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BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON
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BOSWELLS
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EDITED ay AUGUSTINE BIRRELL
IN 8IX VOLUMES VOL. II
M
BOSWELL'S I-IFE OF JOHNSON
EDITED BY
AUGUSTINE BIRRELL
IN SIX VOLUMES VOL. II
(PDeefttttnefer ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO
1896
l/i
College Library
PR
THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
In 1758 we find hiitij it should seem, in as easy and pleasant a state of existence, as constitutional un- happiness ever permitted him to enjoy.
TO BENNET IiANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, LINCOLNSHIRE
' Deabest Sir, — I must have indeed slept very fast, not to have been awakened by your letter. None of your suspicions are true ; I am not much richer than when you left me ; and, . what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter will prove that I am not much wiser. But I go on as I formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortime. Do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of delay. When I was as you are now, towering in confidence of twenty-one, little did I suspect that I should be at forty- nine what I now am.
'But you do not seem to need my admonition. You are busy in acquiring and in commimicating knowledge, and while you are studying, enjoy the end of study by making others wiser and happier. I was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutor to your sisters. I, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be bom to friends ; and cannot see, with- out wonder, how rarely that native vmion is afterwards re- garded. It sometimes, indeed, happens that some super- venient cause of discord may overpower this original amity ;
VOL. IX. A
A r.K^ar^f^
2 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1758
but it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. "We tell the ladies that good wives make good husbands; I believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters.
' I am satisfied with your stay at home, as Juvenal with his friend's retirement to Cumse: I know that your absence is best, though it be not best for me.
' "Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, Laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis Destinet, atque unum civem donare SibyUae." — iii. 2.
* Langton is a good CvmuE, but who must be Sibylla ? Mi's. Langton is as wise as Sibyl, and as good ; and will live, if my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. But she differs in this, that she has not scattered her precepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed upon you-
'The two Wartons just looked into the town, and were tivken to see Cleone, where, David ^ says, they were starved, for want of company to keep them warm. David and Doddy^ have had a new quarrel, and, I think, cannot con- veniently quarrel any more. Cleone was well acted by all their characters, but Bellamy left nothing to be desired. I went the first night and supported it as well as I might ; for Doddy, you know, is my patron, and I would not desert him. The play was very well received. Doddy, after the danger was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at the distress of poor Cleone.
' I have left off housekeeping, and therefore made presents of the game which you were pleased to send me. The pheasant I gave to Mr. Richardson, ^ the bustard to Dr. Lawrence, and the pot I placed with Miss Williams, to be eaten by myself. She desires that her compliments and good wishes may be accepted by the family ; and I make the same request for myself.
' Mr. RejTiolds has within these few days raised his price to twenty guineas a head, and Miss is much employed in
1 Mr. Garrick. 2 Mr. Dodsley, the Author of Cleone.
3 Mr. Samuel Richardson, author of Clarissa.
iET. 49] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 3
miniatures. I know not anybody [else] whose prosperity has increased since you left them.
' Murphy is to have his Orphan of China acted next month ; and is therefore, I suppose, happy. I wish I could teU you of any great good to which I was approaching, but at present my prospects do not much delight me ; however, I am always pleased when I find that you, dear sir, remember your affectionate, humble servant, Sam. Johnson.
'Jan. 9, 1758.'
TO MR. SUBNET, AT LYNNE, NORFOLK
'Sib, — Your kindness is so great, and my claim to any particular regard from you so little, that I am at a loss how to express my sense of your favours ; i but I am, indeed, much pleased to be thus distinguished by you.
' I am ashamed to tell you that my Shakespeare will not be out so soon as I promised my subscribers ; but I did not promise them more than I promised myself. It will, however, be published before summer.
' I have sent you a bundle of proposals, which, I think, do not profess more than I have hitherto performed. I have printed many of the plays, and have hitherto left very few passages unexplained ; where I am quite at a loss, I confess my ignorance, which is seldom done by commentators.
'I have, likewise, enclosed twelve receipts; not that I impose upon you the trouble of pushing them, with more im- portunity than may seem proper, but that you may rather have more than fewer than you shall want. The proposals you will disseminate as there shall be an opportunity. I once printed them at length in the Chronicle, and some of my friends (I believe Mr. Murphy, who formerly wrote the Gray's Inn Jov/mal) introduced them with a splendid encomium.
' Since the Life of Brovme, I have been a little engaged, from time to time, in the Literary Magazine, but not very lately. I have not the collection by me, and therefore cannot draw out a catalogue of my own parts, but will do it, and send it. Do not buy them, for I will gather all those that
1 This letter was an answer to one in which was enclosed a draft for the payment of some subscriptions to his Shakespeare.
4 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1758
have anything of mine in them, and send them to Sirs. Bumey, as a small token of gratitude for the regard which she is pleased to bestow upon me. — I am, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, Sam. Johnson.
* London, March 8, 1758.*
Dr. Burney has kindly favoured me with the follow- ing memorandum, which I take the liberty to insert in his own genuine easy style. I love to exhibit sketches of my illustrious friend by various eminent hands :
' Soon after this, Mr. Bumey, during a visit to the capital, had an interview with him in Gough Square, where he dined and drank tea with him, and was introduced to the acquaint- ance of Mrs. Williams. After dinner, Mr. Johnson proposed to IMr, Burney to go up with him into his garret, which being accepted, he there found about five or six Greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. Johnson, giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only three legs and one arm. Here he gave Mr. Bumey Blrs. Williams's history, and showed him some volumes of his Shakespeare already printed, to prove that he was in earnest. Upon Mr. Bumey's opening the first volume, at the ' ' Merchant of Venice, " he observed to him, that he seemed to be more severe on Warburton than Theobald. "O poor Tib. ! (said Johnson) he was ready knocked down to my hands ; Warburton stands between me and him." "But, sir (said Mr. Bumey), you'll have Warburton upon your bones, won't you?" 'No, sir; he '11 not come out : he '11 only growl in his den." "But you think, sir, that Warburton is a superior critic to Theobald?" "O, sir, he'd make two-and-fifty Theobalds, cut into slices! The worst of Warburton is, that he has a rage for saying something, when there's nothing to be said." filr. Burney then asked him whether he had seen the letter which War- burton had written in answer to a pamphlet addressed "To the most impudent man alive." He answered in the negative. Mr. Bumey told him it was supposed to be written by Mallet. The controversy now raged between the friends of Pope and Bolingbroke ; and Warburton and Mallet were the leaders of
,ET. 49] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 5
the several parties. LIr. Bumey asked him then if he had seen Warburton's book against Bolingbroke's Philosophy. "No, sir ; I have never read Bolingbroke's impiety, and there- fore am not interested about its confutation." '
On the 15th of April he began a new periodical paper, entitled the Idler, which came out every Saturday in a weekly newspaper called the Universal Chronicle or Weekly Gazette, published by Newbery. These essays were continued till April 5, 1760. Of one hundred and three^ their total number, twelve were contributed by his friends ; of which, Nos. 33, 93, and 96 were written by Mr. Thomas Warton; No. 67 by Mr. Langton ; and Nos. 76, 79, and 82 by Sir Joshua Reynolds : the concluding words of No. 82, * and poUute his canvas with deformity,' being added by Johnson ; as Sir Joshua informed me.
The Idler is evidently the work of the same mind which produced the Rambler, but has less body and more spirit. It has more variety of real life, and greater facility of language. He describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively sensations of one who has felt them ; and in his private memorandums while engaged in it, we find 'This year I hope to learn diligence. ' ^ Many of these excellent essays were written as hastily as an ordinary letter. Mr. Langton remembers Johnson, when on a visit at Oxford, ask- ing him one evening how long it was till the post went out ; and on being told about half an hour, he ex- claimed, 'Then we shall do very well.' He upon this instantly sat down and finished an Idler, which it was necessary should be in London the next da^.
^ Prayers and Meditations.
6 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1758
Mr. Langton having signified a wish to read it, ' Sir (said he), you shall do no more than I have done myself.' He then folded it up, and sent it off.
Yet there are in the Idler several papers which show as much profundity of thought, and labour of lan- guage as any of this great man's writings. No. 14, 'Robbery of Time' ; No. 24, ' Thinking' ; No. 41, 'Death of a Friend ' ; No. 43, ' Flight of Time ' ; No. 51, ' Do- mestic greatness unattainable ' ; No. 52, ' Self-Denial' ; No. 58, 'Actual, how short of fancied, excellence ' ; No. 89, 'Physical evil moral good'; and his concluding paper on ' The Horror of the last,' will prove the asser- tion. I know not why a motto, the usual trapping of periodical papers, is prefixed to very few of the Idlers, as I have heard Johnson commend the custom : and he never could be at a loss for one, his memory being stored with innumerable passages of the classics. In this series of essays he exhibits admirable instances of grave humour, of which he had an uncommon share. Nor on some occasions has he repressed that power of sophistry which he possessed in so eminent a degree. In No. 11, he treats with the utmost contempt the opinion that our mental faculties depend, in some de- gree, upon the weather ; an opinion which they who have never experienced its truth are not to be envied, and of which he himself could not but be sensible, as the effects of weather upon him were very visible. Yet thus he declaims :
'Surely, nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, than to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence on the weather and the wind for the only blessings which nature has put into our power, tranquillity and benevolence. This distinction of seasons is
>ET.49] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 7
produced only by imagination operating on luxury. To temperance, every day is bright ; and every hour is propitious to diligence. He that shall resolutely excite his faculties, or exert his virtues, will soon make himself superior to the seasons ; and may set at defiance the morning mist and the evening damp, the blasts of the east, and the clouds of the south.'
Alas ! it is toa certain, that where the frame has delicate fibres, and there is a fine sensibility, such in- fluences of the air are irresistible. He might as well have bid defiance to the ague, the palsy, and all other bodily disorders. Such boasting of the mind is false elevation.
' I think the Romans call it Stoicism.'
But in this number of his Idler his spirits seem to run riot; for in the wantonness of his disquisition he forgets, for a moment, even the reverence for that which he held in high respect ; and describes ' the attendant on a Court' as one 'whose business is to watch the looks of a being weak and foolish as him- self.*
His unqualified ridicule of rhetorical gesture or action is not, surely, a test of truth ; yet we cannot help admiring how well it is adapted to produce the effect which he wished :
' Neither the judges of our laws, nor the representatives of our people, would be much affected by laboured gesticulations, or believe any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puffed his cheeks, or spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast ; or turned his eyes sometimes to the ceiling and sometimes to the floor.'
A casual coincidence with other writers, or an
8 LIFE OF DR, JOHNSON [1758
adoption of a sentiment or image which has been found in the writings of another, and afterwards appears in the mind as one's own, is not unfrequent. The richness of Johnson's fancy, which could supply his page abundantly on all occasions, and the strength of his memory, which at once detected the real owner of any thought, made him less liable to the imputa- tion of plagiarism than, perhaps, any of our writers. In the Idler, however, there is a paper, in which con- versation is assimilated to a bowl of punch, where there is the same train of comparison as in a poem by Blacklock, in his collection published in 1756 ; in which a parallel is ingeniously drawn between human life and that liquor. It ends :
' Say, then, physicians of each kind, Who cure the body or the mind. What harm in drinking can there be, Since punch and life so well agree V
To the Idler, when collected in volumes, he added, beside the Essay on Epitaphs, and the Dissertation on those of Pope, an Essay on the Bravery of the English Common Soldiers. He, however, omitted one of the original papers, which, in the folio copy, is No. 22.'-
TO THE REV. MB. THOMAS WABTON
'Dear Sib, — Your notes upon my poet were very accept- able. I beg that you will be so kind as to continue your searches. It will be reputable to my work, and suitable to your professorship, to have something of yours in the notes. As you have given no directions about your name, I shall
1 This paper may be found in Stockdale's supplemental volume of Johnson's Miscellaneous Pieces.
;et. 49] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 9
therefore put it. I wish your brother would take the same trouble. A commentary must arise from the fortuitous dis- coveries of many men in devious walks of literature. Some of your remarks are on plays already printed : but I purpose to add an Appendix of Notes, so that nothing comes too late.
' You give yourself too much uneasiness, dear sir, about the loss of the papers. 1 The loss is nothing, if nobody has found them; nor even then, perhaps, if the numbers be known. You are not the only friend that has had the same mischance. You may repair your want out of a stock, which is dejDosited •with Mr. Allen, of Magdalen Hall ; or out of a parcel which I have just sent to Mr. Chambers ^ for the use of anybody that will be so kind as to want them. IMr. Langtons are well ; and Miss Roberts, whom I have at last brought to speak, upon the information which you gave me, that she had something to say. — lam, etc., Sam. Johnson.
'London, April 14, 1758.'
TO THE SAME
*Deab Sib, — You will receive this by Mr. Baretti, a gentle- man particularly entitled to the notice and kindness of the Professor of poesy. He has time but for a short stay, and will be glad to have it filled up with as much as he can hear and see.
' In recommending another to your favour, I ought not to omit thanks for the kindness which you have shown to my- self. Have you any more notes on Shakespeare ? I shall be glad of them.
'I see your pupil sometimes:* his mind is as exalted as his stature. I am half afraid of him ; but he is no less ami- able than formidable. He will, if the forwardness of his spring be not blasted, be a credit to you, and to the University. He brings some of my plays* with him, which he has my
1 ' Receipts for Shakespeare.'
2 ' Then of Lincoln College. Now Sir Robert Chambers, one of the Judges in India.'
3 'Mr. Langton.'
4 ' Part of the impression of the Shakespeare which Dr. Johnson con- ducted alone and published by subscription. This edition came out in 1765.'
10 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1758
permission to show you, on condition you will hide them from everybody else. — I am, dear sir, etc.,
* Sah. Johnson. ' [London,] June 1, 1758.'
TO BBNNET LANGTON, ESQ., OP TRINITY COUiEGB OXFORD
'Deab Sib, — Though I might have expected to hear from you, upon your entrance into a new state of life at a new place, yet recollecting (not without some degree of shame) that I owe yoii a letter upon an old account, I think it my part to write first. This, indeed, I do not only from com- plaisance but from interest ; for living on in the old way, I am very glad of a correspondent so capable as yourself to diversify the hours. You have, at present, too many novelties about you to need any help from me to drive along your time.
' I know not anything more pleasant, or more instructive, than to compare experience with expectation, or to register from time to time the difference between idea and reality. It is by this kind of observation that we grow daily less liable to be disappointed. You, who are very capable of anticipating futurity, and raising phantoms before your own eyes, must often have imagined to yourself an academical life, and have conceived what would be the manners, the views, and the conversation, of men devoted to letters ; how they would choose their companions, how they would direct their studies, and how they would regulate their lives. Let me know what you expected, and what you have found. At least record it to yourself before custom has reconciled you to the scenes before you, and the disparity of your discoveries to your hopea has vanished from your mind. It is a rule never to be for- gotten, that whatever strikes strongly should be described while the first impression remains fresh upon the mind.
'I love, dear sir, to think on you, and, therefore, should willingly write more to you, but that the post will not now give me leave to do more than send my compliments to Mr. Warton, and tell you that I am, dear sir, most affectionately, your very humble servant Sak. Johnson.
VtMic28, 1758.'
yET. 49] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11
TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT I^NGTON, NEAR SPILSBV, LINCOLNSHIRE
• Dbab Sib, — I shoiild be sorry to think that what engrosses the attention of my friend, should have no part of mine. Your mind is now full of the fate of Dury ; ^ but his fate is past, and nothing remains but to try what reflection will suggest to mitigate the terrors of a violent death, which is more formidable at the first glance, than on a nearer and more steady view. A violent death is never very painful ; the only danger is, lest it should be unprovided. But if a man can be supposed to make no provision for death in war, what can be the state that would have awakened him to the care of futurity ? When would that man have prepared himself to die, who went to seek death without preparation ? What, then, can be the reason why we lament more him that dies of a wound, than him that dies of a fever ? A man that languishes with disease, ends his life with more pain, but with less virtue : he leaves no example to his friends, nor bequeaths any honour to his descendants. The only reason why we lament a soldier's death, is, that we think he might have lived longer ; yet this cause of grief is common to many other kinds of death, which are not so passionately bewailed. The truth is, that every death is violent which is the effect of accident ; every death which is not gradually brought on by the miseries of age, or when life is extinguished for any other reason than that it is burnt out. He that dies before sixty, of a cold or consumption, dies, in reality, by a violent death ; yet his death is borne with patience, only because the cause of his untimely end is silent and invisible. Let us endeavour to see things as they are, and then inquire whether we ought to complain. Whether to see life as it is, will give us much consolation, I know not ; but the consolation which is drawn from truth, if any there be, is solid and durable : that which
1 Major-General Alexander Dury, of the First Regiment of Foot Guards, who fell in the gallant discharge of his duty, near St. Cas, in the well-known unfortunate expedition against France, in 1758. His lady and Mr. Langton's mother were sisters. He left an only son, Lieutenant-Colonel Dury, who has a company in the same regiment.
12 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
may be derived from error, must be, like its original, fallacious and fugitive. — I am, dear, dear sir, your most humble servant,
'Sam. Johnson. 'Sept. 21, 1758.'
In 1759, in the month of January, his mother died, at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply affected him ; not that ' his mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality ; ^ but that his reverential affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he retained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his life. I have been told that he regretted much his not having gone to visit his mother for several years previous to her death. But he was constantly engaged in literary labours which confined him to London ; and though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contri- buted liberally to her support.
TO BIRS. JOHNSON, AT LICHFIELD ^
'Honoured Madam, — The account which Miss [Porter] gives me of your health, pierces my heart. God comfort and preserve you, and save you, for the sake of Jesus Christ.
'I would have Miss read to you from time to time the Passion of our Saviour, and sometimes the sentences in the communion service, beginning — Come v/nto me all that travaU and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
' I have just now read a physical book, which inclines me to think that a strong infusion of the bark would do you good. Do, dear mother, try it.
' Pray send me your blessing, and forgive all that I have
1 Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 395.
2 [Since the publication of the third edition of this work, the follow- ing letters of Dr. Johnson, occasioned by the last illness of his mother, were obligingly communicated to Mr. Malone by the Rev. Dr. Vyse. They are placed here agreeably to the chronological order almost uniformly observed by the author ; and so strongly evince Dr. Johnson's piety and tenderness of heart, that every reader must be gratified by their insertion- — M.]
/ET. 5o] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 13
done amiss to you. And whatever you would have done, and what debts you would have paid first, or anything else that you would direct, let Miss put it down ; I shall endeavour to obey you.
' I have got twelve guineas ^ to send you, but unhappily am at a loss how to send it to-night. If I cannot send it to-night, it will come by the next post.
'Pray, do not admit anything mentioned in this letter. God bless you for ever and ever, I am, your dutiful son,
'Sam. Johnson.
•Jan. 13, 1758.' 2
TO MISS POBTEK, AT MRS. JOHNSOn's, IN LICHFIELD
' My deab Miss, — I think myself obliged to you beyond all expression of gratitude for your care of my dear mother. God grant it may not be without success. Tell Kitty ' that I shall never forget her tenderness for her mistress. What- ever you can do, continue to do. My heart is very full.
' I hope you received twelve guineas on Monday. I found a way of sending them by means of the postmaster, after I had written my letter, and hope they came safe. I will send you more in a few days. God bless you alL — I am, my dear, your most obliged and most humble servant,
' Sam. Johnson.
•Jan. 16, 1759.
• Over the leaf is a letter to my mother.'
'Dkab honoubed Mother, — Yoxir weakness afflicts me beyond what I am willing to communicate to you. I do not
1 [Six of these twelve guineas Johnson appears to have borrowed from Mr. Allen, the printer. See Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 266, n. — M.l
2 [Written by mistake for 1759, as the subsequent letters show. In the next letter, he had inadyertently fallen into the same error, but corrected it. On the outside of the letter of the 13th was written by another hand — ' Pray acknowledge the receipt of this by return of post without faiL'—M.]
3 [Catharine Chambers, Mrs. Johnson's maid-servant. She died in October 1767. See Dr. Johnson's Prayers and Meditations: 'Sun- day, Oct. 18, 1767. Yesterday, Oct. 17, I took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, Catharine Chambers, who came to live with my mother about 1724, and has been but little parted from us since. She buried my father, my brother, and my mother. She is now fifty-eight years old.' — M.]
14 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
think you unfit to face death, but I know not how to bear the thought of losing you. Endeavour to do all you [can] for yourself. Eat as much as you can.
' I pray often for you ; do you pray for me. — I have nothing to add to my last letter. — I am, dear, dear mother, your dutiful Bon, Sam Johnsoi;.
'Jwn. 16, 1759.'
TO MRS. JOHNSON, IN LICHFIELD
'Deah honoured Mother, — I fear you are too ill for long letters ; therefore I wiU only teU you, you have from me all the regard that can possibly subsist in the heart. I pray God to bless you for evermore, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.
'Let Miss write to me every post, however short. — I am, dear mother, your dutiful son, Sam. Johnson.
'Jan. 18, 1759.'
TO MISS PORTER, AT MRS. JOHNSOn's, IN LICHFIELD
' Dear Miss, — I will, if it be possible, come down to you. God grant I may yet [find] my dear mother breathing and sensible. Do not tell her, lest I disappoint her. If I miss to write next post, I am on the road. — I am, my dearest Miss, your most himible servant, Sam. Johnson.
'■Jam. 20, 1759.
On the other side.
'Dear honoured Mother, 1 — Neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. You have been the best mother, and I believe the best woman in the world. I thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that I have done iU, and all that I have omitted to do well.^ Grod grant you his Holy Spirit, and
1 [This letter was written on the second leaf of the preceding, ad- dressed to Miss Porter. — M. ]
2 [So, in the prayer which he composed on this occasion : ' Almighty God, merciful Father, in whose hands are life and death, sanctify unto me the sorrow which I now feel. Forgive nit whatever I have done unkindly to my mother, and -whatever I have omitted to do kindly. Make me to remember her good precepts and good example, and to reform my life according to thy holy word,' etc. — Prayers and Medita- tions.— M.]
iET. 5o] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 16
receive you to everlasting happiness, for Jesus Chxist's sake. Amen. Lord Jesus receive your spirit. Amen. — I am, dear, dear mother, your dutiful son, Sam. Johnson.
'Jan. 20, 1759.'
TO MISS PORTER, IN LICHFIELD
' You wUl conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best mother. If she were to live again, surely I should behave better to her. But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her ; and for me, since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her my sincerest thanks, and pray God to repay you all with infinite advantage. Write to me, and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad likewise, if Kitty will write to me, I shall send a bill of £20 in a few days, which I thought to have brought to my mother; but God suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much more. Crod bless you, and bless us all. — I am, dear Miss, your affectionate humble servant, Sam. Johnson.
'Jan. 23, 1759.'!
Soon after this event he wrote his Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia ; concerning the publication of which Sir John Hawkins guesses vaguely and idly, instead of having taken the trouble to inform himself with authentic precision. Not to trouble my readers with a repetition of the Knight's reveries, I have to mention that the late Mr. Strahan the printer told me, that Johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray the expense of his mother's funeral, and pay some little debts which she had left. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds that he composed it in the evenings of one week,2 sent it to the press in portions as it was
1 [Mrs. Johnson probably died on the 20th or 21st of January, and was biiried on the day this letter was written. — M.]
2 Rasselas was published in two duodecimo volumes, price five shillings. The title was got of Lobo (p. 102). Ras means head or chief.— A. B.]
16 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
written, and had never since read it over,^ Mr. Strahan, Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Dodsley, purchased it for £100, but afterwards paid him £25 more, when it came to a second edition.
Considering the large sums which have been received for compilations, and works requiring not much more genixis than compilations, we cannot but wonder at the very low price which he was content to receive for this admirable performance ; which, though he had written nothing else, would have rendered his name immortal in the world of literature. None of his writings has been so extensively diffused over Europe ; for it has been translated into most, if not all, of the modern languages. This tale, with all the charms of oriental imagery, and all the force and beauty of which the English language is capable, leads us through the most important scenes of human life, and shows us that this stage of our being is full of ' vanity and vexation of spirit.' To those who look no further than the present life, or who maintain that human nature has not fallen from the state in which it was created, the instruction of this sublime story will be of no avaU. But they who think justly, and feel with strong sensibility, will listen with eagerness and admiration to its truth and wisdom. Voltaire's Candide, written to refute the system of Optimism, which it has accom- plished with brilliant success, is wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to Johnson's Rasselas ; inso- much, that I have heard Johnson say, that if they had not been published so closely one after the other
1 [See vol. i\. under June 2, 1781. Finding it then accidentally in a chaise with Mr. Boswell, he read it eagerly. This was doubtless long after his declaration to Sir Joshua Reynolds. — M.]
;et. 5o] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 17
that there was not time for imitation, it would have been in vain to deny that the scheme of that which came latest was taken from the other. Though the proposition illustrated by both these works was the same, namely, that in our present state there is more evil than good, the intention of the writers was very different. Voltaire, I am afraid, meant only by wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive victory over religion, and to discredit the belief of a superintending Provi- dence : Johnson meant, by showing the unsatisfactory nature of things temporal, to direct the hopes of man to things eternal. Basselas, as was observed to me by a very accomplished lady, may be considered as a more enlarged and more deeply philosophical discourse in prose, upon the interesting truth, which in his Vanity of Human Wishes he had so successfully en- forced in verse.
The fund of thinking which this work contains is such, that almost every sentence of it may furnish a subject of long meditation. I am not satisfied if a year passes without my having read it through ; and at every perusal, my admiration of the mind which produced it is so highly raised, that I can scarcely believe that I had the honour of enjoying the intimacy of such a man.
I restrain myself from quoting passages from this excellent work, or even referring to them, because I should not know what to select, or rather what to omit. I shall, however, transcribe one, as it shows how well he could state the arguments of those who believe in the appearance of departed spirits ; a doc- trine which it is a mistake to suppose that he himself ever positively held :
VOL. II. B
18 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
' If all your fear be of apparitions (said the Prince) I will promise you safety : there is no danger from the dead : he that is once buried will be seen no more.
' That the dead are seen no more (said Imlac), I will not undertake to maintain, against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages, and of all nations. There is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth ; those that never heard of one another, would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is doubted by single cavillers, can very little weaken the general evidence ; and some who deny it with their tongues, confess it by their fears.'
Notwithstanding my high admiration of Rasselas, I will not maintain that the ' morbid melancholy ' in Johnson's constitution may not, perhaps, have made life appear to him more insipid and unhappy than it generally is ; for I am sure that he had less enjoyment from it than I have. Yet, whatever additional shade his own particular sensations may have thrown on his representation of life, attentive observation and close inquiry have convinced me that there is too much reality in the gloomy picture. The truth, however, is, that we judge of the happiness and misery of life differently at different times, according to the state of our changeable frame. I always remember a remark made to me by a Turkish lady, educated in France : — ' Mafoi, Monsieur, notre bonheur depend de la faf on que noire sang circule.' This have I learned from a pretty liard course of experience, and would, from sincere benevolence, impress upon all who honour this book with a perusal, that until a steady conviction is obtained that the present life is an imperfect state, and only a passage to a better, if we comply with the
^T. 5o] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 19
divine scheme of progressive improvement ; and also that it is a part of the mysterious plan of Providence that intellectual beings must * he made perfect through suflFering ' ; there will be a continual recurrence of disappointment and uneasiness. But if we walk with hope in ' the midday sun ' of revelation, our temper and disposition will be such that the comforts and enjoyments in our way wiU be relished, while we patiently support the inconveniences and pains. After much speculation and various reasonings, I acknow- ledge myself convinced of the truth of Voltaire's con- clusion, ' Apres tout, c'est un monde passable.' But we must not think too deeply ;
' where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise,'
is, in many respects, more than poetically just. Let us cultivate, under the command of good principles, ' la theorie des sensations agreables ' ; and, as Mr. Burke once admirably counselled a grave and anxious gentle- man, * live pleasant. '
The effect of Rasselas, and of Johnson's other moral tales, is thus beautifully illustrated by Mr. Courtenay ;
' Impressive truth, in splendid fiction drest. Checks the vain wish, and calms the troubled breast ; O'er the dark mind a light celestial throws. And soothes the angry passions to repose ; As oil effused illumes and smooths the deep. When roimd the bark the swelling surges sweep.' ^
It will be recollected that during all this year he carried on his Idler, ^ and, no doubt, was proceeding,
1 Literary and Moral Character of Johnson.
2 This paper was in such high estimation before it was collected into volumes that it was seized on with avidity by various publishers of
20 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
though slowly, in his edition of Shakespeare. He, however, from that liberality which never failed, when called upon to assist other labourers in literature, found time to translate for Mrs. Lenox's English version of Brumoy, ' A Dissertation on the Greek Comedy,' and 'The General Conclusion of the Book.' An inquiry into the state of foreign countries was an object that seems at all times to have Interested Johnson. Hence Mr. Newbery found no great diffi- culty in persuading him to write the Introduction to a collection of voyages and travels published by him under the title of The World Displayed : the first volume of which appeared this year, and the remain- ing volumes in subsequent years.
newspapers and magazines to enrich their publications. Johnson, to put a stop to this unfair proceeding, wrote for the Universal Chronicle the following advertisement ; in which there is, perhaps, more pomp of words than the occasion demanded :
^London, Jan. 5, 1759. Advertisement. — The proprietors of the paper entitled the Idler, having found that those essays are inserted m the newspapers and magazines with so little regard to justice or decency that the Universal Chronicle, in which they first appear, is not always mentioned, think it necessary to declare to the publishers of those collections, that however patiently they have hitherto endured these injuries, made yet more injurious by contempt, they have now determined to endure them no longer. They have already seen essays, for which a very large price is paid, transferred, with the most shame- less rapacity, into the weekly or monthly compilations, and their right, at least for the present, alienated from them, before they could them- selves be said to enjoy it. But they would not willingly be thought to want tenderness, even for men by whom no tenderness hath been shown. The past is without remedy, and shall be without resentment. But those who have been thus busy with their sickles in the fields of their neighbours are henceforth to take notice that the time of impunity is at an end. Whoever shall, without our leave, lay the hand of rapine upon our papers is to expect that we shall vindicate our due, by the means which justice prescribes, and which are warranted by the imme- morial prescriptions of honourable trade. We shall lay hold, in our turn, on their copies, degrade them from the pomp of wide margin and diffuse typography, contract them into a narrow space, and sell them at an humble price ; yet not with a view of growing rich by confisca- tions, for we think not much better of money got by punishment than by crimes. We shall, therefore, when our losses are repaid, give what profit shall remain to the Magdalens ; for we know not who can be more properly taxed for the support of penitent prostitutes, than prostitutes in whom there yet appears neither penitence nor shame.'
.ET. so] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 21
I would ascribe to this year the following letter to a son of one of his early friends at Lichfield^ Mr. Joseph Simpson, Barrister, and author of a tract entitled. Reflections on the Study of the Law,
TO JOSEPH SIMPSON, ESQ.
'Deab Sir, — Your father's inexorability not only grieves but amazes me : lie is your father ; he was always accounted a wise man ; nor do I remember anything to the disadvantage of his good nature; but in his refusal to assist you there is neither good nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. It is the practice of good nature to overlook faults which have already, by the consequences, punished the delinquent. It is natural for a father to think more favourably than others of his children; and it is always wise to give assistance, while a little help will prevent the necessity of greater.
' If you married imprudently, you miscarried at your own hazard, at an age when you had a right of choice. It woidd be hard if the man might not choose his own wife, who has a right to plead before the judges of his country.
'If your imprudence has ended in diflSculties and incon- veniences, you are yourself to support them ; and, with the help of a little better health, you woidd support them and conquer them. Surely, that want which accident and sick- ness produces is to be supported in every region of humanity, though there were neither friends nor fathers in the world. You have certainly from your father the highest claim of charity, though none of right : and therefore I would counsel you to omit no decent nor manly degree of importunity. Your debts in the whole are not large, and of the whole but a small part is troublesome. Small debts are like small shot ; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be escaped without a woimd : great debts are like cannon ; of loud noise but little danger. You must, therefore, be enabled to dis- charge petty debts, that you may have leisure, with security, to struggle with the rest. Neither the great nor the little debts disgrace you. I am sure you have my esteem for the courage with which you contracted them, and the spirit with
22 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
■which you endure them. I wish my esteem could be of more use. I have been invited, or have invited myself, to several parts of the kingdom ; and will not incommode my dear Lucy by coming to Lichfield, while her present lodging is of any use to her. I hope in a few days to be at leisure, and to make visits. Whither I shaU fly is matter of no importance. A man unconnected is at home everywhere ; unless he may be said to be at home nowhere. I am sorry, dear sir, that where you have parents, a man of your merits should not have a home. I wish I could give it you. I am, my dear sir, affectionately yours, Sam. Johnson.'
He now refreshed himself by an excursion to Oxford, of which the following short characteristical notice, in his own words, is preserved :
' ... is now making tea for me. I have been in my gown ever since I came here. It was, at my first coming, quite new and handsome. I have swum thrice, which I had disused for many years. I have proposed to Vansittart ^ climbing over the wall, but he has refused me. And I have clapped my hands till they are sore at Dr. King's speech.' 2
His negro servant, Francis Barber, having left him, and been some time at sea, not pressed as has been supposed, but with his own consent, it appears from a letter to John Wilkes, Esq. , from Dr. Smollett, that his master kindly interested himself in procuring his release from a state of life of which Johnson always expressed the utmost abhorrence. He said, ' No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail ; for being in a ship is being in a
1 Dr. Robert Vansittart of the ancient and respectable family of that came in Berkshire. He was eminent for learning and worth, and much esteemed by Dr. Johnson.
* Gentleman's Magazine, April 1785.
yET. 5o] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 23
jail, with the chance of being drowned.'^ And at another time, 'A man in a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company.' ^ The letter was as follows :
Chelsea, Mwrch 16, 1759. ' Deah Sir, — I am again your petitioner, in behaK of that great Cham^ of literature, Samuel Johnson. His black servant, whose name is Francis Barber, has been pressed on board the Stag frigate. Captain Angel, and our lexicographer is in great distress. He says the boy is a sickly lad, of a delicate frame, and particularly subject to a malady in his throat, which renders him very unfit for his Majesty's service. You know what matter of animosity the said Johnson has against you : and I dare say you desire no other opportunity of resenting it, than that of laying him under an obligation. He was humble enough to desire my assistance on this occasion, though he and I were never cater-cousins ; and I gave him to understand that I woidd make application to my friend ]\Ir. Wilkes, who, perhaps, by his interest with Dr. Hay and Mr. Elliott, might be able to procure the discharge of his lacquey. It would be superfluous to say more on the subject, which I leave to your own consideration ; but I cannot let slip this opportunity of declaring that I am, with the most inviolable esteem and attachment, dear sir, your affectionate obliged humble servant, T. Smollett.'
1 Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3rd edit., p. 126.
2 Ibid., p. 251.
S In my first edition this word was printed Chum, as it appears in one of Mr. Wilkes's Miscellanies, and I animadverted on Dr. Smollett's ignorance ; for which let me propitiate the manes of that ingenious and benevolent gentleman. Chum was certainly a mistaken readirig for Cham, the title of the sovereign of Tartary, which is well applied to Johnson, the Monarch of Literature : and was an epithet familiar to Smollett. See Roderick Random, chap. Ivi. For this correction I am indebted to Lord Palmerston, whose talents and literary acquire- ments accord well with his respectable pedi^ee of Temple.
[After the publication of the second edition of this work, the author was furnished by Mr. Abercrombie of Philadelphia, with the copy of a letter written by Dr. John Armstrong, the poet, to Dr. Smollett at Leghorn, containing the following paragraph :
' As to the K. Bench patriot, it is hard to say from what motive he published a letter of yours asking some trifling favour of him in behalf of somebody for whom the great Cham of literature, Mr. Johnson, had interested himself.' — M.]
24 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759
Mr. WilkeSj who upon all occasions has acted as a private gentlemanj with most polite liberality, applied to his friend Sir George Hay, then one of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty ; and Francis Barber was discharged, as he has told me, without any wish of his own. He found his old master in chambers in the Inner Temple, and returned to his service.
What particular new scheme of life Johnson had in view this year I have not discovered ; but that he meditated one of some sort, is clear from his private devotions, in which we find,^ ' the change of outward things which I am now to make ' ; and, ' Grant me the grace of thy Holy Spirit, that the course which I am now beginning may proceed according to thy laws, and end in the enjoyment of thy favour.' But he did not, in fact, make any external or visible change.
At this time there being a competition among the architects of London to be employed in the building of Blackfriars Bridge, a question was very warmly agitated whether semicircular or elliptical arches were preferable. In the design offered by Mr. Mylne the elliptical form was adopted, and therefore it was the great object of his rivals to attack it. Johnson's re- gard for his friend Mr. Gwyn, induced him to engage in this controversy against Mr. Mylne ; ^ and after
1 Prayers and Meditations.
2 Sir John Hawkins has given a long detail of it, in that manner vulgarly, but significantly, called rigmarole; in which, amidst an ostentatious exhibition of arts and artists, he talks of ' proportions of a column being taken from that of the human figure, and adjusted by Nature — masculine and feminine — in a man, sesquioctave of the head, and in a woman sesquionaV ; nor has he failed to introduce a jargon of musical terms, which do not seem much to correspond with the subject, but serve to make up the heterogeneous mass. To follow the knight throu|;h all this would be a useless fatigue to myself, and not a little disgusting to my readers. I shall, therefore, only make a few remarks upon his statement. — He seems to exult in having detected
JET. so] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 26
being at considerable pains to study the subject, he wrote three several letters in the Gazetteer, in opposi- tion to his plan.
If it should be remarked that this was a controversy which lay quite out of Johnson's way, let it be remem- bered, that after all, his employing his powers of reasoning and eloquence upon a subject which he had studied on the moment, is not more strange than what we often observe in lawyers, who, as Quicquid agunt
Johnson in procuring ' from a person eminently skilled in mathematics and the pnnciples of architecture, answers to a string of questions drawn up by himself, touching the comparative strength of semicircular and elliptical arches.' Now I cannot conceive how Johnson could have acted more wisely. Sir John complains that the opinion of that excellent mathematician, Mr. Thomas Simpson, did not preponderate in favour of the semicircular arch. But he should have known, that however eminent Mr. Simpson was in the higher parts of abstract mathematical science, he was little versed in mixed and practical mechanics. Mr. Muller of Woolwich Academy, the scholastic father of all the ^eat engineers which this country has employed for forty yearsj decided the question by declaring clearly in favour of the elliptical arch.
It is ungraciously suggested, that Johnson's motive for opposing Mr. Mylne's scheme may have been his prejudice against him as a native of North Britain ; when, in truth, as has been stated, he gave the aid of his able pen to a friend, who was one of the candidates ; and so far was he from having any illiberal antipathy to Mr. Mylne that he after- wards lived with that gentleman upon very agreeable terms of acquaint- ance, and dined with him at his house. Sir John Hawkins, indeed, gives fill! vent to his own prejudice in abusing Blackfriars Bridge, calling it ' an edifice, in which beauty and symmetry are in vain sought for ; by which the citizens of London have perpetuated their own disgrace, and subjected a whole nation to the reproach of foreigners.' Whoever has contemplated, placido lu7nine, this stately, elegant, and airy structure, which has so fine an effect, especially on approaching the capital of that quarter, must wonder at such unjust and ill-tempered censure ; and I appeal to all foreigners of good taste, whether this bridge be not one of the most distinguished ornaments of London. As to the stability of the fabric, it is certain that the city of London took every precaution to have the best Portland stone for it ; but as this is to be found in the quarries belonging to the public, under the direction of the Lords of the "Treasury, it so happened that Parliamentary interests, which is often the bane of fair pursuits, thwarted their endeavours. Notwithstanding this disadvantage, it is well known that not only has Blackfriars Bridge never sunk either in its foundation or in its arches, which were so much the subject of contest, but any injuries which it has suffered from the effects of severe frosts have been already, in some measure, repaired with sounder stone, and every necessary renewal can be completed at a moderate expense. — Boswell.
26 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1760
homines is the matter of lawsuits, are sometimes obliged to pick up a temporary knowledge of an art or science, of which they understood nothing till their brief was delivered, and appear to be much masters of it. In like manner, members of the legislature frequently introduce and expatiate upon subjects of which they have informed themselves for the occasion.
In 1760 he wrote An Address of the Painters to George III. on his Accession to the Throne of these Kingdoms, which no monarch ever ascended with more sincere congratulations from his people. Two genera- tions of foreign princes had prepared their minds to rejoice in having again a king who gloried in being ' born a Briton.' He also wrote for Mr, Baretti the Dedication of his Italian and English Dictionary, to the Marquis of Abreu, then Envoy-Extraordinary from Spain at the court of Great Britain.
Johnson was now either very idle, or very busy with his Shakespeare ; for I can find no other public com- position by him except an Introduction to the Pro- ceedings of the Committee for Clothing the French Prisoners ; one of the many proofs that he was ever awake to the calls of humanity ; and an account which he gave in the Gentleman's Magazine of Mr. Tytler's acute and able vindication of Mary Queen of Scots. The generosity of Johnson's feeling shines forth in the following sentence :
' It has now been fashionable, for near half a century, to defame and vilify the house of Stuart, and to exalt and magnify the reign of Elizabeth. The Stuarts have found few apologists, for the dead cannot pay for praise ; and who will, without reward, oppose the tide of popularity? Yet there remains still among us, not wholly extinguished, a zeal for truth, a desire of establishing right in opposition to fashion.'
;et. 5i] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 27
In this year I have not discovered a single private letter written by him to any of his friends. It should seem^ however, that he had at this period a floating intention of writing a history of the recent and wonderful successes of the British arms in all quarters of the globe ; for among his resolutions or memoran- dums, September 18, there is, ' Send for books for Hist, of War,'^ How much is it to be regretted that this intention was not fulfilled ! His majestic expression would have carried down to the latest posterity the glorious achievements of his country, with the same fervent glow which they produced on the mind at the time. He would have been under no temptation to deviate in any degree from truth which he held very sacred, or to take a licence, which a learned divine told me he once seemed in a conversa- tion jocularly to allow to historians. 'There are (said he) inexcusable lies, and consecrated lies. For instance, we are told that on the arrival of the news of the unfortunate battle of Fontenoy, every heart beat and every eye was in tears. Now we know that no man eat his dinner the worse, but there should have been all this concern ; and to say there was (smiling), may be reckoned a consecrated lie.'
This year Mr. Murphy, having thought himself ill- treated by the Reverend Dr. Franklin, who was one of the writers of the Critical Review, published an in- dignant vindication in ' A Poetical Epistle to Samuel Johnson, A. M. ,' in which he compliments Johnson in a just and elegant manner :
1 Prayers and Meditations.
28 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1760
* Transcendent Genius ! whose prolific vein Ne'er knew the frigid poet's toil and pain ; To whom Apollo opens all his store, And every Muse presents her sacred lore ; Say, jxjwerful Johnson, whence thy verse is fraught With so much grace, such energy of thought ; Whether thy Juvenal instructs the age In chaster numbers, and new-points his rage ; Or faire Irene sees, alas ! too late. Her innocence exchanged for guilty state ; Whate'er you write, in every golden line SubKmity and elegance combine ; Thy nervous phrase impresses every soul, While harmony gives rapture to the whole.'
Again, towards the conclusion :
Thou then, my friend, who see'st the dang'rous strife
In which some demon bids me plunge my life.
To the Aonian fount direct my feet,
Say, where the Nine thy lonely musings meet ?
Where warbles to thy ear the sacred throng,
Thy moral sense, thy dignity of song ?
Tell, for you can, by what imerring art
You wake to finer feelings every heart ;
In each bright page some truth important give,
And bid to future times thy Bambler live.'
I take this opportunity to relate the manner in which an acquaintance first commenced between Dr. Johnson and Mr. Murphy. During the publication of the Gray's Inn Journal, a periodical paper which was successfully carried on by Mr. Murphy alone, when a very young man, he happened to be in the country with Mr. Foote ; and having mentioned that he was obliged to go to London in order to get ready for the press one of the numbers of that Journal, Foote said to him, ' You need not go on that account. Here is a French magazine, in which you will find a very
;et. si] life of dr. JOHNSON 29
pretty oriental tale; translate that, and send it to your printer. ' Mr. Murphy having read the tale, was highly pleased with it, and followed Foote's advice. When he returned to town this tale was pointed out to him in the Rambler, from whence it had been trans- lated into the French magazine. Mr. Murphy then waited upon Johnson to explain this curious incident. His talents, literature, and gentleman-like manners were soon perceived by Johnson, and a friendship was formed which was never broken. "^
TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE
'Deab Sib, — You that travel about the world have more materials for letters, than I who stay at home : and should, therefore, write with frequency equal to your opportunities. I shoxild be glad to have all England surveyed by you, if you would impart your observations in narratives as agreeable as your last. Knowledge is always to be wished to those who can communicate it well. While you have been riding and running, and seeing the tombs of the learned, and the camps of the valiant, I have only stayed at home and intended to do great things, which I have not done. Beau ^ went away to Cheshire, and has not yet found his way back. Chambers passed the vacation at Oxford.
' I am very sincerely solicitous for the preservation or curing of Mr. Langton's sight, and am glad that the chirurgeon at Coventry gives him so much hope. Mr. Sharpe is of opinion that the tedious maturation of the cataract is a vulgar error, and that it may be removed as soon as it is formed. This notion deserves to be considered; I doubt whether it be universally true ; but if it be true in some cases, and those
1 [When Mr. Murphy first became acquainted with Dr. Johnson he was about thirty-one years old. He died at Knightsbridge, June i8, 1803, it is believed in his eighty-second year. — M.]
2 Topham Beauclerk, Esq.
80 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1761
cases can be distinguished, it may save a long and uncom- fortable delay.
' Of dear Mrs. Langton you gave me no account ; which is the less friendly, as you know how highly I think of her, and how much I interest myself in her health. I suppose you told her of my opinion, and likewise suppose it was not followed ; however, I still believe it to be right.
' Let me hear from you again ; wherever you are, or what- ever you are doing; whether you wander or sit still, plant trees or make Rustics,^ pla-y with your sisters or muse alone ; and in return I will tell you the success of Sheridan, who at this instant is playing Cato, and has already played Richard twice. He had more company the second than the first night, and will make, I believe, a good figure in the whole, though his faults seem to be very many ; some of natural deficience, and some of laborious affectation. He has, I think, no power of assuming either that dignity or elegance which some men, who have little of either in common life, can exhibit on the stage. His voice when strained is unpleasing, and when low is not always heard. He seems to think too much on the audience, and turns his face too often to the galleries.
' However, I wish him well ; and among other reasons, because I like his wife.^ — Make haste to write to, dear sir, yoxir most affectionate servant, Sam. Johnson.
' Oct. 18, 1760.'
In 1761, Johnson appears to have done little. He was still, no doubt, proceeding in his edition of Shakespeare ; but what advances he made in it cannot be ascertained. He certainly was at this time not active ; for in his scrupulous examination of himself on Easter eve, he laments, in his too rigorous mode of censuring his own conduct, that his life, since the communion of the preceding Easter, had been '^dis-
* Essays with that title, written about this time by Mr. Langton, but not published.
' Mrs. Sheridan was author of Memoirs of Miss Sydney Biddulph, a novel of great merit, and of some other pieces.
^T. 52] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 31
sipated and useless.' ^ He, however, contributed this year the Preface to Rolt's Dictionary of Trade and Commerce, in which he displayed such a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the subject, as might lead the reader to think that its author had devoted all his life to it. I asked him whether he knew much of Rolt and of his work. ' Sir (said he), I never saw the man, and never read the book. The booksellers wanted a Preface to a Dictionary of Trade and Com- merce. I knew very well what such a Dictionary should be, and I wrote a Preface accordingly.' Rolt, who wrote a great deal for the booksellers, was, as Johnson told me, a singular character. Though not in the least acquainted with him, he used to say, ' I am just come from Sam. Johnson.' This was a sufficient specimen of his vanity and impudence. But he gave a more eminent proof of it in our sister king- dom, as Dr. Johnson informed me. When Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination first came out he did not put his name to the poem. Rolt went over to Dublin, published an edition of it, and put his own name to it. Upon the fame of this he lived for several months, being entertained at the best tables as ' the ingenious Mr. Rolt ' 2 His conversation, indeed, did not discover much of the fire of a poet ; but it was recollected that both Addison and Thomson were equally dull till excited by wine. Akenside having been informed
1 Prayers and Meditations.
2 I have had inquiry made in Ireland as to this story, but do not find it recollected there. I give it on the authority of Dr. Johnson, to which may be added that of the Biographical Dictionary, and Bio- graphia Dratnatica ; in both of which it has stood many years. Mr. Malone observes, that the truth probably is, not that an edition was published with Rolt's name in the title-page, but that the poem being thus anonymous, Rolt acquiesced in its oeing attributed to him in conversation.
32 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1761
of this imposition^ vindicated his right by publishing the poem with its real author's name. Several in- stances of such literary fraud have been detected. The Reverend Dr. Campbell, of St. Andrews, wrote An Inquiry into the original of Moral Virtue, the manuscript of which he sent to Mr. Innes, a clergy- man in England, who was his countryman and acquaintance. Innes published it with his own name to it ; and before the imposition was discovered, obtained considerable promotion as a reward of his merit.^ The celebrated Dr. Hugh Blair, and his cousin, Mr. George Bannatine, when students in divinity, wrote a poem, entitled The Resurrection, copies of which were handed about in manuscript. They were at length very much surprised to see a pompous edition of it in folio, dedicated to the Princess Dowager of Wales, by a Dr. Douglas as his own. Some years ago a little novel, entitled The Man 0/ Feeling, was assumed by Mr. Eccles, a young Irish clergyman, who was afterwards drowned near Bath. He had been at the pains to transcribe the whole book, with blottings, interlineations, and corrections, that it might be shown to several people as an original. It was, in truth, the production of Mr. Henry Mackenzie, an attorney in the Exchequer at Edin- burgh, who is the author of several other ingenious pieces ; but the belief with regard to Mr. Eccles became so general, that it was thought necessary for Messieurs Strahan and Cadell to publish an advertise- ment in the newspapers contradicting the report, and
1 I have both the books. Innes was the clergyman who brought Psalmanazar to England, and was an accomplice in his extraordinary fiction.
^T. 52] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 33
mentioning that they purchased the copyright of Mr. Mackenzie. I can conceive this kind of fraud to be very easily practised with successful effrontery. The Filiation of a literary performance is difficult of proof ; seldom is there any witness present at its birth. A man either in confidence or by improper means obtains possession of a copy of it in manuscript, and boldly publishes it as his own. The true author, in many cases, may not be able to make his title clear. Johnson, indeed, from the peculiar features of his literary offspring, might bid defiance to an attempt to appropriate them to others :
' But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be, Within that circle none durst walk but he.'
He this year lent his friendly assistance to correct and improve a pamphlet written by Mr. Gwyn the architect, entitled Thoughts on the Coronation of George III.
Johnson had now for some years admitted Mr. Baretti to his intimacy ; nor did their friendship cease upon their being separated by Baretti's revisiting his native country, as appears from Johnson's letters to him.
TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN ^
' You reproach me very often with parsimony of writing ;. but you may discover by the extent of my paper that I design to recompense rarity by length. A short letter to a distant friend is, in my opinion, an insult like that of a slight bow or
I The originals of Dr. Johnson's three letters to Mr. Baretti, which are among the very best he ever wrote, were communicated to the proprietors of that instructive and elegant monthly miscellany, TAe European Magazine, in which they first appeared.
VOL. II. C
34 LIFE OF DPL JOHNSON [1761
cursory sahitation; — a proof of unwillingness to do much, even where there is a necessity of doing something. Yet it must be remembered, that he who continues the same course of life in the same place will have little to tell. One week and one year are very like one another. The silent changes made by him are not always perceived, and if they are not perceived cannot be recounted. I have risen and lain down, talked and mused, while you have roved over a considerable part of Europe ; yet I have not envied my Baretti any of his pleasures, though, perhaps, I have envied others his company ; and I am glad to have other nations made acquainted with the character of the English, by a traveller who has so nicely inspected our manners, and so successfully studied our literature. I received your kind letter from Falmouth, in which you gave me notice of your departure for Lisbon ; and another from Lisbon, in which you told me that you were to leave Portugal in a few days. To either of these how could any answer be returned? I have had a third from Turin, complaining that I have not answered the former. Your English style still continues in its purity and vigour. With vigour your genius will supply it ; but its purity must be con- tinued by close attention. To use two languages familiarly, and without contaminating one by the other, is very difficult : and to use more than two is hardly to be hoped. The praises which some have received for their multiplicity of languages may be sufficient to excite industry, but can hardly generate confidence.
'I know not whether I can heartily rejoice at the kind reception which you have found, or at the popularity to which you are exalted. I am willing that your merit should be distinguished ; but cannot wish that your afifections may be gained. I would have you happy wherever you are : yet I would have you wish to return to England. If ever you visit us again you will find the kindness of your friends im- diminished. To teU you how many inquiries are made after you would be tedious, or if not tedious, would be vain ; because you may be told in a very few words, that all who knew you wish you well ; and that all you embraced at your departure will caress you at your return : therefore do not let Italian academicians nor Italian ladies drive us from your thoughts.
lET. 52] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 35
You may find among us what you will leave beliind, soft smiles and easy sonnets. Yet I shall not wonder if all our invitations should be rejected : for there is a pleasure in being considerable at home which is not easily resisted.
'By conducting Mr. Southwell to Venice you fulfilled, I know, the original contract : yet I would wish you not wholly to lose him from your notice, but to recommend him to such acquaintance as may best secure him from suffering by his own follies, and to take such general care both of his safety and his interest as may come withiu your power. His relations will thank you for any such gratuitous attention : at least they will not blame you for any evil that may happen, whether they thank you or not for any good.
' You know that we have a new King and a new Parliament. Of the new Parliament Fitzherbert is a member. We were so weary of oxir old King, that we are much pleased with his successor ; of whom we are so much inclined to hope great things, that most of us begin already to believe them. The young man is hitherto blameless ; but it would be unreason- able to expect much from the immaturity of juvenile years, and the ignorance of princely education. He has been long in the hands of the Scots, and has already favoured them more than the English will contentedly endure. But, perhaps, he scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he has disgusted.
' The artists have instituted a yearly Exhibition of pictures and statues, in imitation, as I am told, of foreign academies. This year was the second Exhibition. They please themselves much with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the English school will rise in reputation. Reynolds is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to thousands, which he deserves, among other excellencies, by retaining his kindness for Baretti. This Exhibition has filled the heads of the artists and lovers of art. Surely life, if it be not long, is tedious, since we are forced to call in the assistance of so many trifles to rid us of our time, of that time which never can return.
' I know my Baretti will not be satisfied with a letter in which I give him no account of myself; yet what accovmt shall I give him ? I have not, since the day of our separation.
86 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1761
suflfered or done anything considerable. The only change in my way of life is that I have frequented the theatre more than in former seasons. But I have gone thither onl}' to escape from myself. We have had many new farces, and the comedy called The Jealous Wife, which, though not written with much genius, was yet so well adapted to the stage, and so well exhibited by the actors, that it was crowded for near twenty nights. I am digressing from myself to the play- house; but a barren plan must be filled with episodes. Of myself I have nothing to say, but that I have hitherto lived without the concurrence of my own judgment ; yet I continue to flatter myself that, when you return, you will find me mended. I do not wonder that, where the monastic life is permitted, every order finds votaries, and every monastery inhabitants. Men will submit to any rule, by which they may be exempted from the tyranny of caprice and of chance. They are glad to supply by external authority their own want of constancy and resolution, and court the government of others, when long experience has convinced them of their own inability to govern themselves. If I were to visit Italy, my curiosity would be more attracted by convents than by palaces; though I am afraid that I should find expectation in both places equally disappointed, and life in both places supported with impatience and quitted with reluctance. That it must be so soon quitted is a powerful remedy against impatience ; but what shall free us from reluctance ? Those who have endeavoured to teach us to die well have taught few to die willingly ; yet I cannot but hope that a good life might end at last in a contented death.
* You see to what a train of thought I am drawn by the mention of myself. Let me now turn my attention upon you. I hope you take care to keep an exact journal, and to register all occurrences and observations ; for your friends here expect such a book of travels as has not been often seen. You have given us good specimens in your letters from Lisbon. I vrish you had stayed longer in Spain, for no country is less known to the rest of Europe ; but the quickness of your discernment must make amends for the celerity of your motions. He that knows which way to direct his view sees much in a little time.
^T. 52] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 37
' "Write to me very often, and I will not neglect to write to you ; and I may, perhaps, in time, get something to write : at least, you wiU know by my letters, whatever else they may have or want, that I continue to be your most affectionate friend, Sam. Johnson.
'[London,} June 10, 176L'
In 1762 he wrote for the Reverend Dr. Kennedy, Rector of Bradley in Derbyshire, in a strain of very courtly elegance, a Dedication to the King of that gentleman's work, entitled A Complete System of Astronomical Chronology, unfolding the Scriptures. He had certainly looked at this work before it was printed : for the concluding paragraph is undoubtedly of his composition, of which let my readers judge :
'Thus have I endeavoured to free Religion and History from the darkness of a disputed and uncertain chronology; from difficulties which have hitherto appeared insuperable, and darkness which no luminary of learning has hitherto been able to dissipate. I have established the truth of the Mosaical account, bj evidence which no transcription can corrupt, no negligence can lose, and no interest can pervert. I have shown that the universe bears witness to the inspiration of its historian, by the revolution of its orbs and the succession of its seasons : that the stars in their courses fight against incredulity, that the works of God give hourly confirmation to the law, the prophets, and the gospel, of which one day telleth another, and one night certifieth another ; and that the validity of the sacred writings never can be denied, while the moon shall increase and wane, and the sun shall know his going down.*
He this year wrote also the Dedication to the Earl of Middlesex of Mrs. Lenox's Female Quixote, and the Preface to the Catalogue of the Artists' Exhibition.
The following letter, which, on account of its in- trinsic merit, it would have been unjust both to John-
38 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
son and the public to have withheld, was obtained for me by the solicitation of my friend Mr. Seward :
TO DR. STAUNTON (nOW SIR 6EOROG STAUNTON,
baronet)
'Dear Sir, — I make haste to answer your kind letter, in hope of hearing again from you before you leave us. I cannot but regret that a man of your qualifications should find it necessary to seek an establishment in Guadaloupe, which if a peace should restore to the French, I shall think it some alleviation of the loss, that it must restore likewise Dr. Staunton to the English.
' It is a melancholy consideration, that so much of our time is necessarily to be spent upon the care of living, and that we can seldom obtain ease in one respect but by resigning it in another ; yet I suppose we are by this dispensation not less happy in the whole than if the spontaneous bounty of Nature poured all that we want into our hands. A few, if they were left thus to themselves, would, perhaps, spend their time in laudable pursuits : but the greater part would prey upon the quiet of each other, or, in the want of other subjects, would prey upon themselves.
' This, however, is our condition, which we must improve and solace as we can ; and though we cannot choose always our place of residence, we may in every place find rational amusements, and possess in every place the comforts of piety and a pure conscience.
' In America there is Uttle to be observed except natural curiosities. The new world must have many vegetables and animals with which philosophers are but little acquainted. I hope you will furnish yourself with some books of natural history, and some glasses and other instnmients of observa- tion. Trust as Uttle as you can to report : examine all you can by your own senses. I do not doubt but you will be able to add much to knowledge, and, perhaps, to medicine. Wild nations trust to simples ; and, perhaps, the Peruvian bark is not the only specific which those extensive regions may afford us.
'Wherever you are, and whatever be your fortune, be certain, dear sir, that you carry with you my kind wishes;
;et. 53] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 39
and that whether you return hither, or stay in the other hemi- sphere, to hear that you are happy will give pleasure to, sir, your most affectionate humble servant,
* Sam. Johnson. • June 1, 1762.'
A lady having at this time solicited him to obtain the Archbishop of Canterbury's patronage to have her son sent to the University, one of those solicitations which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a particular object, do not consider propriety, or the op- portunity which the persons whom they solicit have to assist them, he wrote to her the following answer, with a copy of which I am favoured by the Reverend Dr. Farmer, Master of Emanuel College, Cambridge :
' Madam, — I hope you will believe that my delay in answer- ing your letter could proceed only from my unwillingness to destroy any hope that you had formed. Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which this world affords : but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain ; and expectations improperly indulged must end in disappoint- ment. If it be asked, what is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to indulge, experience wUl quickly answer, that it is such expectation as is dictated not by reason, but by desire ; expectation raised, not by the common occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant ; an expectation that requires the common course of things to be changed, and the general rules of action to be broken.
' When you made your request to me, you should have con- sidered. Madam, what you were asking. You ask me to solicit a great man, to whom I never spoke, for a young person whom I had never seen, upon a supposition which I had no means of knowing to be true. There ia no reason why, amongst all the great, I should choose to supplicate the Arch- bishop, nor why, among all the possible objects of his bounty, the Archbishop should choose your son. I know, madam.
40 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when interest opposes it ; but surely, madam, you must allow, that there is no reason why that should be done by me which every other man may do with equal reason, and which, indeed, no man can do properly, without some very particular relation both to the Archbishop and to you. If I could help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would give me pleasure ; but this pro- posal is so very remote from usual methods, that I cannot comply with it, but at the risk of such answer and s\ispicions as I believe you do not wish me to undergo.
' I have seen your son this morning ; he seems a pretty youth, and will, perhaps, find some better friend than I can procure him ; but though he should at last miss theUniversity he may still be wise, useful, and happy. — I am, madam, your most humble servant, S^m. Johnson.
'Junes, 1762.'
TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN
' London, July 20, 1762, 'Sib, — However justly you may accuse me for want of punctuality in correspondence, I am not so far lost in negli- gence as to omit the opportunity of writing to you, which Mr. Beauclerk's passage through Milan affords me.
' I suppose 3'ou received the Idlers, and I intend that you shall soon receive Shakespeare, that you may explain his works to the ladies of Italy, and tell them the story of the editor, among the other strange narratives with which your long residence in this unknown region has supplied you.
' As you have now been long away, I suppose your curiosity may pant for some news of your old friends. Sliss Williams and I live much as we did. Miss Cotterell still continues to cUng to Mrs. Porter, and Charlotte is now big of the fourth child. LIr. Reynolds gets six thousand a year. Levet is lately married, not without much suspicion that he has been wretchedly cheated in his match. Mr. Chambers is gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with the Judges. Mr. Richardson ^ is dead of an apoplexy, and his second daughter has married a merchant.
1 [Samuel Richardson, the author of Clarissa, Sir Charles GrandU ton, etc. He died July 4, 1761, aged 72. — iM.]
Ml. S3] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 41
' My vanity or my kindness makes me flatter myself that you would rather hear of me than of those whom I have men- tioned ; but of myself I have very little which I care to teU. Last winter I went down to my native town, where I found the streets much narrower and shorter than I thought I had left them, inhabited by a new race of people, to whom I was very little known. My playfellows were grown old, and forced me to suspect that I was no longer young. My only remaining friend has changed his principles, and was become the tool of the predominant faction. My daughter-in-law, from whom I expected most, and whom I met with sincere benevolence, has lost the beauty and gaiety of youth, without having gained much of the wisdom of age. I wandered about for five days, and took the first convenient opportunity of returning to a place where, if there is not much happiness, there is at least such a diversity of good and evil that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart.
' I think in a few weeks to try another excursion ; though to what end ? Let me know, my Baretti, what has been the result of your return to your own country : whether time has made any alteration for the better, and whether, when the first raptures of salutation were over, you did not find your thoughts confessed their disappointment.
' Moral sentences appear ostentatious and tumid, when they have no greater occasions than the journey of a wit to his own town ; yet such pleasures and such pains make up the general mass of life ; and as nothing is little to him that feels it with great sensibility, a mind able to see common incidents in their real state is disposed by very common incidents to very serious contemplations. Let us trust that a time wiU como when the present moment shall be no longer irksome ; when ■we shall not borrow all our happiness from hope, which at last is to end in disappointment.
' I beg that you will show Mr. Beauclerk all the civilities which you have in your power, for he has always been kind to me.
' I have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me of your quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine order ; but had not the particulars very ready in his memory. When you write to Mr. Marsili, let him know that I remember him with kindness.
42 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
' May yon, my Baretti, be very happy at Blilan, or some other place nearer to, sir, your most affectionate humble servant, Sam. Johnson.'
The accession of George the Third to the throne of these kingdoms opened a new and brighter prospect to men of literary merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal favour in the preceding reign. His present Majesty's education in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, prompted him to be the patron of science and the arts ; and early this year, Johnson having been represented to him as a very learned and good man, without any certain provision, his Majesty was pleased to grant him a pension of three hundred pounds a year. The Earl of Bute, who was then Prime Minister, had the honour to announce this instance of his Sovereign's bounty, concerning which many and various stories, all equally erroneous, have been propagated ; maliciously representing it as a political bribe to Johnson to desert his avowed principles, and become the tool of a government which he held to be founded in usurpation. I have taken care to have it in my power to refute them from the most authentic information. Lord Bute told me that Mr. Wedderburne, now Lord Loughborough, was the person who first mentioned this subject to him. Lord Loughborough told me that the pension was granted to Johnson solely as the reward of his literary merit, without any stipulation whatever, or even tacit under- standing that he should write for administration. His Lordship added, that he was confident the political tracts which Johnson afterwards did write, as they were entirely consonant with his own opinions, would
JET. S3] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 43
have been written by him though no pension had been granted to him.
Mr. Thomas Sheridan and Mr. Murphy, who then lived a good deal both with him and Mr. Wedderbume, told me, that they previously talked with Johnson upon this matter, and that it was perfectly understood by all parties that the pension was merely honorary. Sir Joshua Reynolds told me that Johnson called on him after his Majesty's intention had been notified to him, and said he wished to consult his friends as to the propriety of his accepting this mark of the royal favour, after the definitions which he had given in his Dictionary of pension and pensioners. He said he should not have Sir Joshua's answer till the next day, when he would call again, and desired he might think of it. Sir Joshua answered that he was clear to give his opinion then, that there could be no objection ta his receiving from the King a reward for literary merit; and that certainly the definitions in his Dictionary were not applicable to him. Johnson, it should seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he had accepted the pension, and waited on Lord Bute to thank him. He then told Sir Joshua that Lord Bute said to him expressly, ' It is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have donc'i His Lordship, he said, behaved in the hand- somest manner. He repeated the words twice, that he might be siire Johnson heard them, and thus set his mind perfectly at ease. This nobleman, who has
1 [This was said by Lord Bute, as Dr. Bumey was informed by
Johnson himself, in answer to a question which he put, previously to is acceptance of the intended bounty : ' Pray, my Lord, what am I expected to do for this pension? ' — M.]
44 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
been so virulently abused^ acted with great honour in this instance, and displayed a mind truly liberaL A minister of a more narrow and selfish disposition would have availed himself of such an opportunity to fix an implied obligation on a man of Johnson's powerful talents to give him his support.
Mr. Murphy and the late Mr. Sheridan severally contended for the distinction of having been the first who mentioned to Mr. Wedderburne that Johnson ought to have a pension. When I spoke of this to Lord Loughborough, wishing to know if he recollected the prime mover in the business, he said, ' All his friends assisted ' : and when I told him that Mr. Sheridan strenuously asserted his claim to it, his Lordship said, ' He rang the bell.' And it is but just to add, that Mr. Sheridan told me, that when he communicated to Dr. Johnson that a pension was to be granted him he replied in a fervour of gratitude, ^The English language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. I must have recourse to the French. I am penetri with his Majesty's goodness.' AVhen I repeated this to Dr. Johnson he did not contradict it.
His definitions of pension and pensioner, partly founded on the satirical verses of Pope, which he quotes, may be generally true; and yet everybody must allow that there may be, and have been, in- stances of pensions given and received upon liberal and honourable terms. Thus, then, it is clear, that there was nothing inconsistent or humiliating in Johnson's accepting of a pension so unconditionally and so honourably offered to him.
But I shall not detain my readers longer by any
MT. S3] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 45
words of my own, on a subject on which I am happily- enabled, by the favour of the Earl of Bute, to present them with what Johnson himself wrote ; his Lordship having been pleased to communicate to me a copy of the following letter to his late father, which does great honour both to the writer and to the noble person to whom it is addressed : —
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OP BUTE
' Mr Lord, — "WTien the bills were yesterday delivered to me by Mr. Wedderburne, I was informed by him of the future favours which his Majesty has, by your Lordship's recom- mendation, been induced to intend for me.
' Boiuity always receives part of its value from the manner in which it is bestowed; your Lordship's kindness includes every circumstance that can gratify dehcacy or enforce obhgation. You have conferred your favours on a man who has neither alliance nor interest, who has not merited them by services, nor courted them by officiousness ; you have spared him the shame of solicitation and the anxiety of suspense.
' What has been thus elegantly given will, I hope, not be reproachfully enjoyed ; I shall endeavour to give your Lord- ship the only recompense which generosity desires, — the gratification of finding that your benefits are not improperl3' bestowed. — I am, my Lord, your Lordship's most obliged, most obedient, and most humble servant, Sah. Johnson.
'July SO, 1762.'
This year his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds paid a visit of some weeks to his native county, Devonshire, in which he was accompanied by Johnson, who was much pleased with this jaunt, and declared he had de- rived from it a great accession of new ideas. He was- entertained at the seats of several noblemen and gen- tlemen in the west of England ; ^ but the greatest
1 At one of these seats Dr. Amyat, physician in London, told me he happened to meet him. In order to amuse him till dinner should be
46 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
part of this time was passed at Plymouth, where the magnificence of the navy, the shipbuilding, and all its circumstances, afforded him a grand subject of contemplation. The Commissioner of the Dockyard paid him the compliment of ordering the yacht to convey him and his friend to the Eddystone, to which they accordingly sailed. But the weather was so tempestuous that they could not land.
Reynolds and he were at this time the guests of Dr. Mudge, the celebrated surgeon, and now physician of that place, not more distinguished for quickness of parts and variety of knowledge than loved and esteemed for his amiable manners ; and here Johnson formed an acquaintance with Dr. Mudge's father, that very eminent divine, the Reverend Zachariah Mudge, Pre- bendary of Exeter, who was idolised in the west, both for his excellence as a preacher and the uniform perfect propriety of his private conduct. He preached a sermon purposely that Johnson might hear him ; and we shall see afterwards that Johnson honoured his memory by drawing his character. While Johnson was at Plymouth he saw a great many of its inhabi- tants, and was not sparing of his very entertaining conversation. It was here that he made that frank and truly original confession, that 'ignorance, pure ignorance,' was the cause of a wrong definition in his Dictionary of the word pastern,'^ to the no small surprise of a lady who put the question to him ; who having
ready, he was taken out to walk in the garden. The master of the house, thinking it proper to introduce something scientific into the conversation, addressed him thus : ' Are you a botanist, Dr. John- son?' ' No, sir (answered Johnson), I am not a botanist ; and (allud- ing, no doubt, to his near-sightedness) should I wish to become a botanist, I must first turn myself into a reptile.' 1 See vol. i. p. 242.
^T. 53] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 47
the most profound reverence for his character, so as almost to suppose him endowed with infallibility, expected to hear an explanation (of what, to be sure, seemed strange to a common reader) drawn from some deep-learned source with which she was unacquainted. Sir Jo^ua Reynolds, to whom I was obliged for my information concerning this excursion, mentions a very characteristical anecdote of Johnson whUe at Plymouth. Having observed, that in consequence of the Dockyard a new town had arisen about two miles off as a rival to the old, and knowing from his sagacity, and just observation of human nature, that it is certain if a man hates at all he will hate his next neighbour, he concluded that this new and rising town could not but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in which conjecture he was very soon con- firmed ; he therefore set himself resolutely on the side of the old town, the established town, in which his lot was cast, considering it as a kind of duty to stand by it. He accordingly entered warmly into its interests, and upon every occasion talked of the dockers, as the inhabitants of the new town were called, as upstarts and aliens. Plymouth is very plentifully supplied with water by a river brought into it from a great distance, which is so abundant that it runs to waste in the town. The Dock, or new town, being totally destitute of water, petitioned Plymouth that a small portion of the conduit might be permitted to go to them, and this was now under consideration. Johnson, affecting to entertain the passions of the place, was violent in opposition ; and half laughing at himself for his pretended zeal, where he had no concern, ex- claimed, ' No, no ! I am against the dockers ; I am a
48 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762
Plymouth man. Rogues ! let them die of thirst. They shall not have a drop ! ' ^
Lord Macartney obligingly favoured me with a copy of the following letter, in his own handwriting, from the original, which was found, by the present Earl of Bute, among his father's papers : —
TO THE RIGHT HONOUBABLE THE EARL OF BUTE
'My Lokd, — That generosity, by which I was recommended to the favour of his Majesty, will not be offended at a solici- tation necessary to make that favour permanent and effectuaL
'The pension appointed to be paid me at Blichaelmas I have not received, and know not where or from whom I am to ask it. I beg, therefore, that your Lordship will be pleased to supply Mr. Wedderburne with such directions as may be necessary, which, I believe, his friendship will make him think it no trouble to convey to me.
'To interrupt your Lordship, at a time like this, with such petty difficulties, is improper and imseasonable ; but your knowledge of the world has long since taught you, that every man's affairs, however little, are important to himself. Every man hopes that he shall escape neglect ; and, with reason, may every man, whose vices do not preclude his claim, expect favotir from that beneficence which has been extended to, my Lord, your Lordship's most obhged and most humble servant, Sam. Johnson.
'Temple Lane, Nov. 3, 1762.'
TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN
'London, Dec. 21, 1762. 'Sib, — You are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, that I have passed all this time without writing to my Baretti. I gave a letter to Mr. Beauclerk, who in my opinion, and in his own, was hastening to Naples for the recovery of his health ; but he has stopped at Paris, and I know not when he will proceed. Langton is with him.
1 [A friend of mine once heard him, during this visit, exclaim with the utmost vehemence, ' I hate a docker.' — J. Blakewav.]
MT.S3] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 49
' I will not trouble you with speculations about peace and war. The good or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small part of domestic life : we all have good and evil, which we feel more sensibly than our petty part of public Baiscarriage or prosperity. I am sorry for your disap- pointment, with which you seem more touched than I shotild expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular occasions ; and that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide as our interest or affections. Every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful and patrons capricious : but he excepts his own mistress and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous, and that in courts life is often languished away in ung^atified expectation ; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot.
'Do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered, and thousands have surmoimted; but turn your thoughts with vigour to some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind, that, with due submission to Provi- dence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but by him- self. Your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. Of your love I know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power; but in love, as in every other passion of which hope ia the essence, we ought always to remember the im- certainty of events. There is, indeed, nothing that so much seduces reason from vigilance as the thought of passing life with an amiable woman; and if all would happen that a lover fancies, I know not what other terrestrial happiness would deserve pursuit. But love and marriage are different states. Those who are to suffer the evils together, ^ and to suffer often for the sake of one another, soon lose that tender- ness of look, and that benevolence of mind, which arose from the participation of vmmingled pleasure and successive amaBe>-
1 [Johnson probably wrote ' the evils of life together.' The words in italics, however, are not found in Baretti's original edition of this letter, but they may have been omitted inadvertently, either in his transcript or at the press. — M.]
VOIi. II. D
60 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763
ment. A woman, we are sure, will not be always fair ; we are not sure she will always be virtuous ; and man cannot retain through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day or for a month. I do not, however, pretend to have discovered that life has anything more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage: therefore know not what counsel to give you^
' If you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune of literature and industry, the way through France is now open. "We flatter ourselves that we shall cultivate, with great diligence, the arts of peace ; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach us any- thing we do not know. For your part, you will find aU your old friends willing to receive you.
' Reynolds stiU continues to increase in reputation and in riches. Miss "WiUiams, who very much loves you, goes on in the old way. Miss Cotterell is stiU with Mrs. Porter. Miss Charlotte is married to Dean Lewis, and has three children. Mr. Levet has married a street- walker. But the gazette of my narration must now arrive to tell you that Bathurst went physician to the army, and died at the Havanuah.
' I know not whether I have not sent you word that Huggins and Richardson axe both dead. When we see our enemies and friends gliding away before us, let us not forget that we are subject to the general law of mortality, and shall soon be where our doom will be fijsed for ever. I pray Grod to bless you, and am, sir, your most affectionate humble servant,
'Sam. Johnson.
' Write soon-'
In 1763 he furnished to The Poetical Calendar, pub- lished by Fawkes and Woty, a character of Collins, which he afterwards ingrafted into his entire life of that admirable poet, in the collection of lives which he wrote for the body of English poetry^ formed and published by the booksellers of London. His account of the melancholy depression with which Collins was
^T. 54] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 61
severely afBictedj and which brought him to his grave, is, I think, one of the most tender and interesting passages in the whole series of his writings. He also favoured Mr. Hoole with the Dedication of his trans- lation of Tasso to the Queen, which is so happily conceived and elegantly expressed, that I cannot but point it out to the peculiar notice of my readers.^
This is to me a memorable year ; for in it I had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that extra- ordinary man whose memoirs I am now writing ; an acquaintance which I shall ever esteem as one of the most fortunate circumstances in my life. Though then but two-and-twenty, I had for several years read his works with delight and instruction, and had the highest reverence for their author, which had grown up in my fancy into a kind of mysterious veneration, by figuring to myself a state of solemn elevated abstraction, in which I supposed him to live in the immense metropolis of London. Mr. Gentleman, a native of Ireland, who passed some years in Scotland
1 ' Madam, — To approach the high and illustrious has heen in all ages the privilege of Poets ; and though translators cannot justly claim the same honour, yet they naturally follow their authors as attendants ; and I hope that in return for having enabled Tasso to diffuse his fame through the British dominions, I may be introduced by him to the presence of Your Majesty.
' Tasso has a peculiar claim to Your Majesty's favour, as follower and panegyrist of the House of Este, which has one common ancestor with the House of Hanover ; and in reviewing his life it is not easy to forbear a wish that he had lived in a happier time, when he might among the descendants of that illustrious family have found a more Uberal and potent patronage.
' I cannot but observe, Madam, how unequally reward is propor- tioned to merit, when I reflect that the happiness which was with* held from Tasso is reserved for me ; and that the poem which once hardly procured to its author the countenance of the Princes of Ferrara, hak attracted to its translator the favourable notice of a British Queen.
' Had this been the fate of Tasso, he would have been able to have celebrated the condescension of Your Majesty in nobler language, but could not have fejt it with more ardent gratitude, than, Madam, Your Majesty's most faithful and devoted servant.'
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as a player, and as an instructor in the English language, a man whose talents and worth were de- pressed by misfortunes, had given me a representa^ tion of the figure and manner of Dictionary Johnson ! as he was then generally called ; ^ and during my first visit to London, which was for three months in 1760, Mr. Derrick the poet, who was Gentleman's friend and countryman, flattered me with hopes that he would introduce me to Johnson, an honour of which I was very ambitious. But he never found an opportunity ; which made me doubt that he had pro- mised to do what was not in his power ; till Johnson some years afterwards told me, ' Derrick, sir, might very well have introduced you. I had a kindness for Derrick, and am sorry he is dead.'
In the summer of 1761 Mr. Thomas Sheridan was at Edinburgh, and delivered lectures upon the English Language and Public Speaking to large and respect- able audiences. I was often in his company, and heard him frequently expatiate on Johnson's extra- ordinary knowledge, talents, and virtues, repeat his pointed sayings, describe his particularities, and boast of his being his guest sometimes till two or three in the morning. At his house I hoped to have many opportunities of seeing the sage, as Mr. Sheridan obligingly assured me I should not be disappointed.
When I returned to London in the end of 1762, to my surprise and regret I found an irreconcilable
1 As great men of antiquity, such as Scipio Africanus, had an epithet added to their names, in consequence of some celebrated action, so my illustrious friend was often called Dictionary Johnson, from that wonderful achievement of genius and labour, his Dictionary of the English Language \ the merit of which I contemplate with more and more admiration.
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difference had taken place between Johnson and Sheridan, A pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan. Johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of Sheri- dan's art, upon hearing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed, ' What ! have they given him a pension ? Then it is time for me to give up mine.' Whether this proceeded from a momentary indignation, as if it were an affront to his exalted merit that a player should be rewarded in the same manner with him, or was the sudden effect of a iit of peevishness, it was unluckily said, and, indeed, cannot be justified. Mr. Sheridan's pension was granted to him not as a player, but as a sufferer in the cause of Government, when he was manager of the Theatre Royal in Ireland, when parties ran high in 1753. And it must also be allowed that he was a man of literature, and had considerably improved the arts of reading and speaking with dis- tinctness and propriety.
Besides, Johnson should have recollected that Mr. Sheridan taught pronunciation to Mr. Alexander Wedderburne, whose sister was married to Sir Harry Erskine, an intimate friend of Lord Bute, who was the favourite of the King ; and surely the most outrageous Whig will not maintain that, whatever ought to be the principle in the disposal of offices, a pension ought never to be granted from any bias of court connection. Mr. Macklin, indeed, shared with Mr. Sheridan the honour of instructing Mr. Wedderburne ; and though it was too late in life for a Caledonian to acquire the genuine English cadence, yet so successful were Mr. Wedderburne's instructors, and his own unabatiug endeavours, that he got rid of the coarse part of the
54 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763
Scotch accent, retaining only as much of the ' native wood-note wild ' as to mark his country ; which, if any Scotchman should affect to forget, I should heartily despise him. Nowithstanding the difficulties which are to be encountered by those who have not had the advantage of an English education, he by degrees formed a mode of speaking, to which English- men do not deny the praise of elegance. Hence his distinguished oratory, which he exerted in his own country as an advocate in the Court of Session, and a rulmg elder of the Kirk, has had its fame and ample reward in much higher spheres. When I look back on this noble person at Edinburgh, in situations so unworthy of his brilliant powers, and behold Lord Loughborough at London, the change seems almost like one of the metamorphoses in Ovid ; and as his two preceptors, by refining his utterance, gave cur- rency to his talents, we may say in the words of that poet, ' Nam vos mutastis. '
I have dwelt the longer upon this remarkable in- stance of successful parts and assiduity ; because it affords animating encouragement to other gentlemen of North Britain to try their fortunes in the southern part of the island, where they may hope to gratify their utmost ambition ; and now that we are one people by the Union, it would surely be illiberal to maintain that they have not an equal title with the natives of any other part of his Majesty's dominions.
Johnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was, that after a pause he added, ' However, I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man. ' Sheridan coulp
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never forgive this hasty contemptuous expression. It rankled in his mind ; and though I informed him of all that Johnson said, and that he would he very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated offers which I made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and I were engaged to dine, because he was told that Dr. Johnson was to be there. I have no sympathetic feeling with such persevering resentment. It is painful when there is a breach between those who have lived together socially and cordially ; and I wonder there is not, in all such cases, a mutual wish that it should be healed. I could per- ceive that Mr. Sheridan was by no means satisfied with Johnson's acknowledging him to be a good man. That could not soothe his injured vanity. I could not but smile, at the same time that I was offended, to observe Sheridan in the Life of Swift, which he afterwards published, attempting, in the writhings of his resentment, to depreciate Johnson, by character- ising him as ' a writer of gigantic fame in these days of little men ' ; that very Johnson whom he once so highly admired and venerated.
This rupture with Sheridan deprived Johnson of one of his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely evenings ; for Sheridan's well-informed, animated, and bustling mind never suffered conversa- tion to stagnate ; and Mrs. Sheridan was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual man. She was sensible, ingenious, unassuming, yet communicative. I recollect, with satisfaction, many pleasing hours which I passed with her under the hospitable roof of her husband, who was to me a very kind friend. Her novel, entitled Memoirs of Miss Sydney Biddulph, con-
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tains an excellent moral while it inculcates a future state of retribution ; ^ and what it teaches is impressed upon the mind by a series of as deep distress as can aflFect humanity, in the amiable and pious heroine who goes to her grave unrelieved, but resigned, and full of hope of ' Heaven's mercy. ' Johnson paid her this high compliment upon it : ' I know not, madam, that you have a right upon moral principles to make your readers suflFer so much.'
Mr. Thomas Davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in Russel Street, Covent Garden,*
1 My position has been very well illustrated by Mr. Belsham of Bedford, in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry. ' The fashionable doctrine (says he) both of moralists and critics in these times is, that virtue and happiness are constant concomitants ; and it is regarded as a kind of dramatic impiety to maintain that virtue should not be rewarded, nor vice punished, in the last scene of the last act of every tragedy. This conduct in our modern poets is, however, in my opinion, extremely injudicious ; for it labours in vain to inculcate a doctrine in theory, which every one knows to be false in fact, viz. , that virtue in real life is always productive of happiness, and vice of misery. Thus Congreve concludes the Tragedy of The Mourning Bride with the following foolish couplet : —
" For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, And, though a late, a sure reward succeeds."
'When a man eminently virtuous, a Brutus, a Cato, or a Socrates, finally sinks under the pressure of accumulated misfortune, we are not only led to entertain a more indignant hatred of vice than if he rose from his distress, but we are inevitably induced to cherish the sublime idea that a day of future retribution will arrive when he shall receive not merely poetical, but real and substantial justice.' — Essays Philoso- phical, Historical, and Literary, London, 1791, vol. ii. 8vo, p. 317.
This is well reasoned and well expressed. I wish, indeed, that the ingenious author had not thought it necessary to introduce any instance of ' a man eminently virtuous ' ; as he would then have avoided mention- ing such a ruffian as Brutus under that description. Mr. Belsham discovers in his Essays so much reading and thinking and good com- position, that I regret his not having been fortunate enough to be educated a member of our excellent national establishment. Had he not been nursed in nonconformity, he probably would not have been tainted with those heresies (as I sincerely, and on no slight investiga- tion, think them) both in religion and politics, which, while I read, I am sure, with candour, I cannot read without offence.
2 No. 8. The very place where I was fortunate enough to be intro- duced to the illustrious subject of this work deserves to be particnlarly marked. I never piass by it without feeling reverence and regret.
^T. 54] LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 57
told me that Johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him ; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us.
Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with the advantage of a liberal education. Though somewhat pompous, he was an entertaining companion ; and his literary performances have no inconsiderable share of merit. He was a friendly and very hospitable man. Both he and his wife (who has been celebrated for her beauty), though upon the stage for many years, maintained a uniform decency of character : and Johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with them as with any family he used to visit. Mr. Davies recollected several of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner while relating them. He increased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works I highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly excellent.
At last, on Monday the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back parlour, after having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson un- expectedly came into the shop ; ^ and Mr. Davies
1 Mr. Murphy, in his Essay on the Life and Genius of Dr. Johnson, has given an account of this meeting considerably different from mine, I am persuaded without any consciousness of error. _ His memory, at the end of near thirty years, has undoubtedly deceived him, and he supposes himself to have been present at a scene, which he has pro- bably heard inaccurately described by others. In my note, taken on the very day, in which I am confident I marked everything material that passed, no mention is made of this gentleman ; and I am sure that I should not have omitted one so well known in the literary world. It may easily be imagined that this my first interview with Dr. Johnson, with all its circumstances, nuide a strong impression on my mind, and would be registered with peculiar attention.
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having' perceived him through the glass door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us, — ^he announced his awful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, ' Look, my Lord, it comes.' I found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy-chair in deep meditation ; which was the first picture his friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, ' Don't tell where I come from.' ' From Scotland,' cried Davies roguishly. ' Mr. Johnson (said I), I do indeed come from Scotland, but 1 cannot help it' I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as a humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression ' come from Scotland,' which I used in the sense of being of that country ; and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, ' That, sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' This stroke stunned me a good deal ; and when we had sat down I felt myself not a little embarrassed and apprehensive of what
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might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies : ' What do you think of Garrick .'' He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings.' Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, ' O, sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you.' ' Sir (said he, with a stern look) I have known David Garrick longer than you have done : and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.' Perhaps I deserved this check ; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justness of the animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. ^ I now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. Fortunately, however, I remained upon the field not wholly discomfited ; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his con- versation, of which I preserved the following short minute, without marking the questions and observa- tions by which it was produced.
' People (he remarked) may be taken in once, who
1 That this was a momentary sally against Garrick there can be no doubt ; for at Johnson's desire he had, some years before, given a benefit night at his theatre to this very person, by which she had got two hundred pounds. Johnson, indeed, upon all other occasions, when I was in his company, praised the very liberal charity of Garrick. I once mentioned to him, ' It is observed, sir, that you attack Garrick yourself, but will suffer nobody else to do it." Johnson (smiling), Why, sir, that is very true.'
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imagine that an author is greater in private file than other men. Uncommon parts require uncommon opportunities for their exertion.
' In barbarous society, superiority of parts is of real consequence. Great strength or great wisdom is of much value to an individual. But in more polished times there are people to do everything for money ; and then there are a number of other superiorities, such as those of birth and fortune and rank, that dis- sipate men's attention, and leave no extraordinary share of respect for personal and intellectual superior- ity. This is wisely ordered by Providence, to preserve some equality among mankind.'
* Sir, this book {The Elements of Criticism, which he had taken up) is a pretty essay, and deserves to be held in some estimation, though much of it is chimerical.'
Speaking of one who with more than ordinary bold- ness attacked public measures and the royal family, he said, ' I think he is safe from the law, but he is an abusive scoundrel ; and instead of applying to my Lord Chief-Justice to punish him I would send half a dozen footmen and have him well ducked. '
' The notion of liberty amuses the people of Eng- land, and helps to keep off the tcedium vitcB. When a butcher tells you that his heart bleeds for his country, he has, in fact, no uneasy feeling. '
' Sheridan will not succeed at Bath with his oratory. Ridicule has gone down before him, and, I doubt, Derrick is his enemy. ^
' Derrick may do very well, as long as he can out-
1 Mr. Sheridan was then reading lectures upon Oratory at Bath, where Derrick was Master of the Ceremonies ; or, as the phrase is, King.
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run his character ; hut the moment his character gets up with him^ it is all over. '
It is, however, but just to record, that some years afterwards, when I reminded him of this sarcasm, he said, ' Well, but Derrick has now got a character that he need not run away from.'
I was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his conversation, and regretted that I was drawn away from it by an engagement at another place. I had, for a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had ventured to make an observation now and then, which he received very civilly ; so that I was satisfied that though there was a roughness in his manner there was no ill-nature in his disposition. Davies followed me to the door, and when I com- plained to him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, ' Don't be uneasy. I can see he likes you very well. '
A few days afterwards I called on Davies, and asked him if he thought I might take the liberty of waiting on Mr. Johnson at his chambers in the Temple. He said I certainly might, and that Mr. Johnson would take it as a compliment. So upon Tuesday the 24th of May, after having been enlivened by the witty sallies of Messieurs Thornton, Wilkes, Churchill, and Lloyd, with whom I had passed the morning, I boldly repaired to Johnson. His chambers were on the first floor of No. 1 Inner Temple Lane, and I entered them with an impression given me by the Rev. Dr. Blair of Edinburgh, who had been introduced to him not long before, and described his having ' found the Giant in his den ' ; an expression which, when I came
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to be pretty well acquainted with Johnson, I repeated to him, and he was diverted at this picturesque account ot himself. Dr. Blair had been presented to him by Dr. James Fordyce. At this time the controversy concerning the pieces published by Mr. James Mac- pherson as translations of Ossian was at its height. Johnson had all along denied their authenticity ; and, what was still more provoking to their admirers, maintained that they had no merit. The subject having been introduced by Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Blair, relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, asked Dr. Johnson whether he thought any man of a modern age could have written such poems ? Johnson replied, ' Yes, sir, many men, many women, and many children.' Johnson, at this time, did not know that Dr. Blair had just published a Dissertation, not only defending their authenticity, but seriously ranking them with the poems of Homer and Virgil ; and when he was afterwards informed of this circum- stance, he expressed some displeasure at Dr. Fordyce's having suggested the topic, and said, ' I am not sorry that they got thus much for their pains. Sir, it was like leading one to talk of a book when the author is concealed behind the door.'
He received me very courteously ; but it must be confessed that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty ; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head ; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose ; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up ; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. But all these slovenly particularities were
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forgotten the moment that he began to talk. Some gentlemen, whom I do not recollect, were sitting with him ; and when they went away I also rose ; but he said to me, ' Nay, don't go.' ' Sir (said I), I am afraid that I intrude upon you. It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.' He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely paid him, and answered, ' Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits me. ' I have preserved the following short minute of what passed this day.
' Madness frequently discovers itself merely by un- necessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind by falling upon his knees and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray that their understanding is not called in question.'
Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, who was confined in a madhouse, he had, at another time, the following conversation with Dr. Bumey. Bubney : ' How does poor Smart do, sir ? is he likely to recover ? ' Johnson : It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease ; for he grows fat upon it.' Burney: 'Perhaps, sir, that may be from want of exercise.' Johnson : ' No, sir ; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house ; but he was carried back again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infirmities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him ;
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and I 'd as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love clean linen ; and I have no passion for it.'
Johnson continued. ' Mankind had a great aver- sion to intellectual labour ; but even supposing know- ledge to be easily attainable, more people would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little trouble to acquire it.
* The morality of an action depends on the motive from which we act. If I fling half a crown to a beggar with intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys victuals with it, the physical effect is good ; but with respect to me the action is very wrong. So, religious exercises, if not performed with an intention to please God, avail us nothing. As our Saviour says of those who perform them from other motives, " Verily they have their reward."
' The Christian religion has very strong evidences. It, indeed, appears in some degree strange to reason ; but in history we have undoubted facts, against which, in reasoning d priori, we have more arguments than we have for them ; but then, testimony has great weight, and casts the balance. I would recommend to every man whose faith is yet unsettled, Grotius, Dr. Pearson, and Dr. Clarke.'
Talking of Garrick, he said, ' He is the first man in the world for sprightly conversation.'
When I rose a second time he again pressed me to stay, which I did.
He told me that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home till two in the morning. I took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of
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his great talents. He owned it was a bad habit. On reviewing, at the distance of many years^ my journal of this period, I wonder how, at my first visit, I ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it with so much indulgence.
Before we parted he was so good as to promise to favour me with his company one evening at my lodg- ings ; and as I took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. It is almost needless to add, that I felt no little elation at having now so happily established an acquaintance of which I had been so long ambitious.
My readers will, I trust, excuse me for being thus minutely circumstantial, when it is considered that the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson was to me a most valuable acquisition, and laid the foundation of what- ever instruction and entertainment they may receive from my collections concerning the great subject of the work which they are now perusing.
I did not visit him again till Monday, June 13, at which time I recollect no part of his conversation, except that when I told him I had been to see Johnson ride upon three horses, he said, 'Such a man, sir, should be encouraged ; for his performances show the extent of the human powers in one instance, and thus tend to raise our opinion of the faculties of man. He shows what may be attained by persevering applica- tion ; so that every man may hope that by giving as much application, although perhaps he may never ride three horses at a time, or dance upon a wire, yet he may be equally expert in whatever profession he has chosen to pursue.'
He again shook me by the hand at parting, and asked me why I did not come oftener to him. Trust-
VOL. II. B
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ing that I was now in his good gi-aces, I answered, that he had not given me much encouragement, and reminded him of the check I had received from him at our first interview. ' Poh, poh ! (said he, with a complacent smUe), never mind these things. Come to me as often as you can. I shall be glad to see you.'
I had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the Mitre tavern in Fleet Street, where he loved to sit up late, and I begged I might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he promised I should. A few days afterwards I met him near Temple Bar about one o'clock in the morning, and asked if he would then go to the Mitre. ' Sir (said he), it is too late ; they won't let us in. But I '11 go with you another night with all my heart.'
A revolution of some importance in my plan of life had just taken place ; for instead of procuring a com- mission in the foot-guards, which was my own inclina- tion, I had, in compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the law, and was soon to set out for Utrecht, to hear the lectures of an excellent Civilian in that University, and then to proceed on my travels. Though very desirous of obtaining Dr. Johnson's advice and instruction on the mode of pursuing my studies^ I was at this time so occupied, shall I call it .'' or so dissipated, by the amusements of London, that our next meeting was not till Saturday, June 25, when, happening to dine at Clifton's eating-house in Butcher Row, I was surprised to perceive Johnson come in and take his seat at another table. The mode of dining, or rather being fed, at such houses in London is well known to many to be particularly unsocial, as there
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is no Ordinary, or united company, but each person has his own mess, and is under no obligation to hold any intercourse with any one. A liberal and full- minded man, however, who loves to talk will break through this churlish and unsocial restraint John- son and an Irish gentleman got into a dispute con- cerning the cause of some part of mankind being black. 'Why, sir (said Johnson), it has been ac- counted for in three ways : either by supposing that they are the posterity of Ham, who was cursed ; or that God at first created two kinds of men, one black and another white ; or that by the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. This matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, but has never been brought to any certain issue.' What the Irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind ; but I remember that he became very warm and intemperate in his expressions, upon which Johnson rose and quietly walked away. When he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he thought, by saying, ' He has a most ungainly figure, and an affectation of pomposity unworthy of a man of genius.'
Johnson had not observed that I was in the room. I followed him, however, and he agreed to meet me in the evening at the Mitre. I called on him, and we went thither at nine. We had a good supper, and port wine, of which he then sometimes drank a bottle. The orthodox high-church sound of the Mitre, — the figure and manner of the celebrated Samuel Johnson, — the extraordinary power and precision of his con- versation, and the pride ■ arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of
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eensationSj and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what I had ever before experienced. I find in my Journal the following minute of our conversation, which, though it will give but a very faint notion of what passed, is, in some degree, a valuable record ; and it will be curious in this view as showing how habitual to his mind were some opinions which appear in his works,
' Colley Gibber, sir, was by no means a blockhead ; but by arrogating to himself too much, he was in danger of losing that degree of estimation to which he was entitled. His friends give out that he intended his birthday Odes should be bad : but that was not the case, sir ; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died he showed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be, and I made some corrections, to which he was not very willing to submit. I remember the fol- lowing couplet in allusion to the King and himself :
"Perch'd on the eagle's soaring -wmg. The lowly linnet loves to sing."
Sir, he had heard something of the fabulous tale of the wren sitting upon the eagle's wing, and he had applied it to a linnet. Gibber's familiar style, how- ever, was better than that which ^VTiitehead has assumed. Grand nonsense is insupportable. WTiite- head is but a little man to inscribe verses to players.'
I did not presume to controvert this censure, which was tinctured with his prejudice against players, but 1 could not help thinking that a dramatic poet might with propriety pay a compliment to an eminent per-
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former, as Whitehead has very happily done in his verses to Mr. Garrick.
' Sir, I do not think Gray a first-rate poet. He has not a bold imagination, nor much command of words. The obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime. His " Elegy in a Churchyard " has a happy selection of images, but I don't like what are called his great things. His Ode which begins
" Ruin seize thee, ruthless King, Confusion on thy banners wait ! "
has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging into the subject all at once. But such arts as these have no merit, unless when they are original. We admire them only once ; and this abruptness has nothing new in it. We have had it often before. Nay, we have it in the old song of Johnny Armstrong :
"Is there ever a man in all Scotland, From the highest estate to the lowest degree," etc.
And then, sir,
"Yes, there is a man in Westmoreland, And Johnny Armstrong they do him call."
There, now, you plunge at once into the subject. You have no previous narration to lead you to it. — The two next lines in that Ode are, I think, very good :
"Though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing. They mock the air with idle state." ' ^
1 My friend Mr. Malone, in his valuable comments on Shakespeare, has traced in that g^eat poet the disjecta membra of these lines.
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Here let it be observed, that although his opinion of Gray's poetry was widely different from mine, and I believe from that of most men of taste, by whom it is with justice highly admired, there is certainly much absurdity in the clamour which has been raised, as if he had been culpably injurious to the merit of that bard, and had been actuated by envy. Alas ! ye little short-sighted critics, could Johnson be envious of the talents of any of his contemporaries? That his opinion on this subject was what in private and in public he uniformly expressed, regardless of what others might think, we may wonder, and perhaps regret ; but it is shallow and unjust to charge him with expressing what he did not think.
Finding him in a placid humour, and wishing to avail myself of the opportunity which I fortunately had of consulting a sage, to hear whose wisdom, I conceived in the ardour of youthful imagination, that men fiUed with a noble enthusiasm for intellectual improvement would gladly have resorted from distant lands, I opened my mind to him ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, to which he was pleased to listen with great attention.
I acknowledged, that though educated very strictly in the principles of religion, I had for some time been misled into a certain degree of infidelity ; but that T was come now to a better way of thinking, and was fully satisfied of the truth of the Christian revelation, though I was not clear as to every point considered to be orthodox. Being at all times a curious examiner of the human mind, and pleased with an undisguised display of what had passed in it, he called to me with warmth, * Give me your hand ; I have taken a liking
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to you.' He then began to descant upon the force of testimony, and the little we could know of final causes; so that the objections of. Why was it so? or. Why was it not so .'' ought not to disturb us : adding, that he himself had at one period been guilty of a temporary neglect of religion, but that it was not the result of argument, but mere absence of thought.
After having given credit to reports of his bigotry, I was agreeably surprised when he expressed the fol- lowing very liberal sentiment, which has the addi- tional value of obviating an objection to our holy religion, founded upon the discordant tenets of Chris- tians themselves : ' For my part, sir, I think all Christians, whether Papists or Protestants, agree in the essential articles, and that their differences are trivial, and rather political than religious.'
We talked of belief in ghosts. He said, ' Sir, I make a distinction between what a man may experi- ence by the mere strength of his imagination, and what imagination cannot possibly produce. Thus, suppose I should think that I saw a form, and heard a voice cry, " Johnson, you are a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will certainly be punished"; my own unworthiness is so deeply impressed upon my mind that I might imagine I thus saw and heard, and therefore I should not believe that an external com- munication had been made to me. But if a form should appear, and a voice should tell me that a parti- cular man had died at a particular place, and a par- ticular hour, a fact which I had no apprehension of, nor any means of knowing, and this fact, with all its circumstances, should afterwards be unquestionably
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proved, I should, in that case, be persuaded that I had supernatural intelligence imparted to me.'
Here it is proper, once for all, to give a true and fair statement of Johnson's way of thinking upon the question, whether departed spirits are ever permitted to appear in this world, or in any way to operate upon human life. He has been ignorantly misrepresented as weakly credulous upon that subject ; and there- fore, though I feel an inclination to disdain and treat with silent contempt so foolish a notion concerning my illustrious friend, yet, as I find it has gained ground, it is necessary to refute it. The real fact then is, that Johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such a rational respect for testimony as to make him submit his understanding to what was authenti- cally proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so. Being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages. But so far was he from being the dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it. Churchill, in his poem entitled 'The Ghost,' availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to Johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of 'Pomposo,' representing him as one of the believers of the story of a Ghost in Cock Lane, which, in the year 1762, had gained very general credit in London, Many of my readers, I am convinced, are to this hour under an impression that Johnson was thus foolishly deceived. It will therefore surprise them a good dela when they are informed, upon undoubted authority.
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that Johnson was one of those by whom the imposture was detected. The story had become so popular, that he thought it should be investigated ; and in this research he was assisted by the Reverend Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, the great detecter of im- postures, who informs me that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, Johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was published in the news- papers and Gentleman's Magazine, and undeceived the world. *
1 The account was as follows : ' On the night of the ist of February, many gentlemen, eminent for their rank and character, were, by the invitation of the Reverend Mr. Aldrich, of Clerkenwell, assembled at his house, for the examination of the noises supposed to be made by a departed spirit, for the detection of some enormous crime.
' About ten at night the gentlemen met in the chamber in which the girL supposed to be disturbed by a spirit, had, with proper caution, been put to bed by several ladies. They sat rather more than an hour, and, tearing nothing, went downstairs, when they interrogated the father of the girl, who denied, in the strongest terms, any knowledge or belief of fraud.
'The supposed spirit had before publicly promised, by an affirmative knock, that it would attend one of the gentlemen into the vault under the church of St. John, Clerkenwell, where the body is deposited, and give a token of her presence there by a knock upon her coffin ; it was therefore determined to make this trial of the existence or veracity of the supposed spirit.
' While they were inquiring and deliberating, they were summoned into the girl's chamber by some ladies who were near her bed, and who had heard knocks and scratches. When the gentlemen entered, the girl declared that she felt the spirit like a mouse upon her back, and was required to hold her hands out of bed. From that time, though the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, by scratches, knocks, or any other agency, no evidence of any preter- natural power was exhibited.
'The spirit was then very seriously advertised that the person to whom the promise was made of strikmg the coffin was then about to visit the vault, and that the performance of the promise was then claimed. The company at one o'clock went into the church, and the gentleman to whom the promise was made went with another into the vault. The spirit was solemnly required to perform its promise, but nothing more than silence ensued : the person supposed to be accused by the spirit then went down with several others, but no effect was perceived. Upon their return they examined the girl, but could draw
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Our conversation proceeded. ' Sir (said he), I am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society. There is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed.'
'Dr. Goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an author, and he is a very worthy man too. He has been loose in his principles, but he is coming right.'
I mentioned Mallet's tragedy of Elvira, which had been acted the preceding winter at Drury Lane, and that the Honourable Andrew Erskine, Mr. Dempster, and myself, had joined in writing a pamphlet, entitled ' Critical Strictures,' against it ; ^ that the mildness of Dempster's disposition had, however, relented, and he candidly said, ' We have hardly a right to abuse this tragedy ; for, bad as it is, how vain should either of us be to write one not near so good.' Johnson; 'Why, no, sir; this is not just reasoning. You may abuse a tragedy, though you cannot write one. You may scold a carpenter who has made you a bad table, though you cannot make a table. It is not your trade to make tables.'
"NVTien I talked to him of the paternal estate to which I was heir, he said, ' Sir, let me tell you, that to be a Scotch landlord, where you have a number of families dependent upon you, and attached to you, is, perhaps, as high a situation as humanity can arrive at.
no confession from her. Between two and three she desired and was permitted to go home with her father.
' It is, therefore, the opinion of the whole assembly, that the child has some art of making or counterfeiting a particular noise, and that there is no agency of any higher cause. '
1 The Critical Review, in which Mallet himself sometimes wrote, characterised this pamphlet as 'the crude efforts of envy, petulance, and self-conceit.' There being thus three epithets, we the three authors had a humorous contention how each should be appropriated.
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A merchant upon the 'Change of London, with £100,000, is nothing ; an English Duke, with an immense fortune, is nothing ; he has no tenants who consider themselves as under his patriarchal care, and who will follow him to the field upon an emergency.'
His notion of the dignity of a Scotch landlord had been formed upon what he had heard of the Highland Chiefs ; for it is long since a Lowland landlord has been so curtailed in his feudal authority that he has little more influence over his tenants than an English landlord ; and of late years most of the Highland Chiefs have destroyed, by means too well known, the princely power which they once enjoyed.
He proceeded : ' You are going abroad, sir, and breaking off idle habits may be of great importance to you. I would go where there are courts and learned men. There is a good deal of Spain that has not been perambulated. I would have you go thither. A man of inferior talents to yours may furnish us with useful observations upon that country.' His supposing me, at that period of life, capable of writing an account of my travels that would deserve to be read, elated me not a little.
I appeal to every impartial reader whether this faithful detail of his frankness, complacency, and kindness to a young man, a stranger and a Scotchman, does not refute the unjust opinion of the harshness of his general demeanour. His occasional reproofs of folly, impudence, or impiety, and even the sudden sallies of his constitutional irritability of temper, which have been preserved for the poignancy of their wit, have produced that opinion among those who have not considered that such instances, though collected
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by Mrs. Piozzi into a small volume, and read over in a few hours, were, in fact, scattered through a long series of years ; years in which his time was chiefly spent in instructing and delighting mankind by his writings and conversation, in acts of piety to God and good-will to men.
I complained to him that I had not yet acquired much knowledge, and asked his advice as to my studies. He said, ' Don't talk of study now. I wUl give you a plan ; but it will require some time to con- sider of it.' 'It is very good in you (I replied) to allow me to be with you thus. Had it been foretold to me some years ago that I should pass an evening with the author of the Rambler, how should I have exulted !' What I then expressed was sincerely from the heart. He was satisfied that it was, and cordially answered, ' Sir, I am glad we have met. I hope we shall pass many evenings, and mornings too, together.' We finished a couple of bottles of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning.
He wrote this year in the Critical Review the account of *Telemachus, a Mask,' by the Reverend George Graham, of Eton College. The subject of this beautiful poem was particularly interesting to Johnson, who had much experience of 'the conflict of opposite principles,' which he describes as 'the contention between pleasure and virtue, a struggle which wUl always be continued while the present system of nature shall subsist ; nor can history or poetry exhibit more than pleasure triumphing over virtue, and virtue subjugating pleasure.'
As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, I shall endeavour to make my readers
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in some degree acquainted with his singular character. He was a native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke at Trinity College, Dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity.^ He, however, observed to Mr. Malone, that 'though he made no great figure in mathematics, which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an Ode of Horace into English better than any of them.' He afterwards studied physic at Edinburgh, and upon the Continent, and, I have been informed, was enabled to pursue his travels on foot, partly by demanding at Universities to enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted ; so that, as I once observed to Dr. Johnson, he disputed his passage through Europe. He then came to England, and was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a newspaper. He had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the con- templation of such a model. To me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale.
At this time I think he had published nothing with
1 [Goldsmith got a premium at a Christmas examination in Trinity College, Dublin, which I have seen.— K.]
[A _premium obtained at the Christmas examination is generally more honourable than any other, because it ascertains the person who receives it to be the first in literary merit. At the other examinations, the person thus distinguished may be only the second in merit ; he who has previously obtained the same honorary reward sometimes receiving a written certificate that Ae was the best answerer, it being a rule that no more than one premium should be adjudged to the same person in one year. See vol. i. p. 261. — M.]
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his name^ though it was pretty generally known that one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe, and of The Citizen of the World — a series of letters supposed to be written from London by a Chinese. '^ No man had the art of displaying with more advantage as a writer whatever literary acquisitions he made. 'Nihil quod tetigit non ornavit.'^ His mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil. There was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not grow there ; but the elegant shrub- bery and the fragrant parterre appeared in gay succes- sion. It has been generally circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conversation ; ^ but in truth this has been greatly exaggerated. He had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes produces a laughable confusion in express- ing them. He was very much what the French call un etourdi, and from vanity and an eager desire of
1 [He had also published, in 1759, ' TJte Bee, being Essays on the most interesting subjects.' — M.]
2 See his Epitaph in Westminster Abbey, written by Dr. Johnson.
3 In allusion to this, Mr. Horace Walpole, who admired his writings, said be was ' an inspired idiot ' ; and Garrick described him as one,
' for shortness call'd Noll, Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll.'
Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned to me that he frequently heard Gold- smith talk warmly of the pleasure of being liked, and observe how hard it would be if literary excellence should preclude a man from that satisfaction, which he perceived it often did, from the envy which attended it ; and therefore Sir Joshua was convinced that he was intentionally more absurd, in order to lessen himself in social inter- course, trusting that his character would be sufficiently supported by his work. If it indeed was his intention to appear absurd in company, he was often very successful. But with due deference to Sir Joshua's ingenuity, I think the conjecture too refined.
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being conspicuous wherever he was^ he frequently talked carelessly without knowledge of the subject, or even without thought. His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. Those who were in any way distinguished excited envy in him to so ridiculous an excess that the instances of it are hardly credible. When accompany- ing two beautiful young ladies ^ with their mother on a tour in France, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him ; and once at the exhibition of the Fantoccini in London, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with some warmth, ' Pshaw ! I can do it better myself. ' ^
He, I am afraid, had no settled system of any sort, so that his conduct must not be strictly scrutinised ; but his affections were social and generous, and when he had money he gave it away very liberally. His desire of imaginary consequence predominated over his attention to truth. When he began to rise into notice, he said he had a brother who was Dean of Durham,^ a fiction so easily detected, that It was wonderful how he should have been so inconsiderate as to hazard it. He boasted to me at this time of the power of his pen in commanding money, which I
1 Miss Homecks, one of whom is now married to Henry Bunbury, Esq., and the other to Colonel Gwyn.
2 He went home with Mr. Burke to supper ; and broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets.
3 I am willing to hope that there may have been some mistake as to this anecdote, tnough I had it from a dignitary of the Church. Dr. Isaac Goldsmith, his near relation, was Dean of Cloyne, in 1747.
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believe was true in a certain degree^ though in the instance he gave he was by no means correct. He told me that he had sold a novel for four hundred pounds. This was his Vicar of Wakefield. But Johnson in- formed me^ that he had made the bargain for Gold- smith, and the price was sixty pounds. 'And, sir (said he), a sufficient price too, when it was sold ; for then the fame of Goldsmith had not been elevated, as it afterwards was, by his Traveller ; and the bookseller had such faint hopes of profit by his bargain, that he kept the manuscript by him a long time, and did not publish it till after the Traveller had appeared. Then, to be sure, it was accidentally worth more money.'
Mrs. Piozzi ^ and Sir John Hawkins ^ have strangely mis-stated the history of Goldsmith's situation and Johnson's friendly interference, when this novel was sold. I shall give it authentically from Johnson's own exact narration : —
'I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon a» possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was drest, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit ; told the landlady I should soon return, and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged
1 Anecdotes of Johnson. ^ Life of Johnson, p. 420.
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his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having vised him so ill.' ^
My next meeting with Johnson was on Friday the 1st of July, when he and I and Dr. Goldsmith supped at the Mitre. I was before this time pretty well acquainted with Goldsmith, who was one of the brightest ornaments of the Johnsonian school. Gold- smith's respectful attachment to Johnson was then at its height; for his own literary reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire of competition with his great Master. He had increased my admiration of the goodness of Johnson's heart by incidental remarks in the course of conversa- tion ; such as, when I mentioned Mr. Levet, whom he entertained under his roof, ^He is poor and honest, which is recommendation enough to Johnson ' ; and when I wondered that he was very kind to a man of whom I had heard a very bad character, ' He is now become miserable, and that ensures the protection of Johnson. '
Goldsmith attempting this evening to maintain, I suppose from an affectation of paradox, ^that know-
1 It may not be improper to annex here Mrs. Piozzi's account of this transaction, in her own words, as a specimen of the extreme inaccuracy with which all her anecdotes of Dr. Johnson are related, or rather dis- coloured and distorted : ' I have forgotten the year, but it could scarcely, I think, be later than 1765 or 1766, that he was called abruptly jFront our house after dinner, and returning in about three hours, said he had been with an enraged author, whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the bailiffs beset him without ; that he was drinking himself drunk with Madeira, to drown care, and fretting over a novel, which, when finished, was to be his •whole fortune, but he could not get it done for distraction, nor could he step out of doors to offer it for sale. Mr. Johnson, therefore, sent away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, recommending the per- formance, and desiring some immediate relief; which when he brought back to the writer, he called the woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and pass their time in merriment.' — Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson.
VOL. II. p
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ledge was not desirable on its own account, for it often was a source of unhappiness. ' Johnson : ' Why, sir, that knowledge may in some cases produce unhappi- ness, I allow. But, upon the whole, knowledge, per 86, is certainly an object which every man would wish to attain, although, perhaps, he may not take the trouble necessary for attaining it.'
Dr. John Campbell, the celebrated political and biographical writer, being mentioned, Johnson said, * Campbell is a man of much knowledge, and has a good share of imagination. His Hermippus Redi- vivtis is very entertaining, as an account of the Her- metic philosophy, and as furnishing a curious history of the extravagances of the human mind. If it were merely imaginary it would be nothing at all. Camp- bell is not always rigidly careful of truth in his con- versation ; but I do not believe there is anything of this carelessness in his books. Campbell is a good man, a pious man. I am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years ; ^ but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat. This shows that he has good principles. I used to go pretty
•1 I am inclined to think that he was misinformed as to this circum stance. I own I am jealous for my worthy friend Dr. John Campbell. For though Milton could without remorse absent himself from public worship, I cannot. On the contrary, I have the same habitual im- pressions upon my mind with those of a truly venerable Judge, who said to Mr. Langton, ' Friend Langton, if I have not been at church on a Sunday, I do not feel myself easy.' Dr. Campbell was a sincerely religious man. Lord Macartney, who is eminent for his variety of knowledge and attention to men of talents, and knew him well, told me that when he called on him in a morning he found him reading a chapter in the Greek New Testament, which he informed his Lordship was his constant practice. The quantity of Dr. Campbell's composi- tion is almost incredible, and his labours brought him large profits. Dr. Joseph Warton told me that Johnson said of him, 'He is the richest author that ever grazed the common of literature.' [Prices in the last century for Histories and compilations were very high. Hawkes- worth was paid £6000 for his collection of Travels. — ^A. B.]
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often to Campbell's on a Sunday evening, till I began to consider that the shoals of Scotchmen who flocked about him might probably say, when anything of mine was well done, "Ay, ay, he has learnt this of Cawmell ! " '
He talked very contemptuously of Churchill's poetry, observing that ' it had a temporary currency only from its audacity of abuse, and being filled with living names, and that it would sink into oblivion.' I ventured to hint that he was not quite a fair judge, as ChurchiU had attacked him violently. Johnson : 'Nay, sir, I am a very fair judge. He did not attack me violently till he found I did not like his poetry ; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from con- tinuing to say what I think of him, from an appre- hension that it maybe ascribed to resentment. No, sir, I called the feUow a blockhead at first, and I will call him a blockhead still. However, I wiU acknow- ledge that I have a better opinion of him now than I once had, for he has shown more fertility than I expected. To be sure, he is a tree that cannot pro- duce good fruit: he only bears crabs. But, sir, a tree that produces a great many crabs is better than a tree which produces only a few.'
In this depreciation of Churchill's poetry I could not agree with him. It is very true that the greatest part of it is upon the topics of the day, on whicli account, as it brought him great fame and profit at the time, it must proportionably slide out of the public attention as other occasional objects succeed. But Churchill had extraordinary vigour both of thought and expression. His portraits of the players will ever be valuable to the true lovers of the drama.
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and his strong caricatures of several eminent men of his age will not be forgotten by the curious. Let me add, that there is in his works many passages which are of a general nature ; and his ' Prophecy of Famine ' is a poem of no ordinary merit. It is, indeed, falsely injurious to Scotland ; but therefore may be allowed a greater share of invention.
Bonnell Thornton had just published a burlesque 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day,' adapted to the ancient British music, viz., the salt-box, the Jew's harp, the marrow-bones and cleaver, the hum-strum or hurdy- g^rdy, etc. Johnson praised its humour, and seemed much diverted with it. He repeated the following
' In strains more exalted the salt-box shall join, And clattering and battering and clapping combine ; With a rap and a tap while the hollow side sounds, Up and down leaps the flap, and with rattling reboimds.' ^
I mentioned the periodical paper called The Con- noisseur. He said it wanted matter. No doubt it had not the deep thinking of Johnson's writings. But surely it has just views of the surface of life, and in a very sprightly manner. His opinion of The World was not much higher than that of The Connoisseur.
Let me here apologise for the imperfect manner in which I am obliged to exhibit Johnson's conversation
1 [In 1769 1 set for Smart and Newbery Thornton's burlesque ' Ode on St. Cecilia's Day.' It was performed at Ranelagh in masks, to a very crowded audience, as I was told ; for I then resided in Norfolk. Beard sung the salt-box song, which was admirably accompanied on that instrument by Brent, the fencing-master, and father of Miss Brent, the celebrated singer ; Skeggs on the broom-stick, as bassoon ; and a remarkable performer on the Jew's harp, — ' Buzzing twangs the iron lyre.' Cleavers were cast in bell-metal for this entertainment. All the performers of the old woman's Oratory, employed by Foote, were, I believe, employed at Ranelagh on this occasion. — B.]
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at this period. In the early part of my acquaintance with him, I was so rapt in admiration of his extras- ordinary colloquial talents, and so little accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, that I found it ex- tremely difficult to recoDect and record his conversa- tion with its genuine vigour and vivacity. In progress of time, when my mind was, as it were, strongly im- pregnated with the Johnsonian tBther, I could with much facility and exactness carry in my memory and commit to paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom and wit
At this time Miss Williams,^ as she was then called, though she did not reside with him in the Temple under his roof, but had lodgings in Bolt Court, Fleet Street, had so much of his attention that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, how- ever late it might be, and she always sat up for him. This, it may be fairly conjectured, was not alone a proof of his regard for her, but of his own unwilling- ness to go into solitude, before that unseasonable hour at which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of repose. Dr. Goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an exoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, * I go to Miss Williams.' I con- fess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud ; but it was not long before I obtained the same mark of distinction.
On Tuesday the 5th of July I again visited John-
1 [See vol. i. p. 247. This lady resided in Dr. Johnson's house in Gough Square from about 1753 to 1758 ; and in that year, on his removing to Gray's Inn, she went into lodgings. At a subsequent period she agaio became an inmate with Johnson in Johnson's Court. — M.]
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son. He told me he had looked into the poems of a pretty voluminous writer, Mr. (now Dr.) John Ogilvie, one of the Presbyterian ministers of Scot- land, which had lately come out, but could find no thinking in them. Boswell : ' Is there not imagina- tion in them, sir ? ' Johnson : ' Why, sir, there is in them what was imagination, but it is no more imagination in him than sound is sound in the echo. And his diction, too, is not his own. We have long ago seen white-rohed innocence and flower-bespangled meads.'
Talking of London, he observed, ' Sir, if you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. It is not in the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habita- tions which are crowded together, that the wonderful immensity of London consists.' I have often amused myself with thinking how different a place London is to different people. They whose narrow minds are contracted to the consideration of some one particular pursuit, view it only through that medium. A poli- tician thinks of it merely as the seat of government in its different departments ; a grazier, as a vast market for cattle; a mercantile man, as a place where a prodigious deal of business is done upon 'Change ; a dramatic enthusiast, as the grand scene of theatrical entertainments ; a man of pleasure, as an assemblage of taverns, and the great emporium for ladies of easy virtue. But the intellectual man is struck with it, as comprehending the whole of human life in all its variety, the contemplation of which is inexhaustible.
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On Wednesday, July 6, he was engaged to sup with me at my lodgings in Downing Street, Westminster. But on the preceding night my landlord having behaved very rudely to me and some company who were with me, I had resolved not to remain another night in his house. I was exceedingly uneasy at the awkward appearance I supposed I should make to Johnson and the other gentlemen whom I had invited, not being able to receive them at home, and being obliged to order supper at the Mitre. I went to Johnson in the morning, and talked of it as of a serious distress. He laughed, and said, 'Consider, sir, how insignificant this will appear a twelvemonth hence.' Were this consideration to be applied to most of the little vexatious incidents of life, by which our quiet is too often disturbed, it would prevent many painful sensations. I have tried it frequently with good efi"ect. "There is nothing (continued he) in this mighty misfortune ; nay, we shall be better at the Mitre.' I told him that I had been at Sir John Fielding's office, complaining of my landlord, and had been informed, that though I had taken my lodgings for a year, I might, upon proof of his bad behaviour, quit them when I pleased, without being under an obligation to pay rent for any longer time than while I possessed them. The fertility of Johnson's mind could show itself even upon so small a matter as this. * Why, sir (said he), I suppose this must be the law, since you have been told so in Bow Street. But, if your landlord could hold you to your bargain, and the lodging should be yours for a year, you may certainly use them as you think fit. So, sir, you may quarter two life-guardmen upon him ; or you may send the
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greatest scoundrel you can find into your apartments ; or you may say that you want to make some experi- ments in natural philosophy, and may bum a large quantity of assafoetida in his house. '
I had as my guests this evening at the Mitre tavern. Dr. Johnson, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Thomas Davies, Mr. Eccles, an Irish gentleman, for whose agree- able company I was obliged to Mr. Davies, and the Reverend Mr. John Ogilvie,^ who was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, while I, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of showing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms Johnson permitted me to live with him.
Goldsmith, as usual, endeavoured, with too much eagerness, to shine, and disputed very warmly with Johnson against the well-known maxim of the British constitution, 'The King can do no wrong,' aflSrming, that ' what was morally false could not be politically true ; and as the King might, in the exercise of his regal power, command and cause the doing of what was wrong, it certainly might be said, in sense and in reason, that he could do wrong.' Johnson: '^Sir, you are to consider, that in our constitution, according to its true principles, the King is the head ; he is supreme ; he is above everything, and there is no power by which he can be tried. Therefore it is, sir, that we hold the King can do no wrong ; that whatever may happen to be wrong in government may not be above our
1 The Northern bard mentioned p. 86. When 1 asked Dr. John- son's permission to introduce him, he obligingly agreed ; adding, how- ever, with a sly pleasantry, 'but be must give us none of his poetry.' It is remarkable that Johnson and Churchill, however much they differed in other points, agreed on this subject. See Churchiirs Journey. It is, however, but justice to Dr. Ogilvie to observe that bis JJay ofjudgnunt has no inconsiderable share of merit.
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reach by being ascribed to majesty. Redress is always to be had against oppression, by punishing the immediate agents. The King, though he should command, cannot force a judge to condemn a man unjustly; therefore it is the judge whom we prosecute and punish. Political institutions are formed upon the consideration of what will most frequently tend to the good of the whole, although now and then excep- tions may occur. Thus it is better in general that a nation should have a supreme legislative power, although it may at times be abused. And then, sir, there is this consideration, that if the abuse he enormous, Nature will rise up, and, claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt political system.' I mark this animated sentence with peculiar pleasure, as a noble instance of that truly dignified spirit of freedom which ever glowed in his heart, though he was charged with slavish tenets by superficial observers ; because he was at all times indignant against that false patriotism, that pretended love of freedom, that unruly restless- ness, which is inconsistent with the stable authority of any good government.
This generous sentiment, which he uttered with great fervour, struck me exceedingly, and stirred my blood to that pitch of fancied resistance, the possibility of which I am glad to keep in mind, but to which I trust I never shall be forced.
'Great abilities (said he) are not requisite for an historian; for in historical composition all the greatest powers of the human mind are quiescent. He has facts ready to his hand ; so there is no exercise of invention. Imagination is not required in any high degree ; only about as much as is used in the lower
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kinds of poetry. Some penetration^ accuracy, and colouring will fit a man for the task, if he can give the application which is necessary.'
'Bayle's Dictionary is a very useful work for those to consult who love the biographical part of literature, which is what I love most.'
Talking of the eminent writers in Queen Anne's reign, he observed, ' I think Dr. Arbuthnot the first man among them. He was the most universal genius, being an excellent physician, a man of deep learning, and a man of much humour. Mr. Addison was, to be sure, a great man ; his learning was not profound ; but his morality, his humour, and his elegance of writing, set him very high. '
Mr. Ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topic of his conversation the praises of his native country. He began with saying that there was very rich land around Edinburgh. Goldsmith, who had studied physic there, contradicted this, very untruly, with a sneering laugh. Disconcerted a little by this, Mr. Ogilvie then took new ground, where I suppose he thought himself perfectly safe ; for he observed that Scotland had a great many noble wild prospects. Johnson : ' I believe, sir, you have a great many. Norway, too, has noble wild prospects ; and Lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. But, sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high road that leads him to England ! ' This unexpected and pointed sally produced a roar of applause. After all, however, those who admire the rude grandeur of Nature cannot deny it to Caledonia.
On Saturday, July 9, I found Johnson surrounded
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with a numerous levee, but have not preserved any part of his conversation. On the 14th we had another evening by ourselves at the Mitre. It happening to be a very rainy night, I made some commonplace observations on the relaxation of nerves and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned ; ^ adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation. Johnson, who, as we have already seen, denied that the temperature of the air had any influence on the human frame, answered, with a smile of ridicule, * Why, yes, sir, it is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals.' This observation of his aptly enough introduced a good supper ; and I soon forgot in Johnson's company the influence of a moist atmosphere.
Feeling myself now quite at ease as his companion, though I had all possible reverence for him, I expressed a regret that I could not be so easy with my father, though he was not much older than Johnson, and certainly, however respectable, had not more learning and greater abilities to depress me. I asked him the reason of this. Johnson : ' Why, sir, I am a man of the world. I live in the world, and I take, in some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. Your father is a judge in a remote part of the island, and all his notions are taken from the old world. Besides, sir, there must always be a struggle between a father and son, while one aims at power and the other at independence. ' I said, I was afraid my father
1 [Johnson would suffer none of his friends to fill up chasms in conversation with remarks on the weather : ' Let us not talk of the weather.' — B.]
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would force me to be a lawyer. Johnson : * Sir^ you need not be afraid of his forcing you to be a laborious practising lawyer ; that is not in his power. For, as the proverb says, "One man may lead a horse to the water, but twenty cannot make him drink." He may be displeased that you are not what he wishes you to be ; but that displeasure will not go far. If he insists only on your having as much law as is necessary for a man of property, and then endeavours to get you into Parliament, he is quite in the right.'
He enlarged very convincingly upon the excellence of rhyme over blank verse in English poetry. I men- tioned to him that Dr. Adam Smith, in his lectures upon composition, when I studied under him in the College of Glasgow, had maintained the same opinion strenuously, and I repeated some of his arguments. Johnson : ' Sir, I was once in company with Smith, and we did not take to each other ; but had I known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he does^ I should have hugged him.'
Talking of those who denied the truth of Christianity, he said, ' It is always easy to be on the negative side. If a man were now to deny that there is salt upon the table, you could not reduce him to an absurdity. Come, let us try this a little further. I deny that Canada is taken, and I can support my denial by pretty good arguments. The French are a much more numerous people than we ; and it is not likely that they would allow us to take it. '^But the ministry have assured us, in all the formality of the Gazette, that it is taken. " Very true. But the ministry have put us to an enormous expense by the war in Amei'ica, and it is their interest to persuade us that we have got
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something for our money. "But the fact is con- firmed by thousands of men who were at the taking of it" Ay, but these men have still more interest in deceiving us. They don't want that you should think the French have beat them, but that they have beat the French. Now suppose you should go over and find that it is really taken, that would only satisfy yourself; for when you come home we will not believe you. We will say you have been bribed. Yet, sir, notwithstanding all these plausible objections, we have no doubt that Canada is really ours. Such is the weight of common testimony. How much stronger are the evidences of the Christian religion .'' '
' Idleness is a disease which must be combated ; but I would not advise a rigid adherence to a particular plan of study. I myself have never persisted in any plan for two days together. A man ought to read just as inclination leads him ; for what he reads as a task will do him little good. A young man should read five hours in a day, and so may acquire a great deal of knowledge.'
To a man of vigorous intellect and ardent curiosity like his own, reading without a regular plan may be beneficial ; though even such a man must submit to it, if he would attain a full understanding of any of the sciences.
To such a degree of unrestrained frankness had he now accustomed me, that in the course of this evening I talked of the numerous reflections which had been thrown out against him on account of his having accepted a pension from his present Majesty. 'Why, sir (said he, with a hearty laugh), it is a mighty foolish
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noise that they make. ^ I have accepted of a pension as a reward which has been thought due to my literary merit; and now that I have this pension, I am the same man in every respect that I have ever been ; I retain the same principles. It is true that I cannot now curse (smUing) the House of Hanover ; nor would it be decent for me to drink King James's health in the wine that King George gives me money to pay for. But, sir, I think that the pleasure of cursing the House of Hanover, and drinking King James's health, are amply overbalanced by £300 a year.'
There was here, most certainly, an affectation of more Jacobitism than he really had ; and indeed an intention of admitting, for the moment, in a much greater extent than it really existed, the charge of disaffection imputed to him by the world, merely for the purpose of showing how dexterously he could repel an attack, even though he were placed in the most disadvantageous position ; for I have heard him declare, that if holding up his right hand would have secured victory at Culloden to Prince Charles's army, he was not sure he would have held it up ; so little confidence had he in the right claimed by the House of Stuart, and so fearful was he of the consequences of another revolution on the throne of Great Britain ; and Mr. Topham Beauclerk assured me he had heard him say this before he had his pension. At another time he said to Mr. Langton, 'Nothing has ever offered that has made it worth my while to consider the question fully.' He, however, also said to the
1 When I mentioned the same idle clamour to him several years afterwards, he said, with a smile, ' 1 wish my pension were twice as large, that they might make twice as much noise.'
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same gentleman, talking of King James the Second, ' It was become impossible for him to reign any longer in this country.' He no doubt had an early attach- ment to the House of Stuart ; but his zeal had cooled as his reason strengthened. Indeed, I heard him once say, 'that after the death of a violent Whig, with whom he used to contend with great eagerness, he felt his Toryism much abated.'^ I suppose he meant Mr. Walmsley.
Yet there is no doubt that at earlier periods he was wont often to exercise both his pleasantry and ingenuity in talking Jacobitism. My much respected friend. Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, has favoured me with the following admirable instance from his Lordship's own recollection. One day when dining at old Mr. Langton's, where Miss Roberts, his niece, was one of the company, Johnson, with his usual complacent attention to the fair sex, took her by the hand and said, 'My dear, I hope you are a Jacobite.' Old Mr. Langton, who, though a high and steady Tory, was attached to the present Royal Family, seemed ofiFended, and asked Johnson, with great warmth, what he could mean by putting such a question to his niece ? ' Why, sir (said Johnson), I meant no offence to your niece ; I meant her a great compliment. A Jacobite, sir, believes in the divine right of kings. He that believes in the divine right of kings believes in a Divinity. A Jacobite believes in the divine right of bishops. He that believes in the divine right of bishops believes in the divine authority of the Christian religion. Therefore, Sir, a Jacobite is neither an Atheist nor a Deist. That
1 Journal pf a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit., p. 420.
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cannot be said of a Whig ; for Whiggism is a negation of all principle. ' ^
He advised me, when abroad, to be as much as I could with the Professors in the Universities, and with the clergy ; for from their conversation I might expect the best accounts of everj-thing in whatever country I should be, with the additional advantage of keeping my learning alive.
It will be observed, that when giving me advice as to my travels. Dr. Johnson did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, and pictures, and shows, and Arcadian scenes. He was of Lord Essex's opinion, who advises his kinsman Roger Earl of Rutland, ' rather to go a hundred miles to speak with one wise man than five miles to see a fair town.' ^
I described to him an impudent fellow from Scot- land, who affected to be a savage, and railed at all established systems. Johnson : ' There is nothing surprising in this, sir. He wants to make himself conspicuous. He would tumble in a hog-sty, as long as you looked at him and called to him to come out. But let him alone, never mind him, and he'll soon give it over. '
I added, that the same person maintained that there was no distinction between virtue and vice. Johnson : ' Why, sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying ; and I see not what honour he can propose
1 He used to tell, with great humour, from my relation to him, the following little story of my early years, which was literally true : ' BoswelT, in the year 1745, was a fine boy, wore a white cockade, and prayed for King James, till one of his uncles (General Cochran) gave him a shilling on condition that he would pray for King George, which he accordingly did. So you see (says Boswell) that IVhi^s 0/ all ages are tfuide the same way.'
2 Letter to Rutland on Travel, i6mo, 1596.
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to himself from having the character of a liar. But if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons. '
Sir David Dalrymple, now one of the Judges of Scotland by the title of Lord Hailes, had contributed much to increase my high opinion of Johnson, on account of his writings, long before I attained to a personal acquaintance with him ; I, in return, had informed Johnson of Sir David's eminent character for learning and religion ; and Johnson was so much pleased that at one of our evening meetings he gave him for his toast. I at this time kept up a very frequent correspondence with Sir David ; and I read to Dr. Johnson to-night the following passage from the letter which I had last received from him :
' It gives me pleasure to think that you have obtained the friendship of Mr. Samuel Johnson. He is one of the best moral writers which England has produced. At the same time, I envy you the free and undisguised converse with such a man. May I beg you to present my best respects to him, and to assure him of the veneration which I entertain for the author of the Rambler and of Rasselas ? Let me recommend this last work to you; with the Rambler you certainly are acquainted. In Rasselas you will see a tender-hearted operator, who probes the wound only to heal it. Swift, on the contrary, mangles hvunan nature. He cuts and slashes, as if he took pleasure in the operation, like the tyrant who said, Itaferi, ut se sentiat emori.'
Johnson seemed to be much gratified by this just and well-turned compliment.
He recommended to me to keep a journal of my life, full and unreserved. He said it would be a very good exercise, and would yield me great satisfaction when
VOL. II. O
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the particulars were faded from my remembrance. I was uncommonly fortunate in having had a previous coincidence of opinion with him upon this subject, for I had kept such a journal for some time ; and it was no small pleasure to me to have this to teU him, and to receive his approbation. He counselled me to keep it private, and said I might surely have a friend who would burn it in case of my death. From this habit I have been enabled to give the world so many anecdotes which would otherwise have been lost to posterity. I mentioned that I was afraid I put into my journal too many little incidents. Johnson : ' There is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man. It is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible. '
Next morning Mr. Dempster happened to call on me, and was so much struck even with the imperfect account which I gave him of Dr. Johnson's conversa- tion, that, to his honour be it recorded, when I com- plained that drinking port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some time after, he said, ' One had better be palsied at eighteen than not keep com- pany with such a man.'
On Tuesday, July 18, I found tall Sir Thomas Robinson sitting with Johnson. Sir Thomas said that the King of Prussia valued himself upon three things ; — upon being a hero, a musician, and an author. Johnson : Pretty well, sir, for one man. As to his being an author, I have not looked at his poetry ; but his prose is poor stuff. He writes just as you would suppose Voltaire's footboy to do, who has been his amanuensis. He has such parts as the valet might
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have, and about as much of the colouring of the style as might be got by transcribing his works.' When I was at Ferney I repeated this to Voltaire, in order to reconcile him somewhat to Johnson, whom he, in aflFecting the English mode of expression, had pre- viously characterised as ' a superstitious dog ' ; but after hearing such a criticism on Frederick the Great, with whom he was then on bad terms, he exclaimed, ' An honest fellow ! '
But I think the criticism much, too severe ; for the Memoirs of the House of Branderiburgh are written as well as many works of that kind. His poetry, for the style of which he himself makes a frank apology, ' Jargonnant un Francois harbare,' though fraught with pernicious ravings of infidelity, has, in many places, great animation, and in some a pathetic tenderness.
Upon this contemptuous animadversion on the King of Prussia, I observed to Johnson, 'It would seem then, sir, that much less parts are necessary to make a king than to make an author; for the King of Prussia is confessedly the greatest king now in Europe, yet you think he makes a very poor figure as an author.'
Mr. Levet this day showed me Dr. Johnson's library, which was contained in two garrets over his chambers, where Lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. I found a number of good books, but very dusty and in great confusion. The floor was strewed with manuscript leaves, in John- son's own handwriting, which I beheld with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain portions of the Rambler or of Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for chemical experiments, of which Johnson
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was all his life very fond. The place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation. John- son told me that he went up thither without mention- ing it to his servant, when he wanted to study secure from interruption ; for he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'A servant's strict regard for truth (said he) must be weakened by such a practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial ; but few servants are sucti nice distinguishers. If I accustom a servant to tell a lie for me, have I not reason to appre- hend that he will tell many lies for himself} ' I am, however, satisfied that every servant, of any degree of intelligence, understands saying his master is not at home, not at all as the affirmation of a fact, but as customary words, intimating that his master wishes not to be seen ; so that there can be no bad effect from it.
Mr. Temple, now vicar of St. Gluvias, Cornwall, who had been my intimate friend for many years, had at this time chambers in Farrar's Buildings, at the bottom of Inner Temple Lane, which he kindly lent me upon quitting my lodgings, he being to return to Trinity Hall, Cambridge. I found them parti- cularly convenient for me, as they were so near Dr. Johnson's.
On Wednesday, July 20, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Dempster, and my uncle Dr. Boswell, who happened to be now in London, supped with me at these chambers. Johnson : * Pity is not natural to man. Children are always cruel. Savages are always cruel. Pity is acquired and improved by the cultivation of reason. We may have uneasy sensations from seeing
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a creature in distress, without pity ; for we have not pity unless we wish to relieve them. When I am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when he whips his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, sir, I wish him to drive on.'
Mr. Alexander Donaldson, bookseller, of Edinburgh, had for some time opened a shop in London, and sold his cheap editions of the most popular English books, in defiance of the supposed common-law right of Literary Property. Johnson, though he concurred ia the opinion which was afterwards sanctioned by a judgment of the House of Lords, that there was no such right, was at this time very angry that the book- sellers of London, for whom he uniformly professed much regard, should suffer from an invasion of what they had ever considered to be secure, and he was loud and violent against Mr. Donaldson. *He is a fellow who takes advantage of the law to injure his brethren ; for notwithstanding that the statute secures only fourteen years of exclusive right, it has always been understood by the trade that he who buys the copyright of a book from the author obtains a per- petual property ; and upon that belief numberless bargains are made to transfer that property after the expiration of the statutory term. Now Donaldson, I say, takes advantage here of people who have really an equitable title from usage ; and if we consider how few of the books, of which they buy the property, succeed so well as to bring profit, we should be of opinion that the term of fourteen years is too short ; it should be sixty years. ' Dempster : ' Donaldson,
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sir, is anxious for the encouragement of literature. He reduces the price of books, so that poor students may buy them. ' Johnson (laughing) : ' Well, sir, allowing that to be his motive, he is no better than Robin Hood, who robbed the rich in order to give to the poor. ' ^
It is remarkable, that when the great question con- cerning literary property came to be ultimately tried before the supreme tribunal of this country, in con- sequence of the very spirited exertions of Mr. Donaldson,^ Dr. Johnson was zealous against a per- petuity ; but he thought that the term of exclusive right of authors should be considerably enlarged. He was then for granting a hundred years.
The conversation now turned upon Mr. David Hume's style. Johnson : ' Why, sir, his style is not English ; the structure of his sentences is French. Now the French structure and the English structure, may, in the nature of things, be equally good. But if you allow that the English language is established, he is wrong. My name might originally have been Nicholson, as well as Johnson ; but were you to call me Nicholson now, you would call me very absurdly.'
Rousseau's treatise on the inequality of mankind was at this time a fashionable topic. It gave rise to an observation by Mr. Dempster, that the advantages of fortune and rank were nothing to a wise man, who ought to value only merit. Johnson : ' If man were a savage, living in the woods by himself, this might be
1 [Donaldson's Hospital in Edinburgh represents the fortune of this larcenous boolcsellex. — A. B.]
- [In Donaldson v. Becket, in 1774, the House of Lords decided, after hearing the Judges, that the Statute of Queen Anne destroyed perpetual copjnright, and substituted a term of years. — A. B.]
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true ; but in civilised society we all depend upon each other, and our happiness is very much owing to the good opinion of mankind. Now, sir, in civilised society, external advantages make us more respected. A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one. Sir, you may analyse this, and say what is there in it ? But that will avail you nothing, for it is a part of a general system. Pound St. Paul's church into atoms, and consider any single atom ; it is, to be sure, good for nothing : but, put all these atoms together, and you have St. Paul's church. So it is with human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, each of which may be shown to be very insignificant. In civilised society personal merit will not serve you so much as money will. Sir, you may make the experiment. Go into the street and give one man a lecture on morality, and another a shilling, and see which will respect you most. If you wish only to support nature. Sir William Petty fixes your allowance at £3 a year ; but as times are much altered, let us call it £6. This sum will fill your belly, shelter you from the weather, and even get you a strong lasting coat, supposing it to be made of good bull's hide. Now, sir, all beyond this is artificial, and is desired in order to obtain a greater degree of respect from our fellow-creatures. And, sir, if £600 a year procure a man more con- sequence, and, of course, more happiness, than £6 a year, the same proportion will hold as to £6000, and so on, as far as opulence can be carried. Perhaps he who has a large fortune may not be so happy as he who has a small one ; but that must proceed from other causes than from his having the large fortune ;
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for, cceteris paribus, he who is rich in a civilised society must be happier than he who is poor ; as riches, if properly used (and it is a man's own fault if they are not), must be productive of the highest advantages. Money, to be sure, of itself, is of no use ; for its only use is to part with it. Rousseau, and all those who deal in paradoxes, are led away by a childish desire of novelty. ^ When I was a boy I used always to choose the wrong side of a debate, because most ingenious things, that is to say, most new things, could be said upon it. Sir, there is nothing for which you may not muster up more plausible arguments than those which are urged against wealth and other external advantages. Why, now, there is stealing: why should it be thought a crime ? When we consider by what unjust methods property has been often acquired, and that what was unjustly got it must be unjust to keep, where is the harm in one man's taking the property of another from him ? Besides, sir, when we consider the bad use that many people make of their property, and how much better use the thief may make of it, it may be defended as a very allow- able practice. Yet, sir, the experience of mankind has discovered stealing to be so very bad a thing that they make no scruple to hang a man for it. When I was running about this town a very poor fellow, I was a great arguer for the advantages of poverty ; but I was, at the same time, very sorry to be poor. Sir, all the arguments which are brought to represent
1 [Johnson told Mr. Burney that Goldsmith said, when he first began to write, he determined to commit to paper nothing but what was ttev> ; but he afterwards found that what was new was generally false, and from that time was no longer solicitous about novelty. — B.]
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poverty as no evil, show it to be evidently a great evil. You never find people labouring to convince you that you may live very happily upon a plentiful fortune. So you hear people talking how miserable a king must be ; and yet they all wish to be in his place. '
It was suggested that kings must be unhappy, because they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions, easy and unreserved society. Johnson : 'That is an ill-founded notion. Being a king does not exclude a man from such society. Great kings have always been social. The King of Prussia, the only great king at present, is very social. Charles the Second, the last King of England who was a man of parts, was social ; and our Henrys and Edwards were all social.'
Mr. Dempster having endeavoured to maintain that intrinsic merit ought to make the only distinction amongst mankind : — Johnson : ' Why, sir, mankind have found that this cannot be. How shall we deter- mine the proportion of intrinsic merit ? Were that to be the only distinction amongst mankind, we should soon quarrel about the degrees of it. Were all dis- tinctions abolished, the strongest would not long acquiesce, but would endeavour to obtain a superiority by their bodily strength. But, sir, as subordination is very necessary for society, and contentions for superiority very dangerous, mankind, that is to say, all civilised nations, have settled it upon a plain in- variable principle. A man is born to hereditary rank ; or his being appointed to certain offices gives him a certain rank. Subordination tends greatly to human happiness. Were we all upon an equality.
106 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763
we should have no other enjoyment than mere animal pleasures.'
I said I considered distinction or rank to be of so much importance in civilised society, that if I were asked on the same day to dine with the first duke in England, and with the first man in Britain for genius, I should hesitate which to prefer. Johnson : ' To be sure, sir, if you were to dine only once, and it were never to be known where you dined, you would choose rather to dine with the first man of genius ; but to gain most respect you should dine with the first duke in England. For nine people in ten that you meet with would have a higher opinion of you for having dined with a duke ; and the great genius himself would receive you better, because you had been with the great duke. '
He took care to guard himself against any possible suspicion that his settled principles of reverence for rank and respect for wealth were at all owing to mean or interested motives ; for he asserted his own inde- pendence as a literary man. ' No man (said he) who ever lived by literature