In justice, however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who was my first
tutor in the ways of London, and shewed me the town in all its variety
of departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which Dr.
Johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what
Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an
editor: 'Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's letters[1341] had been
written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought
very pretty letters[1342].' And, 'I sent Derrick to Dryden's relations to
gather materials for his life; and I believe he got all that I myself
should have got[1343].'
Poor Derrick! I remember him with kindness. Yet I cannot withhold from
my readers a pleasant humourous sally which could not have hurt him had
he been alive, and now is perfectly harmless. In his collection of
poems, there is one upon entering the harbour of Dublin, his native
city, after a long absence. It begins thus:
'Eblana! much lov'd city, hail!
Where first I saw the light of day.'
And after a solemn reflection on his being 'numbered with forgotten
dead,' there is the following stanza:
'Unless my lines protract my fame,
And those, who chance to read them, cry,
I knew him! Derrick was his name,
In yonder tomb his ashes lie.'
Which was thus happily parodied by Mr. John Home, to whom we owe the
beautiful and pathetick tragedy of _Douglas_:
'Unless my _deeds_ protract my fame,
_And he who passes sadly sings_,
I knew him! Derrick was his name,
_On yonder tree his carcase swings_!'
[Page 457: A day at Greenwich. Ætat 54.]
I doubt much whether the amiable and ingenious author of these burlesque
lines will recollect them, for they were produced extempore one evening
while he and I were walking together in the dining-room at Eglintoune
Castle, in 1760, and I have never mentioned them to him since.
Johnson said once to me, 'Sir, I honour Derrick for his presence of
mind. One night, when Floyd[1344], another poor authour, was wandering
about the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a
bulk[1345]; upon being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, "My dear
Floyd, I am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home
with me to _my lodgings_?"'
I again begged his advice as to my method of study at Utrecht. 'Come,
(said he) let us make a day of it. Let us go down to Greenwich and dine,
and talk of it there.' The following Saturday was fixed for this
excursion.
As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the town
accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. 'No, no, my girl, (said
Johnson) it won't do.' He, however, did not treat her with harshness,
and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that much
more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit
commerce between the sexes.
[Page 458: The Desire of Knowledge. A.D. 1703.]
On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the
Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked him if he really
thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential
requisite to a good education. JOHNSON. 'Most certainly, Sir; for those
who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay,
Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even
in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much
connected with it.' 'And yet, (said I) people go through the world very
well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without
learning.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning
cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well
without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the
Argonauts, who were the first sailors.' He then called to the boy, 'What
would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?' 'Sir (said the
boy,) I would give what I have.' Johnson was much pleased with his
answer, and we gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me,
'Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind;
and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to
give all that he has to get knowledge[1346].'
We landed at the Old Swan[1347], and walked to Billingsgate, where we
took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver Thames. It was a very fine
day. We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships
that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side
of the river.
[Page 459: The Methodists. Ætat 54.]
[Page 460: A course of study. A.D. 1763.]
I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called
Methodists[1348] have. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is owing to their expressing
themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do
good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning
ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their
congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of
sense[1349]. To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases
reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common
people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and
shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep
impression. Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner,
religion will soon decay in that country.' Let this observation, as
Johnson meant it, be ever remembered.
I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Greenwich, which he
celebrates in his _London_ as a favourite scene. I had the poem in my
pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm:
'On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood:
Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood:
Pleas'd[1350] with the seat which gave ELIZA birth,
We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.'
He remarked that the structure of Greenwich hospital was too magnificent
for a place of charity, and that its parts were too much detached to
make one great whole.
Buchanan, he said, was a very fine poet; and observed, that he was the
first who complimented a lady, by ascribing to her the different
perfections of the heathen goddesses[1351]; but that Johnston[1352]
improved upon this, by making his lady, at the same time, free from their
defects.
He dwelt upon Buchanan's elegant verses to Mary Queen of Scots, _Nympha
Caledoniae_, &c., and spoke with enthusiasm of the beauty of Latin
verse. 'All the modern languages (said he) cannot furnish so melodious a
line as
'Formosam resonare doces Amarillida silvas[1353].'
[Page 461: Nature and Fleet-street. Ætat 54.]
Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me
his advice as to a course of study. And here I am to mention with much
regret, that my record of what he said is miserably scanty. I recollect
with admiration an animating blaze of eloquence, which rouzed every
intellectual power in me to the highest pitch, but must have dazzled me
so much, that my memory could not preserve the substance of his
discourse[1354]; for the note which I find of it is no more than this:--'He
ran over the grand scale of human knowledge; advised me to select some
particular branch to excel in, but to acquire a little of every kind.'
The defect of my minutes will be fully supplied by a long letter upon
the subject which he favoured me with, after I had been some time at
Utrecht, and which my readers will have the pleasure to peruse in its
proper place.
We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park. He asked me, I suppose, by
way of trying my disposition, 'Is not this very fine?' Having no
exquisite relish of the beauties of Nature[1355], and being more
delighted with 'the busy hum of men[1356],' I answered, 'Yes, Sir; but
not equal to Fleet-street[1357].' JOHNSON. 'You are right, Sir.'
I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. Let me,
however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable
Baronet[1358] in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called
to the fragrance of a May evening in the country, observed, 'This may be
very well; but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the
play-house[1359].'
[Page 462: Auchinleck. A.D. 1763.]
We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return
to London, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night
air was so cold that it made me shiver. I was the more sensible of it
from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in my
journal what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which,
during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently
made. I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being
much incommoded in the day time.
Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold,
scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying,
'Why do you shiver?' Sir William Scott,[1360] of the Commons, told me, that
when he complained of a headach in the post-chaise, as they were
travelling together to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner:
'At your age, Sir, I had no head-ach.' It is not easy to make allowance
for sensations in others, which we ourselves have not at the time. We
must all have experienced how very differently we are affected by the
complaints of our neighbours, when we are well and when we are ill. In
full health, we can scarcely believe that they suffer much; so faint is
the image of pain upon our imagination: when softened by sickness, we
readily sympathize with the sufferings of others.
We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house very socially. He
was pleased to listen to a particular account which I gave him of my
family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population of
which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the
same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom the
proprietor was placed by Providence[1361]. He took delight in hearing my
description of the romantick seat of my ancestors. 'I must be there,
Sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not a
room in it remaining, we will build one.' I was highly flattered, but
could scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be honoured
by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was,
in his _Journey to the Western Islands_[1362].
[Page 463: Tea with Miss Williams. Ætat 54.]
After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, he said, 'I
must see thee out of England; I will accompany you to Harwich.' I could
not find words to express what I felt upon this unexpected and very
great mark of his affectionate regard.
Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that morning at a
meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder
legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at
all.'
On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my departure from London having been
fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me the honour to pass a part of the
morning with me at my Chambers. He said, that 'he always felt an
inclination to do nothing.' I observed, that it was strange to think
that the most indolent man in Britain had written the most laborious
work, _The English Dictionary_.
I mentioned an imprudent publication[1363], by a certain friend of his, at
an early period of life, and asked him if he thought it would hurt him.
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; not much. It may, perhaps, be mentioned at an
election.'
I had now made good my title to be a privileged man[1364], and was carried
by him in the evening to drink tea with Miss Williams, whom, though
under the misfortune of having lost her sight, I found to be agreeable
in conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed
herself well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had
long lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his
habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk.
[Page 464: Convocation. A.D. 1763.]
After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long
narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees.
There we sauntered a considerable time; and I complained to him that my
love of London and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from
the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much
desired by young men[1365]. He roused me by manly and spirited
conversation. He advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study
with an eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to Greek an hour every
day; and when I was moving about, to read diligently the great book of
mankind.
On Wednesday, August 3, we had our last social evening at the Turk's
Head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts. I had the
misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally. I
mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories
of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings. JOHNSON. 'What do
they make me say, Sir?' BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, as an instance very strange
indeed, (laughing heartily as I spoke,) David Hume told me, you said
that you would stand before a battery of cannon, to restore the
Convocation to its full powers.' Little did I apprehend that he had
actually said this: but I was soon convinced of my errour; for, with a
determined look, he thundered out 'And would I not, Sir? Shall the
Presbyterian _Kirk_ of Scotland have its General Assembly, and the
Church of England be denied its Convocation?' He was walking up and down
the room while I told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this
explosion of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his
eyes flashed with indignation.[1366] I bowed to the storm, and diverted
the force of it, by leading him to expatiate on the influence which
religion derived from maintaining the church with great external
respectability.
I must not omit to mention that he this year wrote _The Life of
Ascham_[dagger], and the Dedication to the Earl of Shaftesbury[dagger],
prefixed to the edition of that writer's English works, published by Mr.
Bennet[1367].
[Page 465: In the Harwich stage coach. Ætat 54.]
[Page 466: Blacklock's poetry. A.D. 1763.]
On Friday, August 5, we set out early in the morning in the Harwich
stage coach. A fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young Dutchman, seemed the
most inclined among us to conversation. At the inn where we dined, the
gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children; and
particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle.
JOHNSON. 'I wish, madam, you would educate me too; for I have been an
idle fellow all my life.' 'I am sure, Sir, (said she) you have not been
idle.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there
(pointing to me,) has been idle. He was idle at Edinburgh. His father
sent him to Glasgow, where he continued to be idle. He then came to
London, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to Utrecht,
where he will be as idle as ever.' I asked him privately how he could
expose me so. JOHNSON. 'Poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about you,
and will think of it no more.' In the afternoon the gentlewoman talked
violently against the Roman Catholicks, and of the horrours of the
Inquisition. To the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself,
who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the
Inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be checked on
its first appearance; that the civil power should unite with the church
in punishing those who dared to attack the established religion, and
that such only were punished by the Inquisition[1368].' He had in his
pocket '_Pomponius Mela de situ Orbis_,' in which he read occasionally,
and seemed very intent upon ancient geography. Though by no means
niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that
having observed at one of the stages that I ostentatiously gave a
shilling to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give
only six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had
done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the
passengers, who gave him no more than his due. This was a just
reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his
vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to
raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand.
He talked of Mr. Blacklock's poetry, so far as it was descriptive of
visible objects; and observed, that 'as its authour had the misfortune
to be blind, we may be absolutely sure that such passages are
combinations of what he has remembered of the works of other writers who
could see. That foolish fellow, Spence, has laboured to explain
philosophically how Blacklock may have done, by means of his own
faculties, what it is impossible he should do[1369]. The solution, as I
have given it, is plain. Suppose, I know a man to be so lame that he is
absolutely incapable to move himself, and I find him in a different room
from that in which I left him; shall I puzzle myself with idle
conjectures, that, perhaps, his nerves have by some unknown change all
at once become effective? No, Sir; it it clear how he got into a
different room: he was _carried_.'
[Page 467: Torture in Holland. Ætat 54.]
Having stopped a night at Colchester[1370], Johnson talked of that town
with veneration, for having stood a siege for Charles the First. The
Dutchman alone now remained with us. He spoke English tolerably well;
and thinking to recommend himself to us by expatiating on the
superiority of the criminal jurisprudence of this country over that of
Holland, he inveighed against the barbarity of putting an accused person
to the torture, in order to force a confession[1371]. But Johnson was as
ready for this, as for the Inquisition. 'Why, Sir, you do not, I find,
understand the law of your own country. The torture in Holland is
considered as a favour to an accused person; for no man is put to the
torture there, unless there is as much evidence against him as would
amount to conviction in England. An accused person among you, therefore,
has one chance more to escape punishment, than those who are tried among
us.'
[Page 468: Johnson's relish for good eating. A.D. 1763.]
[Page 469: A critick of cookery. Ætat 54.]
[Page 470: Studied behaviour. A.D. 1763.]
At supper this night he talked of good eating with uncommon
satisfaction. 'Some people (said he,) have a foolish way of not minding,
or pretending not to mind, what they eat. For my part, I mind my belly
very studiously, and very carefully; for I look upon it, that he who
does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else[1372].' He now
appeared to me _Jean Bull philosophe_, and he was, for the moment, not
only serious but vehement. Yet I have heard him, upon other occasions,
talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their
palates; and the 206th number of his _Rambler_ is a masterly essay
against gulosity[1373]. His practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be
considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this
subject; for I never knew any man who relished good eating more than he
did. When at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the
moment; his looks seemed rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless
when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention
to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite[1374],
which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in
the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a
strong perspiration was visible[1375]. To those whose sensations were
delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and it was doubtless not very
suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be distinguished
by self-command. But it must be owned, that Johnson, though he could be
rigidly _abstemious_, was not a _temperate_ man either in eating or
drinking. He could refrain, but he could not use moderately[1376]. He
told me, that he had fasted two days without inconvenience, and that he
had never been hungry but once[1377]. They who beheld with wonder how
much he eat upon all occasions when his dinner was to his taste, could
not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger; and not only was
he remarkable for the extraordinary quantity which he eat, but he was,
or affected to be, a man of very nice discernment in the science of
cookery. He used to descant critically on the dishes which had been at
table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what
he had liked[1378]. I remember, when he was in Scotland, his praising
'_Gordon's palates_', (a dish of palates at the Honourable Alexander
Gordon's) with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to
more important subjects. 'As for Maclaurin's imitation of a _made dish_,
it was a wretched attempt[1379].' He about the same time was so much
displeased with the performances of a nobleman's French cook, that he
exclaimed with vehemence, 'I'd throw such a rascal into the river;' and
he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was to sup[1380], by
the following manifesto of his skill: 'I, Madam, who live at a variety
of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery, than any person who
has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his palate is
gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, Madam, in trying by
a wider range, I can more exquisitely judge[1381].' When invited to dine,
even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better
than a plain dinner was not prepared for him. I have heard him say on
such an occasion, 'This was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was
not a dinner to _ask_ a man to.' On the other hand, he was wont to
express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained
quite to his mind. One day when we had dined with his neighbour and
landlord in Bolt-court, Mr. Allen, the printer, whose old housekeeper
had studied his taste in every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'Sir,
we could not have had a better dinner had there been a _Synod of
Cooks_[1382].'
While we were left by ourselves, after the Dutchman had gone to bed, Dr.
Johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and
practised. He disapproved of it; and said, 'I never considered whether I
should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the
time, have its course[1383].'
He flattered me with some hopes that he would, in the course of the
following summer, come over to Holland, and accompany me in a tour
through the Netherlands.
I teized him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. A moth having
fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this
little incident to admonish me; saying, with a sly look, and in a solemn
but quiet tone, 'That creature was its own tormentor, and I believe its
name was BOSWELL.'
[Page 471: Bishop Berkley's sophistry. Ætat 54.]
Next day we got to Harwich to dinner; and my passage in the packet-boat
to Helvoetsluys being secured, and my baggage put on board, we dined at
our inn by ourselves. I happened to say it would be terrible if he
should not find a speedy opportunity of returning to London, and be
confined to so dull a place. JOHNSON. 'Don't, Sir, accustom yourself to
use big words for little matters[1384]. It would _not_ be _terrible_,
though I _were_ to be detained some time here.' The practice of using
words of disproportionate magnitude, is, no doubt, too frequent every
where; but, I think, most remarkable among the French, of which, all who
have travelled in France must have been struck with innumerable
instances.
We went and looked at the church, and having gone into it and walked up
to the altar, Johnson, whose piety was constant and fervent, sent me to
my knees, saying, 'Now that you are going to leave your native country,
recommend yourself to the protection of your CREATOR and REDEEMER.'
[Page 472: Boswell embarks for Holland. A.D. 1763.]