of Bishop Berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence of
matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. I
observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is
impossible to refute it. I never shall forget the alacrity with which
Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large
stone, till he rebounded from it, 'I refute it _thus_[1385].' This was a
stout exemplification of the _first truths of Pere Bouffier_[1386], or the
_original principles_ of Reid and of Beattie; without admitting which,
we can no more argue in metaphysicks, than we can argue in mathematicks
without axioms. To me it is not conceivable how Berkeley can be answered
by pure reasoning; but I know that the nice and difficult task was to
have been undertaken by one of the most luminous minds of the present
age, had not politicks 'turned him from calm philosophy aside[1387].' What
an admirable display of subtilty, united with brilliance, might his
contending with Berkeley have afforded us[1388]! How must we, when we
reflect on the loss of such an intellectual feast, regret that he should
be characterised as the man,
'Who born for the universe narrow'd his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind[1389]?'
My revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced
and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. I
said, 'I hope, Sir, you will not forget me in my absence.' JOHNSON.
'Nay, Sir, it is more likely you should forget me, than that I should
forget you.' As the vessel put out to sea, I kept my eyes upon him for a
considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestick frame in his
usual manner: and at last I perceived him walk back into the town, and
he disappeared[1390].
[Page 473: Johnson's first letter to Boswell. Ætat 54.]
Utrecht seeming at first very dull to me, after the animated scenes of
London, my spirits were grievously affected; and I wrote to Johnson a
plaintive and desponding letter, to which he paid no regard. Afterwards,
when I had acquired a firmer tone of mind, I wrote him a second letter,
expressing much anxiety to hear from him. At length I received the
following epistle, which was of important service to me, and, I trust,
will be so to many others.
'A MR. BOSWELL, À LA COUR DE L'EMPEREUR, UTRECHT.
'DEAR SIR,
'You are not to think yourself forgotten, or criminally neglected, that
you have had yet no letter from me. I love to see my friends, to hear
from them, to talk to them, and to talk of them; but it is not without a
considerable effort of resolution that I prevail upon myself to write. I
would not, however, gratify my own indolence by the omission of any
important duty, or any office of real kindness.
[Page 474: Boswell's character sketched by Johnson. A.D. 1763.]
'To tell you that I am or am not well, that I have or have not been in
the country, that I drank your health in the room in which we sat last
together, and that your acquaintance continue to speak of you with their
former kindness, topicks with which those letters are commonly filled
which are written only for the sake of writing, I seldom shall think
worth communicating; but if I can have it in my power to calm any
harassing disquiet, to excite any virtuous desire, to rectify any
important opinion, or fortify any generous resolution, you need not
doubt but I shall at least wish to prefer the pleasure of gratifying a
friend much less esteemed than yourself, before the gloomy calm of idle
vacancy. Whether I shall easily arrive at an exact punctuality of
correspondence, I cannot tell. I shall, at present, expect that you will
receive this in return for two which I have had from you. The first,
indeed, gave me an account so hopeless of the state of your mind, that
it hardly admitted or deserved an answer; by the second I was much
better pleased: and the pleasure will still be increased by such a
narrative of the progress of your studies, as may evince the continuance
of an equal and rational application of your mind to some useful
enquiry.
'You will, perhaps, wish to ask, what study I would recommend. I shall
not speak of theology, because it ought not to be considered as a
question whether you shall endeavour to know the will of GOD.
'I shall, therefore, consider only such studies as we are at liberty to
pursue or to neglect; and of these I know not how you will make a better
choice, than by studying the civil law, as your father advises, and the
ancient languages, as you had determined for yourself; at least resolve,
while you remain in any settled residence, to spend a certain number of
hours every day amongst your books. The dissipation of thought, of which
you complain, is nothing more than the vacillation of a mind suspended
between different motives, and changing its direction as any motive
gains or loses strength. If you can but kindle in your mind any strong
desire, if you can but keep predominant any wish for some particular
excellence or attainment, the gusts of imagination will break away,
without any effect upon your conduct, and commonly without any traces
left upon the memory.
[Page 475: The Frisick language. Ætat 54.]
'There lurks, perhaps, in every human heart a desire of distinction,
which inclines every man first to hope, and then to believe, that Nature
has given him something peculiar to himself. This vanity makes one mind
nurse aversion, and another actuate desires, till they rise by art much
above their original state of power; and as affectation, in time,
improves to habit, they at last tyrannise over him who at first
encouraged them only for show. Every desire is a viper in the bosom,
who, while he was chill, was harmless; but when warmth gave him
strength, exerted it in poison. You know a gentleman, who, when first he
set his foot in the gay world, as he prepared himself to whirl in the
vortex of pleasure, imagined a total indifference and universal
negligence to be the most agreeable concomitants of youth, and the
strongest indication of an airy temper and a quick apprehension. Vacant
to every object, and sensible of every impulse, he thought that all
appearance of diligence would deduct something from the reputation of
genius; and hoped that he should appear to attain, amidst all the ease
of carelessness, and all the tumult of diversion, that knowledge and
those accomplishments which mortals of the common fabrick obtain only by
mute abstraction and solitary drudgery. He tried this scheme of life
awhile, was made weary of it by his sense and his virtue; he then wished
to return to his studies; and finding long habits of idleness and
pleasure harder to be cured than he expected, still willing to retain
his claim to some extraordinary prerogatives, resolved the common
consequences of irregularity into an unalterable decree of destiny, and
concluded that Nature had originally formed him incapable of rational
employment.
'Let all such fancies, illusive and destructive, be banished
henceforward from your thoughts for ever. Resolve, and keep your
resolution; choose, and pursue your choice. If you spend this day in
study, you will find yourself still more able to study to-morrow; not
that you are to expect that you shall at once obtain a complete victory.
Depravity is not very easily overcome. Resolution will sometimes relax,
and diligence will sometimes be interrupted; but let no accidental
surprise or deviation, whether short or long, dispose you to
despondency. Consider these failings as incident to all mankind. Begin
again where you left off, and endeavour to avoid the seducements that
prevailed over you before.
'This, my dear Boswell, is advice which, perhaps, has been often given
you, and given you without effect. But this advice, if you will not take
from others, you must take from your own reflections, if you purpose to
do the duties of the station to which the bounty of Providence has
called you.
'Let me have a long letter from you as soon as you can. I hope you
continue your journal, and enrich it with many observations upon the
country in which you reside. It will be a favour if you can get me any
books in the Frisick language, and can enquire how the poor are
maintained in the Seven Provinces. I am, dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, Dec. 8, 1763.'
I am sorry to observe, that neither in my own minutes, nor in my letters
to Johnson, which have been preserved by him, can I find any information
how the poor are maintained in the Seven Provinces. But I shall extract
from one of my letters what I learnt concerning the other subject of his
curiosity.
[Page 476: Johnson's visit to Langton. A.D. 1764.]
'I have made all possible enquiry with respect to the Frisick language,
and find that it has been less cultivated than any other of the northern
dialects; a certain proof of which is their deficiency of books. Of the
old Frisick there are no remains, except some ancient laws preserved by
_Schotanus_ in his _Beschryvinge van die Heerlykheid van Friesland_; and
his _Historia Frisica_. I have not yet been able to find these books.
Professor Trotz, who formerly was of the University of Vranyken in
Friesland, and is at present preparing an edition of all the Frisick
laws, gave me this information. Of the modern Frisick, or what is spoken
by the boors at this day, I have procured a specimen. It is _Gisbert
Japix's Rymelerie_, which is the only book that they have. It is
amazing, that they have no translation of the bible, no treatises of
devotion, nor even any of the ballads and storybooks which are so
agreeable to country people. You shall have _Japix_ by the first
convenient opportunity. I doubt not to pick up _Schotanus_. Mynheer
Trotz has promised me his assistance.'
1764: ÆTAT. 55.] Early in 1764 Johnson paid a visit to the Langton
family, at their seat of Langton, in Lincolnshire, where he passed some
time, much to his satisfaction[1391]. His friend Bennet Langton, it will
not be doubted, did every thing in his power to make the place agreeable
to so illustrious a guest; and the elder Mr. Langton and his lady, being
fully capable of understanding his value, were not wanting in attention.
He, however, told me, that old Mr. Langton, though a man of considerable
learning, had so little allowance to make for his occasional 'laxity of
talk[1392],' that because in the course of discussion he sometimes
mentioned what might be said in favour of the peculiar tenets of the
Romish church, he went to his grave believing him to be of that
communion[1393].
Johnson, during his stay at Langton, had the advantage of a good
library, and saw several gentlemen of the neighbourhood. I have obtained
from Mr. Langton the following particulars of this period.
He was now fully convinced that he could not have been satisfied with a
country living[1394]; for, talking of a respectable clergyman in
Lincolnshire, he observed, 'This man, Sir, fills up the duties of his
life well. I approve of him, but could not imitate him.'
[Page 477: The Literary Club. Ætat 55.]
To a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from blame for neglecting
social attention to worthy neighbours, by saying, 'I would go to them if
it would do them any good,' he said, 'What good, Madam, do you expect to
have in your power to do them? It is shewing them respect, and that is
doing them good.'
So socially accommodating was he, that once when Mr. Langton and he were
driving together in a coach, and Mr. Langton complained of being sick,
he insisted that they should go out and sit on the back of it in the
open air, which they did. And being sensible how strange the appearance
must be, observed, that a countryman whom they saw in a field, would
probably be thinking, 'If these two madmen should come down, what would
become of me[1395]?'
[Page 478: The Literary Club. A.D. 1764.]
[Page 479: List of the members. Ætat 55.]
Soon after his return to London, which was in February, was founded that
CLUB which existed long without a name, but at Mr. Garrick's funeral
became distinguished by the title of THE LITERARY CLUB[1396]. Sir Joshua
Reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer of it[1397], to which
Johnson acceded, and the original members were, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr.
Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burke, Dr. Nugent[1398], Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton,
Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Chamier[1399], and Sir John Hawkins[1400]. They met at
the Turk's Head, in Gerrard-street, Soho, one evening in every week, at
seven, and generally continued their conversation till a pretty late
hour[1401]. This club has been gradually increased to its present number,
thirty-five[1402]. After about ten years, instead of supping weekly, it
was resolved to dine together once a fortnight during the meeting of
Parliament. Their original tavern having been converted into a private
house, they moved first to Prince's in Sackville-street, then to Le
Telier's in Dover-street, and now meet at Parsloe's, St. James's-street
[1403]. Between the time of its formation, and the time at which this
work is passing through the press, (June 1792,)[1404] the following
persons, now dead, were members of it: Mr. Dunning, (afterwards Lord
Ashburton,) Mr. Samuel Dyer, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Shipley Bishop of St.
Asaph, Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas Warton and Dr. Adam Smith. The present
members are,--Mr. Burke, Mr. Langton, Lord Charlemont, Sir Robert
Chambers, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Barnard Bishop of Killaloe,
Dr. Marlay Bishop of Clonfert, Mr. Fox, Dr. George Fordyce, Sir William
Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, Sir Charles Bunbury, Mr. Windham of Norfolk, Mr.
Sheridan, Mr. Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colman, Mr. Steevens, Dr.
Burney, Dr. Joseph Warton, Mr. Malone, Lord Ossory, Lord Spencer, Lord
Lucan, Lord Palmerston, Lord Eliot, Lord Macartney, Mr. Richard Burke
junior, Sir William Hamilton, Dr. Warren, Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hinchcliffe
Bishop of Peterborough, the Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas Bishop of
Salisbury, and the writer of this account.
[Page 480: Garrick and the Literary Club. A.D. 1764.]
Sir John Hawkins[1405] represents himself as a '_seceder_' from this
society, and assigns as the reason of his '_withdrawing_' himself from
it, that its late hours were inconsistent with his domestick
arrangements. In this he is not accurate; for the fact was, that he one
evening attacked Mr. Burke, in so rude a manner, that all the company
testified their displeasure; and at their next meeting his reception was
such, that he never came again[1406].
He is equally inaccurate with respect to Mr. Garrick, of whom he says,
'he trusted that the least intimation of a desire to come among us,
would procure him a ready admission; but in this he was mistaken.
Johnson consulted me upon it; and when I could find no objection to
receiving him, exclaimed,--"He will disturb us by his buffoonery;"--and
afterwards so managed matters that he was never formally proposed, and,
by consequence, never admitted[1407].'
[Page 481: Grainger's Sugar Cane. Ætat 55.]
In justice both to Mr. Garrick and Dr. Johnson, I think it necessary to
rectify this mis-statement. The truth is, that not very long after the
institution of our club, Sir Joshua Reynolds was speaking of it to
Garrick. 'I like it much, (said he,) I think I shall be of you.' When
Sir Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson, he was much displeased with
the actor's conceit. '_He'll be of us_, (said Johnson) how does he know
we will _permit_ him? The first Duke in England has no right to hold
such language.' However, when Garrick was regularly proposed some time
afterwards, Johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his
arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly
elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our
meetings to the time of his death.
Mrs. Piozzi has also given a similar misrepresentation of Johnson's
treatment of Garrick in this particular, as if he had used these
contemptuous expressions: 'If Garrick does apply, I'll black-ball
him.[1408] Surely, one ought to sit in a society like ours,
'Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player[1409].'
I am happy to be enabled by such unquestionable authority as that of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, as well as from my own knowledge, to vindicate at once
the heart of Johnson and the social merit of Garrick[1410].
[Page 482: Johnson's self-accusations. A.D. 1764.]
In this year, except what he may have done in revising _Shakspeare_, we
do not find that he laboured much in literature. He wrote a review of
Grainger's _Sugar Cane, a Poem_, in the _London Chronicle_. He told me,
that Dr. Percy wrote the greatest part of this review; but, I imagine,
he did not recollect it distinctly, for it appears to be mostly, if not
altogether, his own[1411]. He also wrote in _The Critical Review_, an
account of Goldsmith's excellent poem, _The Traveller_[1412].
The ease and independence to which he had at last attained by royal
munificence, increased his natural indolence. In his _Meditations_ he
thus accuses himself:--
'Good Friday, April 20, 1764.--I have made no reformation; I have lived
totally useless, more sensual in thought, and more addicted to wine and
meat[1413].'
And next morning he thus feelingly complains:--
'My indolence, since my last reception of the sacrament, has sunk into
grosser sluggishness, and my dissipation spread into wilder negligence.
My thoughts have been clouded with sensuality; and, except that from the
beginning of this year I have, in some measure, forborne excess of
strong drink, my appetites have predominated over my reason. A kind of
strange oblivion has overspread me, so that I know not what has become
of the last year; and perceive that incidents and intelligence pass over
me, without leaving any impression.' He then solemnly says,
'This is not the life to which heaven is promised[1414];' and he earnestly
resolves an amendment.
[Page 483: A severe attack of hypochondria. Ætat 55.]
It was his custom to observe certain days with a pious abstraction; viz.
New-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, Good Friday, Easter-day,
and his own birth-day. He this year says[1415]:--'I have now spent
fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost
that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done
nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of
doing is short. 0 GOD, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my
resolutions, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake. Amen[1416].'
Such a tenderness of conscience, such a fervent desire of improvement,
will rarely be found. It is, surely, not decent in those who are
hardened in indifference to spiritual improvement, to treat this pious
anxiety of Johnson with contempt.
About this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the
hypochondriack disorder, which was ever lurking about him. He was so
ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely
averse to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. Dr. Adams told
me, that as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that he
found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking to himself,
and restlessly walking from room to room. He then used this emphatical
expression of the misery which he felt: 'I would consent to have a limb
amputated to recover my spirits[1417].'
[Page 484: Johnson's particularities. A.D. 1764.]
Talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since I
knew him. I was certain that he was frequently uttering pious
ejaculations; for fragments of the Lord's Prayer have been distinctly
overheard[1418]. His friend Mr. Thomas Davies, of whom Churchill says,
'That Davies hath a very pretty wife[1419],'
when Dr. Johnson muttered 'lead us not into temptation,' used with
waggish and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. Davies, 'You, my dear, are
the cause of this.'
He had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever ventured
to ask an explanation[1420]. It appeared to me some superstitious habit,
which he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon
his reason to disentangle him. This was his anxious care to go out or in
at a door or passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point,
or at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (I am not
certain which,) should constantly make the first actual movement when he
came close to the door or passage. Thus I conjecture: for I have, upon
innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to
count his steps with a deep earnestness; and when he had neglected or
gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back
again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and,
having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and
join his companion[1421]. A strange instance of something of this nature,
even when on horseback, happened when he was in the isle of Sky[1422].
Sir Joshua Reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than
cross a particular alley in Leicester-fields; but this Sir Joshua
imputed to his having had some disagreeable recollection associated
with it.
[Page 486: Illness of Joshua Reynolds. A.D. 1765.]
That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and made very
observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not be omitted, it is
requisite to mention, that while talking or even musing as he sat in his
chair, he commonly held his head to one side towards his right shoulder,
and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards and
forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm
of his hand. In the intervals of articulating he made various sounds
with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing
the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, some-times making his tongue
play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen,
and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums in front, as if
pronouncing quickly under his breath, _too, too, too_: all this
accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with a
smile. Generally when he had concluded a period, in the course of a
dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and
vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a Whale. This I
supposed was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a
contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his
opponent fly like chaff before the wind.
I am fully aware how very obvious an occasion I here give for the
sneering jocularity of such as have no relish of an exact likeness;
which to render complete, he who draws it must not disdain the slightest
strokes. But if witlings should be inclined to attack this account, let
them have the candour to quote what I have offered in my defence.
He was for some time in the summer at Easton Maudit, Northamptonshire,
on a visit to the Reverend Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore. Whatever
dissatisfaction he felt at what he considered as a slow progress in
intellectual improvement, we find that his heart was tender, and his
affections warm, as appears from the following very kind letter:
'TO JOSHUA REYNOLDS, ESQ., IN LEICESTER-FIELDS, LONDON.
'DEAR SIR,
'I did not hear of your sickness till I heard likewise of your recovery,
and therefore escaped that part of your pain, which every man must feel,
to whom you are known as you are known to me.
'Having had no particular account of your disorder, I know not in what
state it has left you. If the amusement of my company can exhilarate the
languor of a slow recovery, I will not delay a day to come to you; for I
know not how I can so effectually promote my own pleasure as by pleasing
you, or my own interest as by preserving you, in whom, if I should lose
you, I should lose almost the only man whom I call a friend.
'Pray let me hear of you from yourself, or from dear Miss Reynolds[1423].
Make my compliments to Mr. Mudge. I am, dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate
'And most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'At the Rev. Mr. Percy's, at Easton Maudit, Northamptonshire, (by Castle
Ashby,) Aug. 19, 1764.'
[Page 487: Johnson at Cambridge. Ætat 56.]