had boasted how quiet the nation was in
George the Second's reign, when Whigs were in power, compared with the
present reign, when Tories governed;--'Why, Sir, (said he,) you are to
consider that Tories having more reverence for government, will not
oppose with the same violence as Whigs, who being unrestrained by that
principle, will oppose by any means.'
This month he lost not only Mr. Thrale, but another friend, Mr. William
Strahan, Junior, printer, the eldest son of his old and constant friend,
Printer to his Majesty.
'TO MRS. STRAHAN.
'DEAR MADAM,
'The grief which I feel for the loss of a very kind friend is sufficient
to make me know how much you suffer by the death of an amiable son; a
man, of whom I think it may truly be said, that no one knew him who does
not lament him. I look upon myself as having a friend, another friend,
taken from me.
'Comfort, dear Madam, I would give you if I could, but I know how little
the forms of consolation can avail. Let me, however, counsel you not to
waste your health in unprofitable sorrow, but go to Bath, and endeavour
to prolong your own life; but when we have all done all that we can, one
friend must in time lose the other.
'I am, dear Madam,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'April 23, 1781.'
On Tuesday, May 8[325], I had the pleasure of again dining with him and
Mr. Wilkes, at Mr. Billy's[326]. No _negociation_ was now required to
bring them together; for Johnson was so well satisfied with the former
interview, that he was very glad to meet Wilkes again, who was this day
seated between Dr. Beattie and Dr. Johnson; (between _Truth_[327] and
_Reason_, as General Paoli said, when I told him of it.) WILKES. 'I have
been thinking, Dr. Johnson, that there should be a bill brought into
parliament that the controverted elections for Scotland should be tried
in that country, at their own Abbey of Holy-Rood House, and not here;
for the consequence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation
of Scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. Now here is Boswell,
who is come up upon the election for his own county, which will not last
a fortnight.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I see no reason why they should be
tried at all; for, you know, one Scotchman is as good as another.'
WILKES. 'Pray, Boswell, how much may be got in a year by an Advocate at
the Scotch bar?' BOSWELL. 'I believe two thousand pounds.' WlLKES. 'How
can it be possible to spend that money in Scotland?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir,
the money may be spent in England: but there is a harder question. If
one man in Scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds, what remains
for all the rest of the nation?' WILKES. 'You know, in the last war, the
immense booty which Thurot[328] carried off by the complete plunder of
seven Scotch isles; he re-embarked with _three and six-pence_.' Here
again Johnson and Wilkes joined in extravagant sportive raillery upon
the supposed poverty of Scotland, which Dr. Beattie and I did not think
it worth our while to dispute.
The subject of quotation being introduced, Mr. Wilkes censured it as
pedantry[329]. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, it is a good thing; there is a
community of mind in it. Classical quotation is the _parole_ of literary
men all over the world.' WlLKES. 'Upon the continent they all quote the
vulgate Bible. Shakspeare is chiefly quoted here; and we quote also
Pope, Prior, Butler, Waller, and sometimes Cowley[330].'
We talked of Letter-writing. JOHNSON. 'It is now become so much the
fashion to publish letters, that in order to avoid it, I put as little
into mine as I can.[331]' BOSWELL. 'Do what you will, Sir, you cannot
avoid it. Should you even write as ill as you can, your letters would be
published as curiosities:
"Behold a miracle! instead of wit,
See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ[332]."'
He gave us an entertaining account of _Bet Flint_[333], a woman of the
town, who, with some eccentrick talents and much effrontery, forced
herself upon his acquaintance. 'Bet (said he) wrote her own Life in
verse[334], which she brought to me, wishing that I would furnish her
with a Preface to it. (Laughing.) I used to say of her that she was
generally slut and drunkard; occasionally, whore and thief. She had,
however, genteel lodgings, a spinnet on which she played, and a boy that
walked before her chair. Poor Bet was taken up on a charge of stealing a
counterpane, and tried at the Old Bailey. Chief Justice ------[335], who
loved a wench, summed up favourably, and she was acquitted. After which
Bet said, with a gay and satisfied air, 'Now that the counterpane is _my
own_, I shall make a petticoat of it.'
Talking of oratory, Mr. Wilkes described it as accompanied with all the
charms of poetical expression. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; oratory is the power
of beating down your adversary's arguments, and putting better in their
place.' WlLKES. 'But this does not move the passions.' JOHNSON. 'He must
be a weak man, who is to be so moved.' WlLKES. (naming a celebrated
orator) 'Amidst all the brilliancy of ----'s[336] imagination, and the
exuberance of his wit, there is a strange want of _taste_. It was
observed of Apelles's Venus[337], that her flesh seemed as if she had
been nourished by roses: his oratory would sometimes make one suspect
that he eats potatoes and drinks whisky.'
Mr. Wilkes observed, how tenacious we are of forms in this country, and
gave as an instance, the vote of the House of Commons for remitting
money to pay the army in America _in Portugal pieces_[338], when, in
reality, the remittance is made not in Portugal money, but in our own
specie. JOHNSON. 'Is there not a law, Sir, against exporting the current
coin of the realm?' WlLKES. 'Yes, Sir: but might not the House of
Commons, in case of real evident necessity, order our own current coin
to be sent into our own colonies?' Here Johnson, with that quickness of
recollection which distinguished him so eminently, gave the _Middlesex
Patriot_ an admirable retort upon his own ground. 'Sure, Sir, _you_
don't think a _resolution of the House of Commons_ equal to _the law of
the land_[339].' WlLKES. (at once perceiving the application) 'GOD
forbid, Sir.' To hear what had been treated with such violence in _The
False Alarm_, now turned into pleasant repartee, was extremely
agreeable. Johnson went on;--'Locke observes well, that a prohibition
to export the current coin is impolitick; for when the balance of trade
happens to be against a state, the current coin must be exported[340].'
Mr. Beauclerk's great library[341] was this season sold in London by
auction. Mr. Wilkes said, he wondered to find in it such a numerous
collection of sermons; seeming to think it strange that a gentleman of
Mr. Beauclerk's character in the gay world should have chosen to have
many compositions of that kind. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you are to consider,
that sermons make a considerable branch of English literature[342]; so
that a library must be very imperfect if it has not a numerous
collection of sermons[343]: and in all collections, Sir, the desire of
augmenting it grows stronger in proportion to the advance in
acquisition; as motion is accelerated by the continuance of the
_impetus_. Besides, Sir, (looking at Mr. Wilkes with a placid but
significant smile) a man may collect sermons with intention of making
himself better by them. I hope Mr. Beauclerk intended, that some time or
other that should be the case with him.'
Mr. Wilkes said to me, loud enough for Dr. Johnson to hear, 'Dr. Johnson
should make me a present of his _Lives of the Poets_, as I am a poor
patriot, who cannot afford to buy them.' Johnson seemed to take no
notice of this hint; but in a little while, he called to Mr. Dilly,
'Pray, Sir, be so good as to send a set of my _Lives_ to Mr. Wilkes,
with my compliments.' This was accordingly done; and Mr. Wilkes paid Dr.
Johnson a visit, was courteously received, and sat with him a long time.
The company gradually dropped away. Mr. Dilly himself was called down
stairs upon business; I left the room for some time; when I returned, I
was struck with observing Dr. Samuel Johnson and John Wilkes, Esq.,
literally _tête-à-tête_; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with
their heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking earnestly,
in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal quarrel between
George the Second and the King of Prussia[344]. Such a scene of
perfectly easy sociality between two such opponents in the war of
political controversy, as that which I now beheld, would have been an
excellent subject for a picture. It presented to my mind the happy days
which are foretold in Scripture, when the lion shall lie down with the
kid[345].
After this day there was another pretty long interval, during which Dr.
Johnson and I did not meet. When I mentioned it to him with regret, he
was pleased to say, 'Then, Sir, let us live double.'
About this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have
evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation
with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These
societies were denominated _Blue-stocking Clubs_, the origin of which
title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the
most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was
Mr. Stillingfleet[346], whose dress was remarkably grave, and in
particular it was observed, that he wore blue stockings[347]. Such was
the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so
great a loss, that it used to be said, 'We can do nothing without the
_blue stockings_;' and thus by degrees the title was established. Miss
Hannah More has admirably described a _Blue-stocking Club_, in her _Bas
Bleu_[348], a poem in which many of the persons who were most
conspicuous there are mentioned.
Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and did
not think himself too grave even for the lively Miss Monckton[349] (now
Countess of Corke), who used to have the finest _bit of blue_ at the
house of her mother, Lady Galway. Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and
they used to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular instance
happened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne's writings
were very pathetick. Johnson bluntly denied it. 'I am sure (said she)
they have affected _me_.' 'Why (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling
himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce[350].' When
she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth
and politeness; 'Madam, if I had thought so, I certainly should not
have said it.'
Another evening Johnson's kind indulgence towards me had a pretty
difficult trial. I had dined at the Duke of Montrose's with a very
agreeable party, and his Grace, according to his usual custom, had
circulated the bottle very freely. Lord Graham[351] and I went together
to Miss Monckton's, where I certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and
above all fear or awe. In the midst of a great number of persons of the
first rank, amongst whom I recollect with confusion, a noble lady of the
most stately decorum, I placed myself next to Johnson, and thinking
myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous
manner, desirous to let the company know how I could contend with
_Ajax_. I particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the
pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument,
asking him, 'What, Sir, supposing I were to fancy that the--(naming the
most charming Duchess in his Majesty's dominions) were in love with me,
should I not be very happy?' My friend with much address evaded my
interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be
conceived how he must have felt[352]. However, when a few days
afterwards I waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the
most friendly gentleness[353].
While I remained in London this year[354], Johnson and I dined together
at several places. I recollect a placid day at Dr. Butter's[355], who
had now removed from Derby to Lower Grosvenor-street, London; but of his
conversation on that and other occasions during this period, I neglected
to keep any regular record[356], and shall therefore insert here some
miscellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes.
His disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was
passing over him[357],' appear from the following anecdote, communicated
to me by Mr. John Nichols:--'In the year 1763, a young bookseller, who
was an apprentice to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to
his _Shakspeare_: and observing that the Doctor made no entry in any
book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he
would please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly
inserted in the printed list of subscribers. '_I shall print no list of
subscribers_;' said Johnson, with great abruptness: but almost
immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, 'Sir, I have
two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one,
that I have lost all the names,--the other, that I have spent all
the money.'
Johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when
he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his
talents. When, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground,
he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was
pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'My dear
Boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. I'd
rather have you whistle a Scotch tune.'
Care, however, must be taken to distinguish between Johnson when he
'talked for victory[358],' and Johnson when he had no desire but to
inform and illustrate. 'One of Johnson's principal talents (says an
eminent friend of his)[359] was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of
an argument, and in a splendid perversion of the truth. If you could
contrive to have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias
from personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it
was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.'
He had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider
conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill[360]; and to
this, I think, we may venture to ascribe that unexampled richness and
brilliancy which appeared in his own. As a proof at once of his
eagerness for colloquial distinction, and his high notion of this
eminent friend, he once addressed him thus:-'----, we now have been
several hours together; and you have said but one thing for which I
envied you.'
He disliked much all speculative desponding considerations, which tended
to discourage men from diligence and exertion. He was in this like Dr.
Shaw, the great traveller[361], who Mr. Daines Barrington[362] told me,
used to say, 'I hate a _cui bono_ man.' Upon being asked by a
friend[363] what he should think of a man who was apt to say _non est
tanti_;-'That he's a stupid fellow, Sir; (answered Johnson): What would
these _tanti_ men be doing the while?' When I in a low-spirited fit, was
talking to him with indifference of the pursuits which generally engage
us in a course of action, and inquiring a _reason_ for taking so much
trouble; 'Sir (said he, in an animated tone) it is driving on the
system of life.'
He told me, that he was glad that I had, by General Oglethorpe's means,
become acquainted with Dr. Shebbeare. Indeed that gentleman, whatever
objections were made to him, had knowledge and abilities much above the
class of ordinary writers, and deserves to be remembered as a
respectable name in literature, were it only for his admirable _Letters
on the English Nation_, under the name of 'Battista Angeloni, a
Jesuit[364].'
Johnson and Shebbeare[365] were frequently named together, as having in
former reigns had no predilection for the family of Hanover. The authour
of the celebrated _Heroick Epistle to Sir William Chambers_, introduces
them in one line, in a list of those 'who tasted the sweets of his
present Majesty's reign[366].' Such was Johnson's candid relish of the
merit of that satire, that he allowed Dr. Goldsmith, as he told me, to
read it to him from beginning to end, and did not refuse his praise to
its execution[367].
Goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties with him, and
escape unpunished. Beauclerk told me that when Goldsmith talked of a
project for having a third Theatre in London, solely for the exhibition
of new plays, in order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny of
managers, Johnson treated it slightingly; upon which Goldsmith said,
'Ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can now shelter yourself behind
the corner of a pension;' and that Johnson bore this with good-humour.
Johnson praised the Earl of Carlisle's Poems[368], which his Lordship
had published with his name, as not disdaining to be a candidate for
literary fame. My friend was of opinion, that when a man of rank
appeared in that character, he deserved to have his merit handsomely
allowed[369]. In this I think he was more liberal than Mr. William
Whitehead[370], in his _Elegy to Lord Villiers_, in which under the
pretext of 'superiour toils, demanding all their care,' he discovers a
jealousy of the great paying their court to the Muses:--
'------to the chosen few
Who dare excel, thy fost'ring aid afford,
Their arts, their magick powers, with honours due
Exalt;--but be thyself what they record[371].'
Johnson had called twice on the Bishop of Killaloe[372] before his
Lordship set out for Ireland, having missed him the first time. He said,
'It would have hung heavy on my heart if I had not seen him. No man ever
paid more attention to another than he has done to me[373]; and I have
neglected him, not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. Always,
Sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. He whose inclination
prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love
you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.'
Johnson told me, that he was once much pleased to find that a
carpenter, who lived near him, was very ready to shew him some things in
his business which he wished to see: 'It was paying (said he) respect to
literature.'
I asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small a share of
wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state which are the
objects of ambition. He had only a pension of three hundred a year. Why
was he not in such circumstances as to keep his coach? Why had he not
some considerable office? JOHNSON, 'Sir, I have never complained of the
world[374]; nor do I think that I have reason to complain. It is rather
to be wondered at that I have so much. My pension is more out of the
usual course of things than any instance that I have known. Here, Sir,
was a man avowedly no friend to Government at the time, who got a
pension without asking for it. I never courted the great; they sent for
me; but I think they now give me up. They are satisfied; they have seen
enough of me.' Upon my observing that I could not believe this, for they
must certainly be highly pleased by his conversation; conscious of his
own superiority, he answered, 'No, Sir; great lords and great ladies
don't love to have their mouths stopped[375].' This was very expressive
of the effect which the force of his understanding and brilliancy of his
fancy could not but produce; and, to be sure, they must have found
themselves strangely diminished in his company. When I warmly declared
how happy I was at all times to hear him;--'Yes, Sir, (said he); but if
you were Lord Chancellor, it would not be so: you would then consider
your own dignity.'
There was much truth and knowledge of human nature in this remark. But
certainly one should think, that in whatever elevated state of life a
man who _knew_ the value of the conversation of Johnson might be placed,
though he might prudently avoid a situation in which he might appear
lessened by comparison; yet he would frequently gratify himself in
private with the participation of the rich intellectual entertainment
which Johnson could furnish. Strange, however, it is, to consider how
few of the great sought his society[376]; so that if one were disposed
to take occasion for satire on that account, very conspicuous objects
present themselves. His noble friend, Lord Elibank, well observed, that
if a great man procured an interview with Johnson, and did not wish to
see him more, it shewed a mere idle curiosity, and a wretched want of
relish for extraordinary powers of mind[377]. Mrs. Thrale justly and
wittily accounted for such conduct by saying, that Johnson's
conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to
obsequiousness and flattery; it was _mustard in a young child's mouth!_
One day, when I told him that I was a zealous Tory, but not enough
'according to knowledge[378],' and should be obliged to him for 'a
reason[379],' he was so candid, and expressed himself so well, that I
begged of him to repeat what he had said, and I wrote down as follows:--