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BOSWELL'S
LIFE OF JOHNSON
INCLUDING BOSWELL'S JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES
AND JOHNSON'S DIARY OF A JOURNEY INTO NORTH WALES
EDITED BY
GEORGE BIRKBECK HILL, D.C.L.
PEMBROKE COLLEGE, OXFORD
IN SIX VOLUMES
VOLUME III.--LIFE (1776-1780)
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. (MARCH 1776--OCT. 1780).
APPENDICES:
A. GEORGE PSALMANAZAR
B. JOHNSON'S TRAVELS AND LOVE OF TRAVELLING
C. ELECTION OF LORD MAYORS OF LONDON
D. THE INMATES OF JOHNSON'S HOUSE
E. BOSWELL'S LETTERS OF ACCEPTANCE OF THE OFFICE
OF SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE TO
THE ROYAL ACADEMY
THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
Having left Ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses at
Derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the conversation of my
countryman, Dr. Butter, then physician there. He was in great
indignation because Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch militia[1] had
been lost. Dr. Johnson was as violent against it. 'I am glad, (said he,)
that Parliament has had the spirit to throw it out. You wanted to take
advantage of the timidity of our scoundrels;' (meaning, I suppose, the
ministry). It may be observed, that he used the epithet scoundrel very
commonly not quite in the sense in which it is generally understood, but
as a strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly answered Mrs.
Thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'Ready to become a scoundrel,
Madam; with a little more spoiling you will, I think, make me a complete
rascal[2]:' he meant, easy to become a capricious and self-indulgent
valetudinarian; a character for which I have heard him express great
disgust.
[Footnote 1: See ante, March 15, 1776.]
[Footnote 2: _Anecdotes of Johnson_, p. 176. BOSWELL. 'It is,' he said,
'so _very_ difficult for a sick man not to be a scoundrel.' Ib. p. 175.
He called Fludyer a scoundrel (_ante_, March 20, 1776), apparently
because he became a Whig. 'He used to say a man was a scoundrel that was
afraid of anything. "Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve
o'clock is," he said, "a scoundrel."' Johnson's _Works_ (1787), xi. 199,
211. Mr. Croker points out that 'Johnson in his _Dictionary_ defined
_knave_, a scoundrel; _sneakup_, a scoundrel; _rascal_, a scoundrel;
_loon_, a scoundrel; _lout_, a scoundrel; _poltroon_, a scoundrel; and
that he coined the word _scoundrelism_' (Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 25,
1773). Churchill, in _The Ghost_, Book ii. (_Poems_, i. 1. 217),
describes Johnson as one
'Who makes each sentence current pass,
With _puppy, coxcomb, scoundrel, ass_.'
Swift liked the word. 'God forbid,' he wrote, 'that ever such a
scoundrel as Want should dare to approach you.' Swift's _Works_, ed.
1803, xviii. 39.]
Johnson had with him upon this jaunt, '_Il Palmerino d'Inghilterra_,' a
romance[1] praised by Cervantes; but did not like it much. He said, he
read it for the language, by way of preparation for his Italian
expedition.--We lay this night at Loughborough.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 49, for Johnson's fondness for the old
romances.]
On Thursday, March 28, we pursued our journey. I mentioned that old Mr.
Sheridan complained of the ingratitude of Mr. Wedderburne[1] and General
Fraser, who had been much obliged to him when they were young Scotchmen
entering upon life in England. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, a man is very apt to
complain of the ingratitude of those who have risen far above him. A man
when he gets into a higher sphere, into other habits of life, cannot
keep up all his former connections. Then, Sir, those who knew him
formerly upon a level with themselves, may think that they ought still
to be treated as on a level, which cannot be; and an acquaintance in a
former situation may bring out things which it would be very
disagreeable to have mentioned before higher company, though, perhaps,
every body knows of them.' He placed this subject in a new light to me,
and shewed that a man who has risen in the world, must not be condemned
too harshly for being distant to former acquaintance, even though he may
have been much obliged to them.' It is, no doubt, to be wished that a
proper degree of attention should be shewn by great men to their early
friends. But if either from obtuse insensibility to difference of
situation, or presumptuous forwardness, which will not submit even to an
exteriour observance of it, the dignity of high place cannot be
preserved, when they are admitted into the company of those raised above
the state in which they once were, encroachment must be repelled, and
the kinder feelings sacrificed. To one of the very fortunate persons
whom I have mentioned, namely, Mr. Wedderburne, now Lord Loughborough, I
must do the justice to relate, that I have been assured by another early
acquaintance of his, old Mr. Macklin[2], who assisted in improving his
pronunciation, that he found him very grateful. Macklin, I suppose, had
not pressed upon his elevation with so much eagerness as the gentleman
who complained of him. Dr. Johnson's remark as to the jealousy
'entertained of our friends who rise far above us,' is certainly very
just. By this was withered the early friendship between Charles
Townshend and Akenside[3]; and many similar instances might be adduced.
[Footnote 1: Boswell, _ante_, i. 386, implies that Sheridan's pension
was partly due to Wedderburne's influence.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, i. 386.]
[Footnote 3: Akenside, in his _Ode to Townshend_ (Book ii. 4), says:--
'For not imprudent of my loss to come,
I saw from Contemplation's quiet cell
His feet ascending to another home,
Where public praise and envied greatness dwell.'
He had, however, no misgivings, for he thus ends:--
'Then for the guerdon of my lay,
This man with faithful friendship, will I say,
From youth to honoured age my arts and me hath viewed.']
He said, 'It is commonly a weak man who marries for love.' We then
talked of marrying women of fortune; and I mentioned a common remark,
that a man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a
very small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally
expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in
expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is not true. A woman of
fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it judiciously: but
a woman who gets the command of money for the first time upon her
marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that she throws it away with
great profusion.'
He praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were more
faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every respect, than in
former times, because their understandings were better cultivated[1]. It
was an undoubted proof of his good sense and good disposition, that he
was never querulous, never prone to inveigh against the present times,
as is so common when superficial minds are on the fret. On the contrary,
he was willing to speak favourably of his own age; and, indeed,
maintained its superiority[2] in every respect, except in its reverence
for government; the relaxation of which he imputed, as its grand cause,
to the shock which our monarchy received at the Revolution, though
necessary[3]; and secondly, to the timid concessions made to faction by
successive administrations in the reign of his present Majesty. I am
happy to think, that he lived to see the Crown at last recover its just
influence[4].
[Footnote 1: We have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our
ladies read now 'which is a great extension.' _Post_, April 29, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: See _post_, April, 28, 1783.]
[Footnote 3: See _post_, March 22, 1783.]
[Footnote 4: See _post_, March 18, 1784.]
At Leicester we read in the news-paper that Dr. James[1] was dead. I
thought that the death of an old school-fellow, and one with whom he had
lived a good deal in London, would have affected my fellow-traveller
much: but he only said, 'Ah! poor Jamy.' Afterwards, however, when we
were in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness, 'Since I set out on
this jaunt, I have lost an old friend and a young one;--Dr. James, and
poor Harry[2].' (Meaning Mr. Thrale's son.)
[Footnote 1: Newbery, the publisher, was the vendor of Dr. James's
famous powder. It was known that on the doctor's death a chemist whom he
had employed meant to try to steal the business, under the pretence that
he alone knew the secret of the preparation. A supply of powders enough
to last for many years was laid in by Newbery in anticipation, while
James left an affidavit that the chemist was never employed in the
manufacture. He, however, asserted that James was deprived of his mental
faculties when the affidavit was made. Evidence against this was
collected and published; the conclusion to the Preface being written by
Johnson. _A Bookseller of the Last Century_, p. 138. See _ante_, i.
159.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale on the birth of a second son
who died early:--'I congratulate you upon your boy; but you must not
think that I shall love him all at once as well as I love Harry, for
Harry you know is so rational. I shall love him by degrees.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 206. A week after Harry's death he wrote:--'I loved him as
I never expect to love any other little boy; but I could not love him as
a parent.' _Ib_. p. 310.]
Having lain at St. Alban's, on Thursday, March 28, we breakfasted the
next morning at Barnet. I expressed to him a weakness of mind which I
could not help; an uneasy apprehension that my wife and children, who
were at a great distance from me, might, perhaps, be ill. 'Sir, (said
he,) consider how foolish you would think it in _them_ to be
apprehensive that _you_ are ill[1].' This sudden turn relieved me for
the moment; but I afterwards perceived it to be an ingenious fallacy. I
might, to be sure, be satisfied that they had no reason to be
apprehensive about me, because I _knew_ that I myself was well: but we
might have a mutual anxiety, without the charge of folly; because each
was, in some degree, uncertain as to the condition of the other.
[Footnote 1: Johnson had known this anxiety. He wrote to Mrs. Thrale
from Ashbourne on July 7, 1775:--'I cannot think why I hear nothing from
you. I hope and fear about my dear friends at Streatham. But I may have
a letter this afternoon--Sure it will bring me no bad news.' _Ib_. i.
263. See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 21, 1773.]
I enjoyed the luxury of our approach to London, that metropolis which we
both loved so much, for the high and varied intellectual pleasure which
it furnishes[1]. I experienced immediate happiness while whirled along
with such a companion, and said to him, 'Sir, you observed one day at
General Oglethorpe's[2], that a man is never happy for the present, but
when he is drunk. Will you not add,--or when driving rapidly in a
post-chaise[3]?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, you are driving rapidly from
something, or to something.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 75.]
[Footnote 2: _ante_, April 10, 1775.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, March 21, 1776, and _post_, Sept. 19, 1777.]
Talking of melancholy, he said, 'Some men, and very thinking men too,
have not those vexing thoughts[1]. Sir Joshua Reynolds is the same all
the year round[2]. Beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, is the same.
But I believe most men have them in the degree in which they are capable
of having them. If I were in the country, and were distressed by that
malady, I would force myself to take a book; and every time I did it I
should find it the easier. Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by
every means but drinking[3].'
[Footnote 1: The phrase 'vexing thoughts,' is I think, very expressive.
It has been familiar to me from my childhood; for it is to be found in
the _Psalms in Metre_, used in the churches (I believe I should say
_kirks_) of Scotland, _Psal._ xliii. v. 5;
'Why art thou then cast down, my soul?
What should discourage thee?
And why with _vexing thoughts art_ thou
Disquieted in me?'
Some allowance must no doubt be made for early prepossession. But at a
maturer period of life, after looking at various metrical versions of
the _Psalms_, I am well satisfied that the version used in Scotland is,
upon the whole, the best; and that it has in general a simplicity and
_unction_ of sacred Poesy; and in many parts its transfusion is
admirable. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: 'Burke and Reynolds are the same one day as another,'
Johnson said, _post_, under Sept. 22, 1777. Boswell celebrates
Reynolds's 'equal and placid temper,' _ante_, i. I. On Aug. 12, 1775, he
wrote to Temple:--'It is absurd to hope for continual happiness in this
life; few men, if any, enjoy it. I have a kind of belief that Edmund
Burke does; he has so much knowledge, so much animation, and the
consciousness of so much fame.' _Letters of Boswell_, p. 212.]
[Footnote 3: _ante_, i. 446.]
We stopped at Messieurs Dillys, booksellers in the Poultry; from whence
he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough. I
called at his house in the evening, having promised to acquaint Mrs.
Williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, I found him sitting
with her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very good humour: for, it
seems, when he had got to Mr. Thrale's, he found the coach was at the
door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and Signor Baretti, their
Italian master, to Bath[1]. This was not shewing the attention which
might have been expected to the 'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend[2],' the
_Imlac_[3] who had hastened from the country to console a distressed
mother, who he understood was very anxious for his return. They had, I
found, without ceremony, proceeded on their intended journey. I was glad
to understand from him that it was still resolved that his tour to Italy
with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale should take place, of which he had entertained
some doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his
doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. He observed, indeed very
justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going
abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the
party, he would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his
advice was asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he
wished on his own account.' I was not pleased that his intimacy with Mr.
Thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and
enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint: not, as has been
grossly suggested, that it was required of him as a task to talk for the
entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite at
his ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest
pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too
compliant.
[Footnote 1: Baretti says, that 'Mrs. Thrale abruptly proposed to start
for Bath, as wishing to avoid the sight of the funeral. She had no
man-friend to go with her,' and so he offered his services. Johnson at
that moment arrived. 'I expected that he would spare me the jaunt, and
go himself to Bath with her; but he made no motion to that effect.'
_European Mag._ xiii. 315. It was on the evening of the 29th that
Boswell found Johnson, as he thought, not in very good humour. Yet on
the 30th he wrote to Mrs. Thrale, and called on Mr. Thrale. On April 1
and April 4 he again wrote to Mrs. Thrale. He would have gone a second
time, he says, to see Mr. Thrale, had he not been made to understand
that when he was wanted he would be sent for. _Piozzi Letters_, i.
309-314.]
[Footnote 2: Pope, _Essay on Man_, iv. 390. Boswell twice more applies
the same line to Johnson, post, June 3, 1781, and under Dec. 13, 1784.]
[Footnote 3: Imlac consoles the Princess for the loss of Pekuah. 'When
the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can
imagine how they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the
night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. But they who
restrain themselves from receiving comfort do as the savages would have
done, had they put out their eyes when it was dark.' _Rasselas_, ch. 35.
'Keep yourself busy,' wrote Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, 'and you will in
time grow cheerful. New prospects may open, and new enjoyments may come
within your reach.' _Piozzi Letters_.]
On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity
which I had discovered, his _Translation of Lobo's Account of
Abyssinia_, which Sir John Pringle had lent me, it being then little
known as one of his works[1]. He said, 'Take no notice of it,' or 'don't
talk of it.' He seemed to think it beneath him, though done at
six-and-twenty. I said to him, 'Your style, Sir, is much improved since
you translated this.' He answered with a sort of triumphant smile, 'Sir,
I hope it is.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 86. It was reprinted in 1789.]
On Wednesday, April 3, in the morning I found him very busy putting his
books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of dust
were flying around him. He had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers
use. His present appearance put me in mind of my uncle, Dr. Boswell's[1]
description of him, 'A robust genius, born to grapple with whole
libraries.'
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_ under Nov. 11, 1773.]
I gave him an account of a conversation which had passed between me and
Captain Cook, the day before, at dinner at Sir John Pringle's[1]; and he
was much pleased with the conscientious accuracy of that celebrated
circumnavigator, who set me right as to many of the exaggerated accounts
given by Dr. Hawkesworth of his Voyages. I told him that while I was
with the Captain, I catched the enthusiasm[2] of curiosity and
adventure, and felt a strong inclination to go with him on his next
voyage. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, a man _does_ feel so, till he considers how
very little he can learn from such voyages.' BOSWELL. 'But one is
carried away with the general grand and indistinct notion of A VOYAGE
ROUND THE WORLD.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, but a man is to guard himself
against taking a thing in general.' I said I was certain that a great
part of what we are told by the travellers to the South Sea must be
conjecture, because they had not enough of the language of those
countries to understand so much as they have related. Objects falling
under the observation of the senses might be clearly known; but every
thing intellectual, every thing abstract--politicks, morals, and
religion, must be darkly guessed. Dr. Johnson was of the same opinion.
He upon another occasion, when a friend mentioned to him several
extraordinary facts, as communicated to him by the circumnavigators,
slily observed, 'Sir, I never before knew how much I was respected by
these gentlemen; they told _me_ none of these things.'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, under April 29, 1776.]
[Footnote 2: In like manner he writes, 'I catched for the moment an
enthusiasm with respect to visiting the Wall of China.' _post_ April 10,
1778. Johnson had had some desire to go upon Cook's expedition in 1772.
_ante_, March 21, 1772.]
He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of the South Sea
Islands, after he had been some time in this country. He was struck with
the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: 'Sir, he had
passed his time, while in England, only in the best company; so that all
that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. As a proof of this,
Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one day at Streatham; they sat with
their backs to the light fronting me, so that I could not see
distinctly; and there was so little of the savage in Omai, that I was
afraid to speak to either, lest I should mistake one for the other[1].'
[Footnote 1: Mme. D'Arblay (_Memoirs of Dr. Burney_, i. 284) describes
'the perfect case with which Omai managed a sword which he had received
from the King, and which he had that day put on for the first time in
order to go to the House of Lords.' He is the 'gentle savage' in Cowpers
_Task_, i. 632.]
We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern, after the rising of the
House of Lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the Douglas
Estate[1], in which I was one of the counsel, was to come on. I brought
with me Mr. Murray, Solicitor-General of Scotland, now one of the Judges
of the Court of Session, with the title of Lord Henderland. I mentioned
Mr. Solicitor's relation, Lord Charles Hay[2], with whom I knew Dr.
Johnson had been acquainted. JOHNSON. 'I wrote something[3] for Lord
Charles; and I thought he had nothing to fear from a court-martial. I
suffered a great loss when he died; he was a mighty pleasing man in
conversation, and a reading man. The character of a soldier is high.
They who stand forth the foremost in danger, for the community, have the
respect of mankind. An officer is much more respected than any other man
who has as little money. In a commercial country, money will always
purchase respect. But you find, an officer, who has, properly speaking,
no money, is every where well received and treated with attention. The
character of a soldier always stands him in stead[4].' BOSWELL. 'Yet,
Sir, I think that common soldiers are worse thought of than other men in
the same rank of life; such as labourers.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, a common
soldier is usually a very gross man[5], and any quality which procures
respect may be overwhelmed by grossness. A man of learning may be so
vicious or so ridiculous that you cannot respect him. A common soldier
too, generally eats more than he can pay for. But when a common soldier
is civil in his quarters, his red coat procures him a degree of
respect[6].' The peculiar respect paid to the military character in
France was mentioned. BOSWELL. 'I should think that where military men
are so numerous, they would be less valued as not being rare.' JOHNSON.
'Nay, Sir, wherever a particular character or profession is high in the
estimation of a people, those who are of it will be valued above other
men. We value an Englishman highly in this country, and yet Englishmen
are not rare in it.'
[Footnote 1: See ante, ii. 50.]
[Footnote 2: Voltaire (_Siecle de Louis XV_, ch. xv.), in his account of
the battle of Fontenoy, thus mentions him:--'On etait a cinquante pas de
distance.... Les officiers anglais saluerent les Francais en otant leurs
chapeaux.... Les officiers des gardes francaises leur rendirent le
salut, Mylord Charles Hay, capitaine aux gardes anglaises,
cria:--_Messieurs des gardes francaises, tirez_. Le comte d'Auteroche
leur dit a voix haute:--_Messieurs, nous ne tirons jamais les premiers;
tirez vous-memes_.']
[Footnote 3: See _post_, 1780, in Mr. Langton's _Collection_. Hay was
third in command in the expedition to North America in 1757. It was
reported that he said that 'the nation's wealth was expended in making
sham-fights and planting cabbages.' He was put under arrest and sent
home to be tried. _Gent. Mag._ 1758, p. 170. Mr. Croker says that 'the
real state of the case was that he had gone mad, and was in that state
sent home.' He died before the sentence of the court-martial was
promulgated. Croker's _Boswell_, p. 497.]
[Footnote 4: In _Thoughts on the Coronation of George III_ (_Works_, v.
458) he expressed himself differently, if indeed the passage is of his
writing (see _ante_, i. 361). He says: 'It cannot but offend every
Englishman to see troops of soldiers placed between him and his
sovereign, as if they were the most honourable of the people, or the
King required guards to secure his person from his subjects. As their
station makes them think themselves important, their insolence is always
such as may be expected from servile authority.' In his _Journey to the
Hebrides_ (_ib_. ix. 30) he speaks of 'that courtesy which is so closely
connected with the military character.' See _post_, April 10, 1778.]
[Footnote 5: 'It is not in the power even of God to make a polite
soldier.' Meander; quoted by Hume, _Essays_, Part i. 20, note.]
[Footnote 6: In Johnson's Debates for 1741 (_Works_, x. 387) is on the
quartering of soldiers. By the Mutiny Act the innkeeper was required to
find each foot-soldier lodging, diet, and small beer for fourpence a
day. By the Act as amended that year if he furnished salt, vinegar,
small-beer, candles, fire, and utensils to dress their victuals, without
payment, he had not to supply diet except on a march. _Ib_. pp. 416,
420. The allowance of small-beer was fixed at five pints a day, though
it was maintained that it should be six. Lord Baltimore, according to
Johnson, said that 'as every gentleman's servants each consumed daily
six pints, it surely is not to be required that a soldier should live in
a perpetual state of warfare with his constitution.' _Ib_. p. 418.
Burke, writing in 1794, says:--'In quarters the innkeepers are obliged
to find for the soldiers lodging, fire, candle-light, small-beer, salt
and vinegar gratis.' Burke's _Corres._ iv. 258. Johnson wrote in 1758
(_Works_, vi. 150):--'The manner in which the soldiers are dispersed in
quarters over the country during times of peace naturally produces
laxity of discipline; they are very little in sight of their officers;
and when they are not engaged in the slight duty of the guard are
suffered to live every man his own way.' Fielding, in _Tom Jones_, bk.
ix. ch. 6, humourously describes an innkeeper's grievances.]
Mr. Murray praised the ancient philosophers for the candour and good
humour with which those of different sects disputed with each other.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, they disputed with good humour, because they were not in
earnest as to religion. Had the ancients been serious in their belief,
we should not have had their Gods exhibited in the manner we find them
represented in the Poets. The people would not have suffered it. They
disputed with good humour upon their fanciful theories, because they
were not interested in the truth of them: when a man has nothing to
lose, he may be in good humour with his opponent. Accordingly you see in
Lucian, the Epicurean, who argues only negatively, keeps his temper; the
Stoick, who has something positive to preserve, grows angry[1]. Being
angry with one who controverts an opinion which you value, is a
necessary consequence of the uneasiness which you feel. Every man who
attacks my belief, diminishes in some degree my confidence in it, and
therefore makes me uneasy; and I am angry with him who makes me
uneasy[2]. Those only who believed in revelation have been angry at
having their faith called in question; because they only had something
upon which they could rest as matter of fact.' MURRAY. 'It seems to me
that we are not angry at a man for controverting an opinion which we
believe and value; we rather pity him.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir; to be sure
when you wish a man to have that belief which you think is of infinite
advantage, you wish well to him; but your primary consideration is your
own quiet. If a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his
hand, no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary
consideration would be to take care of ourselves. We should knock him
down first, and pity him afterwards. No, Sir; every man will dispute
with great good humour upon a subject in which he is not interested. I
will dispute very calmly upon the probability of another man's son being
hanged; but if a man zealously enforces the probability that my own son
will be hanged, I shall certainly not be in a very good humour with
him.' I added this illustration, 'If a man endeavours to convince me
that my wife, whom I love very much, and in whom I place great
confidence, is a disagreeable woman, and is even unfaithful to me, I
shall be very angry, for he is putting me in fear of being unhappy.'
MURRAY. 'But, Sir, truth will always bear an examination.' JOHNSON.
'Yes, Sir, but it is painful to be forced to defend it. Consider, Sir,
how should you like, though conscious of your innocence, to be tried
before a jury for a capital crime, once a week.'
[Footnote 1: This alludes to the pleadings of a Stoic and an Epicurean
for and against the existence of the Divinity in Lucian's _Jupiter the
Tragic_. CROKER.]
[Footnote 2: 'There is a time when every man is weary of raising
difficulties only to ask himself with the solution and desires to enjoy
truth without the labour or hazard of contest.' Johnson's _Works_, vi.
497. See _ante_ May 7, 1773, and _post_, April 3, 1779, where he says,
'Sir, you are to a certain degree hurt by knowing that even one man does
not believe.' Hume, in his Essay _Of Parties in General_, had
written:--'Such is the nature of the human mind, that it always takes
hold of every mind that approaches it; and as it is wonderfully
fortified and corroborated by an unanimity of sentiments, so is it,
shocked and disturbed by any contrariety.' 'Carlyle was fond of quoting
a sentence of Novalis:--"My conviction gains infinitely the moment
another soul will believe in it."' _Saturday Review_, No. 1538, p. 521.
'The introducing of new doctrines,' said Bacon, 'is an affectation of
tyranny over the understandings and beliefs of men.' Bacon's _Nat.
Hist._, Experiment 1000.]
We talked of education at great schools; the advantages and
disadvantages of which Johnson displayed in a luminous manner; but his
arguments preponderated so much in favour of the benefit which a boy of
good parts[1] might receive at one of them, that I have reason to
believe Mr. Murray was very much influenced by what he had heard to-day,
in his determination to send his own son to Westminster school[2].--I
have acted in the same manner with regard to my own two sons; having
placed the eldest at Eton, and the second at Westminster. I cannot say
which is best.[3] But in justice to both those noble seminaries, I with
high satisfaction declare, that my boys have derived from them a great
deal of good, and no evil: and I trust they will, like Horace[4], be
grateful to their father for giving them so valuable an education.
[Footnote 1: 'We must own,' said Johnson, 'that neither a dull boy, nor
an idle boy, will do so well at a great school as at a private one.'
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 22, 1773. See _ante_, under Dec. 5, 1775. On
June 16, 1784, he said of a very timid boy:--'Placing him at a public
school is forcing an owl upon day.' Lord Shelburne says that the first
Pitt told him 'that his reason for preferring private to public
education was, that he scarce observed a boy who was not cowed for life
at Eton; that a public school might suit a boy of a turbulent forward
disposition, but would not do where there was any gentleness.'
Fitzmaurice's _Shelburne_, i. 72.]
[Footnote 2: 'There are,' wrote Hume in 1767, 'several advantages of a
Scots education; but the question is, whether that of the language does
not counterbalance them, and determine the preference to the English.'
He decides it does. He continues:--'The only inconvenience is, that few
Scotsmen that have had an English education have ever settled cordially
in their own country; and they have been commonly lost ever after to
their friends.' J.H. Burton's _Hume_, ii. 403.]
[Footnote 3: He wrote to Temple on Nov. 28, 1789:--'My eldest son has
been at Eton since the 15th of October. You cannot imagine how miserable
he has been; he wrote to me for some time as if from the galleys, and
intreated me to come to him.' _Letters of Boswell_, p. 314. On July 21,
1790, he wrote of his second son who was at home ill:--'I am in great
concern what should be done with him, for he is so oppressed at
Westminster School by the big boys that I am almost afraid to send him
thither.' _Ib._ p. 327. On April 6, 1791, he wrote:--'Your little friend
James is quite reconciled to Westminster.' _Ib._ p. 337. Southey, who
was at Westminster with young Boswell, describes 'the capricious and
dangerous tyranny' under which he himself had suffered. Southey's
_Life_, i. 138.]
[Footnote 4: Horace, Satires, i. 6. 65-88.]
I introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the
Universities of England are too rich[1]; so that learning does not
flourish in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller
salaries, and depended on their assiduity for a great part of their
income. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the
English Universities are not rich enough. Our fellowships are only
sufficient to support a man during his studies to fit him for the world,
and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till an
opportunity offers of getting away. Now and then, perhaps, there is a
fellow who grows old in his college; but this is against his will,
unless he be a man very indolent indeed. A hundred a year is reckoned a
good fellowship, and that is no more than is necessary to keep a man
decently as a scholar. We do not allow our fellows to marry, because we
consider academical institutions as preparatory to a settlement in the
world. It is only by being employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain
any thing more than a livelihood. To be sure a man, who has enough
without teaching, will probably not teach; for we would all be idle if
we could[2]. In the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by
teaching, will not exert himself. Gresham-College was intended as a
place of instruction for London; able professors were to read lectures
gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; whereas, if they had been
allowed to receive but sixpence a lecture from each scholar, they would
have been emulous to have had many scholars. Every body will agree that
it should be the interest of those who teach to have scholars; and this
is the case in our Universities[3]. That they are too rich is certainly
not true; for they have nothing good enough to keep a man of eminent
learning with them for his life. In the foreign Universities a
professorship is a high thing. It is as much almost as a man can make by
his learning; and therefore we find the most learned men abroad are in
the Universities[4]. It is not so with us. Our Universities are
impoverished of learning, by the penury of their provisions. I wish
there were many places of a thousand a-year at Oxford, to keep
first-rate men of learning from quitting the University.' Undoubtedly if
this were the case, Literature would have a still greater dignity and
splendour at Oxford, and there would be grander living sources of
instruction.
[Footnote 1: Dr. Adam Smith, who was for some time a Professor in the
University of Glasgow, has uttered, in his _Wealth of Nations_ [v. I,
iii. 2], some reflections upon this subject which are certainly not well
founded, and seem to be invidious. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante,_ ii. 98.]
[Footnote 3: Gibbon denied this. 'The diligence of the tutors is
voluntary, and will consequently be languid, while the pupils
themselves, or their parents, are not indulged in the liberty of choice
or change,' _Misc. Works_, i. 54. Of one of his tutors he wrote:--'He
well remembered that he had a salary to receive, and only forgot that he
had a duty to perform.' _Ib._ p. 58. Boswell, _post_, end of Nov. 1784,
blames Dr. Knox for 'ungraciously attacking his venerable _Alma Mater_.'
Knox, who was a Fellow of St. John's, left Oxford in 1778. In his
_Liberal Education_, published in 1781, he wrote:--'I saw immorality,
habitual drunkenness, idleness and ignorance, boastingly obtruding
themselves on public view.' Knox's _Works_, iv. 138. 'The general
tendency of the universities is favourable to the diffusion of
ignorance, idleness, vice, and infidelity among young men.' _Ib._ p.
147. 'In no part of the kingdom will you meet with more licentious
practices and sentiments, and with less learning than in some colleges.'
_Ib._ p. 179. 'The tutors give what are called lectures. The boys
construe a classic, the jolly young tutor lolls in his elbow-chair, and
seldom gives himself the trouble of interrupting the greatest dunce.'
_Ib._ p. 199. 'Some societies would have been glad to shut themselves up
by themselves, and enjoy the good things of the cook and manciple,
without the intrusion of commoners who come for education.' _Ib._ p.
200. 'The principal thing required is external respect from the juniors.
However ignorant or unworthy a senior fellow may be, yet the slightest
disrespect is treated as the greatest crime of which an academic can be
guilty.' _Ib._ p. 201. The Proctors gave far 'more frequent reprimands
to the want of a band, or to the hair tied in queue, than to important
irregularities. A man might be a drunkard, a debauchee, and yet long
escape the Proctor's animadversion; but no virtue could protect you if
you walked on Christ-church meadow or the High Street with a band tied
too low, or with no band at all; with a pig-tail, or with a green or
scarlet coat.' _Ib._ p. 159. Only thirteen weeks' residence a year was
required. _Ib._ p. 172. The degree was conferred without examination.
_Ib._ p. 189. After taking it 'a man offers himself as a candidate for
orders. He is examined by the Bishop's chaplain. He construes a few
verses in the Greek testament, and translates one of the articles from
Latin into English. His testimonial being received he comes from his
jolly companions to the care of a large parish.' _Ib._ p. 197. Bishop
Law gave in 1781 a different account of Cambridge. There, he complains,
such was the devotion to mathematics, that 'young men often sacrifice
their whole stock of strength and spirits, and so entirely devote most
of their first few years to what is called _taking a good degree_, as to
be hardly good for anything else.' Preface to Archbishop King's _Essay
on the Origin of Evil_, p. xx.]
[Footnote 4: According to Adam Smith this is true only of the Protestant
countries. In Roman Catholic countries and England where benefices are
rich, the church is continually draining the universities of all their
ablest members. In Scotland and Protestant countries abroad, where a
chair in a university is generally a better establishment than a
benefice, by far the greater part of the most eminent men of letters
have been professors. _Wealth of Nations_, v. i. iii. 3.]
I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's[1] uneasiness on account of a degree of
ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in Goldsmith's
_History of Animated Nature_, in which that celebrated mathematician is
represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to render
him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story altogether
unfounded, but for the publication of which the law would give no
reparation[2]. This led us to agitate the question, whether legal
redress could be obtained, even when a man's deceased relation was
calumniated in a publication. Mr. Murray maintained there should be
reparation, unless the author could justify himself by proving the fact.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is of so much more consequence that truth should be
told, than that individuals should not be made uneasy, that it is much
better that the law does not restrain writing freely concerning the
characters of the dead. Damages will be given to a man who is
calumniated in his life-time, because he may be hurt in his worldly
interest, or at least hurt in his mind: but the law does not regard that
uneasiness which a man feels on having his ancestor calumniated[3]. That
is too nice. Let him deny what is said, and let the matter have a fair
chance by discussion. But, if a man could say nothing against a
character but what he can prove, history could not be written; for a
great deal is known of men of which proof cannot be brought. A minister
may be notoriously known to take bribes, and yet you may not be able to
prove it.' Mr. Murray suggested, that the authour should be obliged to
shew some sort of evidence, though he would not require a strict legal
proof: but Johnson firmly and resolutely opposed any restraint whatever,
as adverse to a free investigation of the characters of mankind[4].
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 17, 1773.]
[Footnote 2: Dr. Goldsmith was dead before Mr. Maclaurin discovered the
ludicrous errour. But Mr. Nourse, the bookseller, who was the proprietor
of the work, upon being applied to by Sir John Pringle, agreed very
handsomely to have the leaf on which it was contained cancelled, and
re-printed without it, at his own expence. BOSWELL. In the second
edition, published five years after Goldsmith's death, the story
remains. In a foot-note the editor says, that 'he has been credibly
informed that the professor had not the defect here mentioned.' The
story is not quite as Boswell tells it. 'Maclaurin,' writes Goldsmith
(ii. 91), 'was very subject to have his jaw dislocated; so that when he
opened his mouth wider than ordinary, or when he yawned, he could not
shut it again. In the midst of his harangues, therefore, if any of his
pupils began to be tired of his lecture, he had only to gape or yawn,
and the professor instantly caught the sympathetic affection; so that he
thus continued to stand speechless, with his mouth wide open, till his
servant, from the next room, was called in to set his jaw again.']
[Footnote 3: Dr. Shebbeare (_post_, April 18, 1778) was tried for
writing a libellous pamphlet. Horace Walpole says:--'The bitterest parts
of the work were a satire on William III and George I. The most
remarkable part of this trial was the Chief Justice Mansfield laying
down for law that satires even on dead Kings were punishable. Adieu!
veracity and history, if the King's bench is to appreciate your
expressions!' _Memoirs of the Reign of George II_, iii. 153.]
[Footnote 4: What Dr. Johnson has here said, is undoubtedly good sense;
yet I am afraid that law, though defined by _Lord Coke_ 'the perfection
of reason,' is not altogether _with him_; for it is held in the books,
that an attack on the reputation even of a dead man, may be punished as
a libel, because tending to a breach of the peace. There is, however, I
believe, no modern decided case to that effect. In the King's Bench,
Trinity Term, 1790, the question occurred on occasion of an indictment,
_The King_ v. _Topham_, who, as a _proprietor_ of a news-paper entitled
_The World_, was found guilty of a libel against Earl Cowper, deceased,
because certain injurious charges against his Lordship were published in
that paper. An arrest of Judgment having been moved for, the case was
afterwards solemnly argued. My friend Mr. Const, whom I delight in
having an opportunity to praise, not only for his abilities but his
manners; a gentleman whose ancient German blood has been mellowed in
England, and who may be truely said to unite the _Baron_ and the
_Barrister_, was one of the Counsel for Mr. Topham. He displayed much
learning and ingenuity upon the general question; which, however, was
not decided, as the Court granted an arrest chiefly on the informality
of the indictment. No man has a higher reverence for the law of England
than I have; but, with all deference I cannot help thinking, that
prosecution by indictment, if a defendant is never to be allowed to
justify, must often be very oppressive, unless Juries, whom I am more
and more confirmed in holding to be judges of law as well as of fact,
resolutely interpose. Of late an act of Parliament has passed
declaratory of their full right to one as well as the other, in matter
of libel; and the bill having been brought in by a popular gentleman,
many of his party have in most extravagant terms declaimed on the
wonderful acquisition to the liberty of the press. For my own part I
ever was clearly of opinion that this right was inherent in the very
constitution of a Jury, and indeed in sense and reason inseparable from
their important function. To establish it, therefore, by Statute, is, I
think, narrowing its foundation, which is the broad and deep basis of
Common Law. Would it not rather weaken the right of primo-geniture, or
any other old and universally-acknowledged right, should the legislature
pass an act in favour of it? In my _Letter to the People of Scotland,
against diminishing the number of the Lords of Session_, published in
1785, there is the following passage, which, as a concise, and I hope a
fair and rational state of the matter, I presume to quote: 'The Juries
of England are Judges of _law_ as well as of fact, in _many civil_, and
in all _criminals_ trials. That my principles of _resistance_ may not be
misapprehended and more than my principles of _submission_, I protest
that I should be the last man in the world to encourage Juries to
contradict rashly, wantonly, or perversely, the opinion of the Judges.
On the contrary, I would have them listen respectfully to the advise
they receive from the Bench, by which they may be often well directed in
forming _their own opinion_; which, "and not anothers," is the opinion
they are to return _upon their oaths_. But where, after due attention to
all that the judge has said, they are decidedly of a different opinion
from him, they have not only a _power and a right_, but they are _bound
in conscience_ to bring in a verdict accordingly.' BOWELL. _The World_
is described by Gifford in his _Baviad and Marviad_, as a paper set up
by 'a knot of fantastic coxcombs to direct the taste of the town.'
Lowndes (_Bibl. Man._ ed. 1871, p. 2994) confounds it with _The World_
mentioned _ante_, i. 257. The 'popular gentleman' was Fox, whose Libel
Bill passed the House of Lords in June 1792. _Parl. Hist._ xxix. 1537.]
On Thursday, April 4, having called on Dr. Johnson, I said, it was a
pity that truth was not so firm as to bid defiance to all attacks, so
that it might be shot at as much as people chose to attempt, and yet
remain unhurt. JOHNSON. 'Then, Sir, it would not be shot at. Nobody[1]
attempts to dispute that two and two make four: but with contests
concerning moral truth, human passions are generally mixed, and
therefore it must ever be liable to assault and misrepresentation.'
[Footnote 1: Nobody, that is to say, but Johnson. _Post_, p. 24, note
2.]
On Friday, April 5, being Good Friday, after having attended the morning
service at St. Clement's Church[1], I walked home with Johnson. We
talked of the Roman Catholick religion. JOHNSON. 'In the barbarous ages,
Sir, priests and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there were
gross corruptions introduced by the clergy, such as indulgences to
priests to have concubines, and the worship of images, not, indeed,
inculcated, but knowingly permitted.' He strongly censured the licensed
stews at Rome. BOSWELL. 'So then, Sir, you would allow of no irregular
intercourse whatever between the sexes?' JOHNSON. 'To be sure I would
not, Sir. I would punish it much more than it is done, and so restrain
it. In all countries there has been fornication, as in all countries
there has been theft; but there may be more or less of the one, as well
as of the other, in proportion to the force of law. All men will
naturally commit fornication, as all men will naturally steal. And, Sir,
it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that prostitutes are
necessary to prevent the violent effects of appetite from violating the
decent order of life; nay, should be permitted, in order to preserve the
chastity of our wives and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, severe laws,
steadily enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would
promote marriage.'
[Footnote 1: Of this service Johnson recorded:--'In the morning I had at
church some radiations of comfort.' _Pr. and Med._ p. 146.]
I stated to him this case:--'Suppose a man has a daughter, who he knows
has been seduced, but her misfortune is concealed from the world? should
he keep her in his house? Would he not, by doing so, be accessory to
imposition? And, perhaps, a worthy, unsuspecting man might come and
marry this woman, unless the father inform him of the truth.' JOHNSON.
'Sir, he is accessory to no imposition. His daughter is in his house;
and if a man courts her, he takes his chance. If a friend, or, indeed,
if any man asks his opinion whether he should marry her, he ought to
advise him against it, without telling why, because his real opinion is
then required. Or, if he has other daughters who know of her frailty, he
ought not to keep her in his house. You are to consider the state of
life is this; we are to judge of one another's characters as well as we
can; and a man is not bound, in honesty or honour, to tell us the faults
of his daughter or of himself. A man who has debauched his friend's
daughter is not obliged to say to every body--"Take care of me; don't
let me into your houses without suspicion. I once debauched a friend's
daughter. I may debauch yours."'
Mr. Thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss of his son
with a manly composure. There was no affectation about him; and he
talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects.[1] He seemed to me to
hesitate as to the intended Italian tour, on which, I flattered myself,
he and Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson were soon to set out; and, therefore,
I pressed it as much as I could. I mentioned, that Mr. Beauclerk had
said, that Baretti, whom they were to carry with them, would keep them
so long in the little towns of his own district, that they would not
have time to see Rome. I mentioned this, to put them on their guard.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for supposing that we are
to be directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, by my advice,
to Mr. Jackson[2], (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for seeing
the most that can be seen in the time that we have to travel. We must,
to be sure, see Rome, Naples, Florence, and Venice, and as much more as
we can.' (Speaking with a tone of animation.)
[Footnote 1: Baretti, in a marginal note on _Piozzi Letters_, i. 311,
says:--'Mr. Thrale, who was a worldly man, and followed the direction of
his own feelings with no philosophical or Christian distinctions, having
now lost the strong hope of being one day succeeded in the profitable
Brewery by the only son he had left, gave himself silently up to his
grief, and fell in a few years a victim to it.' In a second note (ii.
22) he says:--'The poor man could never subdue his grief on account of
his son's death.']
[Footnote 2: A gentleman, who from his extraordinary stores of
knowledge, has been stiled _omniscient_. Johnson, I think very properly,
altered it to all-knowing, as it is a _verbum solenne_, appropriated to
the Supreme Being. BOSWELL.]
When I expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on Italy, he said, 'I
do not see that I could make a book upon Italy[1]; yet I should be glad
to get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds, by such a work.' This
shewed both that a journal of his Tour upon the Continent was not wholly
out of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to that strange
opinion, which his indolent disposition made him utter: 'No man but a
blockhead ever wrote, except for money[2].' Numerous instances to refute
this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature.[3]
[Footnote 1: Mrs. Thrale wrote to him on May 3:--'Should you write about
Streatham and Croydon, the book would be as good to me as a journey to
Rome, exactly; for 'tis Johnson, not _Falkland's Islands_ that interest
us, and your style is invariably the same. The sight of Rome might have
excited more reflections indeed than the sight of the Hebrides, and so
the book might be bigger, but it would not be better a jot.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i 318.]
[Footnote 2: Hawkins says (_Life_, p. 84) that 'Johnson was never greedy
of money, but without money could not be stimulated to write. I have
been told by a clergyman with whom he had been long acquainted, that,
being (sic) to preach on a particular occasion, he applied to him for
help. "I will write a sermon for thee," said Johnson, "but thou must pay
me for it."' See _post_, May 1, 1783. Horace Walpole (_Letters_, viii.
150) records an anecdote that he had from Hawkins:--'When Dr. Johnson
was at his work on his _Shakespeare_, Sir John said to him, "Well!
Doctor, now you have finished your _Dictionary_, I suppose you will
labour your present work _con amore_ for your reputation." "No Sir,"
said Johnson, "nothing excites a man to write but necessity."' Walpole
then relates the anecdote of the clergyman, and speaks of Johnson as
'the mercenary.' Walpole's sinecure offices thirty-nine years before
this time brought him in 'near, L2000 a year.' In 1782 he wrote that his
office of Usher of the Exchequer was worth L1800 a year. _Letters_, i.
lxxix, lxxxii.]
[Footnote 3: Swift wrote in 1735, when he was sixty-seven:--'I never got
a farthing by anything I writ, except one about eight years ago, and
that was by Mr. Pope's prudent management for me.' _Works_, xix. 171. It
was, I conjecture, _Gulliver's Travels_. Hume, in 1757, wrote:--'I am
writing the _History of England_ from the accession of Henry VII. I
undertook this work because I was tired of idleness, and found reading
alone, after I had often perused all good books (which I think is soon
done), somewhat a languid occupation.' J. H. Burton's _Hume_, ii. 33.]
He gave us one of the many sketches of character which were treasured in
his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite unexpectedly in a very
entertaining manner. 'I lately, (said he,) received a letter from the
East Indies, from a gentleman whom I formerly knew very well; he had
returned from that country with a handsome fortune, as it was reckoned,
before means were found to acquire those immense sums which have been
brought from thence of late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and
lived very prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he
took to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. One evening he lost
a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name I am sorry I have forgotten.
Next morning he sent the gentleman five hundred pounds, with an apology
that it was all he had in the world. The gentleman sent the money back
to him, declaring he would not accept of it; and adding, that if Mr.
---- had occasion for five hundred pounds more, he would lend it to him.
He resolved to go out again to the East Indies, and make his fortune
anew. He got a considerable appointment, and I had some intention of
accompanying him. Had I thought then as I do now, I should have gone:
but, at that time, I had objections to quitting England.'
It was a very remarkable circumstance about Johnson, whom shallow
observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that very
few men had seen greater variety of characters; and none could observe
them better, as was evident from the strong, yet nice portraits which he
often drew. I have frequently thought that if he had made out what the
French call _une catalogue raisonnee_ of all the people who had passed
under his observation, it would have afforded a very rich fund of
instruction and entertainment. The suddenness with which his accounts of
some of them started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than
surprising. I remember he once observed to me, 'It is wonderful, Sir,
what is to be found in London. The most literary conversation that I
ever enjoyed, was at the table of Jack Ellis, a money-scrivener behind
the Royal Exchange, with whom I at one period used to dine generally
once a week[1].'
[Footnote 1: This Mr. Ellis was, I believe, the last of that profession
called _Scriveners_, which is one of the London companies, but of which
the business is no longer carried on separately, but is transacted by
attornies and others. He was a man of literature and talents. He was the
authour of a Hudibrastick version of Maphaesus's _Canto_, in addition to
the _AEneid_; of some poems in Dodsley's _Collections_; and various other
small pieces; but being a very modest man, never put his name to
anything. He shewed me a translation which he had made of Ovid's
_Epistles_, very prettily done. There is a good engraved portrait of him
by Pether, from a picture by Fry, which hangs in the hall of the
Scriveners' company. I visited him October 4, 1790, in his ninety-third
year, and found his judgment distinct and clear, and his memory, though
faded so as to fail him occasionally, yet, as he assured me, and I
indeed perceived, able to serve him very well, after a little
recollection. It was agreeable to observe, that he was free from the
discontent and fretfulness which too often molest old age. He in the
summer of that year walked to Rotherhithe, where he dined, and walked
home in the evening. He died on the 31st of December, 1791. BOSWELL. The
version of Maphaesus's 'bombastic' additional _Canto_ is advertised in
the _Gent. Mag._ 1758, p. 233. The engraver of Mr. Ellis's portrait in
the first two editions is called Peffer.]
Volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and various
acquaintance[1], none of whom he ever forgot; and could describe and
discriminate them all with precision and vivacity. He associated with
persons the most widely different in manners, abilities, rank and
accomplishments[2]. He was at once the companion of the brilliant
Colonel Forrester[3] of the Guards, who wrote _The Polite Philosopher_,
and of the aukward and uncouth Robert Levet; of Lord Thurlow, and Mr.
Sastres, the Italian master; and has dined one day with the beautiful,
gay, and fascinating Lady Craven,[4] and the next with good Mrs.
Gardiner,[5] the tallow-chandler, on Snow-hill.
[Footnote 1: 'Admiral Walsingham boasted that he had entertained more
miscellaneous parties than any other man in London. At one time he had
received the Duke of Cumberland, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Nairne the optician,
and Leoni the singer. It was at his table that Dr. Johnson made that
excellent reply to a pert coxcomb who baited him during dinner. "Pray
now," said he to the Doctor, "what would you give, old gentleman, to be
as young and sprightly as I am?" "Why, Sir, I think," replied Johnson,
"I would almost be content to be as foolish."' Cradock's _Memoirs_, i.
172.]
[Footnote 2: 'Dr. Johnson almost always prefers the company of an
intelligent man of the world to that of a scholar.' Mme. D'Arblay's
_Diary_, i. 241.].
[Footnote 3: See J.H. Burton's _Hume_, i. 174, for an account of him.]
[Footnote 4: Lord Macartney, who with his other distinguished qualities,
is remarkable also for an elegant pleasantry, told me, that he met
Johnson at Lady Craven's, and that he seemed jealous of any
interference: 'So, (said his Lordship, smiling,) _I kept back_.'
BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 5: See _ante_, i. 242.]
On my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much of the knowledge
peculiar to different professions, he told me, 'I learnt what I know of
law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow,[1] a very able man. I learnt some, too,
from Chambers;[2] but was not so teachable then. One is not willing to
be taught by a young man.' When I expressed a wish to know more about
Mr. Ballow, Johnson said, 'Sir, I have seen him but once these twenty
years. The tide of life has driven us different ways.' I was sorry at
the time to hear this; but whoever quits the creeks of private
connections, and fairly gets into the great ocean of London, will, by
imperceptible degrees, unavoidably experience such cessations of
acquaintance.
[Footnote 1: There is an account of him in Sir John Hawkins's Life of
Johnson. BOSWELL. Hawkins (Life, p. 246) records the following sarcasm
of Ballow. In a coffee-house he attacked the profession of physic, which
Akenside, who was a physician as well as poet, defended. 'Doctor,' said
Ballow, 'after all you have said, my opinion of the profession of physic
is this. The ancients endeavoured to make it a science, and failed; and
the moderns to make it a trade, and have succeeded.']
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, i. 274.]
'My knowledge of physick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. James, whom I
helped in writing the proposals for his _Dictionary_ and also a little
in the Dictionary itself.[1] I also learnt from Dr. Lawrence, but was
then grown more stubborn.'
[Footnote 1: I have in vain endeavoured to find out what parts Johnson
wrote for Dr. James. Perhaps medical men may. BOSWELL. See _ante_, i.
159. Johnson, needing medicine at Montrose, 'wrote the prescription in
technical characters.' Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 21, 1773.]
A curious incident happened to-day, while Mr. Thrale and I sat with him.
Francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from the
post-office, said to have come from Lisbon, and it was charged _seven
pounds ten shillings_. He would not receive it, supposing it to be some
trick, nor did he even look at it. But upon enquiry afterwards he found
that it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the East
Indies of whom he had been speaking; and the ship which carried it
having come to Portugal, this packet, with others, had been put into the
post-office at Lisbon.
I mentioned a new gaming-club,[1] of which Mr. Beauclerk had given me an
account, where the members played to a desperate extent. JOHNSON.
'Depend upon it, Sir, this is mere talk. _Who_ is ruined by gaming? You
will not find six instances in an age. There is a strange rout made
about deep play: whereas you have many more people ruined by adventurous
trade, and yet we do not hear such an outcry against it.' THRALE. 'There
may be few people absolutely ruined by deep play; but very many are much
hurt in their circumstances by it.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and so are very
many by other kinds of expence.' I had heard him talk once before in the
same manner; and at Oxford he said, 'he wished he had learnt to play at
cards.'[2] The truth, however, is, that he loved to display his
ingenuity in argument; and therefore would sometimes in conversation
maintain opinions which he was sensible were wrong, but in supporting
which, his reasoning and wit would be most conspicuous.[3] He would
begin thus: 'Why, Sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing--' 'Now,
(said Garrick,) he is thinking which side he shall take.'[4] He appeared
to have a pleasure in contradiction, especially when any opinion
whatever was delivered with an air of confidence[5]; so that there was
hardly any topick, if not one of the great truths of Religion and
Morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, either for or
against. Lord Elibank[6] had the highest admiration of his powers. He
once observed to me, 'Whatever opinion Johnson maintains, I will not say
that he convinces me; but he never fails to shew me, that he has good
reasons for it.' I have heard Johnson pay his Lordship this high
compliment: 'I never was in Lord Elibank's company without learning
something.'[7]
[Footnote 1: Horace Walpole, writing of May in this year, says that
General Smith, an adventurer from the East Indies, who was taken off by
Foote in _The Nabob_, 'being excluded from the fashionable club of young
men of quality at Almack's, had, with a set of sharpers, formed a plan
for a new club, which, by the excess of play, should draw all the young
extravagants thither. They built a magnificent house in St.
James's-street, and furnished it gorgeously.' _Journal of the Reign of
George III_, ii. 39.]
[Footnote 2: He said the same when in Scotland. Boswell's _Hebrides_,
under Nov. 22, 1773. On the other hand, in _The Rambler_, No. 80, he
wrote:--'It is scarcely possible to pass an hour in honest conversation,
without being able, when we rise from it, to please ourselves with
having given or received some advantages; but a man may shuffle cards,
or rattle dice, from noon to midnight, without tracing any new idea in
his mind, or being able to recollect the day by any other token than his
gain or loss, and a confused remembrance of agitated passions, and
clamorous altercations.']
[Footnote 3: 'Few reflect,' says Warburton, 'on what a great wit has so
ingenuously owned. That wit is generally false reasoning.' The wit was
Wycherley. See his letter xvi. to Pope in Pope's _Works_. Warburton's
_Divine Legation_, i. xii.]
[Footnote 4: 'Perhaps no man was ever more happy than Dr. Johnson in the
extempore and masterly defence of any cause which, at the given moment,
he chose to defend.' Stockdale's _Memoirs_, i. 261.]
[Footnote 5: Burke, in a letter that he wrote in 1771 (_Corres._ i.
330), must have had in mind his talks with Johnson. 'Nay,' he said, 'it
is not uncommon, when men are got into debates, to take now one side,
now another, of a question, as the momentary humour of the man and the
occasion called for, with all the latitude that the antiquated freedom
and ease of English conversation among friends did, in former days,
encourage and excuse.' H.C. Robinson (_Diary_, iii. 485) says that Dr.
Burney 'spoke with great warmth of affection of Dr. Johnson, and said he
was the kindest creature in the world when he thought he was loved and
respected by others. He would play the fool among friends, but he
required deference. It was necessary to ask questions and make no
assertion. If you said two and two make four, he would say, 'How will
you prove that, Sir?' Dr. Burney seemed amiably sensitive to every
unfavourable remark on his old friend.]
[Footnote 6: Patrick Lord Elibank, who died in 1778. BOSWELL. See
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 12, 1773.]
[Footnote 7: Yet he said of him:--'Sir, there is nothing conclusive in
his talk.' See _post_, p. 57.]
We sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service. Thrale
said he had come with intention to go to church with us. We went at
seven to evening prayers at St. Clement's church, after having drank
coffee; an indulgence, which I understood Johnson yielded to on this
occasion, in compliment to Thrale[1].
[Footnote 1: Johnson records of this Good Friday:--'My design was to
pass part of the day in exercises of piety, but Mr. Boswell interrupted
me; of him, however, I could have rid myself; but poor Thrale, _orbus et
exspes_, came for comfort, and sat till seven, when we all went to
church.' _Pr. and Med._ p. 146.].
On Sunday, April 7, Easter-day, after having been at St. Paul's
Cathedral, I came to Dr. Johnson, according to my usual custom. It
seemed to me, that there was always something peculiarly mild and placid
in his manner upon this holy festival, the commemoration of the most
joyful event in the history of our world, the resurrection of our LORD
and SAVIOUR, who, having triumphed over death and the grave, proclaimed
immortality to mankind[1].
[Footnote 1: Johnson's entries at Easter shew this year, and some of the
following years, more peace of mind than hitherto. Thus this Easter he
records, 'I had at church some radiations of comfort.... When I
received, some tender images struck me. I was so mollified by the
concluding address to our Saviour that I could not utter it.' _Pr. and
Med._ pp. 146, 149. 'Easter-day, 1777, I was for some time much
distressed, but at last obtained, I hope from the God of peace, more
quiet than I have enjoyed for a long time. I had made no resolution, but
as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my courage increased.'
_Ib._ p. 158. 'Good Friday, 1778. I went with some confidence and
calmness through the prayers.' _Ib._ p. 164.]
I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who
maintained, that her husband's having been guilty of numberless
infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they were
reciprocal. JOHNSON. 'This is miserable stuff, Sir. To the contract of
marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third party--Society; and
if it be considered as a vow--GOD: and, therefore, it cannot be
dissolved by their consent alone. Laws are not made for particular
cases, but for men in general. A woman may be unhappy with her husband;
but she cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil
and ecclesiastical power. A man may be unhappy, because he is not so
rich as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property with his
own hand.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, this lady does not want that the contract
should be dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in
gallantries with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she takes
care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. You know, Sir,
what Macrobius has told us of Julia.[1]' JOHNSON. 'This lady of yours,
Sir, I think, is very fit for a brothel.'
[Footnote 1: '_Nunquam enim nisi navi plena tollo vectorem_.' Lib. ii.
c. vi. BOSWELL.]
Mr. Macbean[1], authour of the _Dictionary of ancient Geography_, came
in. He mentioned that he had been forty years absent from Scotland. 'Ah,
Boswell! (said Johnson, smiling,) what would you give to be forty years
from Scotland?' I said, 'I should not like to be so long absent from the
seat of my ancestors.' This gentleman, Mrs. Williams, and Mr. Levet,
dined with us.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 187.]
Dr. Johnson made a remark, which both Mr. Macbean and I thought new. It
was this: that 'the law against usury is for the protection of creditors
as well as of debtors; for if there were no such check, people would be
apt, from the temptation of great interest, to lend to desperate
persons, by whom they would lose their money. Accordingly there are
instances of ladies being ruined, by having injudiciously sunk their
fortunes for high annuities, which, after a few years, ceased to be
paid, in consequence of the ruined circumstances of the borrower.'
Mrs. Williams was very peevish; and I wondered at Johnson's patience
with her now, as I had often done on similar occasions. The truth is,
that his humane consideration of the forlorn and indigent state in which
this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the
utmost tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amusement,
so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with
him to their houses, where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of
her blindness, she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice
sensations.[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 232.]
After coffee, we went to afternoon service in St. Clement's church.
Observing some beggars in the street as we walked along, I said to him I
supposed there was no civilised country in the world, where the misery
of want in the lowest classes of the people was prevented. JOHNSON. 'I
believe, Sir, there is not; but it is better that some should be
unhappy, than that none should be happy, which would be the case in a
general state of equality.'[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii, 219.]
When the service was ended, I went home with him, and we sat quietly by
ourselves. He recommended Dr. Cheyne's books. I said, I thought Cheyne
had been reckoned whimsical. 'So he was, (said he,) in some things; but
there is no end of objections. There are few books to which some
objection or other may not be made.' He added, 'I would not have you
read anything else of Cheyne, but his book on Health, and his _English
Malady_.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Cheyne's _English Malady, or a Treatise of Nervous Diseases
of All Kinds_, 1733. He recommended a milk, seed, and vegetable diet; by
seed he apparently meant any kind of grain. He did not take meat. He
drank green tea. At one time he weighed thirty-two stones. His work
shews the great change in the use of fermented liquors since his time.
Thus he says:--'For nearly twenty years I continued sober, moderate, and
plain in my diet, and in my greatest health drank not above a quart, or
three pints at most of wine any day' (p. 235). 'For near one-half of the
time from thirty to sixty I scarce drank any strong liquor at all. It
will be found that upon the whole I drank very little above a pint of
wine, or at most not a quart one day with another, since I was near
thirty' (p. 243). Johnson a second time recommended Boswell to read this
book, _post_, July 2, 1776. See _ante_, i. 65. Boswell was not the man
to follow Cheyne's advice. Of one of his works Wesley says:--'It is one
of the most ingenious books which I ever saw. But what epicure will ever
regard it? for "the man talks against good eating and drinking."'
Wesley's _Journal_, i. 347. Young, in his _Epistles to Pope_, No. ii.
says:--
'--three ells round huge Cheyne
rails at meat.'
Dr. J. H. Burton (_Life of Hume_, i. 45) shews reason for believing that
a very curious letter by Hume was written to Cheyne.]
Upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of vicious actions
would do well to force himself into solitude and sadness; JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir, unless it prevent him from being vicious again. With some people,
gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside down. A man may be
gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has recourse again
to criminal indulgencies.'[1]
[Footnote 1: '"Solitude," he said one day, "is dangerous to reason,
without being favourable to virtue; pleasures of some sort are necessary
to the intellectual as to the corporeal health; and those who resist
gaiety will be likely for the most part to fall a sacrifice to appetite;
for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a
vacant and solitary person is a speedy and seducing relief. Remember
(continued he) that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably
superstitious, and possibly mad."' Piozzi's _Anec._ p. 106.]
On Wednesday, April 10, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, where were Mr.
Murphy and some other company. Before dinner, Dr. Johnson and I passed
some time by ourselves. I was sorry to find it was now resolved that the
proposed journey to Italy should not take place this year.[1] He said,
'I am disappointed, to be sure; but it is not a great disappointment.' I
wondered to see him bear, with a philosophical calmness, what would have
made most people peevish and fretful. I perceived, however, that he had
so warmly cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could
not easily part with the scheme; for he said, 'I shall probably contrive
to get to Italy some other way. But I won't mention it to Mr. and Mrs.
Thrale, as it might vex them.' I suggested, that going to Italy might
have done Mr. and Mrs. Thrale good. JOHNSON. 'I rather believe not, Sir.
While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must
wait till grief be _digested_, and then amusement will dissipate the
remains of it.'
[Footnote 1: The day before he wrote to Mrs. Thrale:--'Mr. Thrale's
alteration of purpose is not weakness of resolution; it is a wise man's
compliance with the change of things, and with the new duties which the
change produces. Whoever expects me to be angry will be disappointed. I
do not even grieve at the effect, I grieve only at the cause.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 314. Mrs. Thrale on May 3 wrote:--'Baretti said you would
be very angry, because this dreadful event made us put off our Italian
journey, but I knew you better. Who knows even now that 'tis deferred
for ever? Mr. Thrale says he shall not die in peace without seeing Rome,
and I am sure he will go no-where that he can help without you.' _Ib._
p. 317.]
At dinner, Mr. Murphy entertained us with the history of Mr. Joseph
Simpson,[1] a schoolfellow of Dr. Johnson's, a barrister at law, of good
parts, but who fell into a dissipated course of life, incompatible with
that success in his profession which he once had, and would otherwise
have deservedly maintained; yet he still preserved a dignity in his
deportment. He wrote a tragedy on the story of Leonidas, entitled _The
Patriot_. He read it to a company of lawyers, who found so many faults,
that he wrote it over again: so then there were two tragedies on the
same subject and with the same title. Dr. Johnson told us, that one of
them was still in his possession. This very piece was, after his death,
published by some person who had been about him, and, for the sake of a
little hasty profit, was fallaciously advertised, so as to make it be
believed to have been written by Johnson himself.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 346.]
I said, I disliked the custom which some people had of bringing their
children into company,[1] because it in a manner forced us to pay
foolish compliments to please their parents. JOHNSON. 'You are right,
Sir. We may be excused for not caring much about other people's
children, for there are many who care very little about their own
children. It may be observed, that men, who from being engaged in
business, or from their course of life in whatever way, seldom see their
children, do not care much about them. I myself should not have had much
fondness for a child of my own.'[2] MRS. THRALE. 'Nay, Sir, how can you
talk so?' JOHNSON. 'At least, I never wished to have a child.'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, July 22, 1777, note, where Boswell complains of
children being 'suffered to poison the moments of festivity.']
[Footnote 2: Boswell, _post_, under March 30, 1783, says, 'Johnson
discovered a love of little children upon all occasions.']
Mr. Murphy mentioned Dr. Johnson's having a design to publish an edition
of _Cowley_. Johnson said, he did not know but he should; and he
expressed his disapprobation of Dr. Hurd, for having published a
mutilated edition under the title of _Select Works of Abraham
Cowley_.[1] Mr. Murphy thought it a bad precedent; observing that any
authour might be used in the same manner; and that it was pleasing to
see the variety of an authour's compositions, at different periods.
[Footnote 1: Johnson at a later period thought otherwise. _Post_, March
30, 1778.]
We talked of Flatman's Poems; and Mrs. Thrale observed, that Pope had
partly borrowed from him _The dying Christian to his Soul_.[1] Johnson
repeated Rochester's verses upon Flatman[2], which I think by much too
severe:
'Nor that slow drudge in swift Pindarick strains,
Flatman, who Cowley imitates with pains,
And rides a jaded Muse, whipt with loose reins.'
I like to recollect all the passages that I heard Johnson repeat: it
stamps a value on them.
[Footnote 1: Pope borrowed from the following lines:--
'When on my sick bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish;
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying--
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,
Be not fearful, come away.'
Campbell's _Brit. Poets_, p. 301.]
[Footnote 2: In Rochester's _Allusion to the Tenth Satire of the First
Book of Horace_.]
He told us, that the book entitled _The Lives of the Poets_, by Mr.
Cibber, was entirely compiled by Mr. Shiels, a Scotchman, one of his
amanuenses. 'The bookseller (said he,) gave Theophilus Cibber, who was
then in prison, ten guineas, to allow _Mr. Cibber_ to be put upon the
title-page, as the authour; by this, a double imposition was intended:
in the first place, that it was the work of a Cibber at all; and, in the
second place, that it was the work of old Cibber.'[1]
[Footnote 1: In the _Monthly Review_ for May, 1792, there is such a
correction of the above passage, as I should think myself very culpable
not to subjoin. 'This account is very inaccurate. The following
statement of facts we know to be true, in every material
circumstance:--Shiels was the principal collector and digester of the
materials for the work: but as he was very raw in authourship, an
indifferent writer in prose, and his language full of Scotticisms,
Cibber, who was a clever, lively fellow, and then soliciting employment
among the booksellers, was engaged to correct the style and diction of
the whole work, then intended to make only four volumes, with power to
alter, expunge, or add, as he liked. He was also to supply _notes_,
occasionally, especially concerning those dramatick poets with whom he
had been chiefly conversant. He also engaged to write several of the
Lives; which, (as we are told,) he, accordingly, performed. He was
farther useful in striking out the Jacobitical and Tory sentiments,
which Shiels had industriously interspersed wherever he could bring them
in:--and, as the success of the work appeared, after all, very doubtful,
he was content with twenty-one pounds for his labour beside a few sets
of the books, to disperse among his friends.--Shiels had nearly seventy
pounds, beside the advantage of many of the best Lives in the work being
communicated by friends to the undertaking; and for which Mr. Shiels had
the same consideration as for the rest, being paid by the sheet, for the
whole. He was, however, so angry with his Whiggish supervisor, (He, like
his father, being a violent stickler for the political principles which
prevailed in the Reign of George the Second,) for so unmercifully
mutilating his copy, and scouting his politicks, that he wrote Cibber a
challenge: but was prevented from sending it, by the publisher, who
fairly laughed him out of his fury. The proprietors, too, were
discontented, in the end, on account of Mr. Cibber's unexpected
industry; for his corrections and alterations in the proof-sheets were
so numerous and considerable, that the printer made for them a grievous
addition to his bill; and, in fine, all parties were dissatisfied. On
the whole, the work was productive of no profit to the undertakers, who
had agreed, in case of success, to make Cibber a present of some
addition to the twenty guineas which he had received, and for which his
receipt is now in the booksellers' hands. We are farther assured, that
he actually obtained an additional sum; when he, soon after, (in the
year 1758,) unfortunately embarked for Dublin, on an engagement for one
of the theatres there: but the ship was cast away, and every person on
board perished. There were about sixty passengers, among whom was the
Earl of Drogheda, with many other persons of consequence and property.
[_Gent. Mag._ 1758, p. 555.]
'As to the alledged design of making the compilement pass for the work
of old Mr. Cibber, the charges seem to have been founded on a somewhat
uncharitable construction. We are assured that the thought was not
harboured by some of the proprietors, who are still living; and we hope
that it did not occur to the first designer of the work, who was also
the printer of it, and who bore a respectable character.
'We have been induced to enter thus circumstantially into the foregoing
detail of facts relating to _The Lives of the Poets_, compiled by
Messrs. Cibber and Shiels, from a sincere regard to that sacred
principle of Truth, to which Dr. Johnson so rigidly adhered, according
to the best of his knowledge; and which we believe, _no consideration_
would have prevailed on him to violate. In regard to the matter, which
we now dismiss, he had, no doubt, been misled by partial and wrong
information: Shiels was the Doctor's amanuensis; he had quarrelled with
Cibber; it is natural to suppose that he told his story in his own way;
and it is certain that _he_ was not "a very sturdy moralist." [The
quotation is from Johnson's _Works_, ix. 116.] This explanation appears
to me very satisfactory. It is, however, to be observed, that the story
told by Johnson does not rest solely upon my record of his conversation;
for he himself has published it in his _Life of Hammond_ [_ib._ viii.
90], where he says, "the manuscript of Shiels is now in my possession."
Very probably he had trusted to Shiels's word, and never looked at it so
as to compare it with _The Lives of the Poets_, as published under Mr.
Cibber's name. What became of that manuscript I know not. I should have
liked much to examine it. I suppose it was thrown into the fire in that
impetuous combustion of papers, which Johnson I think rashly executed,
when _moribundus_.' BOSWELL. Mr. Croker, quoting a letter by Griffiths
the publisher, says:--'The question is now decided by this letter in
opposition to Dr. Johnson's assertion.' Croker's _Boswell_, p. 818. The
evidence of such an infamous fellow as Griffiths is worthless. (For his
character see Forster's _Goldsmith_, i. 161.) As the _Monthly Review_
was his property, the passage quoted by Boswell was, no doubt, written
by his direction. D'Israeli (_Curiosities of Literature_, ed. 1834, vi.
375) says that Oldys (_ante_, i. 175) made annotations on a copy of
Langbaine's _Dramatic Poets_. 'This _Langbaine_, with additions by
Coxeter, was bought by Theophilus Cibber; on the strength of these notes
he prefixed his name to the first collection of the _Lives of Our
Poets_, written chiefly by Shiels.']
Mr. Murphy said, that _The Memoirs of Gray's Life_ set him much higher
in his estimation than his poems did; 'for you there saw a man
constantly at work in literature.' Johnson acquiesced in this; but
depreciated the book, I thought, very unreasonably. For he said, 'I
forced myself to read it, only because it was a common topick of
conversation. I found it mighty dull; and, as to the style, it is fit
for the second table[1].' Why he thought so I was at a loss to conceive.
He now gave it as his opinion, that 'Akenside[2] was a superiour poet
both to Gray and Mason.'
[Footnote 1: Mason's _Memoirs of Gray's Life_ was published in 1775.
Johnson, in his _Life of Gray_ (_Works_, viii. 476), praises Gray's
portion of the book:--'They [Gray and Horace Walpole] wandered through
France into Italy; and Gray's _Letters_ contain a very pleasing account
of many parts of their journey.' 'The style of Madame de Sevigne,' wrote
Mackintosh (_Life_, ii. 221), 'is evidently copied, not only by her
worshipper Walpole, but even by Gray; notwithstanding the extraordinary
merits of his matter, he has the double stiffness of an imitator and of
a college recluse.']
[Footnote 2: See ante, ii. 164.]
Talking of the Reviews, Johnson said, 'I think them very impartial: I do
not know an instance of partiality.'[1] He mentioned what had passed
upon the subject of the _Monthly_ and _Critical Reviews_, in the
conversation with which his Majesty had honoured him.[2] He expatiated a
little more on them this evening. 'The Monthly Reviewers (said he) are
not Deists; but they are Christians with as little christianity as may
be; and are for pulling down all establishments. The Critical Reviewers
are for supporting the constitution both in church and state.[3] The
Critical Reviewers, I believe, often review without reading the books
through; but lay hold of a topick, and write chiefly from their own
minds. The Monthly Reviewers are duller men, and are glad to read the
books through.'
[Footnote 1: This impartiality is very unlikely. In 1757 Griffiths, the
owner of the _Monthly_, aiming a blow at Smollett, the editor of the
_Critical_, said that _The Monthly Review_ was not written by
'physicians without practice, authors without learning, men without
decency, gentlemen without manners, and critics without judgement.'
Smollett retorted:--'_The Critical Review_ is not written by a parcel of
obscure hirelings, under the restraint of a bookseller and his wife, who
presume to revise, alter, and amend the articles occasionally. The
principal writers in the _Critical Review_ are unconnected with
booksellers, un-awed by old women, and independent of each other.'
Forster's _Goldsmith_, i. 100. 'A fourth share in _The Monthly Review_
was sold in 1761 for L755.' _A Bookseller of the Last Century_, p. 19.]
[Footnote 2: See ante, ii. 39.]
[Footnote 3: Horace Walpole writes:--'The scope of the _Critical Review_
was to decry any work that appeared favourable to the principles of the
Revolution.' _Memoirs of the Reign of George II_, iii. 260.]
He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour; observing,
that 'he was thirty years in preparing his _History_, and that he
employed a man to point it for him; as if (laughing) another man could
point his sense better than himself.'[1] Mr. Murphy said, he understood
his history was kept back several years for fear of Smollet[2]. JOHNSON.
'This seems strange to Murphy and me, who never felt that anxiety, but
sent what we wrote to the press, and let it take its chance.' MRS.
THRALE. 'The time has been, Sir, when you felt it.' JOHNSON. 'Why
really, Madam, I do not recollect a time when that was the case.'
[Footnote 1: 'The story of this publication is remarkable. The whole
book was printed twice over, a great part of it three times, and many
sheets four or five times. The booksellers paid for the first
impression; but the charges and repeated operations of the press were at
the expense of the author, whose ambitious accuracy is known to have
cost him at least a thousand pounds. He began to print in 1755. Three
volumes appeared in 1764, and the conclusion in 1771. Andrew Reid
undertook to persuade Lyttelton, as he had persuaded himself, that he
was master of the secret of punctuation; and, as fear begets credulity,
he was employed, I know not at what price, to point the pages of _Henry
the Second_. When time brought the _History_ to a third edition, Reid
was either dead or discarded; and the superintendence of typography and
punctuation was committed to a man originally a comb-maker, but then
known by the style of Doctor. Something uncommon was probably expected,
and something uncommon was at last done; for to the Doctor's edition is
appended, what the world had hardly seen before, a list of errors in
nineteen pages.' Johnson's _Works_, viii. 492. In the first edition of
_The Lives of the Poets_ 'the Doctor' is called Dr. Saunders. So
ambitious was Lord Lyttelton's accuracy that in the second edition he
gave a list of 'false stops which hurt the sense.' For instance, the
punctuation of the following paragraph:--'The words of Abbot Suger, in
his life of Lewis le Gros, concerning this prince are very remarkable,'
he thus corrects, 'after prince a comma is wanting.' See _ante_, ii.
37.]
[Footnote 2: According to Horace Walpole, Lyttelton had angered Smollett
by declining 'to recommend to the stage' a comedy of his. 'He promised,'
Walpole continues, 'if it should be acted, to do all the service in his
power for the author. Smollett's return was drawing an abusive portrait
of Lord Lyttelton in _Roderick Random.' Memoirs of the Reign of George
II_, iii. 259.]
Talking of _The Spectator_, he said, 'It is wonderful that there is such
a proportion of bad papers, in the half of the work which was not
written by Addison; for there was all the world to write that half, yet
not a half of that half is good. One of the finest pieces in the English
language is the paper on Novelty,[1] yet we do not hear it talked of. It
was written by Grove, a dissenting _teacher_.' He would not, I
perceived, call him a _clergyman_, though he was candid enough to allow
very great merit to his composition. Mr. Murphy said, he remembered when
there were several people alive in London, who enjoyed a considerable
reputation merely from having written a paper in _The Spectator_. He
mentioned particularly Mr. Ince, who used to frequent Tom's
coffee-house. 'But (said Johnson,) you must consider how highly Steele
speaks of Mr. Ince[2].' He would not allow that the paper[3] on carrying
a boy to travel, signed _Philip Homebred_, which was reported to be
written by the Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, had merit. He said, 'it was
quite vulgar, and had nothing luminous.'
[Footnote 1: _Spectator_, No. 626. See _post_, 1780, in Mr. Langton's
_Collection_, near the end.]
[Footnote 2: When Steele brought _The Spectator_ to the close of its
first period, he acknowledged in the final number (No. 555) his
obligation to his assistants. In a postscript to the later editions he
says:--'It had not come to my knowledge, when I left off _The
Spectator_, that I owe several excellent sentiments and agreeable pieces
in this work to Mr. Ince, of Gray's Inn.' Mr. Ince died in 1758. _Gent.
Mag._ 1758, p. 504.]
[Footnote 3: _Spectator_, No. 364.]
Johnson mentioned Dr. Barry's[1] System of Physick. 'He was a man (said
he,) who had acquired a high reputation in Dublin, came over to England,
and brought his reputation with him, but had not great success. His
notion was, that pulsation occasions death by attrition; and that,
therefore, the way to preserve life is to retard pulsation[2]. But we
know that pulsation is strongest in infants, and that we increase in
growth while it operates in its regular course; so it cannot be the
cause of destruction.' Soon after this, he said something very
flattering to Mrs. Thrale, which I do not recollect; but it concluded
with wishing her long life. 'Sir, (said I,) if Dr. Barry's system be
true, you have now shortened Mrs. Thrale's life, perhaps, some minutes,
by accelerating her pulsation.'
[Footnote 1: Sir Edward Barry, Baronet. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: 'We form our words with the breath of our nostrils, we have
the less to live upon for every word we speak.' Jeremy Taylor's _Holy
Dying_, ch. i. sec. 1.]
On Thursday, April 11[1], I dined with him at General Paoli's, in whose
house I now resided, and where I had ever afterwards the honour of being
entertained with the kindest attention as his constant guest, while I
was in London, till I had a house of my own there. I mentioned my having
that morning introduced to Mr. Garrick, Count Neni, a Flemish Nobleman
of great rank and fortune, to whom Garrick talked of Abel Drugger[2] as
_a small part_; and related, with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman who
had seen him in one of his low characters, exclaimed, '_Comment! je ne
le crois pas. Ce n'est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme_!' Garrick
added, with an appearance of grave recollection, 'If I were to begin
life again, I think I should not play those low characters.' Upon which
I observed, 'Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence
is your variety of playing, your representing so well, characters so
very different.' JOHNSON. 'Garrick, Sir, was not in earnest in what he
said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety[3]: and,
perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted
by somebody else, as he could do it.' BOSWELL. 'Why then, Sir, did he
talk so?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, to make you answer as you did.' BOSWELL.
'I don't know, Sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the
reflection.' JOHNSON. 'He had not far to dip, Sir: he said the same
thing, probably, twenty times before.'
[Footnote 1: On this day Johnson sent the following application for
rooms in Hampton Court to the Lord Chamberlain:--
'My Lord, Being wholly unknown to your lordship, I have only this
apology to make for presuming to trouble you with a request, that a
stranger's petition, if it cannot be easily granted, can be easily
refused. Some of the apartments are now vacant in which I am encouraged
to hope that by application to your lordship I may obtain a residence.
Such a grant would be considered by me as a great favour; and I hope
that to a man who has had the honour of vindicating his Majesty's
Government, a retreat in one of his houses may not be improperly or
unworthily allowed. I therefore request that your lordship will be
pleased to grant such rooms in Hampton Court as shall seem proper to
'My Lord,
'Your lordship's most obedient and most faithful humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'April 11, 1776.'
'Mr. Saml. Johnson to the Earl of Hertford, requesting apartments at
Hampton Court, 11th May, 1776.' And within, a memorandum of the
answer:--'Lord C. presents his compliments to Mr. Johnson, and is sorry
he cannot obey his commands, having already on his hands many
engagements unsatisfied.' Prior's _Malone_, p. 337. The endorsement does
not, it will be seen, agree in date with the letter. Lord C. stands for
the Lord Chamberlain.]
[Footnote 2: Hogarth saw Garrick in Richard III, and on the following
night in Abel Drugger; he was so struck, that he said to him, 'You are
in your element when you are begrimed with dirt, or up to your elbows in
blood.' Murphy's _Garrick_, p. 21. Cooke, in his _Memoirs of Macklin_,
p. 110, says that a Lichfield grocer, who came to London with a letter
of introduction to Garrick from Peter Garrick, saw him act Abel Drugger,
and returned without calling on him. He said to Peter Garrick: 'I saw
enough of him on the stage. He may be rich, as I dare say any man who
lives like him must be; but by G-d, though he is your brother, Mr.
Garrick, he is one of the shabbiest, meanest, most pitiful hounds I ever
saw in the whole course of my life.' Abel Drugger is a character in Ben
Jonson's _Alchemist_.]
[Footnote 3: See _post_, under Sept. 30, 1783.]
Of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he said,
'His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but would not be
distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts[1]'.
[Footnote 1: Lord Shelburne in 1766, at the age of twenty-nine, was
appointed Secretary of State in Lord Chatham's ministry. Fitzmaurice's
_Shelburne_, ii. 1. Jeremy Bentham said of him:--'His head was not
clear. He felt the want of clearness. He had had a most wretched
education.' _Ib._ p. 175.]
A journey to Italy was still in his thoughts[1]. He said, 'A man who has
not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not
having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of
travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores
were the four great Empires of the world; the Assyrian, the Persian, the
Grecian, and the Roman.--All our religion, almost all our law, almost
all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from
the shores of the Mediterranean.' The General observed, that 'THE
MEDITERRANEAN would be a noble subject for a poem[2].'
[Footnote 1: He wrote to Mrs. Thrale on Aug. 14, 1780:--'I hope you have
no design of stealing away to Italy before the election, nor of leaving
me behind you; though I am not only seventy, but seventy-one.... But
what if I am seventy-two; I remember Sulpitius says of Saint Martin (now
that's above your reading), _Est animus victor annorum et senectuti
cedere nescius_. Match me that among your young folks.' _Piozzi
Letters_, ii. 177.]
[Footnote 2: Lady Hesketh, taking up apparently a thought which Paoli,
as reported by Boswell, had thrown out in conversation, proposed to
Cowper the Mediterranean for a topic. 'He replied, "Unless I were a
better historian than I am, there would be no proportion between the
theme and my ability. It seems, indeed, not to be so properly a subject
for one poem, as for a dozen."' Southey's _Cowper_, iii. 15, and vii.
44.]
We talked of translation. I said, I could not define it, nor could I
think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to me the
translation of poetry could be only imitation. JOHNSON. 'You may
translate books of science exactly. You may also translate history, in
so far as it is not embellished with oratory[1], which is poetical.
Poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets
that preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a
language, if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a
translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any
language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the
language.'
[Footnote 1: Burke said:--'I do not know how it has happened, that
orators have hitherto fared worse in the hands of the translators than
even the poets; I never could bear to read a translation of Cicero.'
_Life of Sir W. Jones_, p. 196.]
A gentleman maintained that the art of printing had hurt real learning,
by disseminating idle writings.--JOHNSON. 'Sir, if it had not been for
the art of printing, we should now have no learning at all; for books
would have perished faster than they could have been transcribed.' This
observation seems not just, considering for how many ages books were
preserved by writing alone.
The same gentleman maintained, that a general diffusion of knowledge
among a people was a disadvantage; for it made the vulgar rise above
their humble sphere. JOHNSON. 'Sir, while knowledge is a distinction,
those who are possessed of it will naturally rise above those who are
not. Merely to read and write was a distinction at first; but we see
when reading and writing have become general, the common people keep
their stations. And so, were higher attainments to become general the
effect would be the same.'[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 188.]
'Goldsmith (he said), referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and
his vices too, were from that motive. He was not a social man. He never
exchanged mind with you.'
We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. Mr. Mickle, the excellent
translator of _The Lusiad_[1], was there. I have preserved little of the
conversation of this evening.[2] Dr. Johnson said, 'Thomson had a true
poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light.
His fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly
peep through. Shiels, who compiled _Cibber's Lives of the Poets_[3], was
one day sitting with me. I took down Thomson, and read aloud a large
portion of him, and then asked,--Is not this fine? Shiels having
expressed the highest admiration. Well, Sir, (said I,) I have omitted
every other line.'[4]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 182.]
[Footnote 2: See _post_, under date of Dec. 24, 1783, where mention
seems to be made of this evening.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, note, p. 30. BOSWELL]
[Footnote 4: 'Thomson's diction is in the highest degree florid and
luxuriant, such as may be said to be to his images and thoughts "both
their lustre and their shade;" such as invest them with splendour,
through which, perhaps, they are not always easily discerned.' Johnson's
_Works_, viii. 378. See _ante_, i. 453, and ii. 63.]
I related a dispute between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert Dodsley, one day
when they and I were dining at Tom Davies's, in 1762. Goldsmith
asserted, that there was no poetry produced in this age. Dodsley
appealed to his own _Collection_[1], and maintained, that though you
could not find a palace like Dryden's _Ode on St. Cecilia's Day_, you
had villages composed of very pretty houses; and he mentioned
particularly _The Spleen_[2]. JOHNSON. 'I think Dodsley gave up the
question. He and Goldsmith said the same thing; only he said it in a
softer manner than Goldsmith did; for he acknowledged that there was no
poetry, nothing that towered above the common mark. You may find wit and
humour in verse, and yet no poetry. _Hudibras_ has a profusion of these;
yet it is not to be reckoned a poem. _The Spleen_, in Dodsley's
_Collection_, on which you say he chiefly rested, is not poetry[3].'
BOSWELL. 'Does not Gray's poetry, Sir, tower above the common mark?'
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; but we must attend to the difference between what
men in general cannot do if they would, and what every man may do if he
would. Sixteen-string Jack[4] towered above the common mark.' BOSWELL.
'Then, Sir, what is poetry?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is much easier to
say what it is not. We all _know_ what light is; but it is not easy to
_tell_ what it is.'
[Footnote 1: _A Collection of Poems in six volumes by several hands_,
1758.]
[Footnote 2: _Ib._ i. 116.]
[Footnote 3: Mr. Nicholls says, '_The Spleen_ was a great favourite with
Gray for its wit and originality.' Gray's _Works_, v. 36. See _post_,
Oct. 10, 1779, where Johnson quotes two lines from it. 'Fling but a
stone, the giant dies,' is another line that is not unknown.]
[Footnote 4: A noted highwayman, who after having been several times
tried and acquitted, was at last hanged. He was remarkable for foppery
in his dress, and particularly for wearing a bunch of sixteen strings at
the knees of his breeches. BOSWELL.]
On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom Davies's, where
we met Mr. Cradock, of Leicestershire, authour of _Zobeide_, a
tragedy[1]; a very pleasing gentleman, to whom my friend Dr. Farmer's
very excellent _Essay on the Learning of Shakspeare_[2] is addressed;
and Dr. Harwood, who has written and published various works;
particularly a fantastical translation of the New Testament, in modern
phrase[3], and with a Socinian twist.
[Footnote 1: Goldsmith wrote a prologue for it. Horace Walpole wrote on
Dec. 14, 1771 (_Letters_, v. 356):--'There is a new tragedy at Covent
Garden called _Zobeide_, which I am told is very indifferent, though
written by a country gentleman.' Cradock in his old age published his
own _Memoirs_.]
[Footnote 2: '"Dr. Farmer," said Johnson {speaking of this essay}, "you
have done that which never was done before; that is, you have completely
finished a controversy beyond all further doubt." "There are some
critics," answered Farmer, "who will adhere to their old opinions."
"Ah!" said Johnson, "that may be true; for the limbs will quiver and
move when the soul is gone."' Northcote's _Reynolds_, i. 152. Farmer was
Master of Emanuel College, Cambridge (_ante_, i. 368). In a letter dated
Oct. 3, 1786, published in Romilly's _Life_ (i. 332), it is
said:--'Shakespeare and black letter muster strong at Emanuel.']
[Footnote 3: 'When Johnson once glanced at this _Liberal Translation of
the New Testament_, and saw how Dr. Harwood had turned _Jesus wept_ into
_Jesus, the Saviour of the world, burst into a flood of tears_, he
contemptuously threw the book aside, exclaiming, "Puppy!" The author,
Dr. Edward Harwood, is not to be confounded with Dr. Thomas Harwood, the
historian of Lichfield.' Croker's _Boswell_, p. 836.]
I introduced Aristotle's doctrine in his _Art of Poetry_, of 'the
[Greek: katharis ton pathaematon], the purging of the passions,' as the
purpose of tragedy[1]. 'But how are the passions to be purged by terrour
and pity?' (said I, with an assumed air of ignorance, to incite him to
talk, for which it was often necessary to employ some address)[2].
JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you are to consider what is the meaning of purging
in the original sense. It is to expel impurities from the human body.
The mind is subject to the same imperfection. The passions are the great
movers of human actions; but they are mixed with such impurities, that
it is necessary they should be purged or refined by means of terrour and
pity. For instance, ambition is a noble passion; but by seeing upon the
stage, that a man who is so excessively ambitious as to raise himself by
injustice, is punished, we are terrified at the fatal consequences of
such a passion. In the same manner a certain degree of resentment is
necessary; but if we see that a man carries it too far, we pity the
object of it, and are taught to moderate that passion.' My record upon
this occasion does great injustice to Johnson's expression, which was so
forcible and brilliant, that Mr. Cradock whispered me, 'O that his words
were written in a book[3]!'
[Footnote 1: See an ingenious Essay on this subject by the late Dr.
Moor, Greek Professor at Glasgow. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, i. 6, note 2.]
[Footnote 3: 'Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were
printed in a book!' _Job_ xix. 23.]
I observed, the great defect of the tragedy of _Othello_ was, that it
had not a moral; for that no man could resist the circumstances of
suspicion which were artfully suggested to Othello's mind. JOHNSON. 'In
the first place, Sir, we learn from _Othello_ this very useful moral,
not to make an unequal match; in the second place, we learn not to yield
too readily to suspicion. The handkerchief is merely a trick, though a
very pretty trick; but there are no other circumstances of reasonable
suspicion, except what is related by Iago of Cassio's warm expressions
concerning Desdemona in his sleep; and that depended entirely upon the
assertion of one man.[1] No, Sir, I think _Othello_ has more moral than
almost any play.'
[Footnote 1: 'The gradual progress which Iago makes in the Moor's
conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are
so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps not be said of him as
he says of himself, that he is "a man not easily jealous," yet we cannot
but pity him, when at last we find him "perplexed in the extreme."'
Johnson's _Works_, v. 178.]
Talking of a penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, Johnson said,
'Sir, he is narrow, not so much from avarice, as from impotence to spend
his money. He cannot find in his heart to pour out a bottle of wine; but
he would not much care if it should sour.'
He said, he wished to see John Dennis's _Critical Works_ collected.
Davies said they would not sell. Dr. Johnson seemed to think
otherwise.[1]
[Footnote 1: Of Dennis's criticism of Addison's _Cato_, he says:--'He
found and shewed many faults; he shewed them indeed with anger, but he
found them with acuteness, such as ought to rescue his criticism from
oblivion.' _Ib._ vii. 457. In a note on 'thunder rumbling from the
mustard-bowl' (The _Dunciad_, ii. 226) it is said:--'Whether Mr. Dennis
was the inventor of that improvement, I know not; but is certain that,
being once at a tragedy of a new author, he fell into a great passion at
hearing some, and cried, "S'death! that is _my_ thunder."' See
D'Israeli's _Calamities of Authors_, i. 135, for an amplification of
this story.]
Davies said of a well-known dramatick authour, that 'he lived upon
_potted stories_, and that he made his way as Hannibal did, by vinegar;
having begun by attacking people; particularly the players.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Sir James Mackintosh thought Cumberland was meant. I am now
satisfied that it was Arthur Murphy. CROKER. The fact that Murphy's name
is found close to the story renders it more likely that Mr. Croker is
right.]
He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. Murphy's having paid him the highest
compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for
repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story.[1]
[Footnote 1: 'Obscenity and impiety,' Johnson boasted in the last year
of his life, 'have always been repressed in my company.' _Post_, June
11, 1784. See also _post_, Sept. 22, 1777.]
Johnson and I supt this evening at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in
company with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Nairne,[1] now one of
the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dunsinan, and my very worthy
friend, Sir William Forbes,[2] of Pitsligo.
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 18.]
[Footnote 2: See _ib._ Aug. 15.]
We discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation and
benevolence.[1] Sir Joshua maintained it did. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir: before
dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who
are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. When
they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that
modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he
is only not sensible of his defects.' Sir Joshua said the Doctor was
talking of the effects of excess in wine; but that a moderate glass
enlivened the mind, by giving a proper circulation to the blood. 'I am
(said he,) in very good spirits, when I get up in the morning. By
dinner-time I am exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when I got
up; and I am sure that moderate drinking makes people talk better.'
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but
tumultuous, noisy, clamorous merriment. I have heard none of those
drunken,--nay, drunken is a coarse word,--none of those _vinous_
flights.' SIR JOSHUA. 'Because you have sat by, quite sober, and felt an
envy of the happiness of those who were drinking.' JOHNSON. 'Perhaps,
contempt.[2]--And, Sir, it is not necessary to be drunk one's self, to
relish the wit of drunkenness. Do we not judge of the drunken wit, of
the dialogue between Iago and Cassio, the most excellent in its kind,
when we are quite sober? Wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced;
and, if good, will appear so at all times. I admit that the spirits are
raised by drinking, as by the common participation of any pleasure:
cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as
drinking does, though surely they will not improve conversation. I also
admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as
there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten. There are such
men, but they are medlars. I indeed allow that there have been a very
few men of talents who were improved by drinking; but I maintain that I
am right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it be
considered, that there is no position, however false in its
universality, which is not true of some particular man.' Sir William
Forbes said, 'Might not a man warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer,
which is made brisker by being set before the fire?' 'Nay, (said
Johnson, laughing,) I cannot answer that: that is too much for me.'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, April 28, 29, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, Jan. 21, 1775, note.]
I observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming, confusing, and
irritating their minds; but that the experience of mankind had declared
in favour of moderate drinking. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not say it is wrong
to produce self complacency by drinking; I only deny that it improves
the mind. When I drank wine, I scorned to drink it when in company.[1] I
have drunk many a bottle by myself; in the first place, because I had
need of it to raise my spirits; in the second place, because I would
have nobody to witness its effects upon me.'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, April 28, 1778. That he did not always scorn to
drink when in company is shewn by what he said on April 7, 1778:--'I
have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it.
University College has witnessed this.']
He told us, 'almost all his _Ramblers_ were written just as they were
wanted for the press; that he sent a certain portion of the copy[1] of
an essay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was
printing. When it was wanted, and he had fairly sat down to it, he was
sure it would be done.'[2]
[Footnote 1: _Copy_ is _manuscript for printing_.]
[Footnote 2: In _The Rambler_, No. 134, he describes how he had sat
deliberating on the subject for that day's paper, 'till at last I was
awakened from this dream of study by a summons from the press; the time
was now come for which I had been thus negligently purposing to provide,
and, however dubious or sluggish, I was now necessitated to write. To a
writer whose design is so comprehensive and miscellaneous that he may
accommodate himself with a topick from every scene of life, or view of
nature, it is no great aggravation of his task to be obliged to a sudden
composition.' See _ante_, i. 203.]
He said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever his
immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a man has a
science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely advance. He added,
'what we read with inclination makes a much stronger impression. If we
read without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the
attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what we read.'[1]
He told us, he read Fielding's _Amelia_ through without stopping.[2] He
said, 'if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an
inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. He
may perhaps not feel again the inclination.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 428.]
[Footnote 2: We have here an involuntary testimony to the excellence of
this admirable writer, to whom we have seen that Dr. Johnson _directly_
allowed so little merit. BOSWELL. 'Fielding's Amelia was the most
pleasing heroine of all the romances,' he said; 'but that vile broken
nose never cured [_Amelia_, bk. ii. ch. 1] ruined the sale of perhaps
the only book, which being printed off betimes one morning, a new
edition was called for before night.' Piozzi's _Anec._ p. 221. Mrs.
Carter, soon after the publication of _Amelia_, wrote (_Corres._ ii.
71):--'Methinks I long to engage you on the side of this poor
unfortunate book, which I am told the fine folks are unanimous in
pronouncing to be very sad stuff.' See _ante_, ii. 49.]
Sir Joshua mentioned Mr. Cumberland's _Odes_,[1] which were just
published. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, they would have been thought as good as
Odes commonly are, if Cumberland had not put his name to them; but a
name immediately draws censure, unless it be a name that bears down
everything before it. Nay, Cumberland has made his _Odes_ subsidiary to
the fame of another man.[2] They might have run well enough by
themselves; but he has not only loaded them with a name, but has made
them carry double.'
[Footnote 1: Horace Walpole wrote, on Dec, 21, 1775 (_Letters_, vi.
298):--'Mr. Cumberland has written an _Ode_, as he modestly calls it, in
praise of Gray's _Odes_; charitably no doubt to make the latter taken
notice of. Garrick read it the other night at Mr. Beauclerk's, who
comprehended so little what it was about, that he desired Garrick to
read it backwards, and try if it would not be equally good; he did, and
it was.' It was to this reading backwards that Dean Barnard alludes in
his verses--
'The art of pleasing, teach me, Garrick;
Thou who reversest odes Pindaric,
A second time read o'er.'
See _post_, under May 8, 1781.]
[Footnote 2: Mr. Romney, the painter, who has now deservedly established
a high reputation. BOSWELL. Cumberland (_Memoirs_, i. 384) dedicated his
_Odes_ to him, shortly after 'he had returned from pursuing his studies
at Rome.' 'A curious work might be written,' says Mr. Croker, 'on the
reputation of painters. Hayley dedicated his lyre (such as it was) to
Romney. What is a picture of Romney now worth?' The wheel is come full
circle, and Mr. Croker's note is as curious as the work that he
suggests.]
We talked of the Reviews, and Dr. Johnson spoke of them as he did at
Thrale's.[1] Sir Joshua said, what I have often thought, that he
wondered to find so much good writing employed in them, when the
authours were to remain unknown, and so could not have the motive of
fame. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, those who write in them, write well, in order
to be paid well.'
[Footnote 1: Page 32 of this vol. BOSWELL.]
Soon after this day, he went to Bath with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I had
never seen that beautiful city, and wished to take the opportunity of
visiting it, while Johnson was there. Having written to him, I received
the following answer.
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'Why do you talk of neglect? When did I neglect you? If you will come to
Bath, we shall all be glad to see you. Come, therefore, as soon as you
can.
'But I have a little business for you at London. Bid Francis look in the
paper-drawer of the chest of drawers in my bed-chamber, for two cases;
one for the Attorney-General,[1] and one for the Solicitor-General.[2]
They lie, I think, at the top of my papers; otherwise they are somewhere
else, and will give me more trouble.
[Footnote 1: Thurlow.]
[Footnote 2: Wedderburne. Boswell wrote to Temple on May 1:--'Luckily
Dr. Taylor has begged of Dr. Johnson to come to London, to assist him in
some interesting business, and Johnson loves much to be so consulted and
so comes up.' _Letters of Boswell_, p. 234. On the 14th Johnson wrote to
Mrs. Thrale:--'Mr. Wedderburne has given his opinion today directly
against us. He thinks of the claim much as I think.' _Piozzi Letters_,
i. 323. In _Notes and Queries_, 6th S., v. 423, in a letter from Johnson
to Taylor, this business is mentioned.]
'Please to write to me immediately, if they can be found. Make my
compliments to all our friends round the world, and to Mrs. Williams at
home.
'I am, Sir, your, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Search for the papers as soon as you can, that, if it is necessary, I
may write to you again before you come down.'
On the 26th of April, I went to Bath;[1] and on my arrival at the
Pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from Mr. and Mrs.
Thrale, by whom I was agreeably entertained almost constantly during my
stay. They were gone to the rooms;[2] but there was a kind note from Dr.
Johnson, that he should sit at home all the evening. I went to him
directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we had by ourselves
some hours of tea-drinking and talk.
[Footnote 1: Goldsmith wrote in 1762:--'Upon a stranger's arrival at
Bath he is welcomed by a peal of the Abbey bells, and in the next place
by the voice and music of the city waits.' Cunningham's _Goldsmith's
Works_, iv. 57. In _Humphry Clinker_ (published in 1771), in the Letter
of April 24, we read that there was 'a peal of the Abbey bells for the
honour of Mr. Bullock, an eminent cow-keeper of Tottenham, who had just
arrived at Bath to drink the waters for indigestion.' The town waits are
also mentioned. The season was not far from its close when Boswell
arrived. Melford, in _Humphry Clinker_, wrote from Bath on May 17:--'The
music and entertainments of Bath are over for this season; and all our
gay birds of passage have taken their flight to Bristol-well [Clifton],
Tunbridge, Brighthelmstone, Scarborough, Harrowgate, &c. Not a soul is
seen in this place, but a few broken-winded parsons, waddling like so
many crows along the North Parade.' Boswell had soon to return to London
'to eat commons in the Inner Temple.' Delighted with Bath, and
apparently pleasing himself with the thought of a brilliant career at
the Bar, he wrote to Temple, 'Quin said, "Bath was the cradle of age,
and a fine slope to the grave." Were I a Baron of the Exchequer and you
a Dean, how well could we pass some time there!' _Letters of Boswell_,
pp. 231, 234.]
[Footnote 2: To the rooms! and their only son dead three days over one
month!
'That it should come to this!
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two.'
_Hamlet_, act i. sc. 2.]
I shall group together such of his sayings as I preserved during the few
days that I was at Bath.
Of a person[1] who differed from him in politicks, he said, 'In private
life he is a very honest gentleman; but I will not allow him to be so in
publick life. People _may_ be honest, though they are doing wrong: that
is, between their Maker and them. But _we_, who are suffering by their
pernicious conduct, are to destroy them. We are sure that ---- acts from
interest. We know what his genuine principles were. They who allow their
passions to confound the distinctions between right and wrong, are
criminal. They may be convinced; but they have not come honestly by
their conviction.'[2]
[Footnote 1: No doubt Mr. Burke. See _ante_, April 15, 1773, and under
Oct. 1, 1774, note, and Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 15.]
[Footnote 2: Mr. E.J. Payne, criticising this passage, says:--'It is
certain that Burke never thought he was deserting any principle of his
own in joining the Rockinghams.' Payne's _Burke_, i. xvii.]
It having been mentioned, I know not with what truth, that a certain
female political writer,[1] whose doctrines he disliked, had of late
become very fond of dress, sat hours together at her toilet, and even
put on rouge:--JOHNSON. 'She is better employed at her toilet, than
using her pen. It is better she should be reddening her own cheeks, than
blackening other people's characters.'
[Footnote 1: No doubt Mrs. Macaulay. See _ante_, i. 447. 'Being asked
whether he had read Mrs. Macaulay's second volume of the _History of
England_, "No, Sir," says he, "nor her first neither."' Johnson's
_Works_ (1787), xi. 205.]
He told us that 'Addison wrote Budgell's papers in the _Spectator_, at
least mended them so much, that he made them almost his own; and that
Draper, Tonson's partner, assured Mrs. Johnson, that the much admired
Epilogue to _The Distressed Mother_, which came out in Budgell's name,
was in reality written by Addison.'[1]
[Footnote 1: 'Of this distinguished Epilogue the reputed author was the
wretched Budgel, whom Addison used to denominate "the man who calls me
cousin" [Spence's _Anecdotes_, ed. 1820, p. 161]; and when he was asked
how such a silly fellow could write so well, replied, "The Epilogue was
quite another thing when I saw it first." [_Ib._ p. 257.] It was known
in Tonson's family, and told to Garrick, that Addison was himself the
author of it, and that, when it had been at first printed with his name,
he came early in the morning, before the copies were distributed, and
ordered it to be given to Budgel, that it might add weight to the
solicitation which he was then making for a place.' Johnson's _Works_,
viii. 389. See _ante_, i. 181.]
'The mode of government by one may be ill adapted to a small society,
but is best for a great nation. The characteristick of our own
government at present is imbecility.[1] The magistrate dare not call the
guards for fear of being hanged. The guards will not come, for fear of
being given up to the blind rage of popular juries.'[2]
[Footnote 1: See _post_, Jan. 20, 1782.]
[Footnote 2: On May 10, 1768, on which day the new parliament met, a
great body of people gathered round the King's Bench prison in St.
George's Fields in expectation that Wilkes would go thence to the House
of Commons. Some kind of a riot arose, a proclamation was made in the
terms of the Riot-Act, and the soldiers firing by order of Justice
Gillam, killed five or six on the spot. The justice and one of the
soldiers were on the coroner's inquest brought in guilty of wilful
murder, and two other soldiers of aiding and abetting therein. With
great difficulty the prisoners were saved from the rage of the populace.
They were all acquitted however. At Gillam's trial the judge ruled in
his favour, so that the case did not go to the jury. Of the trial of one
of the soldiers 'no account was allowed to be published by authority.'
_Ann. Reg_. 1768, pp. 108-9, 112, 136-8, 233. Professor Dicey (_Law of
the Constitution_, p. 308) points out that 'the position of a soldier
may be both in theory and practice, a difficult one. He may, as it has
been well said, be liable to be shot by a court-martial if he disobeys
an order, and to be hanged by a judge and jury if he obeys it.' The
remembrance of these cases was perhaps the cause of the feebleness shewn
in the Gordon Riots in June 1780. Dr. Franklin wrote from London on May
14, 1768 (_Memoirs_, iii. 315):--'Even this capital is now a daily scene
of lawless riot. Mobs patrolling the streets at noon-day, some knocking
all down that will not roar for Wilkes and liberty; courts of justice
afraid to give judgment against him; coal-heavers and porters pulling
down the houses of coal-merchants that refuse to give them more wages;
sawyers destroying saw-mills; sailors unrigging all the outward-bound
ships, and suffering none to sail till merchants agree to raise their
pay; watermen destroying private boats, and threatening bridges;
soldiers firing among the mobs and killing men, women, and children.'
'While I am writing,' he adds (_ib_. p. 316), 'a great mob of
coal-porters fill the street, carrying a wretch of their business upon
poles to be ducked for working at the old wages.' See also _ib._ p. 402.
Hume agreed with Johnson about the 'imbecility' of the government; but
he drew from it different conclusions. He wrote on Oct. 27, 1775, about
the addresses to the King:--'I wish they would advise him first to
punish those insolent rascals in London and Middlesex, who daily insult
him and the whole legislature, before he thinks of America. Ask him, how
he can expect that a form of government will maintain an authority at
3000 miles' distance, when it cannot make itself be respected, or even
be treated with common decency, at home.' J. H. Burton's _Hume_, ii.
479. On the 30th of this month of April--four days after the
conversation in the text--John Home recorded:--'Mr. Hume cannot give any
reason for the incapacity and want of genius, civil and military, which
marks this period.' _Ib._ p. 503.]
Of the father of one of our friends, he observed, 'He never clarified
his notions, by filtrating them through other minds. He had a canal upon
his estate, where at one place the bank was too low.--I dug the canal
deeper,' said he.[1]
[Footnote 1: See _Dr. Johnson, His Friends, &c_., p. 252.]
He told me that 'so long ago as 1748[1] he had read "_The Grave_, a
Poem[2]," but did not like it much.' I differed from him; for though it
is not equal throughout, and is seldom elegantly correct, it abounds in
solemn thought, and poetical imagery beyond the common reach. The world
has differed from him; for the poem has passed through many editions,
and is still much read by people of a serious cast of mind.
[Footnote 1: It was published in 1743.]
[Footnote 2: I am sorry that there are no memoirs of the Reverend Robert
Blair, the author of this poem. He was the representative of the ancient
family of Blair, of Blair, in Ayrshire, but the estate had descended to
a female, and afterwards passed to the son of her husband by another
marriage. He was minister of the parish of Athelstanford, where Mr. John
Home was his successor; so that it may truely be called classick ground.
His son, who is of the same name, and a man eminent for talents and
learning, is now, with universal approbation, Solicitor-General of
Scotland. BOSWELL. Dr. A. Carlyle (_Auto._ p. 94) describes Blair 'as so
austere and void of urbanity as to make him quite disagreeable to young
people.']
A literary lady of large fortune[1] was mentioned, as one who did good
to many, but by no means 'by stealth,' and instead of 'blushing to find
it fame,[2] acted evidently from vanity. JOHNSON. 'I have seen no beings
who do as much good from benevolence, as she does, from whatever motive.
If there are such under the earth, or in the clouds, I wish they would
come up, or come down. What Soame Jenyns says upon this subject is not
to be minded; he is a wit. No, Sir; to act from pure benevolence is not
possible for finite beings. Human benevolence is mingled with vanity,
interest, or some other motive.'[3]
[Footnote 1: In 1775 Mrs. Montagu gave Mrs. Williams a small annuity.
Croker's _Boswell_, pp. 458, 739. Miss Burney wrote of her:--'Allowing a
little for parade and ostentation, which her power in wealth and rank in
literature offer some excuse for, her conversation is very agreeable.'
Mme. D'Arblay's _Diary_, i. 325. See _post_, April 7, 1778, note.]
[Footnote 2:
'Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.'
Pope, _Sat. Ep._ i. 135.]
[Footnote 3: Johnson refers to Jenyns's _View of the Internal Evidence
of the Christian Religion_, published this spring. See _post_, April 15,
1778. Jenyns had changed his view, for in his _Origin of Evil_ he said,
in a passage quoted with applause by Johnson (_Works_, vi. 69), that 'it
is observable that he who best knows our formation has trusted no one
thing of importance to our reason or virtue; he trusts to our vanity or
compassion for our bounty to others.']
He would not allow me to praise a lady then at Bath; observing 'She does
not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty-headed.' He was, indeed, a
stern critick upon characters and manners. Even Mrs. Thrale did not
escape his friendly animadversion at times. When he and I were one day
endeavouring to ascertain, article by article, how one of our friends[1]
could possibly spend as much money in his family as he told us he did,
she interrupted us by a lively extravagant sally, on the expence of
clothing his children, describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful
manner. Johnson looked a little angry, and said, 'Nay, Madam, when you
are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.' At
another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'I don't like to fly.'
JOHNSON. 'With _your_ wings, Madam, you _must_ fly: but have a care,
there are _clippers_ abroad.' How very well was this said, and how fully
has experience proved the truth of it! But have they not _clipped_
rather _rudely_, and gone a great deal _closer_ than was necessary?[2]
[Footnote 1: Mr. Langton is certainly meant. It is strange how often his
mode of living was discussed by Johnson and Boswell. See _post_, Nov.
16, 1776, July 22, and Sept. 22, 1777, March 18, April 17, 18, and 20,
May 12, and July 3, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: Baretti made a brutal attack on Mrs. Piozzi in the
_European Mag._ for 1788, xiii. 313, 393, and xiv. 89. He calls her 'the
frontless female, who goes now by the mean appellation of Piozzi; La
Piozzi, as my fiddling countrymen term her; who has dwindled down into
the contemptible wife of her daughter's singing-master.' His excuse was
the attacks made on him by her in the correspondence just published
between herself and Johnson (see _Piozzi Letters_, i. 277, 319). He
suspected her, and perhaps with reason, of altering some of these
letters. Other writers beside Baretti attacked her. To use Lord
Macaulay's words, grossly exaggerated though they are, 'She fled from
the laughter and hisses of her countrymen and countrywomen to a land
where she was unknown.' Macaulay's _Writings and Speeches_, ed. 1871, p.
393. According to Dr. T. Campbell (_Diary_, p. 33) Baretti flattered
Mrs. Thrale to her face. 'Talking as we were at tea of the magnitude of
the beer vessels, Baretti said there was one thing in Mr. Thrale's house
still more extraordinary; meaning his wife. She gulped the pill very
prettily--so much for Baretti.' See _post_, Dec. 21, 1776.]
A gentleman[1] expressed a wish to go and live three years at Otaheite,
or New-Zealand, in order to obtain a full acquaintance with people, so
totally different from all that we have ever known, and be satisfied
what pure nature can do for man. JOHNSON. 'What could you learn, Sir?
What can savages tell, but what they themselves have seen? Of the past,
or the invisible, they can tell nothing. The inhabitants of Otaheite and
New-Zealand are not in a state of pure nature; for it is plain they
broke off from some other people. Had they grown out of the ground, you
might have judged of a state of pure nature. Fanciful people may talk of
a mythology being amongst them; but it must be invention. They have once
had religion, which has been gradually debased. And what account of
their religion can you suppose to be learnt from savages? Only consider,
Sir, our own state: our religion is in a book; we have an order of men
whose duty it is to teach it; we have one day in the week set apart for
it, and this is in general pretty well observed: yet ask the first ten
gross men you meet, and hear what they can tell of their religion.'
[Footnote 1: Likely enough Boswell himself. On three other occasions he
mentions Otaheite; _ante_, May 7, 1773, _post_, June 15, 1784 and in his
_Hebrides_, Sept. 23, 1773. He was fond of praising savage life. See
_ante_, ii. 73.]
On Monday, April 29, he and I made an excursion to Bristol, where I was
entertained with seeing him enquire upon the spot, into the authenticity
of 'Rowley's Poetry,'[1] as I had seen him enquire upon the spot into
the authenticity of 'Ossian's Poetry.'[2] George Catcot, the pewterer,
who was as zealous for Rowley, as Dr. Hugh Blair[3] was for Ossian, (I
trust my Reverend friend will excuse the comparison,) attended us at our
inn, and with a triumphant air of lively simplicity called out, 'I'll
make Dr. Johnson a convert.' Dr. Johnson, at his desire, read aloud some
of Chatterton's fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at the back of his
chair, moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet,
and now and then looking into Dr. Johnson's face, wondering that he was
not yet convinced. We called on Mr. Barret, the surgeon, and saw some of
the _originals_ as they were called, which were executed very
artificially;[4] but from a careful inspection of them, and a
consideration of the circumstances with which they were attended, we
were quite satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been clearly
demonstrated from internal evidence, by several able criticks.'[5]
[Footnote 1: Chatterton said that he had found in a chest in St. Mary
Redcliffe Church manuscript poems by Canynge, a merchant of Bristol in
the fifteenth century, and a friend of his, Thomas Rowley. He gave some
of these manuscripts to George Catcot, a pewterer of Bristol, who
communicated them to Mr. Barret, who was writing a History of Bristol.
Rose's _Biog. Dict._ vi. 256.]
[Footnote 2: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 22.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, i. 396.]
[Footnote 4: 'Artificially. Artfully; with skill.' Johnson's
_dictionary_.]
[Footnote 5: Mr. Tyrwhitt, Mr. Warton, Mr. Malone. BOSWELL. Johnson
wrote on May 16:--'Steevens seems to be connected with Tyrwhitt in
publishing Chatterton's poems; he came very anxiously to know the result
of our inquiries, and though he says he always thought them forged, is
not well pleased to find us so fully convinced.' _Piozzi Letters_, i.
326.]
Honest Catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any objections, but
insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we should go with him to
the tower of the church of St. Mary, Redcliff, and _view with our own
eyes_ the ancient chest in which the manuscripts were found. To this,
Dr. Johnson good-naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a shortness
of breathing, laboured up a long flight of steps, till we came to the
place where the wonderous chest stood. '_There_, (said Catcot, with a
bouncing confident credulity,) _there_ is the very chest itself.'[1]
'After this _ocular demonstration_, there was no more to be said. He
brought to my recollection a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too,
and who had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his
reasons for the authenticity of Fingal:--'I have heard all that poem
when I was young.'--'Have you, Sir? Pray what have you heard?'--'I have
heard Ossian, Oscar, and _every one of them_.'
[Footnote 1: Catcot had been anticipated by Smith the weaver (2 _Henry
VI_. iv. 2)--'Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the
bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.']
Johnson said of Chatterton, 'This is the most extraordinary young man
that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the whelp has
written such things.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Horace Walpole says (_Works_, iv. 224) that when he was
'dining at the Royal Academy, Dr. Goldsmith drew the attention of the
company with an account of a marvellous treasure of ancient poems lately
discovered at Bristol, and expressed enthusiastic belief in them; for
which he was laughed at by Dr. Johnson, who was present.... You may
imagine we did not at all agree in the measure of our faith; but though
his credulity diverted me, my mirth was soon dashed; for, on asking
about Chatterton, he told me he had been in London, and had destroyed
himself.']
We were by no means pleased with our inn at Bristol. 'Let us see now,
(said I,) how we should describe it.' Johnson was ready with his
raillery. 'Describe it, Sir?--Why, it was so bad that Boswell wished to
be in Scotland!'
After Dr. Johnson's return to London,[1] I was several times with him at
his house, where I occasionally slept, in the room that had been
assigned to me.[2] I dined with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General
Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To avoid a tedious minuteness, I
shall group together what I have preserved of his conversation during
this period also, without specifying each scene where it passed, except
one, which will be found so remarkable as certainly to deserve a very
particular relation. Where the place or the persons do not contribute to
the zest of the conversation, it is unnecessary to encumber my page with
mentioning them. To know of what vintage our wine is, enables us to
judge of its value, and to drink it with more relish: but to have the
produce of each vine of one vineyard, in the same year, kept separate,
would serve no purpose. To know that our wine, (to use an advertising
phrase,) is 'of the stock of an Ambassadour lately deceased,' heightens
its flavour: but it signifies nothing to know the bin where each bottle
was once deposited.
[Footnote 1: Boswell returned a few days earlier. On May 1 he wrote to
Temple:--'Luckily Dr. Taylor has begged of Dr. Johnson to come to
London, to assist him in some interesting business; and Johnson loves
much to be so consulted, and so comes up. I am now at General Paoli's,
quite easy and gay, after my journey; not wearied in body or dissipated
in mind. I have lodgings in Gerrard Street, where cards are left to me;
but I lie at the General's, whose attention to me is beautiful.'
_Letters of Boswell_, p. 234. Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale on May
6:--'Tomorrow I am to dine, as I did yesterday, with Dr. Taylor. On
Wednesday I am to dine with Oglethorpe; and on Thursday with Paoli. He
that sees before him to his third dinner has a long prospect.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 320.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, May 12, 1775.]
'Garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of Archer in _The Beaux
Stratagem_ well. The gentleman should break out through the footman,
which is not the case as he does it.'[1]
[Footnote 1: In the _Dramatis Personae_ of the play are 'Aimwell and
Archer, two gentlemen of broken fortunes, the first as master, and the
second as servant.' See _ante_, March 23, 1776, for Garrick's opinion of
Johnson's 'taste in theatrical merit.']
'Where there is no education, as in savage countries, men will have the
upper hand of women. Bodily strength, no doubt, contributes to this; but
it would be so, exclusive of that; for it is mind that always governs.
When it comes to dry understanding, man has the better.'
'The little volumes entitled _Respublicae_,[1] which are very well done,
were a bookseller's work.'
[Footnote 1: Johnson is speaking of the _Respublicae Elzevirianae_,
either 36 or 62 volumes. 'It depends on every collector what and how
much he will admit.' Ebert's _Bibl. Dict._ iii. 1571. See _ante_, ii.
7.]
'There is much talk of the misery which we cause to the brute creation;
but they are recompensed by existence[1]. If they were not useful to
man, and therefore protected by him, they would not be nearly so
numerous.' This argument is to be found in the able and benignant
Hutchinson's _Moral Philosophy_. But the question is, whether the
animals who endure such sufferings of various kinds, for the service and
entertainment of man, would accept of existence upon the terms on which
they have it. Madame Sevigne[2], who, though she had many enjoyments,
felt with delicate sensibility the prevalence of misery, complains of
the task of existence having been imposed upon her without her
consent[3].
[Footnote 1: See _post_, under Oct. 20, 1784, for 'the learned pig.']
[Footnote 2: In the first edition Mme. de Sevigne's name is printed
Sevigne, in the second Sevige, in the third Sevigne. Authors and
compositors last century troubled themselves little about French words.]
[Footnote 3: Milton had put the same complaint into Adam's mouth:--
'Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? ...
... As my will
Concurred not to my being,' &c.
_Paradise Lost_, x. 743.]
'That man is never happy for the present is so true, that all his relief
from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for a little while. Life is
a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment.'[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, April 10, 1775.]
'Though many men are nominally entrusted with the administration of
hospitals and other publick institutions, almost all the good is done by
one man, by whom the rest are driven on; owing to confidence in him, and
indolence in them.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Fielding in the _Covent Garden Journal_ for June 2, 1752
(_Works_, x. 80), says of the difficulty of admission at the
hospitals:--'The properest objects (those I mean who are most wretched
and friendless) may as well aspire at a place at Court as at a place in
the Hospital.']
'Lord Chesterfield's _Letters to his Son_, I think, might be made a very
pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it should be put into the
hands of every young gentleman. An elegant manner and easiness of
behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. No man can say "I'll
be genteel." There are ten genteel women for one genteel man, because
they are more restrained. A man without some degree of restraint is
insufferable; but we are all less restrained than women. Were a woman
sitting in company to put out her legs before her as most men do, we
should be tempted to kick them in.'
No man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those in
whose company he happened to be, than Johnson; or, however strange it
may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its refinements[1]. Lord
Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and he were at dinner at a
gentleman's house in London, upon Lord Chesterfield's Letters being
mentioned, Johnson surprized the company by this sentence: 'Every man of
any education would rather be called a rascal, than accused of
deficiency in _the graces_.' Mr. Gibbon, who was present, turned to a
lady who knew Johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint
manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus: 'Don't you think, Madam,
(looking towards Johnson,) that among _all_ your acquaintance, you could
find _one_ exception?' The lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce.[2]
[Footnote 1: 'We were talking of Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton. "He
was the only man," says Mr. Johnson quite seriously, "that did justice
to my good breeding; and you may observe that I am well-bred to a degree
of needless scrupulosity. No man," continued he, not observing the
amazement of his hearers, "no man is so cautious not to interrupt
another; no man thinks it so necessary to appear attentive when others
are speaking; no man so steadily refuses preference on himself, or so
willingly bestows it on another, as I do; no man holds so strongly as I
do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the
breach of it; yet people think me rude; but Barnard did me justice."'
Piozzi's _Anec._ p. 36. On p. 258, Mrs. Piozzi writes:--'No one was
indeed so attentive not to offend in all such sort of things as Dr.
Johnson; nor so careful to maintain the ceremonies of life; and though
he told Mr. Thrale once, that he had never sought to please till past
thirty years old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always
studious not to make enemies by apparent preference of himself.' See
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct. 27, 1773, where Johnson said:--'Sir, I look
upon myself as a very polite man.']
[Footnote 2: The younger Colman in his boyhood met Johnson and Gibbon.
'Johnson was in his rusty brown and his black worsteds, and Gibbon in a
suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword. He condescended, once or
twice in the course of the evening, to talk with me;--the great
historian was light and playful, suiting his matter to the capacity of
the boy; but it was done more sua [sic]; still his mannerism prevailed;
still he tapped his snuff-box; still he smirked, and smiled, and rounded
his periods with the same air of good-breeding, as if he were conversing
with men. His mouth, mellifluous as Plato's, was a round hole, nearly in
the centre of his visage.' _Random Records_, i. 121.]
'I read (said he,) Sharpe's letters on Italy over again, when I was at
Bath. There is a great deal of matter in them.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Samuel Sharp's _Letters from Italy_ were published in 1766.
See _ante_, ii. 57, note 2, for Baretti's reply to them.]
'Mrs. Williams was angry that Thrale's family did not send regularly to
her every time they heard from me while I was in the Hebrides. Little
people are apt to be jealous: but they should not be jealous; for they
ought to consider, that superiour attention will necessarily be paid to
superiour fortune or rank. Two persons may have equal merit, and on that
account may have an equal claim to attention; but one of them may have
also fortune and rank, and so may have a double claim.'
Talking of his notes on Shakspeare, he said, 'I despise those who do not
see that I am right in the passage where _as_ is repeated, and "asses of
great charge" introduced. That on "To be, or not to be," is
disputable.'[1]
[Footnote 1: It may be observed, that Mr. Malone, in his very valuable
edition of Shakspeare, has fully vindicated Dr. Johnson from the idle
censures which the first of these notes has given rise to. The
interpretation of the other passage, which Dr. Johnson allows to be
_disputable_, he has clearly shown to be erroneous. BOSWELL. The first
note is on the line in _Hamlet_, act v. sc. 2--
'And many such like as's of great charge.'
Johnson says:--'A quibble is intended between _as_ the conditional
particle, and _ass_ the beast of burthen.' On this note Steevens
remarked:--'Shakespeare has so many quibbles of his own to answer for,
that there are those who think it hard he should be charged with others
which perhaps he never thought of.' The second note is on the opening of
Hamlet's soliloquy in act iii. sc. i. The line--
'To be, or not to be, that is the question,'
is thus paraphrased by Johnson:--'Before I can form any rational scheme
of action under this pressure of distress, it is necessary to decide
whether, after our present state, we are to be or not to be.']
A gentleman, whom I found sitting with him one morning, said, that in
his opinion the character of an infidel was more detestable than that of
a man notoriously guilty of an atrocious crime. I differed from him,
because we are surer of the odiousness of the one, than of the errour of
the other. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I agree with him; for the infidel would be
guilty of any crime if he were inclined to it.'
'Many things which are false are transmitted from book to book, and gain
credit in the world. One of these is the cry against the evil of luxury.
Now the truth is, that luxury produces much good[1]. Take the luxury of
buildings in London. Does it not produce real advantage in the
conveniency and elegance of accommodation, and this all from the
exertion of industry? People will tell you, with a melancholy face, how
many builders are in gaol. It is plain they are in gaol, not for
building; for rents are not fallen.--A man gives half a guinea for a
dish of green peas. How much gardening does this occasion? how many
labourers must the competition to have such things early in the market,
keep in employment? You will hear it said, very gravely, Why was not the
half-guinea, thus spent in luxury, given to the poor? To how many might
it have afforded a good meal. Alas! has it not gone to the _industrious_
poor, whom it is better to support than the _idle_ poor? You are much
surer that you are doing good when you _pay_ money to those who work, as
the recompence of their labour, than when you _give_ money merely in
charity. Suppose the ancient luxury of a dish of peacock's brains were
to be revived, how many carcases would be left to the poor at a cheap
rate: and as to the rout that is made about people who are ruined by
extravagance, it is no matter to the nation that some individuals
suffer. When so much general productive exertion is the consequence of
luxury, the nation does not care though there are debtors in gaol; nay,
they would not care though their creditors were there too.'[2]
[Footnote 1: See _post_, March 30, April 14 and 15, 1778, and Boswell's
_Hebrides_, Oct. 25.]
[Footnote 2: Wesley wrote on Jan. 21, 1767 (_Journal_, iii. 263):--'I
had a conversation with an ingenious man who proved to a demonstration
that it was the duty of every man that could to be "clothed in purple
and fine linen," and to "fare sumptuously every day;" and that he would
do abundantly more good hereby than he could do by "feeding the hungry
and clothing the naked." O the depth of human understanding! What may
not a man believe if he will?' Much the same argument Johnson,
thirty-three years earlier, had introduced in one of his _Debates_
(_Works_, xi. 349). He makes one of the speakers say:--'Our expenses are
not all equally destructive; some, though the method of raising them be
vexatious and oppressive, do not much impoverish the nation, because
they are refunded by the extravagance and luxury of those who are
retained in the pay of the court.' See _post_, March 23, 1783. The whole
argument is nothing but Mandeville's doctrine of 'private vices, public
benefits.' See _post_, April 15, 1778.]
The uncommon vivacity of General Oglethorpe's mind, and variety of
knowledge, having sometimes made his conversation seem too desultory,
Johnson observed, 'Oglethorpe, Sir, never _completes_ what he has to
say.'
He on the same account made a similar remark on Patrick Lord Elibank:
'Sir, there is nothing _conclusive_ in his talk.'[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, iii. 24.]
When I complained of having dined at a splendid table without hearing
one sentence of conversation worthy of being remembered, he said, 'Sir,
there seldom is any such conversation.' BOSWELL. 'Why then meet at
table?' JOHNSON. 'Why to eat and drink together, and to promote
kindness; and, Sir, this is better done when there is no solid
conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get into
bad humour, or some of the company who are not capable of such
conversation, are left out, and feel themselves uneasy. It was for this
reason, Sir Robert Walpole said, he always talked bawdy at his table,
because in that all could join.'[1]
[Footnote 1: Johnson no doubt refers to Walpole in the following passage
(_Works_, viii. l37):--'Of one particular person, who has been at one
time so popular as to be generally esteemed, and at another so
formidable as to be universally detested, Mr. Savage observed that his
acquisitions had been small, or that his capacity was narrow, and that
the whole range of his mind was from obscenity to politicks, and from
politicks to obscenity.' This passage is a curious comment on Pope's
lines on Sir Robert--
'Seen him I have, but in his happier hour
Of social pleasure, ill-exchanged for power.'
_Epilogue to the Satires_, i. 29.]
Being irritated by hearing a gentleman[1] ask Mr. Levett a variety of
questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out, 'Sir,
you have but two topicks, yourself and me. I am sick of both.' 'A man,
(said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of any particular
person. He should take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore,
should avoid having any one topick of which people can say, "We shall
hear him upon it."' There was a Dr. Oldfield, who was always talking of
the Duke of Marlborough. He came into a coffee-house one day, and told
that his Grace had spoken in the House of Lords for half an hour. 'Did
he indeed speak for half an hour?' (said Belchier, the surgeon,)--
'Yes.'--'And what did he say of Dr. Oldfield?'--'Nothing.'--'Why then,
Sir, he was very ungrateful; for Dr. Oldfield could not have spoken for
a quarter of an hour, without saying something of him.'
[Footnote 1: Most likely Boswell himself. See _ante_, March 25, 1776,
and _post_, April 10, 1778, for Johnson's dislike of questioning. See
also _ante_, ii. 84, note 3.]
'Every man is to take existence on the terms on which it is given to
him[1]. To some men it is given on condition of not taking liberties,
which other men may take without much harm. One may drink wine, and be
nothing the worse for it; on another, wine may have effects so
inflammatory as to injure him both in body and mind, and perhaps, make
him commit something for which he may deserve to be hanged.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, April 14, 1775.]
'Lord Hailes's _Annals of Scotland_[1] have not that painted form which
is the taste of this age; but it is a book which will always sell, it
has such a stability of dates, such a certainty of facts, and such a
punctuality of citation. I never before read Scotch history with
certainty.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, May 12, 1774.]
I asked him whether he would advise me to read the Bible with a
commentary, and what commentaries he would recommend. JOHNSON. 'To be
sure, Sir, I would have you read the Bible with a commentary; and I
would recommend Lowth and Patrick on the Old Testament, and Hammond on
the New.'
During my stay in London this spring, I solicited his attention to
another law case, in which I was engaged. In the course of a contested
election for the Borough of Dumfermline, which I attended as one of my
friend Colonel (afterwards Sir Archibald) Campbell's counsel; one of his
political agents, who was charged with having been unfaithful to his
employer, and having deserted to the opposite party for a pecuniary
reward--attacked very rudely in a news-paper the Reverend Mr. James
Thomson, one of the ministers of that place, on account of a supposed
allusion to him in one of his sermons. Upon this the minister, on a
subsequent Sunday, arraigned him by name from the pulpit with some
severity; and the agent, after the sermon was over, rose up and asked
the minister aloud, 'What bribe he had received for telling so many lies
from the chair of verity[1].' I was present at this very extraordinary
scene. The person arraigned, and his father and brother, who had also
had a share both of the reproof from the pulpit, and in the retaliation,
brought an action against Mr. Thomson, in the Court of Session, for
defamation and damages, and I was one of the counsel for the reverend
defendant. The _Liberty of the Pulpit_ was our great ground of defence;
but we argued also on the provocation of the previous attack, and on the
instant retaliation. The Court of Session, however--the fifteen Judges,
who are at the same time the Jury, decided against the minister,
contrary to my humble opinion; and several of them expressed themselves
with indignation against him. He was an aged gentleman, formerly a
military chaplain, and a man of high spirit and honour. Johnson was
satisfied that the judgement was wrong, and dictated to me the following
argument in confutation of it:
[Footnote 1: A Gallicism, which has it appears, with so many others,
become vernacular in Scotland. The French call a pulpit, _la chaire de
verite_. CROKER.]
'Of the censure pronounced from the pulpit, our determination must be
formed, as in other cases, by a consideration of the action itself, and
the particular circumstances with which it is invested.
'The right of censure and rebuke seems necessarily appendant to the
pastoral office. He, to whom the care of a congregation is entrusted, is
considered as the shepherd of a flock, as the teacher of a school, as
the father of a family. As a shepherd tending not his own sheep but
those of his master, he is answerable for those that stray, and that
lose themselves by straying. But no man can be answerable for losses
which he has not power to prevent, or for vagrancy which he has not
authority to restrain.
'As a teacher giving instruction for wages, and liable to reproach, if
those whom he undertakes to inform make no proficiency, he must have the
power of enforcing attendance, of awakening negligence, and repressing
contradiction.
'As a father, he possesses the paternal authority of admonition, rebuke,
and punishment. He cannot, without reducing his office to an empty name,
be hindered from the exercise of any practice necessary to stimulate the
idle, to reform the vicious, to check the petulant, and correct the
stubborn.
'If we enquire into the practice of the primitive church, we shall, I
believe, find the ministers of the word exercising the whole authority
of this complicated character. We shall find them not only encouraging
the good by exhortation, but terrifying the wicked by reproof and
denunciation. In the earliest ages of the Church, while religion was yet
pure from secular advantages, the punishment of sinners was publick
censure, and open penance; penalties inflicted merely by ecclesiastical
authority, at a time while the church had yet no help from the civil
power; while the hand of the magistrate lifted only the rod of
persecution; and when governours were ready to afford a refuge to all
those who fled from clerical authority.
'That the Church, therefore, had once a power of publick censure is
evident, because that power was frequently exercised. That it borrowed
not its power from the civil authority, is likewise certain, because
civil authority was at that time its enemy.
'The hour came at length, when after three hundred years of struggle and
distress, Truth took possession of imperial power, and the civil laws
lent their aid to the ecclesiastical constitutions. The magistrate from
that time co-operated with the priest, and clerical sentences were made
efficacious by secular force. But the State, when it came to the
assistance of the church, had no intention to diminish its authority.
Those rebukes and those censures which were lawful before, were lawful
still. But they had hitherto operated only upon voluntary submission.
The refractory and contemptuous were at first in no danger of temporal
severities, except what they might suffer from the reproaches of
conscience, or the detestation of their fellow Christians. When religion
obtained the support of law, if admonitions and censures had no effect,
they were seconded by the magistrates with coercion and punishment.
'It therefore appears from ecclesiastical history, that the right of
inflicting shame by publick censure, has been always considered as
inherent in the Church; and that this right was not conferred by the
civil power; for it was exercised when the civil power operated against
it. By the civil power it was never taken away; for the Christian
magistrate interposed his office, not to rescue sinners from censure,
but to supply more powerful means of reformation; to add pain where
shame was insufficient; and when men were proclaimed unworthy of the
society of the faithful, to restrain them by imprisonment, from
spreading abroad the contagion of wickedness.
'It is not improbable that from this acknowledged power of publick
censure, grew in time the practice of auricular confession. Those who
dreaded the blast of publick reprehension, were willing to submit
themselves to the priest, by a private accusation of themselves; and to
obtain a reconciliation with the Church by a kind of clandestine
absolution and invisible penance; conditions with which the priest would
in times of ignorance and corruption, easily comply, as they increased
his influence, by adding the knowledge of secret sins to that of
notorious offences, and enlarged his authority, by making him the sole
arbiter of the terms of reconcilement.
'From this bondage the Reformation set us free. The minister has no
longer power to press into the retirements of conscience, to torture us
by interrogatories, or put himself in possession of our secrets and our
lives. But though we have thus controlled his usurpations, his just and
original power remains unimpaired. He may still see, though he may not
pry: he may yet hear, though he may not question. And that knowledge
which his eyes and ears force upon him it is still his duty to use, for
the benefit of his flock. A father who lives near a wicked neighbour,
may forbid a son to frequent his company. A minister who has in his
congregation a man of open and scandalous wickedness, may warn his
parishioners to shun his conversation. To warn them is not only lawful,
but not to warn them would be criminal. He may warn them one by one in
friendly converse, or by a parochial visitation. But if he may warn each
man singly, what shall forbid him to warn them altogether? Of that which
is to be made known to all, how is there any difference whether it be
communicated to each singly, or to all together? What is known to all,
must necessarily be publick. Whether it shall be publick at once, or
publick by degrees, is the only question. And of a sudden and solemn
publication the impression is deeper, and the warning more effectual.
'It may easily be urged, if a minister be thus left at liberty to delate
sinners from the pulpit, and to publish at will the crimes of a
parishioner, he may often blast the innocent, and distress the timorous.
He may be suspicious, and condemn without evidence; he may be rash, and
judge without examination; he may be severe, and treat slight offences
with too much harshness; he may be malignant and partial, and gratify
his private interest or resentment under the shelter of his pastoral
character.
'Of all this there is possibility, and of all this there is danger. But
if possibility of evil be to exclude good, no good ever can be done. If
nothing is to be attempted in which there is danger, we must all sink
into hopeless inactivity. The evils that may be feared from this
practice arise not from any defect in the institution, but from the
infirmities of human nature. Power, in whatever hands it is placed, will
be sometimes improperly exerted; yet courts of law must judge, though
they will sometimes judge amiss. A father must instruct his children,
though he himself may often want instruction. A minister must censure
sinners, though his censure may be sometimes erroneous by want of
judgement, and sometimes unjust by want of honesty.
'If we examine the circumstances of the present case, we shall find the
sentence neither erroneous nor unjust; we shall find no breach of
private confidence, no intrusion into secret transactions. The fact was
notorious and indubitable; so easy to be proved, that no proof was
desired. The act was base and treacherous, the perpetration insolent and
open, and the example naturally mischievous. The minister, however,
being retired and recluse, had not yet heard what was publickly known
throughout the parish; and on occasion of a publick election, warned his
people, according to his duty, against the crimes which publick
elections frequently produce. His warning was felt by one of his
parishioners, as pointed particularly at himself. But instead of
producing, as might be wished, private compunction and immediate
reformation, it kindled only rage and resentment. He charged his
minister, in a publick paper, with scandal, defamation, and falsehood.
The minister, thus reproached, had his own character to vindicate, upon
which his pastoral authority must necessarily depend. To be charged with
a defamatory lie is an injury which no man patiently endures in common
life. To be charged with polluting the pastoral office with scandal and
falsehood, was a violation of character still more atrocious, as it
affected not only his personal but his clerical veracity. His
indignation naturally rose in proportion to his honesty, and with all
the fortitude of injured honesty, he dared this calumniator in the
church, and at once exonerated himself from censure, and rescued his
flock from deception and from danger. The man whom he accuses pretends
not to be innocent; or at least only pretends; for he declines a trial.
The crime of which he is accused has frequent opportunities and strong
temptations. It has already spread far, with much depravation of private
morals, and much injury to publick happiness. To warn the people,
therefore, against it was not wanton and officious, but necessary and
pastoral.
'What then is the fault with which this worthy minister is charged? He
has usurped no dominion over conscience. He has exerted no authority in
support of doubtful and controverted opinions. He has not dragged into
light a bashful and corrigible sinner. His censure was directed against
a breach of morality, against an act which no man justifies. The man who
appropriated this censure to himself, is evidently and notoriously
guilty. His consciousness of his own wickedness incited him to attack
his faithful reprover with open insolence and printed accusations. Such
an attack made defence necessary; and we hope it will be at last decided
that the means of defence were just and lawful.'
When I read this to Mr. Burke, he was highly pleased, and exclaimed,
'Well; he does his work in a workman-like manner.'[1]
[Footnote 1: As a proof of Dr. Johnson's extraordinary powers of
composition, it appears from the original manuscript of this excellent
dissertation, of which he dictated the first eight paragraphs on the
10th of May, and the remainder on the 13th, that there are in the whole
only seven corrections, or rather variations, and those not
considerable. Such were at once the vigorous and accurate emanations of
his mind. BOSWELL.]
Mr. Thomson wished to bring the cause by appeal before the House of
Lords, but was dissuaded by the advice of the noble person who lately
presided so ably in that Most Honourable House, and who was then
Attorney-General. As my readers will no doubt be glad also to read the
opinion of this eminent man upon the same subject, I shall here insert
it.
CASE.
'There is herewith laid before you,
1. Petition for the Reverend Mr. James Thomson, minister of Dumfermline.
2. Answers thereto.
3. Copy of the judgement of the Court of Session upon both.
4. Notes of the opinions of the Judges, being the reasons upon which
their decree is grounded.
'These papers you will please to peruse, and give your opinion, Whether
there is a probability of the above decree of the Court of Session's
being reversed, if Mr. Thomson should appeal from the same?'
'I don't think the appeal adviseable: not only because the value of the
judgement is in no degree adequate to the expence; but because there are
many chances, that upon the general complexion of the case, the
impression will be taken to the disadvantage of the appellant.
'It is impossible to approve the style of that sermon. But the
_complaint_ was not less ungracious from that man, who had behaved so
ill by his original libel, and, at the time, when he received the
reproach he complains of. In the last article, all the plaintiffs are
equally concerned. It struck me also with some wonder, that the Judges
should think so much fervour apposite to the occasion of reproving the
defendant for a little excess.
'Upon the matter, however, I agree with them in condemning the behaviour
of the minister; and in thinking it a subject fit for ecclesiastical
censure; and even for an action, if any individual could qualify[1] a
wrong, and a damage arising from it. But this I doubt. The circumstance
of publishing the reproach in a pulpit, though extremely indecent, and
culpable in another view, does not constitute a different sort of wrong,
or any other rule of law, than would have obtained, if the same words
had been pronounced elsewhere. I don't know whether there be any
difference in the law of Scotland, in the definition of slander, before
the Commissaries, or the Court of Session. The common law of England
does not give way to actions for every reproachful word. An action
cannot be brought for general damages, upon any words which import less
than an offence cognisable by law; consequently no action could have
been brought here for the words in question. Both laws admit the truth
to be a justification in action _for words_; and the law of England does
the same in actions for libels. The judgement, therefore, seems to me to
have been wrong, in that the Court repelled that defence.
[Footnote 1: It is curious to observe that Lord Thurlow has here,
perhaps in compliment to North Britain, made use of a term of the Scotch
Law, which to an English reader may require explanation. To _qualify_ a
wrong, is to point out and establish it. BOSWELL.]
'E. THURLOW.'
I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's Life, which
fell under my own observation; of which _pars magna fui_,[1] and which I
am persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit.
[Footnote: 1
'Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi,
Et quorum pars magna fui.'
'Which thing myself unhappy did behold,
Yea, and was no small part thereof.'
Morris, _Aeneids_, ii. 5.]
My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description,
had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to Dr.
Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could
perhaps not be selected out of all mankind. They had even attacked one
another with some asperity[1] in their writings; yet I lived in habits
of friendship with both[2]. I could fully relish the excellence of each;
for I have ever delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can
separate good qualities from evil in the same person.
[Footnote 1: In the year 1770, in _The False Alarm_, Johnson attacked
Wilkes with more than 'some asperity.' 'The character of the man,' he
wrote, 'I have no purpose to delineate. Lampoon itself would disdain to
speak ill of him, of whom no man speaks well.' He called him 'a retailer
of sedition and obscenity;' and he said:--'We are now disputing ...
whether Middlesex shall be represented, or not, by a criminal from a
gaol.' _Works_, vi. 156, 169, 177. In _The North Briton_, No. xii,
Wilkes, quoting Johnson's definition of a pensioner, asks:--'Is the said
Mr. Johnson a _dependant_? or is he _a slave of state, hired by a
stipend to obey his master_? There is, according to him, no
alternative.--As Mr. Johnson has, I think, failed in this account, may
I, after so great an authority, venture at a short definition of so
intricate a word? A _pension_ then I would call _a gratuity during the
pleasure of the Prince for services performed, or expected to be
performed, to himself, or to the state_. Let us consider the celebrated
Mr. _Johnson_, and a few other late pensioners in this light.']
[Footnote 2: Boswell, in his _Letter to the People of Scotland_ (p. 70),
mentions 'my old classical companion, Wilkes;' and adds, 'with whom I
pray you to excuse my keeping company, he is so pleasant.']
Sir John Pringle, 'mine own friend and my Father's friend,' between whom
and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to establish an acquaintance[1], as I
respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once,
very ingeniously, 'It is not in friendship as in mathematicks, where two
things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. You agree
with Johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle
quality; but Johnson and I should not agree.' Sir John was not
sufficiently flexible; so I desisted; knowing, indeed, that the
repulsion was equally strong on the part of Johnson; who, I know not
from what cause, unless his being a Scotchman, had formed a very
erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible wish, if
possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage
it, was a nice and difficult matter.
[Footnote 1: When Johnson was going to Auchinleck, Boswell begged him,
in talking with his father, 'to avoid three topicks as to which they
differed very widely; whiggism, presbyterianism, and--Sir John Pringle.'
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Nov 2, 1773. See also _ib._ Aug 24. 'Pringle was
President of the Royal Society--"who sat in Newton's chair, And wonder'd
how the devil he got there."' J. H. Burton's _Hume_, i. 165. He was one
of Franklin's friends (Franklin's _Memoirs_ iii. III), and so was likely
to be uncongenial to Johnson.]
My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry[1], at
whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen a greater number of
literary men, than at any other, except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had
invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen on Wednesday, May
15. 'Pray (said I,) let us have Dr. Johnson.'--'What with Mr. Wilkes?
not for the world, (said Mr. Edward Dilly:) Dr. Johnson would never
forgive me.'--'Come, (said I,) if you'll let me negociate for you, I
will be answerable that all shall go well.' DILLY. 'Nay, if you will
take it upon you, I am sure I shall be very happy to see them both
here.'
[Footnote 1: No 22. CROKER. At this house 'Johnson owned that he always
found a good dinner.' _Post_, April 15, 1778.]
Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnson,
I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of
contradiction, and by means of that I hoped I should gain my point. I
was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a direct proposal, 'Sir,
will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?' he would have flown into a
passion, and would probably have answered, 'Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir!
I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch[1].' I therefore, while we were sitting
quietly, by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open
my plan thus:--'Mr. Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you,
and would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on
Wednesday next along with me, as I must soon go to Scotland.' JOHNSON.
'Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him--'BOSWELL.
'Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have, is
agreeable to you.' JOHNSON. 'What do you mean, Sir? What do you take me
for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world, as to imagine that I am
to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?'
BOSWELL. 'I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing to prevent you from
meeting people whom you might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what
he calls his patriotick friends with him.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir, and what
then? What care _I_ for his _patriotick friends_[2]? Poh!' BOSWELL. 'I
should not be surprized to find Jack Wilkes there.' JOHNSON. 'And if
Jack Wilkes _should_ be there, what is that to _me_, Sir? My dear
friend, let us have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you;
but really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not
meet any company whatever, occasionally.' BOSWELL. 'Pray forgive me,
Sir: I meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for me.' Thus I
secured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well pleased to
be one of his guests on the day appointed.
[Footnote 1: This has been circulated as if actually said by Johnson;
when the truth is, it was only _supposed_ by me. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: 'Don't let them be _patriots_,' he said to Mr. Hoole, when
he asked him to collect a city Club. _Post_, April 6, 1781.]
Upon the much-expected Wednesday, I called on him about half an hour
before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out together, to see
that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. I found him buffeting
his books, as upon a former occasion[1], covered with dust, and making
no preparation for going abroad. 'How is this, Sir? (said I.) Don't you
recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly's?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I did not
think of going to Dilly's: it went out of my head. I have ordered dinner
at home with Mrs. Williams.' BOSWELL, 'But, my dear Sir, you know you
were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect you, and
will be much disappointed if you don't come.' JOHNSON. 'You must talk to
Mrs. Williams about this.'
[Footnote 1: See p. 7 of this volume. BOSWELL.]
Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I had
secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to shew Mrs.
Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some
restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he would
not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her
I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine
this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his
engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. 'Yes, Sir, (said she, pretty
peevishly,) Dr. Johnson is to dine at home,'--'Madam, (said I,) his
respect for you is such, that I know he will not leave you unless you
absolutely desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope you
will be good enough to forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very
worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr.
Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And then,
Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the message, and I
assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come, and no doubt he has made
a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honour he expected
to have. I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there.' She
gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest
as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously
pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson, 'That all things considered
she thought he should certainly go.' I flew back to him still in dust,
and careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to
go or stay[1];' but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams'
consent, he roared, 'Frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon drest.
When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as
much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with
him to set out for Gretna-Green.
[Footnote 1: 'Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.' Addison's
_Cato_, act v. sc. 1.]
When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst
of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent, watching
how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly,
'Who is that gentleman, Sir?'--'Mr. Arthur Lee.'--JOHNSON. 'Too, too,
too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings[1].
Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was
not only a _patriot_ but an _American_[2]. He was afterwards minister
from the United States at the court of Madrid. 'And who is the gentleman
in lace?'--'Mr. Wilkes, Sir.' This information confounded him still
more; he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book,
sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it
intently for some time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare
say, were aukward enough. But he no doubt recollected his having rated
me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any company,
and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy man
of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and
manners of those whom he might chance to meet.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 485.]
[Footnote 2: He was at this time 'employed by Congress as a private and
confidential agent in England.' Dr. Franklin had arranged for letters to
be sent to him, not by post but by private hand, under cover to his
brother, Mr. Alderman Lee. Franklin's _Memoirs_, ii. 42, and iii. 415.]
The cheering sound of 'Dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his reverie,
and we _all_ sat down without any symptom of ill humour. There were
present, beside Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Arthur Lee, who was an old companion
of mine when he studied physick at Edinburgh, Mr. (now Sir John) Miller,
Dr. Lettsom, and Mr. Slater the druggist. Mr. Wilkes placed himself next
to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much attention and
politeness[1], that he gained upon him insensibly. No man eat more
heartily than Johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr.
Wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'Pray give
me leave, Sir:--It is better here--A little of the brown--Some fat,
Sir--A little of the stuffing--Some gravy--Let me have the pleasure of
giving you some butter--Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this
orange;--or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'Sir, Sir, I am
obliged to you, Sir,' cried Johnson, bowing, and turning--his head to
him with a look for some time of 'surly virtue,'[2] but, in a short
while, of complacency.
[Footnote 1: When Wilkes the year before, during his mayoralty, had
presented An Address, 'the King himself owned he had never seen so
well-bred a Lord Mayor.' Walpole's _Journal of the Reign of George III_,
i. 484.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson's _London, a Poem_, v. 145. BOSWELL--
'How when competitors like these contend,
Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend.']
Foote being mentioned, Johnson said. 'He is not a good mimick[1].' One
of the company added, 'A merry Andrew, a buffoon.' JOHNSON. 'But he has
wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of
imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up
his part. One species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of
escape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; but he's gone, Sir,
when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over your
head. Then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand
between him and a jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is
under many restraints from which Foote is free[2].' WILKES. 'Garrick's
wit is more like Lord Chesterfield's.' JOHNSON. 'The first time I was in
company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of the
fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult to
please a man against his will[3]. I went on eating my dinner pretty
sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical,
that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back upon
my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was irresistible[4]. He
upon one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy
of his powers of entertaining. Amongst the many and various modes which
he tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer,
and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers
amongst his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his
small-beer; but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink
it. They were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid
of offending their master, who they knew liked Foote much as a
companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a
favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and
having invested him with the whole authority of the kitchen, he was to
inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that
they would drink Foote's small-beer no longer. On that day Foote
happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was
so delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when
he went down stairs, he told them, "This is the finest man I have ever
seen. I will not deliver your message. I will drink his small-beer."'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 154.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson had said much the same at a dinner in Edinburgh.
See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Nov. 10, 1773. See _ante_, March 15, 1776, and
_post_, Sept. 21, 1777.]
[Footnote 3: 'To convince any man against his will is hard, but to
please him against his will is justly pronounced by Dryden to be above
the reach of human abilities.' _The Rambler_, No. 93.]
[Footnote 4: Foote told me that Johnson said of him, 'For loud
obstreperous broadfaced mirth, I know not his equal.' BOSWELL.]
Somebody observed that Garrick could not have done this. WILKES.
'Garrick would have made the small-beer still smaller. He is now leaving
the stage; but he will play _Scrub_[1] all his life.' I knew that
Johnson would let nobody attack Garrick but himself[2], as Garrick once
said to me, and I had heard him praise his liberality; so to bring out
his commendation of his celebrated pupil, I said, loudly, 'I have heard
Garrick is liberal[3].' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I know that Garrick has
given away more money than any man in England that I am acquainted with,
and that not from ostentatious views. Garrick was very poor when he
began life; so when he came to have money, he probably was very
unskilful in giving away, and saved when he should not. But Garrick
began to be liberal as soon as he could; and I am of opinion, the
reputation of avarice which he has had, has been very lucky for him, and
prevented his having many enemies. You despise a man for avarice, but do
not hate him. Garrick might have been much better attacked for living
with more splendour than is suitable to a player:[4] if they had had the
wit to have assaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him
more. But they have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has rescued
him from much obloquy and envy.'
[Footnote 1: In Farquhar's _Beaux-Stratagem_, Scrub thus describes his
duties:--'Of a Monday I drive the coach, of a Tuesday I drive the
plough, on Wednesday I follow the hounds, a Thursday I dun the tenants,
on Friday I go to market, on Saturday I draw warrants, and a Sunday I
draw beer.' Act iii. sc. 3.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, i. 393, note 1.]
[Footnote 3: See _post_, April 10, 1778, and April 24, 1779.]
[Footnote 4: See _ante_, i. 216, note 2.]
Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information for
biography,[1] Johnson told us, 'When I was a young fellow I wanted to
write the _Life of Dryden_, and in order to get materials, I applied to
the only two persons then alive who had seen him;[2] these were old
Swinney[3] and old Cibber. Swinney's information was no more than this,
"That at Will's coffee-house Dryden had a particular chair for himself,
which was set by the fire in winter, and was then called his
winter-chair; and that it was carried out for him to the balcony in
summer, and was then called his summer-chair." Cibber could tell no more
but "That he remembered him a decent old man, arbiter of critical
disputes at Will's[4]." You are to consider that Cibber was then at a
great distance from Dryden, had perhaps one leg only in the room, and
durst not draw in the other.' BOSWELL. 'Yet Cibber was a man of
observation?' JOHNSON. 'I think not.'[5] BOSWELL. 'You will allow his
_Apology_ to be well done.' JOHNSON. 'Very well done, to be sure,
Sir.[6] That book is a striking proof of the justice of Pope's remark:
"Each might his several province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand[7]."
BOSWELL. 'And his plays are good.' JOHNSON. 'Yes; but that was his
trade; _l'esprit du corps_; he had been all his life among players and
play-writers.[8] I wondered that he had so little to say in
conversation, for he had kept the best company, and learnt all that can
be got by the ear. He abused Pindar to me, and then shewed me an Ode of
his own, with an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's
wing[9]. I told him that when the ancients made a simile, they always
made it like something real.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 20, 1776, and Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept.
22.]
[Footnote 2: Dryden had been dead but thirty-six years when Johnson came
to London.]
[Footnote 3: 'Owen MacSwinny, a buffoon; formerly director of the
play-house.' Horace Walpole, _Letters_, i. 118. Walpole records one of
his puns. 'Old Horace' had left the House of Commons to fight a duel,
and at once 'returned, and was so little moved as to speak immediately
upon the _Cambrick Bill_, which made Swinny say, "That it was a sign he
was not _ruffled_."' _Ib._ p. 233. See also, _ib._ vi. 373 for one of
his stories.]
[Footnote 4: A more amusing version of the story, is in _Johnsoniana_
(ed. 1836, p. 413) on the authority of Mr. Fowke. '"So Sir," said
Johnson to Cibber, "I find you know [knew?] Mr. Dryden?" "Know him? O
Lord! I was as well acquainted with him as if he had been my own
brother." "Then you can tell me some anecdotes of him?" "O yes, a
thousand! Why we used to meet him continually at a club at Button's. I
remember as well as if it were but yesterday, that when he came into the
room in winter time, he used to go and sit by the fire in one corner;
and in summer time he would always go and sit in the window." "Thus,
Sir," said Johnson, "what with the corner of the fire in winter and the
window in summer, you see that I got _much_ information from Cibber of
the manners and habits of Dryden.'" Johnson gives, in his _Life of
Dryden_ (_Works_, vii. 300), the information that he got from Swinney
and Cibber. Dr. Warton, who had written on Pope, found in one of the
poet's female-cousins a still more ignorant survivor. 'He had been
taught to believe that she could furnish him with valuable information.
Incited by all that eagerness which characterised him, he sat close to
her, and enquired her consanguinity to Pope. "Pray, Sir," said she, "did
not you write a book about my cousin Pope?" "Yes, madam." "They tell me
t'was vastly clever. He wrote a great many plays, did not he?" "I have
heard of only one attempt, Madam." "Oh no, I beg your pardon; that was
Mr. Shakespeare; I always confound them."' Wooll's _Warton_, p. 394.]
[Footnote 5: Johnson told Malone that 'Cibber was much more ignorant
even of matters relating to his own profession than he could well have
conceived any man to be who had lived nearly sixty years with players,
authors, and the most celebrated characters of the age.' Prior's
_Malone_, p. 95. See _ante_, ii. 92.]
[Footnote 6: 'There are few,' wrote Goldsmith, 'who do not prefer a page
of Montaigne or Colley Cibber, who candidly tell us what they thought of
the world, and the world thought of them, to the more stately memoirs
and transactions of Europe.' Cunningham's _Goldsmith's Works_, iv. 43.]
[Footnote 7: _Essay on Criticism_, i. 66.]
[Footnote 8: 'Cibber wrote as bad Odes (as Garrick), but then Gibber
wrote _The Careless Husband_, and his own _Life_, which both deserve
immortality.' Walpole's _Letters_, v. 197. Pope (_Imitations of Horace_,
II. i. 90), says:--
'All this may be; the people's voice is odd,
It is, and it is not, the voice of God.
To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny _The Careless Husband_ praise,
Or say our fathers never broke a rule;
Why then, I say, the public is a fool.'
See _ante_, April 6, 1775.]
[Footnote 9: See page 402 of vol. i. BOSWELL.]
Mr. Wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of Shakspeare's
imagination, the boldest was making Birnamwood march to Dunsinane;
creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in Scotland! ha!
ha! ha!' And he also observed, that 'the clannish slavery of the
Highlands of Scotland was the single exception to Milton's remark of
"The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty[1]," being worshipped in all hilly
countries.'--'When I was at Inverary (said he,) on a visit to my old
friend, Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his dependents congratulated me on
being such a favourite of his Grace. I said, "It is then, gentlemen,
truely lucky for me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had wished
it, there is not a Campbell among you but would have been ready to bring
John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It would have been only
'"'Off with his head! So much for Aylesbury[2].'"
'I was then member for Aylesbury.'
[Footnote 1: Milton's _L'Allegro_, 1. 36.]
[Footnote 2: 'CATESBY. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken.
RICHARD. Off with his head. So much for Buckingham.' Colley Gibber's
_Richard III_, iv. I.]
Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes talked of the contested passage in Horace's
_Art of Poetry_[1], '_Difficile est proprie communia dicere_.' Mr.
Wilkes according to my note, gave the interpretation thus; 'It is
difficult to speak with propriety of common things; as, if a poet had to
speak of Queen Caroline drinking tea, he must endeavour to avoid the
vulgarity of cups and saucers.' But upon reading my note, he tells me
that he meant to say, that 'the word _communia_, being a Roman law term,
signifies here things _communis juris_, that is to say, what have never
yet been treated by any body; and this appears clearly from what
followed,
"--Tuque
Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus
Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus."
'You will easier make a tragedy out of the _Iliad_ than on any subject
not handled before[2].' JOHNSON. 'He means that it is difficult to
appropriate to particular persons qualities which are common to all
mankind, as Homer has done.'
[Footnote 1: _Ars Poetica, i. 128.]
[Footnote 2: My very pleasant friend himself, as well as others _who
remember old stories_, will no doubt be surprised, when I observe that
_John Wilkes_ here shews himself to be of the WARBURTONIAN SCHOOL. It is
nevertheless true, as appears from Dr. Hurd the Bishop of Worcester's
very elegant commentary and notes on the '_Epistola ad Pisones_.'
It is necessary to a fair consideration of the question, that the whole
passage in which the words occur should be kept in view:
'Si quid inexpertum scenae committis, et audes
Personam formare novam, servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.
Difficile est proprie communia dicere: tuque
Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,
Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus,
Publica materies privati juris erit, si
Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem,
Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus
Interpres; nee desilies imitator in artum
Unde pedem proferre pudor vetat aut operis lex.'
The 'Commentary' thus illustrates it: 'But the formation of quite _new
characters_ is a work of great difficulty and hazard. For here there is
no generally received and fixed _archetype_ to work after, but every one
_judges_ of common right, according to the extent and comprehension of
his own idea; therefore he advises to labour and refit _old characters
and subjects_, particularly those made known and authorised by the
practice of Homer and the Epick writers.'
The 'Note' is,
'_Difficile_ EST PROPRIE COMMUNIA DICERE.' Lambin's Comment is,
'_Communia hoc loco appellat Horatius argumenta fabularum a nullo adhuc
tractata: et ita, quae cuivis exposita sunt et in medio quodammodo
posita, quasi vacua et a nemine occupata_.' And that this is the true
meaning of _communia_ is evidently fixed by the words _ignota
indictaque_, which are explanatory of it; so that the sense given it in
the commentary is unquestionably the right one. Yet, notwithstanding the
clearness of the case, a late critick has this strange passage:
'_Difficile quidem esse proprie communia dicere, hoc est, materiam
vulgarem, notam et e medio petitam, ita immutare atque exornare, ut nova
et scriptori propria videatur, ultra concedimus; et maximi procul dubio
ponderis ista est observatio. Sed omnibus utrinque collatis, et tum
difficilis, tum venusti, tam judicii quam ingenii ratione habita, major
videtur esse gloria fabulam formare penitus novam, quam veterem,
utcunque mutatam, de novo exhibere_. (Poet. Prael. v. ii. p. 164.)
Where, having first put a wrong construction on the word _comnmnia_, he
employs it to introduce an impertinent criticism. For where does the
poet prefer the glory of refitting _old_ subjects to that of inventing
new ones? The contrary is implied in what he urges about the superiour
difficulty of the latter, from which he dissuades his countrymen, only
in respect of their abilities and inexperience in these matters; and in
order to cultivate in them, which is the main view of the Epistle, a
spirit of correctness, by sending them to the old subjects, treated by
the Greek writers.'
For my own part (with all deference for Dr. Hurd, who thinks the _case
clear_,) I consider the passage, '_Difficile est proprie communia
dicere_,' to be a _crux_ for the criticks on Horace.
The explication which My Lord of Worcester treats with so much contempt,
is nevertheless countenanced by authority which I find quoted by the
learned Baxter in his edition of Horace: '_Difficile est proprie
communia dicere_, h.e. res vulgares disertis verbis enarrare, vel humile
thema cum dignitate tractare. _Difficile est communes res propriis
explicare verbis_. Vet. Schol.' I was much disappointed to find that the
great critick, Dr. Bentley, has no note upon this very difficult
passage, as from his vigorous and illuminated mind I should have
expected to receive more satisfaction than I have yet had.
_Sanadon_ thus treats of it: '_Proprie communia dicere; c'est a dire,
qu'il n'est pas aise de former a ces personnages d'imagination, des
caracteres particuliers et cependant vraisemblables. Comme l'on a ete le
maitre de les former tels qu'on a voulu, les fautes que l'on fait en
cela sont moins pardonnables. C'est pourquoi Horace conseille de prendre
toujours des sujets connus tels que sont par exemple ceux que l'on peut
tirer des poemes d'Homere_.'
And _Dacier_ observes upon it, '_Apres avoir marque les deux qualites
qu'il faut donner aux personnages qu'on invente, il conseille aux Poetes
tragiques, de n'user pas trop facilement de cette liberte quils ont d'en
inventer, car il est tres difficile de reussir dans ces nouveaux
caracteres. Il est mal aise, dit Horace_, de traiter proprement, _c'st a
dire_ convenablement, _des_ sujets communs; _c'est a dire, des sujets
inventes, et qui n'ont aucun fondement ni dans l'Histoire ni dans la
Fable; et il les appelle_ communs, _parce qu'ils sont en disposition a
tout le monde, et que tout le monde a le droit de les inventer, et
qu'ils sont, comme on dit, au premier occupant_.' See his observations
at large on this expression and the following.
After all, I cannot help entertaining some doubt whether the words,
_Difficile est proprie communia dicere_, may not have been thrown in by
Horace to form a _separate_ article in a 'choice of difficulties' which
a poet has to encounter, who chooses a new subject; in which case it
must be uncertain which of the various explanations is the true one, and
every reader has a right to decide as it may strike his own fancy. And
even should the words be understood as they generally are, to be
connected both with what goes before and what comes after, the exact
sense cannot be absolutely ascertained; for instance, whether _proprie_
is meant to signify _in an appropriated manner_, as Dr. Johnson here
understands it, or, as it is often used by Cicero, _with propriety_, or
_elegantly_. In short, it is a rare instance of a defect in perspicuity
in an admirable writer, who with almost every species of excellence, is
peculiarly remarkable for that quality. The length of this note perhaps
requires an apology. Many of my readers, I doubt not, will admit that a
critical discussion of a passage in a favourite classick is very
engaging. BOSWELL. Boswell's French in this tedious note is left as he
printed it.]
WILKES. 'We have no City-Poet now: that is an office which has gone into
disuse. The last was Elkanah Settle. There is something in _names_ which
one cannot help feeling. Now _Elkanah Settle_ sounds so _queer_, who can
expect much from that name? We should have no hesitation to give it for
John Dryden, in preference to Elkanah Settle, from the names only,
without knowing their different merits[1].' JOHNSON. 'I suppose, Sir,
Settle did as well for Aldermen in his time, as John Home could do now.
Where did Beckford and Trecothick learn English[2]?'
[Footnote 1: Johnson, after describing Settle's attack on Dryden,
continues (_Works_, vii. 277):--'Such are the revolutions of fame, or
such is the prevalence of fashion, that the man whose works have not yet
been thought to deserve the care of collecting them, who died forgotten
in an hospital, and whose latter years were spent in contriving shows
for fairs ... might with truth have had inscribed upon his stone:--
"Here lies the Rival and Antagonist of Dryden."'
Pope introduces him in _The Dunciad_, i. 87, in the description of the
Lord Mayor's Show:--
'Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces,
Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners and broad faces.
Now night descending the proud scene was o'er,
But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.'
In the third book the ghost of Settle acts the part of guide in the
Elysian shade.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson implies, no doubt, that they were both Americans by
birth. Trecothick was in the American trade, but he was not an American.
Walpole's _Memoirs of the Reign of George III_, iii. 184, note. Of
Beckford Walpole says:--'Under a jovial style of good humour he was
tyrannic in Jamaica, his native country.' _Ib._ iv. 156. He came over to
England when young and was educated in Westminster School. Stephens's
_Horne Tooke_, ii. 278. Cowper describes 'a jocular altercation that
passed when I was once in the gallery [of the House], between Mr. Rigby
and the late Alderman Beckford. The latter was a very incorrect speaker,
and the former, I imagine, not a very accurate scholar. He ventured,
however, upon a quotation from Terence, and delivered it thus, _Sine
Scelere et Baccho friget venus_. The Alderman interrupted him, was very
severe upon his mistake, and restored Ceres to her place in the
sentence. Mr. Rigby replied, that he was obliged to his worthy friend
for teaching him Latin, and would take the first opportunity to return
the favour by teaching him English.' Southey's _Cowper_, iii. 317. Lord
Chatham, in the House of Lords, said of Trecothick:--'I do not know in
office a more upright magistrate, nor in private life a worthier man.'
_Parl. Hist._ xvi. 1101. See _post_, Sept. 23, 1777.]
Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had taken possession of a
barren part of America, and wondered why they should choose it. JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, all barrenness is comparative. The _Scotch_ would not know it
to be barren.' BOSWELL. 'Come, come, he is flattering the English. You
have now been in Scotland, Sir, and say if you did not see meat and
drink enough there.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; meat and drink enough to
give the inhabitants sufficient strength to run away from home.' All
these quick and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in jest, and
with a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. Upon this topick he
and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was a bond of union
between them, and I was conscious that as both of them had visited
Caledonia, both were fully satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of
those who imagine that it is a land of famine.[1] But they amused
themselves with persevering in the old jokes. When I claimed a
superiority for Scotland over England in one respect, that no man can be
arrested there for a debt merely because another swears it against him;
but there must first be the judgement of a court of law ascertaining its
justice; and that a seizure of the person, before judgement is obtained,
can take place only, if his creditor should swear that he is about to
fly from the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is _in
meditatione fugae_: WILKES. 'That, I should think, may be safely sworn
of all the Scotch nation.' JOHNSON. (to Mr. Wilkes) 'You must know, Sir,
I lately took my friend Boswell and shewed him genuine civilised life in
an English provincial town. I turned him loose at Lichfield, my native
city, that he might see for once real civility:[2] for you know he lives
among savages in Scotland, and among rakes in London.' WILKES. 'Except
when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you and me.' JOHNSON,
(smiling) 'And we ashamed of him.'
[Footnote 1:
'Oft have I heard thee mourn the wretched lot
Of the poor, mean, despised, insulted Scot,
Who, might calm reason credit idle tales,
By rancour forged where prejudice prevails,
Or starves at home, or practises through fear
Of starving arts which damn all conscience here.'
Churchill's _Prophecy of Famine, Poems_, i. 105.]
[Footnote 2: For Johnson's praise of Lichfield see _ante_, March 23,
1776. For the use of the word _civility_, see _ante_ ii. 155.]
They were quite frank and easy. Johnson told the story[1] of his asking
Mrs. Macaulay to allow her footman to sit down with them, to prove the
ridiculousness of the argument for the equality of mankind; and he said
to me afterwards, with a nod of satisfaction, 'You saw Mr. Wilkes
acquiesced.' Wilkes talked with all imaginable freedom of the ludicrous
title given to the Attorney-General, _Diabolus Regis_; adding, 'I have
reason to know something about that officer; for I was prosecuted for a
libel.' Johnson, who many people would have supposed must have been
furiously angry at hearing this talked of so lightly, said not a word.
He was now, _indeed_, 'a good-humoured fellow.'[2]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 447.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, April 18, 1775.]
After dinner we had an accession of Mrs. Knowles,[1] the Quaker lady,
well known for her various talents, and of Mr. Alderman Lee. Amidst some
patriotick groans, somebody (I think the Alderman) said, 'Poor old
England is lost.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is not so much to be lamented that
Old England is lost, as that the Scotch have found it.'[2] WILKES. 'Had
Lord Bute governed Scotland only, I should not have taken the trouble to
write his eulogy, and dedicate _Mortimer_ to him.'[3]
[Footnote 1: See _post_, April 15, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: It would not become me to expatiate on this strong and
pointed remark, in which a very great deal of meaning is condensed.
BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 3: 'Mr. Wilkes's second political essay was an ironical
dedication to the Earl of Bute of Ben Jonson's play, _The Fall of
Mortimer_. "Let me entreat your Lordship," he wrote, "to assist your
friend [Mr. Murphy] in perfecting the weak scenes of this tragedy, and
from the crude labours of Ben Jonson and others to give us a _complete
play_. It is the warmest wish of my heart that the Earl of Bute may
speedily complete the story of Roger Mortimer."' Almon's _Wilkes_, i.
70, 86.]
Mr. Wilkes held a candle to shew a fine print of a beautiful female
figure which hung in the room, and pointed out the elegant contour of
the bosom with the finger of an arch connoisseur. He afterwards, in a
conversation with me, waggishly insisted, that all the time Johnson
shewed visible signs of a fervent admiration of the corresponding charms
of the fair Quaker.
This record, though by no means so perfect as I could wish, will serve
to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only
pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of
reconciling any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which in the
various bustle of political contest, had been produced in the minds of
two men, who though widely different, had so many things in
common--classical learning, modern literature, wit, and humour, and
ready repartee--that it would have been much to be regretted if they had
been for ever at a distance from each other.[1]
[Footnote 1: Yet Wilkes within less than a year violently attacked
Johnson in parliament. He said, 'The two famous doctors, Shebbeare and
Johnson, are in this reign the state hirelings called pensioners.' Their
names, he continued, 'disgraced the Civil List. They are the known
pensioned advocates of despotism.' _Parl. Hist._ xix. 118. It is curious
that Boswell does not mention this attack, and that Johnson a few months
after it was made, speaking of himself and Wilkes, said:--'The contest
is now over.' _Post_, Sept 21, 1777.]
Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this successful _negociation_; and
pleasantly said, that 'there was nothing to equal it in the whole
history of the _Corps Diplomatique_'.
I attended Dr. Johnson home, and had the satisfaction to hear him tell
Mrs. Williams how much he had been pleased with Mr. Wilkes's company,
and what an agreeable day he had passed.[1]
[Footnote 1: The next day he wrote to Mrs. Thrale:--'For my part, I
begin to settle and keep company with grave aldermen. I dined yesterday
in the Poultry with Mr. Alderman Wilkes, and Mr. Alderman Lee, and
Counsellor Lee, his brother. There sat you the while, so sober, with
your W----'s and your H----'s, and my aunt and her turnspit; and when
they are gone, you think by chance on Johnson, what is he doing? What
should he be doing? He is breaking jokes with Jack Wilkes upon the
Scots. Such, Madam, are the vicissitudes of things.' _Piozzi Letters_,
i. 325.]
I talked a good deal to him of the celebrated Margaret Caroline Rudd,
whom I had visited, induced by the fame of her talents, address, and
irresistible power of fascination[1]. To a lady who disapproved of my
visiting her, he said on a former occasion[2], 'Nay, Madam, Boswell is
in the right; I should have visited her myself, were it not that they
have now a trick of putting every thing into the news-papers.' This
evening he exclaimed, 'I envy him his acquaintance with Mrs. Rudd.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 20, 1776.]
[Footnote 2: If he had said this on a former occasion to a lady, he said
it also on a latter occasion to a gentleman--Mr. Spottiswoode. _Post_,
April 28, 1778. Moreover, Miss Burney records in 1778, that when Johnson
was telling about Bet Flint (_post_, May 8, 1781) and other strange
characters whom he had known, 'Mrs. Thrale said, "I wonder, Sir, you
never went to see Mrs. Rudd among the rest." "Why, Madam, I believe I
should," said he, "if it was not for the newspapers; but I am prevented
many frolics that I should like very well, since I am become such a
theme for the papers."' Mme. D'Arblay's _Diary_, i. 90.]
I mentioned a scheme which I had of making a tour to the Isle of Man,
and giving a full account of it; and that Mr. Burke had playfully
suggested as a motto,
'The proper study of mankind is MAN.'[1]
JOHNSON. 'Sir, you will get more by the book than the jaunt will cost
you; so you will have your diversion for nothing, and add to your
reputation.'
[Footnote 1: Pope, _Essay on Man_, ii. 2.]
On the evening of the next day I took leave of him, being to set out for
Scotland[1]. I thanked him with great warmth for all his kindness. 'Sir,
(said he,) you are very welcome. Nobody repays it with more.'
[Footnote 1: Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale on May 14 (Tuesday):--'----
goes away on Thursday, very well satisfied with his journey. Some great
men have promised to obtain him a place, and then a fig for my father
and his new wife.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 324. He is writing no doubt of
Boswell; yet, as Lord Auchinleck had been married more than six years,
it is odd his wife should be called _new_. Boswell, a year earlier,
wrote to Temple of his hopes from Lord Pembroke:--'How happy should I be
to get an independency by my own influence while my father is alive!'
_Letters of Boswell_, p. 182. Johnson, in a second letter to Mrs.
Thrale, written two days after Boswell left, says:--'B---- went away on
Thursday night, with no great inclination to travel northward; but who
can contend with destiny? ... He carries with him two or three good
resolutions; I hope they will not mould upon the road.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 333.]
How very false is the notion which has gone round the world of the
rough, and passionate, and harsh manners of this great and good man.
That he had occasional sallies of heat of temper, and that he was
sometimes, perhaps, too 'easily provoked[1]' by absurdity and folly, and
sometimes too desirous of triumph in colloquial contest, must be
allowed. The quickness both of his perception and sensibility disposed
him to sudden explosions of satire; to which his extraordinary readiness
of wit was a strong and almost irresistible incitement. To adopt one of
the finest images in Mr. Home's _Douglas_[2],
'On each glance of thought
Decision followed, as the thunderbolt
Pursues the flash!'
I admit that the beadle within him was often so eager to apply the lash,
that the Judge had not time to consider the case with sufficient
deliberation.
[Footnote 1: 1 _Corinthians_, xiii. 5.]
[Footnote 2: This passage, which is found in Act iii, is not in the
acting copy of _Douglas_.]
That he was occasionally remarkable for violence of temper may be
granted: but let us ascertain the degree, and not let it be supposed
that he was in a perpetual rage, and never without a club in his hand,
to knock down every one who approached him. On the contrary, the truth
is, that by much the greatest part of his time he was civil, obliging,
nay, polite in the true sense of the word; so much so, that many
gentlemen, who were long acquainted with him, never received, or even
heard a strong expression from him.[1]
[Footnote 1: Malone was one of these gentlemen. See _post_, under June
30, 1784. Reynolds, after saying that eagerness for victory often led
Johnson into acts of rudeness, while 'he was not thus strenuous for
victory with his intimates in tete-a-tete conversations when there were
no witnesses,' adds:--'Were I to write the Life of Dr. Johnson I would
labour this point, to separate his conduct that proceeded from his
passions, and what proceeded from his reason, from his natural
disposition seen in his quiet hours.' Taylor's _Reynolds_, ii. 462.]
The following letters concerning an Epitaph which he wrote for the
monument of Dr. Goldsmith, in Westminster-Abbey, afford at once a proof
of his unaffected modesty, his carelessness as to his own writings, and
of the great respect which he entertained for the taste and judgement of
the excellent and eminent person to whom they are addressed:
'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'DEAR SIR,
'I have been kept away from you, I know not well how, and of these
vexatious hindrances I know not when there will be an end. I therefore
send you the poor dear Doctor's epitaph. Read it first yourself; and if
you then think it right, shew it to the Club. I am, you know, willing to
be corrected. If you think any thing much amiss, keep it to yourself,
till we come together. I have sent two copies, but prefer the card. The
dates must be settled by Dr. Percy.
'I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 16, 1776.'
TO THE SAME.
'SIR,
'Miss Reynolds has a mind to send the Epitaph to Dr. Beattie; I am very
willing, but having no copy, cannot immediately recollect it. She tells
me you have lost it. Try to recollect and put down as much as you
retain; you perhaps may have kept what I have dropped. The lines for
which I am at a loss are something of _rerum civilium sive
naturalium_.'[1] It was a sorry trick to lose it; help me if you can. I
am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
[Footnote 1: These words must have been in the other copy. They are not
in that which was preferred. BOSWELL.]
'June 22, 1776.
'The gout grows better but slowly[1].'
[Footnote 1: On June 3 he wrote that he was suffering from 'a very
serious and troublesome fit of the gout. I enjoy all the dignity of
lameness. I receive ladies and dismiss them sitting. _Painful
pre-eminence_.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 337. 'Painful pre-eminence' comes
from Addison's _Cato_, act iii. sc. 5. Pope, in his _Essay on Man_, iv.
267, borrows the phrase:--
'Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view,
Above life's weakness and its comforts too.'
It is humorously introduced into the _Rolliad_ in the description of the
Speaker:--
'There Cornewall sits, and oh! unhappy fate!
Must sit for ever through the long debate.
Painful pre-eminence! he hears, 'tis true,
Fox, North, and Burke, but hears Sir Joseph too.']
It was, I think, after I had left London this year, that this Epitaph
gave occasion to a _Remonstrance_ to the MONARCH OF LITERATURE, for an
account of which I am indebted to Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo.
That my readers may have the subject more fully and clearly before them,
I shall first insert the Epitaph.
OLIVARII GOLDSMITH,
_Poetae, Physici, Historici,
Qui nullum fere scribendi genus
Non tetigit,
Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.[1]
Sive risus essent movendi,
Sive lacrymae,
Affectuum potens at lenis dominator:
Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis,
Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus:
Hoc monumento memoriam coluit
Sodalium amor,
Amicorum fides,
Lectorum veneratio.
Natus in Hibernia Forniae Longfordiensis,
In loco cui nomen Pallas,
Nov. XXIX. MDCCXXXI[2];
Eblanae literis institutus;
Obiit Londini,
April IV, MDCCLXXIV.'
[Footnote 1: Dean Stanley (_Memorials of Westminster Abbey_, p. 297)
says:--'One expression at least has passed from the inscription into the
proverbial Latin of mankind--
"Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit."'
In a note he adds:--'Professor Conington calls my attention to the fact
that, if this were a genuine classical expression, it would be
_ornaret_. The slight mistake proves that it is Johnson's own.' The
mistake, of course, is the Dean's and the Professor's, who did not take
the trouble to ascertain what Johnson had really written. If we may
trust Cradock, Johnson here gave in a Latin form what he had already
said in English. 'When a bookseller ventured to say something rather
slightingly of Dr. Goldsmith, Johnson retorted:--"Sir, Goldsmith never
touches any subject but he adorns it." Once when I found the Doctor very
low at his chambers I related this circumstance to him, and it instantly
proved a cordial.' Cradock's _Memoirs_, i. 231.]
[Footnote 2: According to Mr. Forster (_Life of Goldsmith_, i. 1), he
was born on Nov. 10, 1728. There is a passage in Goldsmith's _Bee_, No.
2, which leads me to think that he himself held Nov. 12 as his
birth-day. He says; 'I shall be sixty-two the twelfth of next November.'
Now, as _The Bee_ was published in October 1759, he would be, not
sixty-two, but just half that number--thirty-one on his next birth-day.
It is scarcely likely that he selected the number and the date at
random.]
Sir William Forbes writes to me thus:--
'I enclose the _Round Robin_. This _jeu d'esprit_ took its rise one day
at dinner at our friend Sir Joshua Reynolds's.[1] All the company
present, except myself, were friends and acquaintance of Dr.
Goldsmith[2]. The Epitaph, written for him by Dr. Johnson, became the
subject of conversation, and various emendations were suggested, which
it was agreed should be submitted to the Doctor's consideration. But the
question was, who should have the courage to propose them to him? At
last it was hinted, that there could be no way so good as that of a
_Round Robin_, as the sailors call it, which they make use of when they
enter into a conspiracy, so as not to let it be known who puts his name
first or last to the paper. This proposition was instantly assented to;
and Dr. Barnard, Dean of Derry, now Bishop of Killaloe[3], drew up an
address to Dr. Johnson on the occasion, replete with wit and humour, but
which it was feared the Doctor might think treated the subject with too
much levity. Mr. Burke then proposed the address as it stands in the
paper in writing, to which I had the honour to officiate as clerk.
[Footnote 1: Reynolds chose the spot in Westminster Abbey where the
monument should stand. Northcote's _Reynolds_, i. 326.]
[Footnote 2: For A. Chamier, see _ante_, i. 478, note 1; and _post_,
April 9, 1778: for P. Metcalfe, _post_, under Dec. 20, 1782. W. Vachell
seems only known to fame as having signed this _Round Robin_, and
attended Sir Joshua's funeral. Who Tho. Franklin was I cannot learn. He
certainly was not Thomas Francklin, D.D., the Professor of Greek at
Cambridge and translator of _Sophocles_ and _Lucian_, mentioned _post_,
end of 1780. The Rev. Dr. Luard, the Registrar of that University, has
kindly compared for me six of his signatures ranging from 1739 to 1770.
In each of these the _c_ is very distinct, while the writing is unlike
the signature in the _Round Robin_.]
[Footnote 3: Horace Walpole wrote in Dec. of this year:--'The
conversation of many courtiers was openly in favour of arbitrary power.
Lord Huntingdon and Dr. Barnard, who was promised an Irish Bishopric,
held such discourse publicly.' _Journal of the Reign of George III_, ii.
91.]
'Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to Dr. Johnson, who received it with much
good humour[1], and desired Sir Joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he
would alter the Epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of
it; but _he would never consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster
Abbey_ with an English inscription.
[Footnote 1: He however upon seeing Dr. Warton's name to the suggestion,
that the Epitaph should be in English, observed to Sir Joshua, 'I wonder
that Joe Warton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool.' He
said too, 'I should have thought Mund Burke would have had more sense.'
Mr. Langton, who was one of the company at Sir Joshua's, like a sturdy
scholar, resolutely refused to sign the _Round Robin_. The Epitaph is
engraved upon Dr. Goldsmith's monument without any alteration. At
another time, when somebody endeavoured to argue in favour of its being
in English, Johnson said, 'The language of the country of which a
learned man was a native, is not the language fit for his epitaph, which
should be in ancient and permanent language. Consider, Sir; how you
should feel, were you to find at Rotterdam an epitaph upon Erasmus _in
Dutch_!' For my own part I think it would be best to have Epitaphs
written both in a learned language, and in the language of the country;
so that they might have the advantage of being more universally
understood, and at the same time be secured of classical stability. I
cannot, however, but be of opinion, that it is not sufficiently
discriminative. Applying to Goldsmith equally the epithets of '_Poetae_,
_Historici_, _Physici_,' is surely not right; for as to his claim to the
last of those epithets, I have heard Johnson himself say, 'Goldsmith,
Sir, will give us a very fine book upon the subject; but if he can
distinguish a cow from a horse, that, I believe, may be the extent of
his knowledge of natural history.' His book is indeed an excellent
performance, though in some instances he appears to have trusted too
much to Buffon, who, with all his theoretical ingenuity and
extraordinary eloquence, I suspect had little actual information in the
science on which he wrote so admirably. For instance, he tells us that
the _cow_ sheds her horns every two years; a most palpable errour, which
Goldsmith has faithfully transferred into his book. It is wonderful that
Buffon, who lived so much in the country, at his noble seat, should have
fallen into such a blunder. I suppose he has confounded the _cow_ with
the _deer_. BOSWELL. Goldsmith says:--'At three years old the cow sheds
its horns and new ones arise in their place, which continue as long as
it lives.' _Animated Nature_, iii. 12. This statement remains in the
second edition. Johnson said that the epitaph on Sir J. Macdonald
'should have been in Latin, as everything intended to be universal and
permanent should be.' Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 5, 1773. He treated
the notion of an English inscription to Smollett 'with great contempt,
saying, "an English inscription would be a disgrace to Dr. Smollett."'
_Ib._ Oct. 28, 1773.]
'I consider this _Round Robin_ as a species of literary curiosity worth
preserving, as it marks, in a certain degree, Dr. Johnson's character.'
My readers are presented with a faithful transcript of a paper, which I
doubt not of their being desirous to see.
Sir William Forbes's observation is very just. The anecdote now related
proves, in the strongest manner, the reverence and awe with which
Johnson was regarded, by some of the most eminent men of his time, in
various departments, and even by such of them as lived most with him;
while it also confirms what I have again and again inculcated, that he
was by no means of that ferocious and irascible character which has been
ignorantly imagined.
This hasty composition is also to be remarked as one of a thousand
instances which evince the extraordinary promptitude of Mr. Burke; who
while he is equal to the greatest things, can adorn the least; can, with
equal facility, embrace the vast and complicated speculations of
politicks, or the ingenious topicks of literary investigation.[1]
[Footnote 1: Beside this Latin Epitaph, Johnson honoured the memory of
his friend Goldsmith with a short one in Greek. See _ante_, July 5,
1774. BOSWELL.]
'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.
'MADAM,
'You must not think me uncivil in omitting to answer the letter with
which you favoured me some time ago. I imagined it to have been written
without Mr. Boswell's knowledge, and therefore supposed the answer to
require, what I could not find, a private conveyance.
'The difference with Lord Auchinleck is now over; and since young
Alexander[1] has appeared, I hope no more difficulties will arise among
you; for I sincerely wish you all happy. Do not teach the young ones to
dislike me, as you dislike me yourself; but let me at least have
Veronica's kindness, because she is my acquaintance.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, Oct. 24, 1775.]
'You will now have Mr. Boswell home; it is well that you have him; he
has led a wild life. I have taken him to Lichfield, and he has followed
Mr. Thrale to Bath. Pray take care of him, and tame him. The only thing
in which I have the honour to agree with you is, in loving him; and
while we are so much of a mind in a matter of so much importance, our
other quarrels will, I hope, produce no great bitterness. I am, Madam,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 16, 1776.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, June 25, 1776.
'You have formerly complained that my letters were too long. There is no
danger of that complaint being made at present; for I find it difficult
for me to write to you at all. [Here an account of having been afflicted
with a return of melancholy or bad spirits.]
'The boxes of books[1] which you sent to me are arrived; but I have not
yet examined the contents.
[Footnote 1: Upon a settlement of our account of expences on a Tour to
the Hebrides, there was a balance due to me, which Dr. Johnson chose to
discharge by sending books. BOSWELL.]
* * * * *
'I send you Mr. Maclaurin's paper for the negro, who claims his freedom
in the Court of Session.[1]'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, under Nov. 29, 1777.]
'DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWELL.
'Dear Sir,
'These black fits, of which you complain, perhaps hurt your memory as
well as your imagination. When did I complain that your letters were too
long[1]? Your last letter, after a very long delay, brought very bad
news. [Here a series of reflections upon melancholy, and--what I could
not help thinking strangely unreasonable in him who had suffered so much
from it himself,--a good deal of severity and reproof, as if it were
owing to my own fault, or that I was, perhaps, affecting it from a
desire of distinction.]
[Footnote 1: Baretti told me that Johnson complained of my writing very
long letters to him when I was upon the continent; which was most
certainly true; but it seems my friend did not remember it. BOSWELL.]
'Read Cheyne's _English Malady_;[1] but do not let him teach you a
foolish notion that melancholy is a proof of acuteness.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, iii. 27.]
'To hear that you have not opened your boxes of books is very offensive.
The examination and arrangement of so many volumes might have afforded
you an amusement very seasonable at present, and useful for the whole of
life. I am, I confess, very angry that you manage yourself so ill.[1]
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 446, for Johnson's remedies against
melancholy.]
'I do not now say any more, than that I am, with great kindness, and
sincerity, dear Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'July 2, 1776.'
'It was last year[1] determined by Lord Mansfield, in the Court of
King's Bench, that a negro cannot be taken out of the kingdom without
his own consent.'
[Footnote 1: It was not 'last year' but on June 22, 1772, that the
negro, James Somerset--who had been brought to England by his master,
had escaped from him, had been seized, and confined in irons on board a
ship in The Thames that was bound for Jamaica, and had been brought on a
writ of _Habeas Corpus_ before the Court of King's Bench was discharged
by Lord Mansfield. Howell's _State Trials_, xx. 79, and Lofft's
_Reports_, 1772, p. 1. 'Lord Mansfield,' writes Lord Campbell (_Lives of
the Chief Justices_, ii. 418), 'first established the grand doctrine
that the air of England is too pure to be breathed by a slave.'
According to Lord Campbell, Mansfield's judgment thus ended:--'The air
of England has long been too pure for a slave, and every man is free who
breathes it. Every man who comes into England is entitled to the
protection of English law, whatever oppression he may heretofore have
suffered, and whatever may be the colour of his skin:
'"Quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses."
'Let the negro be discharged.'
Where Lord Campbell found this speech, that is to say if he did not put
it together himself, I cannot guess. Mansfield's judgment was very
brief. He says in the conclusion:--'The only question before us is,
whether the cause on the return [to the writ of _habeas corpus_] is
sufficient. If it is, the negro must be remanded; if it is not, he must
be discharged. Accordingly the return states that the slave departed,
and refused to serve; whereupon he was kept to be sold abroad. So high
an act of dominion must be recognised by the law of the country where it
is used. The power of a master over his slave has been extremely
different in different countries. The state of slavery is of such a
nature that it is incapable of being introduced on any reasons, moral or
political.... It is so odious that nothing can be suffered to support it
but positive law. Whatever inconveniences therefore may follow from a
decision, I cannot say this case is allowed or approved by the law of
England; and therefore the black must be discharged.' Lofft's _Reports_,
1772, p. 19. 'The judgment of the court,' says Broom (_Constitutional
Law_, 1885, p. 99), 'was delivered by Lord Mansfield, C.J., after some
delay, and with evident reluctance.' The passage about the air of
England that Campbell puts into Mansfield's mouth is found in Mr.
Hargrave's argument on May 14, 1772, where he speaks of England as 'a
soil whose air is deemed too pure for slaves to breathe in.' Lofft's
_Reports_, p. 2. Mr. Dunning replied:--'Let me take notice, neither the
air of England is too pure for a slave to breathe in, nor the laws of
England have rejected servitude.' _Ib._ p. 12. Serjeant Davy
rejoined:--'It has been asserted, and is now repeated by me, this air is
too pure for a slave to breathe in. I trust I shall not quit this court
without certain conviction of the truth of that assertion.' _Ib._ p. 17.
Lord Mansfield said nothing about the air. The line from Virgil, with
which Lord Campbell makes Mansfield's speech end, was 'the happily
chosen motto' to Maclaurin's published argument for the negro; Joseph
Knight, _post_, under Nov. 29, 1777.]
'DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWELL.
'DEAR SIR,
'I make haste to write again, lest my last letter should give you too
much pain. If you are really oppressed with overpowering and involuntary
melancholy, you are to be pitied rather than reproached.
* * * * *
'Now, my dear Bozzy, let us have done with quarrels and with censure.
Let me know whether I have not sent you a pretty library. There are,
perhaps, many books among them which you never need read through; but
there are none which it is not proper for you to know, and sometimes to
consult. Of these books, of which the use is only occasional, it is
often sufficient to know the contents, that, when any question arises,
you may know where to look for information.
'Since I wrote, I have looked over Mr. Maclaurin's plea, and think it
excellent. How is the suit carried on? If by subscription, I commission
you to contribute, in my name, what is proper. Let nothing be wanting in
such a case. Dr. Drummond[1], I see, is superseded. His father would
have grieved; but he lived to obtain the pleasure of his son's election,
and died before that pleasure was abated.
'Langton's lady has brought him a girl, and both are well; I dined with
him the other day.
[Footnote 1: The son of Johnson's old friend, Mr. William Drummond. (See
vol. ii. pp. 26-29.) He was a young man of such distinguished merit,
that he was nominated to one of the medical professorships in the
College of Edinburgh without solicitation, while he was at Naples.
Having other views, he did not accept of the honour, and soon afterwards
died. BOSWELL.]
'It vexes me to tell you, that on the evening of the 29th of May I was
seized by the gout, and am not quite well. The pain has not been
violent, but the weakness and tenderness were very troublesome, and what
is said to be very uncommon, it has not alleviated my other disorders.
Make use of youth and health while you have them; make my compliments to
Mrs. Boswell. I am, my dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'July 6[1], 1776.'
[Footnote 1: In the third and subsequent editions the date is wrongly
given as the 16th.]
'Mr. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, July 18, 1776.
'MY DEAR SIR,
'Your letter of the second of this month was rather a harsh medicine;
but I was delighted with that spontaneous tenderness, which, a few days
afterwards, sent forth such balsam as your next brought me. I found
myself for some time so ill that all I could do was to preserve a decent
appearance, while all within was weakness and distress. Like a reduced
garrison that has some spirit left, I hung out flags, and planted all
the force I could muster, upon the walls. I am now much better, and I
sincerely thank you for your kind attention and friendly counsel.
* * * * *
'Count Manucci[1] came here last week from travelling in Ireland. I have
shewn him what civilities I could on his own account, on yours, and on
that of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. He has had a fall from his horse, and been
much hurt. I regret this unlucky accident, for he seems to be a very
amiable man.'
[Footnote 1: A Florentine nobleman, mentioned by Johnson in his _Notes
of his Tour in France_ [_ante_, Oct. 18, 1775]. I had the pleasure of
becoming acquainted with him in London, in the spring of this year.
BOSWELL. Mrs. Thrale wrote to Johnson from Bath on May 16:--'Count
Manucci would wait seven years to come with you; so do not disappoint
the man, but bring him along with you. His delight in your company is
like Boniface's exultation when the squire speaks Latin; for understand
you he certainly cannot.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 328. It was not the
squire, but the priest, Foigard, who by his Latin did Boniface good.
_The Beaux Strategem_, act iii. sc. 2.]
As the evidence of what I have mentioned at the beginning of this year,
I select from his private register the following passage:
'July 25, 1776. O GOD, who hast ordained that whatever is to be desired
should be sought by labour, and who, by thy blessing, bringest honest
labour to good effect, look with mercy upon my studies and endeavours.
Grant me, O LORD, to design only what is lawful and right; and afford me
calmness of mind, and steadiness of purpose, that I may so do thy will
in this short life, as to obtain happiness in the world to come, for the
sake of JESUS CHRIST our Lord. Amen.[1]
[Footnote 1: _Pr. and Med._ p. 151.]
It appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed when he
'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particularly of the Greek and
Italian tongues.'
Such a purpose, so expressed, at the age of sixty-seven, is admirable
and encouraging; and it must impress all the thinking part of my readers
with a consolatory confidence in habitual devotion, when they see a man
of such enlarged intellectual powers as Johnson, thus in the genuine
earnestness of secrecy, imploring the aid of that Supreme Being, 'from
whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift[1].'
[Footnote 1: _St. James_, i. 17.]
'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'SIR,
'A young man, whose name is Paterson, offers himself this evening to the
Academy. He is the son of a man[1] for whom I have long had a kindness,
and who is now abroad in distress. I shall be glad that you will be
pleased to shew him any little countenance, or pay him any small
distinction. How much it is in your power to favour or to forward a
young man I do not know; nor do I know how much this candidate deserves
favour by his personal merit, or what hopes his proficiency may now give
of future eminence. I recommend him as the son of my friend. Your
character and station enable you to give a young man great encouragement
by very easy means. You have heard of a man who asked no other favour of
Sir Robert Walpole, than that he would bow to him at his levee.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 175. Seven and even eight years later
Paterson was still a student in need of Johnson's recommendation.
_Post_, June 2, 1783, and April 5, 1784.]
'I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Aug. 3, 1776.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, August 30, 1776.
[After giving him an account of my having examined the chests of books
which he had sent to me, and which contained what may be truely called a
numerous and miscellaneous _Stall Library_, thrown together at
random:--]
'Lord Hailes was against the decree in the case of my client, the
minister;[1] not that he justified the minister, but because the
parishioner both provoked and retorted. I sent his Lordship your able
argument upon the case for his perusal. His observation upon it in a
letter to me was, "Dr. Johnson's _Suasorium_ is pleasantly[2] and
artfully composed. I suspect, however, that he has not convinced
himself; for, I believe that he is better read in ecclesiastical
history, than to imagine that a Bishop or a Presbyter has a right to
begin censure or discipline _e cathedra[3]_."
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 58.]
[Footnote 2: Why his Lordship uses the epithet _pleasantly_, when
speaking of a grave piece of reasoning, I cannot conceive. But different
men have different notions of pleasantry. I happened to sit by a
gentleman one evening at the Opera-house in London, who, at the moment
when _Medea_ appeared to be in great agony at the thought of killing her
children, turned to me with a smile, and said, '_funny_ enough.'
BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 3: Dr. Johnson afterwards told me, that he was of opinion that
a clergyman had this right. BOSWELL.]
* * * * *
'For the honour of Count Manucci, as well as to observe that exactness
of truth which you have taught me, I must correct what I said in a
former letter. He did not fall from his horse, which might have been an
imputation on his skill as an officer of cavalry; his horse fell with
him.
'I have, since I saw you, read every word of Granger's _Biographical
History_. It has entertained me exceedingly, and I do not think him the
_Whig_ that you supposed.[1] Horace Walpole's being his patron[2] is,
indeed, no good sign of his political principles. But he denied to Lord
Mountstuart that he was a Whig, and said he had been accused by both
parties of partiality. It seems he was like Pope,
"While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory[3]."
'I wish you would look more into his book; and as Lord Mountstuart
wishes much to find a proper person to continue the work upon Granger's
plan, and has desired I would mention it to you; if such a man occurs,
please to let me know. His Lordship will give him generous
encouragement.'
[Footnote 1: Johnson, nearly three years earlier, had said of
Granger:--'The dog is a Whig. I do not like much to see a Whig in any
dress; but I hate to see a Whig in a parson's gown.' Boswell's
_Hebrides_, Sept. 24, 1773.]
[Footnote 2: 'I did my utmost,' wrote Horace Walpole (_Letters_, v.
168), 'to dissuade Mr. Granger from the dedication, and took especial
pains to get my _virtues_ left out of the question.']
[Footnote 3:
'In moderation placing all my glory,
While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.'
Pope, _Imitations of Horace_, Bk. ii Sat. I. 1. 67.]
'TO MR. ROBERT LEVETT.
'DEAR SIR,
'Having spent about six weeks at this place, we have at length resolved
upon returning. I expect to see you all in Fleet-street on the 30th of
this month.
'I did not go into the sea till last Friday[1], but think to go most of
this week, though I know not that it does me any good. My nights are
very restless and tiresome, but I am otherwise well.
[Footnote 1: 'One of the dippers at Brighthelmstone, seeing Mr. Johnson
swim in the year 1766, said:--"Why, Sir, you must have been a
stout-hearted gentleman forty years ago."' _Piozzi's Anec._ p. 113.
Johnson, in his verses entitled, _In Rivum a Mola Stoana Lichfeldiae
diffluentem_ (_Works_, i. 163), writes:--
'Errat adhuc vitreus per prata virentia rivus,
Quo toties lavi membra tenella puer;
Hic delusa rudi frustrabar brachia motu,
Dum docuit blanda voce natare pater.']
'I have written word of my coming to Mrs. Williams. Remember me kindly
to Francis and Betsy. I am, Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON[1].'
'Brighthelmstone[2], Oct. 21, 1776'
[Footnote 1: For this and Dr. Johnson's other letters to Mr. Levett, I
am indebted to my old acquaintance Mr. Nathaniel Thomas, whose worth and
ingenuity have been long known to a respectable, though not a wide
circle; and whose collection of medals would do credit to persons of
greater opulence. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson's letters to Mrs. Thrale shew the difference
between modern Brighton and the Brighthelmstone of his days. Thus he
writes:--'Ashbourne, Sept. 27, 1777. I know not when I shall write
again, now you are going to the world's end [i.e. Brighton]. _Extra anni
solisque vias_, where the post will be a long time in reaching you. I
shall, notwithstanding all distance, continue to think on you.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 387. 'Oct. 6, 1777. Methinks you are now a great way off;
and if I come, I have a great way to come to you; and then the sea is so
cold, and the rooms are so dull; yet I do love to hear the sea roar and
my mistress talk--For when she talks, ye gods! how she will talk. I wish
I were with you, but we are now near half the length of England asunder.
It is frightful to think how much time must pass between writing this
letter and receiving an answer, if any answer were necessary.' _Ib._ ii.
2.]
I again wrote to Dr. Johnson on the 21st of October, informing him, that
my father had, in the most liberal manner, paid a large debt for me[1],
and that I had now the happiness of being upon very good terms with him;
to which he returned the following answer.
[Footnote 1: Boswell wrote to Temple on Nov. 3, 1780:--'I could not help
smiling at the expostulation which you suggest to me to try with my
father. It would do admirably with some fathers; but it would make mine
much worse, for he cannot bear that his son should talk with him as a
man. I can only lament his unmelting coldness to my wife and children,
for I fear it is hopeless to think of his ever being more affectionate
towards them. Yet it must be acknowledged that his paying L1000 of my
debt some years ago was a large bounty. He allows me L300 a year.'
_Letters of Boswell_, p. 255.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I had great pleasure in hearing that you are at last on good terms with
your father[1]. Cultivate his kindness by all honest and manly means.
Life is but short; no time can be afforded but for the indulgence of
real sorrow, or contests upon questions seriously momentous. Let us not
throw away any of our days upon useless resentment, or contend who shall
hold out longest in stubborn malignity. It is best not to be angry; and
best, in the next place, to be quickly reconciled. May you and your
father pass the remainder of your time in reciprocal benevolence!
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, Aug. 27, 1775, note.]
* * * * *
'Do you ever hear from Mr. Langton? I visit him sometimes, but he does
not talk. I do not like his scheme of life[1]; but as I am not permitted
to understand it, I cannot set any thing right that is wrong. His
children are sweet babies.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 48, note 4.]
'I hope my irreconcileable enemy, Mrs. Boswell, is well. Desire her not
to transmit her malevolence to the young people. Let me have Alexander,
and Veronica, and Euphemia, for my friends.
'Mrs. Williams, whom you may reckon as one of your well-wishers, is in a
feeble and languishing state, with little hope of growing better. She
went for some part of the autumn into the country, but is little
benefited; and Dr. Lawrence confesses that his art is at an end. Death
is, however, at a distance; and what more than that can we say of
ourselves? I am sorry for her pain, and more sorry for her decay. Mr.
Levett is sound, wind and limb.
'I was some weeks this autumn at Brighthelmstone. The place was very
dull, and I was not well; the expedition to the Hebrides was the most
pleasant journey that I ever made[1]. Such an effort annually would give
the world a little diversification.
[Footnote 1: 'He said to me often that the time he spent in this Tour
was the pleasantest part of his life, and asked me if I would lose the
recollection of it for five hundred pounds.' Boswell's _Hebrides_, under
Nov. 22, 1773.]
'Every year, however, we cannot wander, and must therefore endeavour to
spend our time at home as well as we can. I believe it is best to throw
life into a method, that every hour may bring its employment, and every
employment have its hour. Xenophon observes, in his _Treatise of
Oeconomy_[1], that if every thing be kept in a certain place, when any
thing is worn out or consumed, the vacuity which it leaves will shew
what is wanting; so if every part of time has its duty, the hour will
call into remembrance its proper engagement.
[Footnote 1: Chap. viii. 10. A translation of this work is in
_Bibliotheca Pastorum_, ed. J. Ruskin, vol. i.]
'I have not practised all this prudence myself, but I have suffered much
for want of it; and I would have you, by timely recollection and steady
resolution, escape from those evils which have lain heavy upon me[1]. I
am, my dearest Boswell,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Bolt-court, Nov. 16, 1776.'
[Footnote 1: 'The chief cause of my deficiency has been a life
immethodical and unsettled, which breaks all purposes, confounds and
suppresses memory, and perhaps leaves too much leisure to imagination.'
_Pr. and Med._ p. 136.]
On the 16th of November I informed him that Mr. Strahan had sent me
_twelve_ copies of the _Journey to the Western Islands_, handsomely
bound, instead of the _twenty_ copies which were stipulated[1]; but
which, I supposed, were to be only in sheets; requested to know how they
should be distributed: and mentioned that I had another son born to me,
who was named David, and was a sickly infant.
[Footnote 1: Johnson wrote to Boswell (_ante_, June 12, 1774):--'I have
stipulated twenty-five for you to give in your own name.' The book was
published early in 1775. On Feb. 25, 1775, he wrote:--'I am sorry that I
could get no books for my friends in Scotland. Mr. Strahan has at last
promised to send two dozen to you.' It is strange that not far short of
two years passed before the books were sent.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I have been for some time ill of a cold, which, perhaps, I made an
excuse to myself for not writing, when in reality I knew not what to
say.
'The books you must at last distribute as you think best, in my name, or
your own, as you are inclined, or as you judge most proper. Every body
cannot be obliged; but I wish that nobody may be offended. Do the best
you can.
'I congratulate you on the increase of your family, and hope that little
David is by this time well, and his mamma perfectly recovered. I am much
pleased to hear of the re-establishment of kindness between you and your
father. Cultivate his paternal tenderness as much as you can. To live at
variance at all is uncomfortable; and variance with a father is still
more uncomfortable. Besides that, in the whole dispute you have the
wrong side; at least you gave the first provocations, and some of them
very offensive[1]. Let it now be all over. As you have no reason to
think that your new mother has shewn you any foul play, treat her with
respect, and with some degree of confidence; this will secure your
father. When once a discordant family has felt the pleasure of peace,
they will not willingly lose it. If Mrs. Boswell would but be friends
with me, we might now shut the temple of Janus.
[Footnote 1: Boswell had 'expressed his extreme aversion to his father's
second marriage.' _Letters of Boswell_, p. 255--On Sept. 2, 1775, he
thus described his step-mother:--'His wife, whom in my conscience I
cannot condemn for any capital bad quality, is so narrow-minded, and, I
don't know how, so set upon keeping him under her own management, and so
suspicious and so sourishly tempered that it requires the utmost
exertion of practical philosophy to keep myself quiet.' _Ib._ p. 216.]
'What came of Dr. Memis's cause[1]? Is the question about the negro
determined[2]? Has Sir Allan any reasonable hopes[3]? What is become of
poor Macquarry[4]? Let me know the event of all these litigations. I
wish particularly well to the negro and Sir Allan.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, Jan. 19 and May 6, 1775.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, p. 86.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, May 27, 1775.]
[Footnote 4: Macquarry was the chief of Ulva's Isle. 'He told us,'
writes Boswell, 'his family had possessed Ulva for nine hundred years;
but I was distressed to hear that it was soon to be sold for payment of
his debts.' Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct 16, 1773.]
'Mrs. Williams has been much out of order; and though she is something
better, is likely, in her physician's opinion, to endure her malady for
life, though she may, perhaps, die of some other. Mrs. Thrale is big,
and fancies that she carries a boy; if it were very reasonable to wish
much about it, I should wish her not to be disappointed. The desire of
male heirs is not appendant only to feudal tenures. A son is almost
necessary to the continuance of Thrale's fortune; for what can misses do
with a brewhouse? Lands are fitter for daughters than trades[1].
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 24, 1776.]
'Baretti went away from Thrale's in some whimsical fit of disgust, or
ill-nature, without taking any leave[1]. It is well if he finds in any
other place as good an habitation, and as many conveniencies. He has got
five-and-twenty guineas by translating Sir Joshua's _Discourses_ into
Italian, and Mr. Thrale gave him an hundred in the spring[2]; so that he
is yet in no difficulties.
[Footnote 1: Mrs. Thrale gives a long but scarcely credible account of
her quarrel with Baretti. It is very unlikely that he used to say to her
eldest daughter 'that, if her mother died in a lying-in which happened
while he lived here, he hoped Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who
would be a pretty companion for her, and not tyrannical and overbearing
like me.' Hayward's _Piozzi_, ii. 336. No doubt in 1788 he attacked her
brutally (see _ante_, p. 49). 'I could not have suspected him,' wrote
Miss Burney, 'of a bitterness of invective so cruel, so ferocious.' Mme.
D'Arblay's _Diary_, iv. 185. The attack was provoked. Mrs. Piozzi, in
January, 1788, published one of Johnson's letters, in which he wrote--at
all events she says he wrote:--'Poor B----i! do not quarrel with him; to
neglect him a little will be sufficient. He means only to be frank, and
manly, and independent, and perhaps, as you say, a little wise. To be
frank he thinks is to be cynical, and to be independent is to be rude.
Forgive him, dearest lady, the rather because of his misbehaviour I am
afraid he learnt part of me. I hope to set him hereafter a better
example.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 277. Malone, in 1789, speaks of 'the
roughness for which Baretti was formerly distinguished.' Prior's
_Malone_, p. 391. Mrs. Thrale thus describes his departure: 'My daughter
kept on telling me that Mr. Baretti was grown very old and very cross,
would not look at her exercises, but said he would leave this house
soon, for it was no better than Pandaemonium. The next day he packed up
his cloke-bag, which he had not done for three years, and sent it to
town; and while we were wondering what he would say about it at
breakfast, he was walking to London himself, without taking leave of any
one person, except it may be the girl, who owns they had much talk, in
the course of which he expressed great aversion to me and even to her,
who, [_sic_] he said, he once thought well of.' Hayward's _Piozzi_, ii.
339. Baretti, in the _Eur. Mag._ xiii. 398, told his story. He
said:--'Madam took it into her head to give herself airs, and treat me
with some coldness and superciliousness. I did not hesitate to set down
at breakfast my dish of tea not half drank, go for my hat and stick that
lay in the corner of the room, turn my back to the house _insalutato
hospite_, and walk away to London without uttering a syllable.' In a
marginal note on _Piozzi Letters_, i. 338, he says he left Streatham on
June 4, 1776. 'I had,' he writes, 'by that time been in a manner one of
the family during six years and a-half. Johnson had made me hope that
Thrale would at last give me an annuity for my pains, but, never
receiving a shilling from him or from her, I grew tired at last, and on
some provocation from her left them abruptly.' It should seem that he
afterwards made it up with them, for in a note on vol. ii. p. 191, he
says of the day of Mr. Thrale's death, 'Johnson and I, and many other
friends, were to dine with him that day.' The rest of the note, at all
events, is inaccurate, for he says that 'Mrs. Thrale imparted to Johnson
the news [of her husband's death],' whereas Johnson saw him die.]
[Footnote 2: Mrs. Piozzi says that this money was given to Baretti as a
consolation for the loss of the Italian tour (_ante_, iii. 6). Hayward's
_Piozzi_, ii. 337.]
'Colman has bought Foote's patent, and is to allow Foote for life
sixteen hundred pounds a year, as Reynolds told me, and to allow him to
play so often on such terms that he may gain four hundred pounds
more[1]. What Colman can get by this bargain, but trouble and hazard, I
do not see. I am, dear Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Dec. 21, 1776.'
[Footnote 1: The Duke of York was present when Foote had the accident by
which he lost his leg (_ante_, ii. 95). Moved by compassion, he obtained
for him from the King a royal patent for performances at the Haymarket
from May 14 to Sept. 14 in every year. He played but thrice after his
retirement. Forster's Essays, ii. 400, 435.]
The Reverend Dr. Hugh Blair, who had long been admired as a preacher at
Edinburgh, thought now of diffusing his excellent sermons more
extensively, and encreasing his reputation, by publishing a collection
of them. He transmitted the manuscript to Mr. Strahan, the printer, who
after keeping it for some time, wrote a letter to him, discouraging the
publication[1]. Such at first was the unpropitious state of one of the
most successful theological books that has ever appeared. Mr. Strahan,
however, had sent one of the sermons to Dr. Johnson for his opinion; and
after his unfavourable letter to Dr. Blair had been sent off, he
received from Johnson on Christmas-eve, a note in which was the
following paragraph:
'I have read over Dr. Blair's first sermon with more than approbation;
to say it is good, is to say too little[2].'
[Footnote 1: Strahan showed greater sagacity about Gibbon's _Decline and
Fall_, which had been declined by Elmsly. 'So moderate were our hopes,'
writes Gibbon (_Misc. Works_, i. 223), 'that the original impression had
been stinted to five hundred, till the number was doubled by the
prophetic taste of Mr. Strahan.' Carrick called Strahan 'rather an
_obtuse_ man.' _Post_, April 9 1778.]
[Footnote 2: See _post_, Sept. 19, 1777, and April 20, 1781.]
I believe Mr. Strahan had very soon after this time a conversation with
Dr. Johnson concerning them; and then he very candidly wrote again to
Dr. Blair, enclosing Johnson's note, and agreeing to purchase the
volume, for which he and Mr. Cadell gave one hundred pounds. The sale
was so rapid and extensive, and the approbation of the publick so high,
that to their honour be it recorded, the proprietors made Dr. Blair a
present first of one sum, and afterwards of another, of fifty pounds,
thus voluntarily doubling the stipulated price; and when he prepared
another volume, they gave him at once three hundred pounds, being in all
five hundred pounds, by an agreement to which I am a subscribing
witness; and now for a third octavo volume he has received no less than
six hundred pounds.
1777: AETAT. 68.--In 1777, it appears from his _Prayers and Meditations_,
that Johnson suffered much from a state of mind 'unsettled and
perplexed[1],' and from that constitutional gloom, which, together with
his extreme humility and anxiety with regard to his religious state,
made him contemplate himself through too dark and unfavourable a medium.
It may be said of him, that he 'saw GOD in clouds[2].' Certain we may be
of his injustice to himself in the following lamentable paragraph, which
it is painful to think came from the contrite heart of this great man,
to whose labours the world is so much indebted:
'When I survey my past life, I discover nothing but a barren waste of
time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of the mind, very
near to madness,[3] which I hope He that made me will suffer to
extenuate many faults, and excuse many deficiencies[4].'
[Footnote 1: Johnson, I believe, at this time suffered less than usual
from despondency. See _ante_, iii. 25, note 1. The passage in which
these words are found applies to one day only. It is as follows:--'March
28. This day is Good Friday. It is likewise the day on which my poor
Tetty was taken from me. My thoughts were disturbed in bed. I remembered
that it was my wife's dying day, and begged pardon for all our sins, and
commended her; but resolved to mix little of my own sorrows or cares
with the great solemnity. Having taken only tea without milk I went to
church; had time before service to commend my wife, and wished to join
quietly in the service, but I did not hear well, and my mind grew
unsettled and perplexed. Having rested ill in the night I slumbered at
the sermon, which, I think, I could not as I sat perfectly hear.... At
night I had some ease. L.D. [Laus Deo] I had prayed for pardon and
peace.' _Pr. and Med._ p. 153. Hawkins, however (_Life_, p. 532), says,
perhaps with considerable exaggeration, that at this time, 'he sunk into
indolence, till his faculties seemed to be impaired; deafness grew upon
him; long intervals of mental absence interrupted his conversation, and
it was difficult to engage his attention to any subject. His friends
concluded that his lamp was emitting its last rays, but the lapse of a
short period gave them ample proofs to the contrary.' The proofs were
_The Lives of the Poets_. Johnson himself says of this time:--'Days and
months pass in a dream; and I am afraid that my memory grows less
tenacious, and my observation less attentive.' _Pr. and Med_. 160.]
[Footnote 2:
'Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.'
Pope's _Essay on Man_, i. 99.]
[Footnote 3: '"I inherited," said Johnson, "a vile melancholy from my
father, which has made me mad all my life, at least not sober."'
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 16, 1773. See _ante_, i. 65, and _post_,
Sept. 20, 1777.]
[Footnote 4: _Pr. and Med_. p. 155. BOSWELL.]
But we find his devotions in this year eminently fervent; and we are
comforted by observing intervals of quiet, composure, and gladness.
On Easter-day we find the following emphatick prayer:
'Almighty and most merciful Father, who seest all our miseries, and
knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, and pity me. Defend me
from the violent incursion [incursions] of evil thoughts, and enable me
to form and keep such resolutions as may conduce to the discharge of the
duties which thy providence shall appoint me; and so help me, by thy
Holy Spirit, that my heart may surely there be fixed, where true joys
are to be found, and that I may serve thee with pure affection and a
cheerful mind. Have mercy upon me, O GOD, have mercy upon me; years and
infirmities oppress me, terrour and anxiety beset me. Have mercy upon
me, my Creator and my Judge. [In all dangers protect me.] In all
perplexities relieve and free me; and so help me by thy Holy Spirit,
that I may now so commemorate the death of thy Son our Saviour JESUS
CHRIST, as that when this short and painful life shall have an end, I
may, for his sake, be received to everlasting happiness. Amen[1].'
[Footnote 1: _Pr. and Med._ p. 158. BOSWELL.]
While he was at church, the agreeable impressions upon his mind are thus
commemorated:
'I was for some time distressed, but at last obtained, I hope from the
GOD of Peace, more quiet than I have enjoyed for a long time. I had made
no resolution, but as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my
courage increased; and I wrote with my pencil in my Common Prayer Book,
"Vita ordinanda.
Biblia legenda.
Theologiae opera danda.
Serviendum et laetandum[1]."'
[Footnote 1: He continues:--'I passed the afternoon with such calm
gladness of mind as it is very long since I felt before. I passed the
night in such sweet uninterrupted sleep as I have not known since I
slept at Fort Augustus.' See _post_, Nov. 21, 1778, where in a letter to
Boswell he says:--'The best night that I have had these twenty years was
at Fort Augustus.' In 1767 he mentions (_Pr. and Med._ p. 73) 'a sudden
relief he once had by a good night's rest in Fetter Lane,' where he had
lived many years before. His good nights must have been rare indeed.]
Mr. Steevens whose generosity is well known, joined Dr. Johnson in kind
assistance to a female relation of Dr. Goldsmith, and desired that on
her return to Ireland she would procure authentick particulars of the
life of her celebrated relation[1]. Concerning her there is the
following letter:--
[Footnote 1: Bishop Percy says that he handed over to Johnson various
memoranda which he had received from 'Goldsmith's brother and others of
his family, to afford materials for a _Life of Goldsmith_, which Johnson
was to write and publish for their benefit. But he utterly forgot them
and the subject.' Prior successfully defends Johnson against the charge
that he did not include Goldsmith's _Life_ among the _Lives of the
Poets_. 'The copy-right of _She Stoops to Conquer_ was the property of
Carnan the bookseller (surviving partner of F. Newbery); and Carnan
being "a most impracticable man and at variance with all his brethren,"
in the words of Malone to the Bishop, he refused his assent, and the
project for the time fell to the ground.' But Percy clearly implies that
it was a separate work and not one of the _Lives_ that Johnson had
undertaken. See Prior's _Goldsmith_, Preface, p. x. Malone, in a note on
Boswell's letter of July 9, 1777, says:--'I collected some materials for
a _Life of Goldsmith_, by Johnson's desire.' He goes on to mention the
quarrel with Carnan. It should seem then that Johnson was gathering
materials for Goldsmith's _Life_ before the _Lives of the Poets_ were
projected; that later on he intended to include it in that series, but
being thwarted by Carnan that he did nothing.]
'To GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'You will be glad to hear that from Mrs. Goldsmith, whom we lamented as
drowned, I have received a letter full of gratitude to us all, with
promise to make the enquiries which we recommended to her.
'I would have had the honour of conveying this intelligence to Miss
Caulfield, but that her letter is not at hand, and I know not the
direction. You will tell the good news.
'I am, Sir,
'Your most, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'February 25, 1777.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, Feb. 14, 1777.
'My Dear Sir,
'My state of epistolary accounts with you at present is extraordinary.
The balance, as to number, is on your side. I am indebted to you for two
letters; one dated the 16th of November, upon which very day I wrote to
you, so that our letters were exactly exchanged, and one dated the 21st
of December last.
'My heart was warmed with gratitude by the truely kind contents of both
of them; and it is amazing and vexing that I have allowed so much time
to elapse without writing to you. But delay is inherent in me, by nature
or by bad habit. I waited till I should have an opportunity of paying
you my compliments on a new year. I have procrastinated till the year is
no longer new.
* * * * *
'Dr. Memis's cause was determined against him, with L40 costs. The Lord
President, and two other of the Judges, dissented from the majority,
upon this ground;--that although there may have been no intention to
injure him by calling him _Doctor of Medicine_, instead of _Physician_,
yet, as he remonstrated against the designation before the charter was
printed off, and represented that it was disagreeable, and even hurtful
to him, it was ill-natured to refuse to alter it, and let him have the
designation to which he was certainly entitled. My own opinion is, that
our court has judged wrong. The defendants were _in mala fide_, to
persist in naming him in a way that he disliked. You remember poor
Goldsmith, when he grew important, and wished to appear _Doctor
Major_[1], could not bear your calling him _Goldy_[2]. Would it not have
been wrong to have named him so in your _Preface to Shakspeare_, or in
any serious permanent writing of any sort? The difficulty is, whether an
action should be allowed on such petty wrongs. _De minimis non curat
lex_.
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 24, 1773.]
[Footnote 2: 'I have often desired him not to call me Goldy.' _Ib._ Oct.
14.]
'The Negro cause is not yet decided. A memorial is preparing on the side
of slavery. I shall send you a copy as soon as it is printed. Maclaurin
is made happy by your approbation of his memorial for the black.
'Macquarry was here in the winter, and we passed an evening together.
The sale of his estate cannot be prevented.
'Sir Allan Maclean's suit against the Duke of Argyle, for recovering the
ancient inheritance of his family, is now fairly before all our judges.
I spoke for him yesterday, and Maclaurin to-day; Crosbie spoke to-day
against him. Three more counsel are to be heard, and next week the cause
will be determined. I send you the _Informations_, or _Cases_, on each
side, which I hope you will read. You said to me when we were under Sir
Allan's hospitable roof, "I will help him with my pen." You said it with
a generous glow; and though his Grace of Argyle did afterwards mount you
upon an excellent horse, upon which "you looked like a Bishop[1]," you
must not swerve from your purpose at Inchkenneth. I wish you may
understand the points at issue, amidst our Scotch law principles and
phrases.
[Footnote 1: 'The Duke of Argyle was obliging enough to mount Dr.
Johnson on a stately steed from his grace's stable. My friend was highly
pleased, and Joseph [Boswell's Bohemian servant] said, "He now looks
like a bishop."' Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct. 26.]
[Here followed a full state of the case, in which I endeavoured to make
it as clear as I could to an Englishman, who had no knowledge of the
formularies and technical language of the law of Scotland.]
'I shall inform you how the cause is decided here. But as it may be
brought under the review of our Judges, and is certainly to be carried
by appeal to the House of Lords, the assistance of such a mind as yours
will be of consequence. Your paper on _Vicious Intromission_[1] is a
noble proof of what you can do even in Scotch law.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 196.]
* * * * *
'I have not yet distributed all your books. Lord Hailes and Lord
Monboddo have each received one, and return you thanks. Monboddo dined
with me lately, and having drank tea, we were a good while by ourselves,
and as I knew that he had read the _Journey_ superficially, as he did
not talk of it as I wished, I brought it to him, and read aloud several
passages; and then he talked so, that I told him he was to have a copy
_from the authour_. He begged _that_ might be marked on it.
* * * * *
'I ever am, my dear Sir,
'Your most faithful,
'And affectionate humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'SIR ALEXANDER DICK TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Prestonfield, Feb. 17, 1777.
'Sir,
'I had yesterday the honour of receiving your book of your _Journey to
the Western Islands of Scotland_, which you was so good as to send me,
by the hands of our mutual friend[1], Mr. Boswell, of Auchinleck; for
which I return you my most hearty thanks; and after carefully reading it
over again, shall deposit in my little collection of choice books, next
our worthy friend's _Journey to Corsica_. As there are many things to
admire in both performances, I have often wished that no Travels or
Journeys should be published but those undertaken by persons of
integrity and capacity to judge well, and describe faithfully, and in
good language, the situation, condition, and manners of the countries
past through. Indeed our country of Scotland, in spite of the union of
the crowns, is still in most places so devoid of clothing, or cover from
hedges and plantations, that it was well you gave your readers a sound
_Monitoire_ with respect to that circumstance. The truths you have told,
and the purity of the language in which they are expressed, as your
_Journey_ is universally read, may, and already appear to have a very
good effect. For a man of my acquaintance, who has the largest nursery
for trees and hedges in this country, tells me, that of late the demand
upon him for these articles is doubled, and sometimes tripled. I have,
therefore, listed Dr. Samuel Johnson in some of my memorandums of the
principal planters and favourers of the enclosures, under a name which I
took the liberty to invent from the Greek, _Papadendrion_[2]. Lord
Auchinleck and some few more are of the list. I am told that one
gentleman in the shire of Aberdeen, _viz._ Sir Archibald Grant, has
planted above fifty millions of trees on a piece of very wild ground at
Monimusk: I must enquire if he has fenced them well, before he enters my
list; for, that is the soul of enclosing. I began myself to plant a
little, our ground being too valuable for much, and that is now fifty
years ago; and the trees, now in my seventy-fourth year, I look up to
with reverence, and shew them to my eldest son now in his fifteenth
year, and they are full the height of my country-house here, where I had
the pleasure of receiving you, and hope again to have that satisfaction
with our mutual friend, Mr. Boswell. I shall always continue, with the
truest esteem, dear Doctor,
'Your much obliged,
'And obedient humble servant,
'ALEXANDER DICK[3].'
[Footnote 1: Even Burke falls into the vulgarism of 'mutual friend.' See
his _Correspondence_, i. 196, ii. 251. Goldsmith also writes of 'mutual
acquaintance.' Cunningham's _Goldsmith's Works_, iv. 48.]
[Footnote 2: He means to imply, I suppose, that Johnson was the father
of plantations. See _ante_, under Feb. 7, 1775. note.]
[Footnote 3: For a character of this very amiable man, see _Journal of a
Tour to the Hebrides_, 3rd edit. p. 36. [Aug. 17.] BOSWELL.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, Esq.
'DEAR SIR,
'It is so long since I heard any thing from you[1], that I am not easy
about it; write something to me next post. When you sent your last
letter, every thing seemed to be mending; I hope nothing has lately
grown worse. I suppose young Alexander continues to thrive, and Veronica
is now very pretty company. I do not suppose the lady is yet reconciled
to me, yet let her know that I love her very well, and value her very
much.
[Footnote 1: By the then course of the post, my long letter of the 14th
had not yet reached him. BOSWELL.]
'Dr. Blair is printing some sermons. If they are all like the first,
which I have read, they are _sermones aurei, ac auro magis aurei_. It is
excellently written both as to doctrine and language. Mr. Watson's
book[1] seems to be much esteemed.
[Footnote 1: _History of Philip the Second_. BOSWELL.]
* * * * *
'Poor Beauclerk still continues very ill[1]. Langton lives on as he used
to do[2]. His children are very pretty, and, I think, his lady loses her
Scotch. Paoli I never see.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, Jan. 21, 1775.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, iii. 48.]
'I have been so distressed by difficulty of breathing, that I lost, as
was computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood in a few days[1]. I am
better, but not well.
[Footnote 1: He wrote to Mrs. Thrale on Jan. 15, 1777, that he had had
about twelve ounces of blood taken, and then about ten more, and that
another bleeding was to follow. 'Yet I do not make it a matter of much
form. I was to-day at Mrs. Gardiner's. When I have bled to-morrow, I
will not give up Langton nor Paradise. But I beg that you will fetch me
away on Friday. I do not know but clearer air may do me good; but
whether the air be clear or dark, let me come to you.' _Piozzi Letters_,
i. 344. See _post_, Sept. 16, 1777, note.]
'I wish you would be vigilant and get me Graham's _Telemachus_[1] that
was printed at Glasgow, a very little book; and _Johnstoni Poemata_[2],
another little book, printed at Middleburgh.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 411, and Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 24,
1773.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson tried in vain to buy this book at Aberdeen. _Ib._
Aug. 23.]
'Mrs. Williams sends her compliments, and promises that when you come
hither, she will accommodate you as well as ever she can in the old
room[1]. She wishes to know whether you sent her book[2] to Sir
Alexander Gordon[3].
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, May 12, 1775.]
[Footnote 2: No doubt her _Miscellanies_. _Ante_, ii. 25.]
[Footnote 3: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 22.]
'My dear Boswell, do not neglect to write to me; for your kindness is
one of the pleasures of my life, which I should be sorry to lose.
'I am, Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'February 18, 1777.'
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, Feb. 24, 1777.
'DEAR SIR,
'Your letter dated the 18th instant, I had the pleasure to receive last
post. Although my late long neglect, or rather delay, was truely
culpable, I am tempted not to regret it, since it has produced me so
valuable a proof of your regard. I did, indeed, during that inexcusable
silence, sometimes divert the reproaches of my own mind, by fancying
that I should hear again from you, inquiring with some anxiety about me,
because, for aught you knew, I might have been ill.
'You are pleased to shew me, that my kindness is of some consequence to
you. My heart is elated at the thought. Be assured, my dear Sir, that my
affection and reverence for you are exalted and steady. I do not believe
that a more perfect attachment ever existed in the history of mankind.
And it is a noble attachment; for the attractions are Genius, Learning,
and Piety.
'Your difficulty of breathing alarms me, and brings into my imagination
an event, which although in the natural course of things, I must expect
at some period, I cannot view with composure.
* * * * *
'My wife is much honoured by what you say of her. She begs you may
accept of her best compliments. She is to send you some marmalade of
oranges of her own making.
* * * * *
'I ever am, my dear Sir,
'Your most obliged
'And faithful humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I have been much pleased with your late letter, and am glad that my old
enemy Mrs. Boswell, begins to feel some remorse. As to Miss Veronica's
Scotch, I think it cannot be helped. An English maid you might easily
have; but she would still imitate the greater number, as they would be
likewise those whom she must most respect. Her dialect will not be
gross. Her Mamma has not much Scotch, and you have yourself very little.
I hope she knows my name, and does not call me _Johnston_[1].
[Footnote 1: John_son_ is the most common English formation of the
Sirname from _John_; John_ston_ the Scotch. My illustrious friend
observed that many North Britons pronounced his name in their own way.
BOSWELL. Boswell (_Hebrides_, Oct. 21, 1773) tells of one Lochbuy who,
'being told that Dr. Johnson did not hear well, bawled out to him, "Are
you of the Johnstons of Glencro, or of Ardnamurchan?"']
'The immediate cause of my writing is this:--One Shaw[1], who seems a
modest and a decent man, has written an _Erse Grammar_, which a very
learned Highlander, Macbean[2], has, at my request, examined and
approved.
[Footnote 1: See _post_, under Dec. 24, 1783.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson's old amanuensis. _Ante_, i. 187. Johnson described
him as 'a man of great learning.' Croker's _Boswell_, p. 654.]
'The book is very little, but Mr. Shaw has been persuaded by his friends
to set it at half a guinea, though I advised only a crown, and thought
myself liberal. You, whom the authour considers as a great encourager of
ingenious men, will receive a parcel of his proposals and receipts. I
have undertaken to give you notice of them, and to solicit your
countenance. You must ask no poor man, because the price is really too
high. Yet such a work deserves patronage.
'It is proposed to augment our club from twenty to thirty, of which I am
glad; for as we have several in it whom I do not much like to consort
with[1], I am for reducing it to a mere miscellaneous collection of
conspicuous men, without any determinate character.
[Footnote 1: On account of their differing from him as to religion and
politicks. BOSWELL. See _post_, April 13, 1778. Mr. Croker says that
'the Club had, as its records show, for many of his latter years very
little of his company.']
* * * * *
'I am, dear Sir,
'Most affectionately your's,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'March 11, 1777.'
'My respects to Madam, to Veronica, to Alexander, to Euphemia, to
David.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, April 4, 1777.
[After informing him of the death of my little son David, and that I
could not come to London this spring:--]
'I think it hard that I should be a whole year without seeing you. May I
presume to petition for a meeting with you in the autumn? You have, I
believe, seen all the cathedrals in England, except that of Carlisle. If
you are to be with Dr. Taylor, at Ashbourne, it would not be a great
journey to come thither. We may pass a few most agreeable days there by
ourselves, and I will accompany you a good part of the way to the
southward again. Pray think of this.
'You forget that Mr. Shaw's _Erse Grammar_ was put into your hands by
myself last year. Lord Eglintoune put it into mine. I am glad that Mr.
Macbean approves of it. I have received Mr. Shaw's Proposals for its
publication, which I can perceive are written _by the hand of a_ MASTER.
* * * * *
'Pray get for me all the editions of _Walton's Lives_: I have a notion
that the republication of them with Notes will fall upon me, between Dr.
Home and Lord Hailes[1].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 225 note 2, July 4, 1774, and March 20,
1776.]
Mr. Shaw's Proposals[dagger] for _An Analysis of the Scotch Celtick
Language_, were thus illuminated by the pen of Johnson:
'Though the Erse dialect of the Celtick language has, from the earliest
times, been spoken in Britain, and still subsists in the northern parts
and adjacent islands, yet, by the negligence of a people rather warlike
than lettered, it has hitherto been left to the caprice and judgement of
every speaker, and has floated in the living voice, without the
steadiness of analogy, or direction of rules. An Erse Grammar is an
addition to the stores of literature; and its authour hopes for the
indulgence always shewn to those that attempt to do what was never done
before. If his work shall be found defective, it is at least all his
own: he is not like other grammarians, a compiler or transcriber; what
he delivers, he has learned by attentive observation among his
countrymen, who perhaps will be themselves surprized to see that speech
reduced to principles, which they have used only by imitation.
'The use of this book will, however, not be confined to the mountains
and islands; it will afford a pleasing and important subject of
speculation, to those whose studies lead them to trace the affinity of
languages, and the migrations of the ancient races, of mankind.'
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Glasgow, April 24, 1777.
'MY DEAR SIR,
'Our worthy friend Thrale's death having appeared in the newspapers, and
been afterwards contradicted, I have been placed in a state of very
uneasy uncertainty, from which I hoped to be relieved by you: but my
hopes have as yet been vain. How could you omit to write to me on such
an occasion? I shall wait with anxiety.
'I am going to Auchinleck to stay a fortnight with my father. It is
better not to be there very long at one time. But frequent renewals of
attention are agreeable to him.
'Pray tell me about this edition of "_The English Poets_, with a
Preface, biographical and critical, to each Authour, by Samuel Johnson,
LL.D." which I see advertised. I am delighted with the prospect of it.
Indeed I am happy to feel that I am capable of being so much delighted
with literature.[1] But is not the charm of this publication chiefly
owing to the _magnum nomen_ in the front of it?
[Footnote 1: Boswell was no reader. 'I don't believe,' Johnson once said
to him, 'you have borrowed from Waller. I wish you would enable yourself
to borrow more.' _Ante_, April 16, 1775. Boswell wrote to Temple on
March 18, 1775:--'I have a kind of impotency of study.' Two months later
he wrote:--'I have promised to Dr. Johnson to read when I get to
Scotland, and to keep an account of what I read. I shall let you know
how I go on. My mind must be nourished.' _Letters of Boswell_, pp. 181,
195.]
'What do you say of Lord Chesterfield's _Memoirs and last Letters_?[1]
[Footnote 1: Chesterfield's _Letters to his Son_ were published in 1774,
and his _Miscellaneous Works_, together with _Memoirs and Letters to his
Friends_, early in 1777.]
'My wife has made marmalade of oranges for you. I left her and my
daughters and Alexander all well yesterday. I have taught Veronica to
speak of you thus;--Dr. John_son_, not Jon_ston_.
'I remain, my dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate,
'And obliged humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'The story of Mr. Thrale's death, as he had neither been sick nor in any
other danger, made so little impression upon me, that I never thought
about obviating its effects on any body else. It is supposed to have
been produced by the English custom of making April fools, that is, of
sending one another on some foolish errand on the first of April.
'Tell Mrs. Boswell that I shall taste her marmalade cautiously at first.
_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes_.[1] Beware, says the Italian proverb, of
a reconciled enemy. But when I find it does me no harm, I shall then
receive it and be thankful for it, as a pledge of firm, and, I hope, of
unalterable kindness. She is, after all, a dear, dear lady.
[Footnote 1: 'Whatso it is, the Danaan folk, yea gift-bearing I fear.'
Morris, AEneids, ii. 49.]
'Please to return Dr. Blair thanks for his sermons. The Scotch write
English wonderfully well.
'Your frequent visits to Auchinleck, and your short stay there, are very
laudable and very judicious. Your present concord with your father gives
me great pleasure; it was all that you seemed to want.
'My health is very bad, and my nights are very unquiet.[1] What can I do
to mend them? I have for this summer nothing better in prospect than a
journey into Staffordshire and Derbyshire, perhaps with Oxford and
Birmingham in my way.
[Footnote 1: He wrote to Mrs. Thrale on March 19, 1777:--'You are all
young, and gay, and easy; but I have miserable nights, and know not how
to make them better; but I shift pretty well a-days, and so have at you
all at Dr. Burney's to-morrow.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 345.]
'Make my compliments to Miss Veronica; I must leave it to _her_
philosophy to comfort you for the loss of little David. You must
remember, that to keep three out of four is more than your share. Mrs.
Thrale has but four out of eleven.[1]
[Footnote 1: A twelfth was born next year. See _post_, July 3, 1778.]
'I am engaged to write little Lives, and little Prefaces, to a little
edition of _The English Poets_. I think I have persuaded the
book-sellers to insert something of Thomson; and if you could give me
some information about him, for the life which we have is very scanty, I
should be glad. I am, dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 3, 1777.'
To those who delight in tracing the progress of works of literature, it
will be an entertainment to compare the limited design with the ample
execution of that admirable performance, _The Lives of the English
Poets_, which is the richest, most beautiful and indeed most perfect
production of Johnson's pen. His notion of it at this time appears in
the preceding letter. He has a memorandum in this year, '29 May[1],
Easter Eve, I treated with booksellers on a bargain, but the time was
not long[2].' The bargain was concerning that undertaking; but his
tender conscience seems alarmed lest it should have intruded too much on
his devout preparation for the solemnity of the ensuing day. But,
indeed, very little time was necessary for Johnson's concluding a treaty
with the booksellers; as he had, I believe, less attention to profit
from his labours than any man to whom literature has been a
profession.[3] I shall here insert from a letter to me from my late
worthy friend Mr. Edward Dilly, though of a later date, an account of
this plan so happily conceived; since it was the occasion of procuring
for us an elegant collection of the best biography and criticism of
which our language can boast.
[Footnote 1: It was March 29.]
[Footnote 2: _Pr. and Med._ p. 155. BOSWELL]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, i. 341, note 3.]
'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'Southill, Sept. 26, 1777.
'DEAR SIR,
'You will find by this letter, that I am still in the same calm retreat,
from the noise and bustle of London, as when I wrote to you last. I am
happy to find you had such an agreeable meeting with your old friend Dr.
Johnson; I have no doubt your stock is much increased by the interview;
few men, nay I may say, scarcely any man, has got that fund of knowledge
and entertainment as Dr. Johnson in conversation. When he opens freely,
every one is attentive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement
as well as pleasure.
'The edition of _The Poets_, now printing, will do honour to the English
press; and a concise account of the life of each authour, by Dr.
Johnson, will be a very valuable addition, and stamp the reputation of
this edition superiour to any thing that is gone before. The first cause
that gave rise to this undertaking, I believe, was owing to the little
trifling edition of _The Poets_, printing by the Martins, at Edinburgh,
and to be sold by Bell, in London. Upon examining the volumes which were
printed, the type was found so extremely small, that many persons could
not read them; not only this inconvenience attended it, but the
inaccuracy of the press was very conspicuous. These reasons, as well as
the idea of an invasion of what we call our Literary Property[1],
induced the London Booksellers to print an elegant and accurate edition
of all the English Poets of reputation, from Chaucer to the present
time.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 439.]
'Accordingly a select number of the most respectable booksellers met on
the occasion; and, on consulting together, agreed, that all the
proprietors of copy-right in the various Poets should be summoned
together; and when their opinions were given, to proceed immediately on
the business. Accordingly a meeting was held, consisting of about forty
of the most respectable booksellers of London, when it was agreed that
an elegant and uniform edition of _The English Poets_ should be
immediately printed, with a concise account of the life of each authour,
by Dr. Samuel Johnson; and that three persons should be deputed to wait
upon Dr. Johnson, to solicit him to undertake the Lives, _viz._, T.
Davies, Strahan, and Cadell. The Doctor very politely undertook it, and
seemed exceedingly pleased with the proposal. As to the terms, it was
left entirely to the Doctor to name his own: he mentioned two hundred
guineas[1]: it was immediately agreed to; and a farther compliment, I
believe, will be made him.[2] A committee was likewise appointed to
engage the best engravers, _viz._, Bartolozzi, Sherwin, Hall, etc.
Likewise another committee for giving directions about the paper,
printing, etc., so that the whole will be conducted with spirit, and in
the best manner, with respect to authourship, editorship, engravings,
etc., etc. My brother will give you a list of the Poets we mean to give,
many of which are within the time of the Act of Queen Anne[3], which
Martin and Bell cannot give, as they have no property in them; the
proprietors are almost all the booksellers in London, of consequence. I
am, dear Sir,
'Ever your's,
'EDWARD DILLY.'
[Footnote 1: Johnson's moderation in demanding so small a sum is
extraordinary. Had he asked one thousand, or even fifteen hundred
guineas, the booksellers, who knew the value of his name, would
doubtless have readily given it. They have probably got five thousand
guineas by this work in the course of twenty-five years. MALONE.]
[Footnote 2: See _post_, beginning of 1781.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, ii. 272, note 2.]
I shall afterwards have occasion to consider the extensive and varied
range which Johnson took, when he was once led upon ground which he trod
with a peculiar delight, having long been intimately acquainted with all
the circumstances of it that could interest and please.
'DR. JOHNSON TO CHARLES O'CONNOR, Esq.[1]
[Footnote 1: Mr. Joseph Cooper Walker, of the Treasury, Dublin, who
obligingly communicated to me this and a former letter from Dr. Johnson
to the same gentleman (for which see vol. i. p. 321), writes to me as
follows:--'Perhaps it would gratify you to have some account of Mr.
O'Connor. He is an amiable, learned, venerable old gentleman, of an
independent fortune, who lives at Belanagar, in the county of Roscommon;
he is an admired writer, and Member of the Irish Academy.--The above
Letter is alluded to in the Preface to the 2nd edit, of his _Dissert_,
p. 3.'--Mr. O'Connor afterwards died at the age of eighty-two. See a
well-drawn character of him in the _Gent. Mag._ for August 1791.
BOSWELL.]
'SIR,
'Having had the pleasure of conversing with Dr. Campbell about your
character and your literary undertaking, I am resolved to gratify myself
by renewing a correspondence which began and ended a great while ago,
and ended, I am afraid, by my fault; a fault which, if you have not
forgotten it, you must now forgive.
'If I have ever disappointed you, give me leave to tell you, that you
have likewise disappointed me. I expected great discoveries in Irish
antiquity, and large publications in the Irish language; but the world
still remains at it was, doubtful and ignorant. What the Irish language
is in itself, and to what languages it has affinity, are very
interesting questions, which every man wishes to see resolved that has
any philological or historical curiosity. Dr. Leland begins his history
too late: the ages which deserve an exact enquiry are those times
(for[1] such there were) when Ireland was the school of the west, the
quiet habitation of sanctity and literature. If you could give a
history, though imperfect, of the Irish nation, from its conversion to
Christianity to the invasion from England, you would amplify knowledge
with new views and new objects. Set about it therefore, if you can: do
what you can easily do without anxious exactness. Lay the foundation,
and leave the superstructure to posterity. I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 19, 1777.'
[Footnote 1: Mr. Croker shows good reason for believing that in the
original letter this parenthesis stood:--'_if such there were_.']
Early in this year came out, in two volumes quarto, the posthumous works
of the learned Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester; being _A
Commentary, with Notes, on the four Evangelists and the Acts of the
Apostles_, with other theological pieces. Johnson had now an opportunity
of making a grateful return to that excellent prelate, who, we have
seen[1], was the only person who gave him any assistance in the
compilation of his _Dictionary_. The Bishop had left some account of his
life and character, written by himself. To this Johnson made some
valuable additions[2][dagger], and also furnished to the editor, the
Reverend Mr. Derby, a Dedication[dagger], which I shall here insert,
both because it will appear at this time with peculiar propriety; and
because it will tend to propagate and increase that 'fervour of
_Loyalty_[3],' which in me, who boast of the name of TORY, is not only a
principle, but a passion.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 292.]
[Footnote 2: 'Johnson had not heard of Pearce's _Sermons_, which I
wondered at, considering that he wrote all the _Life_ published by the
Chaplain Derby, except what his Lordship wrote himself.' _Letters of
Boswell_, p. 242. See ante, March 20, 1776.]
[Footnote 3: Boswell, it seems, is here quoting himself. See his
_Hebrides_, 3rd edit. p. 201 (Sept. 13, 1773), where, however, he lays
the emphasis differently, writing '_fervour_ of loyalty.']
'To THE KING.
'SIR,
'I presume to lay before your Majesty the last labours of a learned
Bishop, who died in the toils and duties of his calling[1]. He is now
beyond the reach of all earthly honours and rewards; and only the hope
of inciting others to imitate him, makes it now fit to be remembered,
that he enjoyed in his life the favour of your Majesty.
[Footnote 1: 'An old acquaintance' of the Bishop says that 'he struggled
hard ten years ago to resign his Bishopric and the Deanery of
Westminster, in which our gracious King was willing to gratify him; but
upon a consultation of the Bishops they thought it could not be done
with propriety; yet he was permitted to resign the Deanery.' _Gent.
Mag._ 1775, p. 421.]
'The tumultuary life of Princes seldom permits them to survey the wide
extent of national interest, without losing sight of private merit; to
exhibit qualities which may be imitated by the highest and the humblest
of mankind; and to be at once amiable and great.
'Such characters, if now and then they appear in history, are
contemplated with admiration. May it be the ambition of all your
subjects to make haste with their tribute of reverence: and as posterity
may learn from your Majesty how Kings should live, may they learn,
likewise, from your people, how they should be honoured. I am,
'May it please your Majesty,
With the most profound respect,
Your Majesty's
Most dutiful and devoted
Subject and Servant.'
In the summer he wrote a Prologue[*] which was spoken before _A Word to
the Wise_, a comedy by Mr. Hugh Kelly[1], which had been brought upon
the stage in 1770; but he being a writer for ministry, in one of the
news-papers, it fell a sacrifice to popular fury, and in the playhouse
phrase, was _damned_. By the generosity of Mr. Harris, the proprietor of
Covent Garden theatre, it was now exhibited for one night, for the
benefit of the authour's widow and children. To conciliate the favour of
the audience was the intention of Johnson's Prologue, which, as it is
not long, I shall here insert, as a proof that his poetical talents were
in no degree impaired.
[Footnote 1: 'This person, it is said, was a stay-maker, but being a man
of wit and parts he betook himself to study, and at a time when the
discipline of the inns of court was scandalously lax, got himself called
to the Bar, and practised at the quarter-sessions under me, but with
little success. He became the conductor of a paper called _The Public
Ledger_ and a writer for the stage, in which he met with some
encouragement, till it was insinuated that he was a pensioner of the
minister, and therefore a fit object of patriotic vengeance.' Hawkins's
_Johnson_, p. 518. See _ante_, ii. 48 note, and _post_, 1784, in Mr.
Nichols's account of Johnson's last days.]
'This night presents a play, which publick rage,
Or right or wrong, once hooted from the stage:
From zeal or malice, now no more we dread,
For English vengeance _wars not with the dead_.
A generous foe regards with pitying eye
The man whom Fate has laid where all must lie.
To wit, reviving from its authour's dust,
Be kind, ye judges, or at least be just:
Let no renewed hostilities invade
Th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade.
Let one great payment every claim appease,
And him who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes, unconscious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or useful sense.
Where aught of bright or fair the piece displays,
Approve it only;--'tis too late to praise.
If want of skill or want of care appear,
Forbear to hiss;--the poet cannot hear.
By all, like him, must praise and blame be found,
At last, a fleeting gleam, or empty sound;
Yet then shall calm reflection bless the night,
When liberal pity dignified delight;
When pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame,
And mirth was bounty with an humbler name.'[1]
[Footnote 1: 'This address had the desired effect. The play was well
received.' Murphy's _Garrick_, p. 302. Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale from
Lichfield, 'Lucy [his step-daughter] thinks nothing of my prologue for
Kelly, and says she has always disowned it.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 352.]
A circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing to Johnson
occurred this year. The Tragedy of _Sir Thomas Overbury_, written by his
early companion in London, Richard Savage[1] was brought out with
alterations at Drury-lane theatre[2]. The Prologue to it was written by
Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan; in which, after describing very
pathetically the wretchedness of
'Ill-fated Savage, at whose birth was giv'n
No parent but the Muse, no friend but Heav'n:'
he introduced an elegant compliment to Johnson on his _Dictionary_, that
wonderful performance which cannot be too often or too highly praised;
of which Mr. Harris, in his _Philological Inquiries_[3], justly and
liberally observes: 'Such is its merit, that our language does not
possess a more copious, learned, and valuable work.' The concluding,
lines of this Prologue were these:--
'So pleads the tale that gives to future times
The son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes;
There shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive,
Fix'd by THE HAND THAT BIDS OUR LANGUAGE LIVE[4].'
[Footnote 1: It was composed at a time when Savage was generally without
lodging, and often without meat. Much of it was written with pen and ink
that were borrowed, on paper that had been picked up in the streets. The
unhappy poet 'was obliged to submit himself wholly to the players, and
admit with whatever reluctance the emendations of Mr. Cibber, which he
always considered as the disgrace of his performance.' When it was
brought out, he himself took the part of Overbury. 'He was so much
ashamed of having been reduced to appear as a player, that he always
blotted out his name from the list when a copy of his tragedy was to be
shown to his friends.' Johnson's _Works_, viii. 110-112.]
[Footnote 2: It was not at Drury-lane, but at Covent Garden theatre,
that it was acted. MALONE.]
[Footnote 3: Part First, Chap 4. BOSWELL. See _ante_ ii. 225.]
[Footnote 4: _Life of Richard Savage_, by Dr. Johnson. BOSWELL.]
Mr. Sheridan here at once did honour to his taste and to his liberality
of sentiment, by shewing that he was not prejudiced from the unlucky
difference which had taken place between his worthy father and Dr.
Johnson. I have already mentioned, that Johnson was very desirous of
reconciliation with old Mr. Sheridan.[1] It will, therefore, not seem at
all surprizing that he was zealous in acknowledging the brilliant merit
of his son. While it had as yet been displayed only in the drama,
Johnson proposed him as a member of THE LITERARY CLUB, observing, that
'He who has written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a
considerable man[2].' And he had, accordingly, the honour to be elected;
for an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed to be, when it is
considered of whom that society consists, and that a single black ball
excludes a candidate.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 387, and _post_, May 17, 1783.]
[Footnote 2: Sheridan joined the Literary Club in March, 1777. _The
Rivals_ and _The Duenna_ were brought out in 1775; _The Trip to
Scarborough_ on Feb. 24, 1777, and _The School for Scandal_ in the
following May. Moore (_Life of Sheridan_, i. 168), speaking of _The
Duenna_, says, 'The run of this opera has, I believe, no parallel in the
annals of the drama. Sixty-three nights was the career of _The Beggar's
Opera_; but _The Duenna_ was acted no less than seventy-five times
during the season.' _The Trip to Scarborough_ was a failure. Johnson,
therefore, doubtless referred to _The Rivals_ and _The Duenna_.]
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'July 9, 1777.[1]
[Footnote 1: The date is wrongly given. Boswell says that he wrote again
on June 23 (_post_, p. 120), and Johnson's letter of June 28 is in
answer to both letters. The right date is perhaps June 9.]
'MY DEAR SIR,
'For the health of my wife and children I have taken the little
country-house at which you visited my uncle, Dr. Boswell[1], who, having
lost his wife, is gone to live with his son. We took possession of our
villa about a week ago; we have a garden of three quarters of an acre,
well stocked with fruit-trees and flowers, and gooseberries and
currants, and peas and beans, and cabbages, &c. &c., and my children are
quite happy. I now write to you in a little study, from the window of
which I see around me a verdant grove, and beyond it the lofty mountain
called Arthur's Seat.
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, under Nov. 11, 1773.]
'Your last letter, in which you desire me to send you some additional
information concerning Thomson, reached me very fortunately just as I
was going to Lanark, to put my wife's two nephews, the young Campbells,
to school there, under the care of Mr. Thomson, the master of it, whose
wife is sister to the authour of _The Seasons_. She is an old woman; but
her memory is very good; and she will with pleasure give me for you
every particular that you wish to know, and she can tell. Pray then take
the trouble to send me such questions as may lead to biographical
materials. You say that the _Life_ which we have of Thomson is scanty.
Since I received your letter I have read his _Life_, published under the
name of Cibber, but as you told me, really written by a Mr. Shiels[1];
that written by Dr. Murdoch; one prefixed to an edition of the Seasons,
published at Edinburgh, which is compounded of both, with the addition
of an anecdote of Quin's relieving Thomson from prison[2]; the
abridgement of Murdoch's account of him, in the _Biographia Britannica_,
and another abridgement of it in the _Biographical Dictionary_, enriched
with Dr. Joseph Warton's critical panegyrick on the _Seasons_ in his
_Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope_: from all these it appears to
me that we have a pretty full account of this poet. However, you will, I
doubt not, shew me many blanks, and I shall do what can be done to have
them filled up. As Thomson never returned to Scotland, (which _you_ will
think very wise,) his sister can speak from her own knowledge only as to
the early part of his life. She has some letters from him, which may
probably give light as to his more advanced progress, if she will let us
see them, which I suppose she will[3]. I believe George Lewis Scott[4]
and Dr. Armstrong[5] are now his only surviving companions, while he
lived in and about London; and they, I dare say, can tell more of him
than is yet known. My own notion is, that Thomson was a much coarser man
than his friends are willing to acknowledge[6]. His _Seasons_ are indeed
full of elegant and pious sentiments: but a rank soil, nay a dunghill,
will produce beautiful flowers[7].
[Footnote 1: See pp. 29, 30, of this volume. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson, describing 'the fond intimacy' of Quin and
Thomson, says (_Works_, viii. 374):--'The commencement of this
benevolence is very honourable to Quin, who is reported to have
delivered Thomson, then known to him only for his genius, from an arrest
by a very considerable present; and its continuance is honourable to
both, for friendship is not always the sequel of obligation.']
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, ii. 63, and _post_, June 18, 1778.]
[Footnote 4: Formerly Sub-preceptor to his present Majesty, and
afterwards a Commissioner of Excise. MALONE.]
[Footnote 5: The physician and poet. He died in 1779.]
[Footnote 6: Boswell nine years earlier (_ante_, ii. 63) had heard
Johnson accuse Thomson of gross sensuality.]
[Footnote 7: 'Savage, who lived much with Thomson, once told me he heard
a lady remarking that she could gather from his works three parts of his
character, that he was a great lover, a great swimmer, and rigorously
abstinent; but, said Savage, he knows not any love but that of the sex;
he was perhaps never in cold water in his life; and he indulges himself
in all the luxury that comes within his reach.' Johnson's _Works_, viii.
377.]
'Your edition of _The English Poets_[1] will be very valuable, on
account of the _Prefaces_ and _Lives_. But I have seen a specimen of an
edition of _The Poets_ at the Apollo press, at Edinburgh, which, for
excellence in printing and engraving, highly deserves a liberal
encouragement.
[Footnote 1: Dr. Johnson was not the _editor_ of this Collection of _The
English Poets_; he merely furnished the biographical prefaces. MALONE.
See _post_, Sept. 14, 1777.]
'Most sincerely do I regret the bad health and bad rest with which you
have been afflicted; and I hope you are better. I cannot believe that
the Prologue which you generously gave to Mr. Kelly's widow and children
the other day, is the effusion of one in sickness and in disquietude:
but external circumstances are never sure indications of the state of
man. I send you a letter which I wrote to you two years ago at
Wilton[1]; and did not send it at the time, for fear of being reproved
as indulging too much tenderness; and one written to you at the tomb of
Melancthon[2], which I kept back, lest I should appear at once too
superstitious and too enthusiastick. I now imagine that perhaps they may
please you.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, under April 18, 1775.]
[Footnote 2: One letter he seems to have sent to him from this spot. See
_ante_, ii. 3, note 1.]
'You do not take the least notice of my proposal for our meeting at
Carlisle[1]. Though I have meritoriously refrained from visiting London
this year, I ask you if it would not be wrong that I should be two years
without having the benefit of your conversation, when, if you come down
as far as Derbyshire, we may meet at the expence of a few days'
journeying, and not many pounds. I wish you to see Carlisle, which made
me mention that place. But if you have not a desire to complete your
tour of the English cathedrals, I will take a larger share of the road
between this place and Ashbourne. So tell me _where_ you will fix for
our passing a few days by ourselves. Now don't cry "foolish fellow," or
"idle dog." Chain your humour, and let your kindness play.
[Footnote 1: Dr. Johnson had himself talked of our seeing Carlisle
together. _High_ was a favourite word of his to denote a person of rank.
He said to me, 'Sir, I believe we may at the house of a Roman Catholick
lady in Cumberland; a high lady, Sir.' I afterwards discovered he meant
Mrs. Strickland, sister of Charles Townley, Esq., whose very noble
collection of pictures is not more to be admired, than his extraordinary
and polite readiness in shewing it, which I and several of my friends
have agreeably experienced. They who are possessed of valuable stores of
gratification to persons of taste, should exercise their benevolence in
imparting the pleasure. Grateful acknowledgments are due to Welbore
Ellis Agar, Esq., for the liberal access which he is pleased to allow to
his exquisite collection of pictures. BOSWELL.]
'You will rejoice to hear that Miss Macleod, of Rasay[1], is married to
Colonel Mure Campbell, an excellent man, with a pretty good estate of
his own, and the prospect of having the Earl of Loudoun's fortune and
honours. Is not this a noble lot for our fair Hebridean? How happy am I
that she is to be in Ayrshire. We shall have the Laird of Rasay, and old
Malcolm, and I know not how many gallant Macleods, and bagpipes, &c. &c.
at Auchinleck. Perhaps you may meet them all there.
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 11, 1773.]
'Without doubt you have read what is called _The Life_ of David Hume[1],
written by himself, with the letter from Dr. Adam Smith subjoined to it.
Is not this an age of daring effrontery? My friend Mr. Anderson,
Professor of Natural Philosophy at Glasgow, at whose house you and I
supped[2], and to whose care Mr. Windham[3], of Norfolk, was entrusted
at that University, paid me a visit lately; and after we had talked with
indignation and contempt of the poisonous productions with which this
age is infested, he said there was now an excellent opportunity for Dr.
Johnson to step forth. I agreed with him that you might knock Hume's and
Smith's heads together, and make vain and ostentatious infidelity
exceedingly ridiculous. Would it not be worth your while to crush such
noxious weeds in the moral garden?
[Footnote 1: It is no doubt, on account of its brevity that Boswell in
speaking of it writes:--'What is called _The Life_.']
[Footnote 2: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct, 29, 1773.]
[Footnote 3: See _ante_, under Feb. 7, 1775.]
'You have said nothing to me of Dr. Dodd[1]. I know not how you think on
that subject; though the newspapers give us a saying of your's in favour
of mercy to him. But I own I am very desirous that the royal prerogative
of remission of punishment should be employed to exhibit an illustrious
instance of the regard which GOD's VICEGERENT will ever shew to piety
and virtue. If for ten righteous men the ALMIGHTY would have spared
Sodom, shall not a thousand acts of goodness done by Dr. Dodd
counterbalance one crime? Such an instance would do more to encourage
goodness, than his execution would do to deter from vice. I am not
afraid of any bad consequence to society; for who will persevere for a
long course of years in a distinguished discharge of religious duties,
with a view to commit a forgery with impunity?
[Footnote 1: See post, p. 139.]
'Pray make my best compliments acceptable to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by
assuring them of my hearty joy that the _Master_[1], as you call him, is
alive. I hope I shall often taste his Champagne--_soberly_.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 494.]
'I have not heard from Langton for a long time. I suppose he is as
usual,
"Studious the busy moments to deceive[1]."
[Footnote 1: From Prior's imitation of _Gualterus Danistonus ad Amicos_;
the poem mentioned by Boswell in his _Hebrides_, Aug. 18, 1773.]
* * * * *
'I remain, my dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate, and faithful humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
On the 23rd of June, I again wrote to Dr. Johnson, enclosing a
ship-master's receipt for a jar of orange-marmalade, and a large packet
of Lord Hailes's _Annals of Scotland_.
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I have just received your packet from Mr. Thrale's, but have not
day-light enough to look much into it. I am glad that I have credit
enough with Lord Hailes to be trusted with more copy[1]. I hope to take
more care of it than of the last. I return Mrs. Boswell my affectionate
thanks for her present, which I value as a token of reconciliation.
[Footnote 1: _Copy_ is _manuscript for printing_.]
'Poor Dodd was put to death yesterday, in opposition to the
recommendation of the jury[1]--the petition of the city of
London[2]--and a subsequent petition signed by three-and-twenty thousand
hands. Surely the voice of the publick, when it calls so loudly, and
calls only for mercy, ought to be heard[3].
[Footnote 1: Hawkins (_Life_, p. 521) says that the jury did not at the
trial recommend Dodd to mercy. To one of the petitions 'Mrs. Dodd first
got the hands of the jury that found the bill against her husband, and
after that, as it is supposed, of the jury that tried him.' Ib. p. 527.
He says that the public were at first very little interested in his
fate, 'but by various artifices, and particularly the insertion of his
name in public papers, with such palliatives as he and his friends could
invent, never with the epithet of _unfortunate_, they were betrayed into
such an enthusiastic commiseration of his case as would have led a
stranger to believe that himself had been no accessory to his
distresses, but that they were the inflictions of Providence.' Ib. p.
520. Johnson wrote to Dr. Taylor on May 19:--'Poor Dodd was sentenced
last week.... I am afraid he will suffer. The clergy seem not to be his
friends. The populace, that was extremely clamorous against him, begins
to pity him. _Notes and Queries_, 6th S., v. 423.]
[Footnote 2: Horace Walpole says 'the criminal was raised to the dignity
of a confessor in the eyes of the people--but an inexorable judge had
already pronounced his doom. Lord Mansfield, who never felt pity, and
never relented unless terrified, had indecently declared for execution
even before the judges had given their opinion. An incident that seemed
favourable weighed down the vigorous [qu. rigorous] scale. The Common
Council had presented a petition for mercy to the king. Lord Mansfield,
who hated the popular party as much as he loved severity, was not likely
to be moved by such intercessors. At Court it grew the language that the
king must discountenance such interposition.' Walpole adds that 'as an
attempt to rescue Dodd might be apprehended, two thousand men were
ordered to be reviewed in Hyde Park during the execution.' _Journal of
the Reign of George III_, ii. 125.]
[Footnote 3: Johnson, in the '_Observations_ inserted in the newspapers'
(_post_, p. 142), said 'that though the people cannot judge of the
administration of justice so well as their governors, yet their voice
has always been regarded. That if the people now commit an error, their
error is on the part of mercy; and that perhaps history cannot shew a
time in which the life of a criminal, guilty of nothing above fraud, was
refused to the cry of nations, to the joint supplication of three and
twenty thousand petitioners.' Hawkins's _Johnson_, p. 528. Johnson's
earnestness as a petitioner contrasts with the scornful way in which he
had spoken of petitions. 'There must be no yielding to encourage this,'
the minister might have answered in his own words. _Ante_, ii. 90.]
'The saying that was given me in the papers I never spoke; but I wrote
many of his petitions, and some of his letters. He applied to me very
often. He was, I am afraid, long flattered with hopes of life; but I had
no part in the dreadful delusion; for, as soon as the King had signed
his sentence[1], I obtained from Mr. Chamier[2] an account of the
disposition of the court towards him, with a declaration that there _was
no hope even of a respite_. This letter immediately was laid before
Dodd; but he believed those whom he wished to be right, as it is
thought, till within three days of his end. He died with pious composure
and resolution. I have just seen the Ordinary that attended him. His
address to his fellow-convicts offended the Methodists[3]; but he had a
Moravian with him much of his time[4]. His moral character is very bad:
I hope all is not true that is charged upon him. Of his behaviour in
prison an account will be published.
[Footnote 1: The king signs no sentences or death warrants; but out of
respect to the Royal perogative of mercy, expressed by the old adage,
'_The King's face gives grace_,' the cases of criminals convicted in
London, where the king is supposed to be resident, were reported to him
by the recorder, that his Majesty might have an option of pardoning.
Hence it was seriously doubted whether a recorder's report need or,
indeed, could be made at Windsor. All his Majesty did on these occasions
was, to express verbally his assent or dissent to or from the execution
of the sentence; and, though the King was on such occasions attended by
his Ministers and the great legal Privy Councillors, the business was
not technically a council business, but the individual act of the King.
On the accession of Queen Victoria, the nature of some cases that it
might be necessary to report to her Majesty occasioned the abrogation of
a practice which was certainly so far unreasonable that it made a
difference between London and all the rest of the kingdom. CROKER. 'I
was exceedingly shocked,' said Lord Eldon, 'the first time I attended to
hear the Recorder's report, at the careless manner in which, as it
appeared to me, it was conducted. We were called upon to decide on
sentences affecting no less than the lives of men, and yet there was
nothing laid before us to enable us to judge whether there had or had
not been any extenuating circumstances; it was merely a recapitulation
of the judge's opinion and the sentence. I resolved that I never would
attend another report, without having read and duly considered the whole
of the evidence of each case, and I never did.' Twiss's _Eldon_, i.
398.]
[Footnote 2: Under-Secretary of State and a member of the Literary Club.
_Ante_, i. 478.]
[Footnote 3: Johnson does not here let Boswell know that he had written
this address (_post_, p. 141). Wesley, two days before Dodd's execution,
records (_Journal_, iv. 99):--'I saw Dr. Dodd for the last time. He was
in exactly such a temper as I wished. He never at any time expressed the
least murmuring or resentment at any one; but entirely and calmly gave
himself up to the will of God. Such a prisoner I scarce ever saw before;
much less such a condemned malefactor. I should think none could
converse with him without acknowledging that God is with him.' In
earlier years Wesley was more than once refused admittance to a man
under sentence of death who was 'earnestly desirous' to speak with him.
Wesley's _Journal_, ed. 1827, i. 255, 292, 378.]
[Footnote 4: Between the Methodists and the Moravians there was no
good-will. In 1749 the Moravians published a declaration that 'whosoever
reckons that those persons in England who are usually called Moravians,
and those who are called Methodists, are the same, he is mistaken.'
Thereupon Wesley recorded in his _Journal_, ii. l20:--'The Methodists,
so called, heartily thank Brother Louis for his Declaration; as they
count it no honour to be in any connexion either with him or his
Brethren.']
'I give you joy of your country-house, and your pretty garden; and hope
some time to see you in your felicity. I was much pleased with your two
letters that had been kept so long in store[1]; and rejoice at Miss
Rasay's advancement, and wish Sir Allan success.
[Footnote 1: Since they have been so much honoured by Dr. Johnson I
shall here insert them:
'TO MR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'MY EVER DEAR AND MUCH-RESPECTED SIR,
'You know my solemn enthusiasm of mind. You love me for it, and I
respect myself for it, because in so far I resemble Mr. Johnson. You
will be agreeably surprized when you learn the reason of my writing this
letter. I am at Wittemberg in Saxony. I am in the old church where the
Reformation was first preached, and where some of the reformers lie
interred. I cannot resist the serious pleasure of writing to Mr. Johnson
from the Tomb of Melancthon. My paper rests upon the gravestone of that
great and good man, who was undoubtedly the worthiest of all the
reformers. He wished to reform abuses which had been introduced into the
Church; but had no private resentment to gratify. So mild was he, that
when his aged mother consulted him with anxiety on the perplexing
disputes of the times, he advised her "to keep to the old religion." At
this tomb, then, my ever dear and respected friend! I vow to thee an
eternal attachment. It shall be my study to do what I can to render your
life happy: and, if you die before me, I shall endeavour to do honour to
your memory; and, elevated by the remembrance of you, persist in noble
piety. May GOD, the Father of all beings, ever bless you! and may you
continue to love,
'Your most affectionate friend, and devoted servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'Sunday, Sept. 30, 1764.'
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Wilton-house, April 22, 1775.
'My DEAR SIR,
'Every scene of my life confirms the truth of what you have told me,
"there is no certain happiness in this state of being."--I am here,
amidst all that you know is at Lord Pembroke's; and yet I am weary and
gloomy. I am just setting out for the house of an old friend in
Devonshire, and shall not get back to London for a week yet. You said to
me last Good-Friday, with a cordiality that warmed my heart, that if I
came to settle in London, we should have a day fixed every week, to meet
by ourselves and talk freely. To be thought worthy of such a privilege
cannot but exalt me. During my present absence from you, while,
notwithstanding the gaiety which you allow me to possess, I am darkened
by temporary clouds, I beg to have a few lines from you; a few lines
merely of kindness, as--a _viaticum_ till I see you again. In your
_Vanity of Human Wishes_, and in Parnell's _Contentment_, I find the
only sure means of enjoying happiness; or, at least, the hopes of
happiness. I ever am, with reverence and affection,
'Most faithfully yours,
'JAMES BOSWELL.']
'I hope to meet you somewhere towards the north, but am loath to come
quite to Carlisle. Can we not meet at Manchester? But we will settle it
in some other letters.
'Mr. Seward[1], a great favourite at Streatham, has been, I think,
enkindled by our travels with a curiosity to see the Highlands. I have
given him letters to you and Beattie. He desires that a lodging may be
taken for him at Edinburgh, against his arrival. He is just setting out.
[Footnote 1: William Seward, Esq., F.R.S., editor of _Anecdotes of some
distinguished persons_, etc., in four volumes, 8vo., well known to a
numerous and valuable acquaintance for his literature, love of the fine
arts, and social virtues. I am indebted to him for several
communications concerning Johnson. BOSWELL. Miss Burney frequently
mentions him as visiting the Thrales. 'Few people do him justice,' said
Mrs. Thrale to her, 'because as Dr. Johnson calls him, he is an abrupt
young man; but he has excellent qualities, and an excellent
understanding.' Mme. D'Arblay's _Diary_, i. 141. Miss Burney, in one of
her letters, says:--'Mr. Seward, who seems to be quite at home among
them, appears to be a penetrating, polite, and agreeable young man. Mrs.
Thrale says of him, that he does good to everybody, but speaks well of
nobody.' _Memoirs of Dr. Burney_, ii. 89. He must not be confounded with
the Rev. Mr. Seward of Lichfield.]
'Langton has been exercising the militia[1]. Mrs. Williams is, I fear,
declining. Dr. Lawrence says he can do no more. She is gone to summer in
the country, with as many conveniences about her as she can expect; but
I have no great hope. We must all die: may we all be prepared!
[Footnote 1: See _post_, under date of June 18, 1778.]
'I suppose Miss Boswell reads her book, and young Alexander takes to his
learning. Let me hear about them; for every thing that belongs to you,
belongs in a more remote degree, and not, I hope, very remote, to, dear
Sir,
'Yours affectionately,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'June, 28, 1777.'
TO THE SAME.
'DEAR SIR,
'This gentleman is a great favourite at Streatham, and therefore you
will easily believe that he has very valuable qualities. Our narrative
has kindled him with a desire of visiting the Highlands, after having
already seen a great part of Europe. You must receive him as a friend,
and when you have directed him to the curiosities of Edinburgh, give him
instructions and recommendations for the rest of his journey. I am, dear
Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'June 24, 1777.'
Johnson's benevolence to the unfortunate was, I am confident, as steady
and active as that of any of those who have been most eminently
distinguished for that virtue. Innumerable proofs of it I have no doubt
will be for ever concealed from mortal eyes. We may, however, form some
judgement of it, from the many and very various instances which have
been discovered. One, which happened in the course of this summer, is
remarkable from the name and connection of the person who was the object
of it. The circumstance to which I allude is ascertained by two letters,
one to Mr. Langton, and another to the Reverend Dr. Vyse, rector of
Lambeth, son of the respectable clergyman at Lichfield, who was
contemporary with Johnson, and in whose father's family Johnson had the
happiness of being kindly received in his early years.
'DR. JOHNSON TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I have lately been much disordered by a difficulty of breathing, but am
now better. I hope your house is well.
'You know we have been talking lately of St. Cross, at Winchester; I
have an old acquaintance whose distress makes him very desirous of an
hospital, and I am afraid I have not strength enough to get him into the
Chartreux. He is a painter, who never rose higher than to get his
immediate living, and from that, at eighty-three, he is disabled by a
slight stroke of the palsy, such as does not make him at all helpless on
common occasions, though his hand is not steady enough for his art.
'My request is, that you will try to obtain a promise of the next
vacancy, from the Bishop of Chester. It is not a great thing to ask, and
I hope we shall obtain it. Dr. Warton has promised to favour him with
his notice, and I hope he may end his days in peace. I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'June 29, 1777.'
'To THE REVEREND DR. VYSE, AT LAMBETH.
'SIR,
'I doubt not but you will readily forgive me for taking the liberty of
requesting your assistance in recommending an old friend to his Grace
the Archbishop, as Governour of the Charter-house.
'His name is De Groot; he was born at Gloucester; I have known him many
years. He has all the common claims to charity, being old, poor, and
infirm, in a great degree. He has likewise another claim, to which no
scholar can refuse attention; he is by several descents the nephew of
Hugo Grotius; of him, from whom perhaps every man of learning has learnt
something. Let it not be said that in any lettered country a nephew of
Grotius asked a charity and was refused.[1]
[Footnote 1: In the list of deaths in the _Gent. Mag._ for 1779, p. 103,
we find, 'Feb. 8. Isaac de Groot, great-grandson to the learned Grotius.
He had long been supported by private donations, and at length was
provided for in the Charterhouse, where he died.']
'I am, reverend Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'July 9, 1777.'
'REVEREND DR. VYSE TO MR. BOSWELL.
'Lambeth, June 9, 1787.
'SIR,
'I have searched in vain for the letter which I spoke of, and which I
wished, at your desire, to communicate to you. It was from Dr. Johnson,
to return me thanks for my application to Archbishop Cornwallis in
favour of poor De Groot. He rejoices at the success it met with, and is
lavish in the praise he bestows upon his favourite, Hugo Grotius. I am
really sorry that I cannot find this letter, as it is worthy of the
writer. That which I send you enclosed[1] is at your service. It is very
short, and will not perhaps be thought of any consequence, unless you
should judge proper to consider it as a proof of the very humane part
which Dr. Johnson took in behalf of a distressed and deserving person. I
am, Sir,
'Your most obedient humble servant,
'W. VYSE.'
[Footnote 1: The preceding letter. BOSWELL.]
'DR. JOHNSON TO MR. EDWARD DILLY[1].
[Footnote 1: This letter was addressed not to a Mr. Dilly, but to Mr. W.
Sharp, Junior. See _Gent. Mag._ 1787, p. 99. CROKER.]
'SIR,
'To the collection of _English Poets_, I have recommended the volume of
Dr. Watts to be added; his name has long been held by me in
veneration[1], and I would not willingly be reduced to tell of him only
that he was born and died. Yet of his life I know very little, and
therefore must pass him in a manner very unworthy of his character,
unless some of his friends will favour me with the necessary
information; many of them must be known to you; and by your influence,
perhaps I may obtain some instruction. My plan does not exact much; but
I wish to distinguish Watts, a man who never wrote but for a good
purpose. Be pleased to do for me what you can.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 312.]
'I am, Sir, your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Bolt-Court, Fleet-street,
July 7, 1777.'
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, July 15, 1777.
'MY DEAR SIR,
'The fate of poor Dr. Dodd made a dismal impression upon my mind.
* * * * *
'I had sagacity enough to divine that you wrote his speech to the
Recorder, before sentence was pronounced. I am glad you have written so
much for him; and I hope to be favoured with an exact list of the
several pieces when we meet.
'I received Mr. Seward as the friend of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and as a
gentleman recommended by Dr. Johnson to my attention. I have introduced
him to Lord Kames, Lord Monboddo, and Mr. Nairne. He is gone to the
Highlands with Dr. Gregory; when he returns I shall do more for him.
'Sir Allan Maclean has[1] carried that branch of his cause, of which we
had good hopes: the President and one other Judge only were against him.
I wish the House of Lords may do as well as the Court of Session has
done. But Sir Allan has not the lands of _Brolos_ quite cleared by this
judgement, till a long account is made up of debts and interests on the
one side, and rents on the other. I am, however, not much afraid of the
balance.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 101.]
'Macquarry's estates[1], Staffa and all, were sold yesterday, and bought
by a Campbell. I fear he will have little or nothing left out of the
purchase money.
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct. 16.]
'I send you the case against the negro[1], by Mr. Cullen, son to Dr.
Cullen, in opposition to Maclaurin's for liberty, of which you have
approved. Pray read this, and tell me what you think as a _Politician_,
as well as a _Poet_, upon the subject.
[Footnote 1: See ante, p. 86, and _post_, under Nov. 29, 1777.]
'Be so kind as to let me know how your time is to be distributed next
autumn. I will meet you at Manchester, or where you please; but I wish
you would complete your tour of the cathedrals, and come to Carlisle,
and I will accompany you a part of the way homewards.
'I am ever,
'Most faithfully yours,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'Your notion of the necessity of an yearly interview is very pleasing to
both my vanity and tenderness. I shall, perhaps, come to Carlisle
another year; but my money has not held out so well as it used to do. I
shall go to Ashbourne, and I purpose to make Dr. Taylor invite you. If
you live awhile with me at his house, we shall have much time to
ourselves, and our stay will be no expence to us or him. I shall leave
London the 28th; and after some stay at Oxford and Lichfield, shall
probably come to Ashbourne about the end of your Session, but of all
this you shall have notice. Be satisfied we will meet somewhere.
'What passed between me and poor Dr. Dodd you shall know more fully when
we meet.
'Of lawsuits there is no end; poor Sir Allan must have another trial,
for which, however, his antagonist cannot be much blamed, having two
Judges on his side. I am more afraid of the debts than of the House of
Lords. It is scarcely to be imagined to what debts will swell, that are
daily increasing by small additions, and how carelessly in a state of
desperation debts are contracted. Poor Macquarry was far from thinking
that when he sold his islands he should receive nothing. For what were
they sold? And what was their yearly value? The admission of money into
the Highlands will soon put an end to the feudal modes of life, by
making those men landlords who were not chiefs. I do not know that the
people will suffer by the change; but there was in the patriarchal
authority something venerable and pleasing. Every eye must look with
pain on a _Campbell_ turning the _Macquarries_ at will out of their
_sedes avitae_, their hereditary island.
'Sir Alexander Dick is the only Scotsman liberal enough not to be angry
that I could not find trees, where trees were not. I was much delighted
by his kind letter.
'I remember Rasay with too much pleasure not to partake of the happiness
of any part of that amiable family. Our ramble in the islands hangs upon
my imagination, I can hardly help imagining that we shall go again.
Pennant seems to have seen a great deal which we did not see: when we
travel again let us look better about us.
'You have done right in taking your uncle's house. Some change in the
form of life, gives from time to time a new epocha[1] of existence. In a
new place there is something new to be done, and a different system of
thoughts rises in the mind. I wish I could gather currants in your
garden. Now fit up a little study, and have your books ready at hand; do
not spare a little money, to make your habitation pleasing to yourself.
[Footnote 1: Johnson gives both _epocha_ and _epoch_ in his
_Dictionary_.]
'I have dined lately with poor dear ----[1]. I do not think he goes on
well. His table is rather coarse, and he has his children too much about
him[2]. But he is a very good man.
[Footnote 1: Langton. See _ante_, p. 48, and _post_, Sept. 22, 1777.]
[Footnote 2: This very just remark I hope will be constantly held in
remembrance by parents, who are in general too apt to indulge their own
fond feelings for their children at the expence of their friends. The
common custom of introducing them after dinner is highly injudicious. It
is agreeable enough that they should appear at any other time; but they
should not be suffered to poison the moments of festivity by attracting
the attention of the company, and in a manner compelling them from
politeness to say what they do not think. BOSWELL. See _ante_, p. 28.]
'Mrs. Williams is in the country to try if she can improve her health;
she is very ill. Matters have come so about that she is in the country
with very good accommodation; but age and sickness, and pride, have made
her so peevish that I was forced to bribe the maid to stay with her, by
a secret stipulation of half a crown a week over her wages.
'Our CLUB ended its session about six weeks ago[1]. We now only meet to
dine once a fortnight. Mr. Dunning[2], the great lawyer, is one of our
members. The Thrales are well.
[Footnote 1: Gibbon wrote to Garrick from Paris on Aug. 14:--'At this
time of year the society of the Turk's-head can no longer be addressed
as a corporate body, and most of the individual members are probably
dispersed: Adam Smith in Scotland; Burke in the shades of Beaconsfield;
Fox, the Lord or the devil knows where, etc. Be so good as to salute in
my name those friends who may fall in your way. Assure Sir Joshua, in
particular, that I have not lost my relish for _manly_ conversation and
the society of the brown table.' _Garrick Corres._ ii. 256. I believe
that in Gibbon's published letters no mention is found of Johnson.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, ii. 159, and _post_, April 4, 1778. Of his
greatness at the Bar Lord Eldon has left the following anecdote;--'Mr.
Dunning, being in very great business, was asked how he contrived to get
through it all. He said, "I do one third of it, another third does
itself, and the remaining third continues undone."' Twiss's _Eldon_, i.
327.]
'I long to know how the Negro's cause will be decided. What is the
opinion of Lord Auchinleck, or Lord Hailes, or Lord Monboddo?
'I am, dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'July 22, 1777.'
'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.
'MADAM,
'Though I am well enough pleased with the taste of sweetmeats, very
little of the pleasure which I received at the arrival of your jar of
marmalade arose from eating it[1]. I received it as a token of
friendship, as a proof of reconciliation, things much sweeter than
sweetmeats, and upon this consideration I return you, dear Madam, my
sincerest thanks. By having your kindness I think I have a double
security for the continuance of Mr. Boswell's, which it is not to be
expected that any man can long keep, when the influence of a lady so
highly and so justly valued operates against him. Mr. Boswell will tell
you that I was always faithful to your interest, and always endeavoured
to exalt you in his estimation. You must now do the same for me. We must
all help one another, and you must now consider me, as, dear Madam,
'Your most obliged,
'And most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'July 22, 1777.'
[Footnote 1: It is not easy to detect Johnson in anything that comes
even near an inaccuracy. Let me quote, therefore, a passage from one of
his letters which shews that when he wrote to Mrs. Boswell he had not,
as he seems to imply, eaten any of the marmalade:--'Aug. 4, 1777. I
believe it was after I left your house that I received a pot of orange
marmalade from Mrs. Boswell. We have now, I hope, made it up. I have not
opened my pot.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 350.]
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, July 28, 1777.
'My Dear Sir,
'This is the day on which you were to leave London and I have been
amusing myself in the intervals of my law-drudgery, with figuring you in
the Oxford post-coach. I doubt, however, if you have had so merry a
journey as you and I had in that vehicle last year, when you made so
much sport with Gwyn[1], the architect. Incidents upon a journey are
recollected with peculiar pleasure; they are preserved in brisk spirits,
and come up again in our minds, tinctured with that gaiety, or at least
that animation with which we first perceived them.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 19, 1776.]
* * * * *
[I added, that something had occurred, which I was afraid might prevent
me from meeting him[1]; and that my wife had been affected with
complaints which threatened a consumption, but was now better.]
[Footnote 1: What it was that had occured is shewn by Johnson's letter
to Mrs. Thrale on Aug. 4:--'Boswell's project is disconcerted by a visit
from a relation of Yorkshire, whom he mentions as the head of his clan
[see _ante_, ii. 169, note 2]. Boszy, you know, make a huge bustle about
all his own motions and all mine. I have inclosed a letter to pacify
him, and reconcile him to the uncertainties of human life.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 350.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'Do not disturb yourself about our interviews; I hope we shall have
many; nor think it any thing hard or unusual, that your design of
meeting me is interrupted. We have both endured greater evils, and have
greater evils to expect.
'Mrs. Boswell's illness makes a more serious distress. Does the blood
rise from her lungs or from her stomach? From little vessels broken in
the stomach there is no danger. Blood from the lungs is, I believe,
always frothy, as mixed with wind. Your physicians know very well what
is to be done. The loss of such a lady would, indeed, be very
afflictive, and I hope she is in no danger. Take care to keep her mind
as easy as is possible.
'I have left Langton in London. He has been down with the militia, and
is again quiet at home, talking to his little people, as, I suppose, you
do sometimes. Make my compliments to Miss Veronica[1]. The rest are too
young for ceremony.
[Footnote 1: When she was about four months old, Boswell declared that
she should have five hundred pounds of additional fortune, on account of
her fondness for Dr. Johnson. See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Aug. 15, 1773.
She died, says Malone, of a consumption, four months after her father.]
'I cannot but hope that you have taken your country-house at a very
seasonable time, and that it may conduce to restore, or establish Mrs.
Boswell's health, as well as provide room and exercise for the young
ones. That you and your lady may both be happy, and long enjoy your
happiness, is the sincere and earnest wish of, dear Sir,
'Your most, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Oxford, Aug. 4, 1777.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
[Informing him that my wife had continued to grow better, so that my
alarming apprehensions were relieved: and that I hoped to disengage
myself from the other embarrassment which had occurred, and therefore
requesting to know particularly when he intended to be at Ashbourne.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I am this day come to Ashbourne, and have only to tell you, that Dr.
Taylor says you shall be welcome to him, and you know how welcome you
will be to me. Make haste to let me know when you may be expected.
'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and tell her, I hope we shall be
at variance no more. I am, dear Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'August 30, 1777.'
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'On Saturday I wrote a very short letter, immediately upon my arrival
hither, to shew you that I am not less desirous of the interview than
yourself. Life admits not of delays; when pleasure can be had, it is fit
to catch it. Every hour takes away part of the things that please us,
and perhaps part of our disposition to be pleased. When I came to
Lichfield, I found my old friend Harry Jackson dead[1]. It was a loss,
and a loss not to be repaired, as he was one of the companions of my
childhood. I hope we may long continue to gain friends, but the friends
which merit or usefulness can procure us, are not able to supply the
place of old acquaintance, with whom the days of youth may be retraced,
and those images revived which gave the earliest delight. If you and I
live to be much older, we shall take great delight in talking over the
Hebridean Journey.
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 23, 1776.]
'In the mean time it may not be amiss to contrive some other little
adventure, but what it can be I know not; leave it, as Sidney says,
"To virtue, fortune, wine, and woman's breast[1];"
for I believe Mrs. Boswell must have some part in the consultation.
[Footnote 1: By an odd mistake, in the first three editions we find a
reading in this line to which Dr. Johnson would by no means have
subscribed, _wine_ having been substituted for _time_. That error
probably was a mistake in the transcript of Johnson's original letter.
The other deviation in the beginning of the line (_virtue_ instead of
nature) must be attributed to his memory having deceived him. The verse
quoted is the concluding line of a sonnet of Sidney's:--
'Who doth desire that chast his wife should bee,
First be he true, for truth doth truth deserve;
Then be he such, as she his worth may see,
And, alwaies one, credit with her preserve:
Not toying kynd nor causelessly unkynd,
Nor stirring thoughts, nor yet denying right,
Nor spying faults, nor in plaine errors blind,
Never hard hand, nor ever rayns (reins) too light;
As far from want, as far from vaine expence,
Th' one doth enforce, the t'other doth entice:
Allow good companie, but drive from thence
All filthie mouths that glorie in their vice:
This done, thou hast no more but leave the rest
To _nature_, fortune, _time_, and woman's breast.'
MALONE.]
'One thing you will like. The Doctor, so far as I can judge, is likely
to leave us enough to ourselves. He was out to-day before _I_ came down,
and, I fancy, will stay out till dinner. I have brought the papers about
poor Dodd, to show you, but you will soon have dispatched them.
'Before I came away I sent poor Mrs. Williams into the country, very ill
of a pituitous defluxion, which wastes her gradually away, and which her
physician declares himself unable to stop. I supplied her as far as
could be desired, with all conveniences to make her excursion and abode
pleasant and useful. But I am afraid she can only linger a short time in
a morbid state of weakness and pain.
'The Thrales, little and great, are all well, and purpose to go to
Brighthelmstone at Michaelmas. They will invite me to go with them, and
perhaps I may go, but I hardly think I shall like to stay the whole
time; but of futurity we know but little.
'Mrs. Porter is well; but Mrs. Aston, one of the ladies at Stowhill, has
been struck with a palsy, from which she is not likely ever to recover.
How soon may such a stroke fall upon us!
'Write to me, and let us know when we may expect you.
'I am, dear Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Ashbourne, Sept. 1, 1777.'
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, Sept. 9, 1777.
[After informing him that I was to set out next day, in order to meet
him at Ashbourne.]
'I have a present for you from Lord Hailes; the fifth book of
_Lactantius_, which he has published with Latin notes. He is also to
give you a few anecdotes for your _Life of Thomson_, who I find was
private tutor to the present Earl of Hadington, Lord Hailes's cousin, a
circumstance not mentioned by Dr. Murdoch. I have keen expectations of
delight from your edition of _The English Poets_.
'I am sorry for poor Mrs. Williams's situation. You will, however, have
the comfort of reflecting on your kindness to her. Mr. Jackson's death,
and Mrs. Aston's palsy, are gloomy circumstances. Yet surely we should
be habituated to the uncertainty of life and health. When my mind is
unclouded by melancholy, I consider the temporary distresses of this
state of being, as "light afflictions[1]," by stretching my mental view
into that glorious after-existence, when they will appear to be as
nothing. But present pleasures and present pains must be felt. I lately
read _Rasselas_ over again with great satisfaction[2].
[Footnote 1: 2 Corinthians, iv. 17.]
[Footnote 2: Boswell says (ante, i. 342):--'I am not satisfied if a year
passes without my having read _Rasselas_ through.']
'Since you are desirous to hear about Macquarry's sale I shall inform
you particularly. The gentleman who purchased Ulva is Mr. Campbell, of
Auchnaba: our friend Macquarry was proprietor of two-thirds of it, of
which the rent was L156 5s 1-1/2d. This parcel was set up at L4,069 5s.
1d., but it sold for no less than L5,540. The other third of Ulva, with
the island of Staffa, belonged to Macquarry of Ormaig. Its rent,
including that of Staffa, L83 12s. 2-1/2d. set up at L2178 16s.
4d.--sold for no less than L3,540. The Laird of Col wished to purchase
Ulva, but he thought the price too high. There may, indeed, be great
improvements made there, both in fishing and agriculture; but the
interest of the purchase-money exceeds the rent so very much, that I
doubt if the bargain will be profitable. There is an island called
Little Colonsay, of L10 yearly rent, which I am informed has belonged to
the Macquarrys of Ulva for many ages, but which was lately claimed by
the Presbyterian Synod of Argyll, in consequence of a grant made to them
by Queen Anne. It is believed that their claim will be dismissed, and
that Little Colonsay will also be sold for the advantage of Macquarry's
creditors. What think you of purchasing this island, and endowing a
school or college there, the master to be a clergyman of the Church of
England? How venerable would such an institution make the name of DR.
SAMUEL JOHNSON in the Hebrides! I have, like yourself, a wonderful
pleasure in recollecting our travels in those islands. The pleasure is,
I think, greater than it reasonably should be, considering that we had
not much either of beauty or elegance to charm our imaginations, or of
rude novelty to astonish. Let us, by all means, have another expedition.
I shrink a little from our scheme of going up the Baltick[1]. I am sorry
you have already been in Wales; for I wish to see it. Shall we go to
Ireland, of which I have seen but little? We shall try to strike out a
plan when we are at Ashbourne. I am ever,
'Your most faithful humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
[Footnote 1: It appears that Johnson, now in his sixty-eighth year, was
seriously inclined to realise the project of our going up the Baltick,
which I had started when we were in the Isle of Sky [Boswell's
_Hebrides_, Sept. 16]; for he thus writes to Mrs. Thrale; _Letters_,
vol. i. p. 366:--
'Ashbourne, Sept. 13, 1777.
'BOSWELL, I believe, is coming. He talks of being here to day: I shall
be glad to see him: but he shrinks from the Baltick expedition, which, I
think, is the best scheme in our power: what we shall substitute I know
not. He wants to see Wales; but, except the woods of _Bachycraigh_, what
is there in Wales, that can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench the
thirst of curiosity? We may, perhaps, form some scheme or other; but, in
the phrase of _Hockley in the Hole_, it is a pity he has not a _better
bottom_.'
Such an ardour of mind, and vigour of enterprise, is admirable at any
age: but more particularly so at the advanced period at which Johnson
was then arrived. I am sorry now that I did not insist on our executing
that scheme. Besides the other objects of curiosity and observation, to
have seen my illustrious friend received, as he probably would have
been, by a Prince so eminently distinguished for his variety of talents
and acquisitions as the late King of Sweden; and by the Empress of
Russia, whose extraordinary abilities, information, and magnanimity,
astonish the world, would have afforded a noble subject for
contemplation and record. This reflection may possibly be thought too
visionary by the more sedate and cold-blooded part of my readers; yet I
own, I frequently indulge it with an earnest, unavailing regret.
BOSWELL. In _The Spectator_, No. 436, Hockley in the Hole is described
as 'a place of no small renown for the gallantry of the lower order of
Britons.' Fielding mentions it in _Jonathan Wild_, bk. i. ch.
2:--'Jonathan married Elizabeth, daughter of Scragg Hollow, of Hockley
in the Hole, Esq., and by her had Jonathan, who is the illustrious
subject of these memoirs.' In _The Beggar's Opera_, act i. Mrs. Peachum
says to Filch: 'You should go to Hockley in the Hole, and to Marylebone,
child, to learn valour. These are the schools that have bred so many
brave men.' Hockley in the Hole was in Clerkenwell. That Johnson had
this valour was shewn two years earlier, when he wrote to Mrs. Thrale
about a sum of L14,000 that the Thrales had received: 'If I had money
enough, what would I do? Perhaps, if you and master did not hold me, I
might go to Cairo, and down the Red Sea to Bengal, and take a ramble in
India. Would this be better than building and planting? It would surely
give more variety to the eye, and more amplitude to the mind. Half
fourteen thousand would send me out to see other forms of existence, and
bring me back to describe them.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 266. To the 'King
of Sweden' _late_ was added in the second edition; Gustavus III having
been assassinated in March 1792. The story is somewhere told that George
III, on hearing the news, cried out, 'What, what, what! Shot, shot,
shot!' The Empress of Russia was Catherine II.]
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I write to be left at Carlisle, as you direct me; but you cannot have
it. Your letter, dated Sept. 6, was not at this place till this day,
Thursday, Sept. 11; and I hope you will be here before this is at
Carlisle[1]. However, what you have not going, you may have returning;
and as I believe I shall not love you less after our interview, it will
then be as true as it is now, that I set a very high value upon your
friendship, and count your kindness as one of the chief felicities of my
life. Do not fancy that an intermission of writing is a decay of
kindness. No man is always in a disposition to write; nor has any man at
all times something to say.
[Footnote 1: It so happened. The letter was forwarded to my house at
Edinburgh. BOSWELL. Arthur Young (_Tour through the North of England_,
iv. 431-5) describes, in 1768, some of the roads along which Boswell was
to travel nine years later. 'I would advise all travellers to consider
the country between Newcastle-under-Line and Preston as sea, and as soon
think of driving into the ocean as venturing into such detestable roads.
I am told the Derby way to Manchester is good, but further is not
penetrable.' The road from Wigan to Preston he calls 'infernal,' and
'cautions all travellers, who may accidentally purpose to travel this
terrible country, to avoid it as they would the devil; for a thousand to
one they break their necks or their limbs. They will here meet with ruts
which I actually measured four feet deep, and floating with mud only
from a wet summer; what therefore must it be after a winter?']
'That distrust which intrudes so often on your mind is a mode of
melancholy, which, if it be the business of a wise man to be happy, it
is foolish to indulge; and if it be a duty to preserve our faculties
entire for their proper use, it is criminal. Suspicion is very often an
useless pain. From that, and all other pains, I wish you free and safe;
for I am, dear Sir,
'Most affectionately yours,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Ashbourne, Sept. 11, 1777.'
On Sunday evening Sept. 14, I arrived at Ashbourne, and drove directly
up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnson and he appeared before I had got
out of the post-chaise, and welcomed me cordially[1].
[Footnote 1: Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale on Sept. 15, 1777:--'Last
night came Boswell. I am glad that he is come. He seems to be very brisk
and lively, and laughs a little at ---- [no doubt Taylor].' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 368. On the 18th he wrote:--'Boswell is with us in good
humour, and plays his part with his usual vivacity.' On this Baretti
noted in his copy:--'That is, he makes more noise than anybody in
company, talking and laughing loud.' On p. 216 in vol. i. he
noted:--'Boswell is not quite right-headed in my humble opinion.']
I told them that I had travelled all the preceding night, and gone to
bed at Leek in Staffordshire; and that when I rose to go to church in
the afternoon, I was informed there had been an earthquake[1], of which,
it seems, the shock had been felt in some degree at Ashbourne. JOHNSON.
'Sir, it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the first
place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the
objects; nor, secondly, do they accurately adapt their words to their
thoughts: they do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact,
they give you very false accounts. A great part of their language is
proverbial. If anything rocks at all, they say _it rocks like a cradle_;
and in this way they go on.'
[Footnote 1: In the _Gent. Mag._ for 1777, p. 458, it is described as a
'violent shock.']
The subject of grief for the loss of relations and friends being
introduced, I observed that it was strange to consider how soon it in
general wears away. Dr. Taylor mentioned a gentleman of the
neighbourhood as the only instance he had ever known of a person who had
endeavoured to _retain_ grief. He told Dr. Taylor, that after his Lady's
death, which affected him deeply, he _resolved_ that the grief, which he
cherished with a kind of sacred fondness, should be lasting; but that he
found he could not keep it long. JOHNSON. 'All grief for what cannot in
the course of nature be helped, soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed,
in some later; but it never continues very long, unless where there is
madness, such as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, as to
imagine himself a King; or any other passion in an unreasonable way: for
all unnecessary grief is unwise, and therefore will not be long retained
by a sound mind[1]. If, indeed, the cause of our grief is occasioned by
our own misconduct, if grief is mingled with remorse of conscience, it
should be lasting.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we do not approve of a man who
very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a friend.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we
disapprove of him, not because he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner
it is forgotten the better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets
his wife or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them[2].'
[Footnote 1: 'Grief has its time' he once said (_post_, June 2, 1781).
'Grief is a species of idleness,' he wrote to Mrs. Thrale (_Piozzi
Letters_, i. 77). He constantly taught that it is a duty not to allow
the mind to prey on itself. 'Gaiety is a duty when health requires it'
(Croker's _Boswell_, p. 529). 'Encourage yourself in bustle, and
variety, and cheerfulness,' he wrote to Mrs. Thrale ten weeks after the
death of her only surviving son (_Piozzi Letters_, i. 341). 'Even to
think in the most reasonable manner,' he said at another time, 'is for
the present not useful as not to think.' _Ib_ i. 202. When Mr. Thrale
died, he wrote to his widow:--'I think business the best remedy for
grief, as soon as it can be admitted.' _Ib._ ii 197. To Dr. Taylor
Johnson wrote:--'Sadness only multiplies self.' _Notes and Queries_, 6th
S., v. 461.]
[Footnote 2: 'There is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow; but
there is something in it so like virtue, that he who is wholly without
it cannot be loved, nor will by me at least be thought worthy of
esteem.' _Piozzi Letters_, ii. 198. Against this Baretti has written in
the margin:--'Johnson never grieved much for anything. His trade was
wisdom.' See _ante_, ii. 94.]
I was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition of _The English
Poets_, for which he was to write Prefaces and Lives, was not an
undertaking directed by him: but that he was to furnish a Preface and
Life to any poet the booksellers pleased. I asked him if he would do
this to any dunce's works, if they should ask him. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir;
and _say_ he was a dunce.' My friend seemed now not much to relish
talking of this edition.
On Monday, September 15, Dr. Johnson observed, that every body commended
such parts of his _Journey to the Western Islands_, as were in their own
way. 'For instance, (said he,) Mr. Jackson (the all-knowing)[1] told me
there was more good sense upon trade in it, than he should hear in the
House of Commons in a year, except from Burke. Jones commended the part
which treats of language; Burke that which describes the inhabitants of
mountainous countries[2].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, iii 19. Mr. Croker gives a reference to p. 136
of his edition. Turning to it we find an account of Johnson, who rode
upon three horses. It would seem from this that, because John=Jack,
therefore Johnson=Jackson.]
[Footnote 2: Mr. Croker remarks on this:--'Johnson evidently thought,
either that Ireland is generally mountainous, or that Mr. Burke came
from a part which was: but he was mistaken.' The allusion may well be,
not to Burke as a native of Ireland, but to him as a student of national
politics and economy, to whom any general reflections on the character
of mountaineers would be welcome. In Johnson's _Works_ (1787), xi. 201,
it is stated that 'it was the philosophy of the book that Burke thought
well of.']
After breakfast, Johnson carried me to see the garden belonging to the
school of Ashbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank, rising
gradually behind the house. The Reverend Mr. Langley[1], the
head-master, accompanied us.
[Footnote 1: Mr. Langley, I have little doubt, is the Mr. L---- of the
following passage in Johnson's letter, written from Ashbourne on July
12, 1775:--'Mr. L---- and the Doctor still continue at variance; and the
Doctor is afraid and Mr. L---- not desirous of a reconciliation. I
therefore step over at by-times, and of by-times I have enough.' _Piozzi
Letters_, i. 267.]
While we sat basking in the sun upon a seat here, I introduced a common
subject of complaint, the very small salaries which many curates have,
and I maintained, 'that no man should be invested with the character of
a clergyman, unless he has a security for such an income as will enable
him to appear respectable; that, therefore, a clergyman should not be
allowed to have a curate, unless he gives him a hundred pounds a year;
if he cannot do that, let him perform the duty himself.' JOHNSON. 'To be
sure, Sir, it is wrong that any clergyman should be without a reasonable
income; but as the church revenues were sadly diminished at the
Reformation, the clergy who have livings cannot afford, in many
instances, to give good salaries to curates, without leaving themselves
too little; and, if no curate were to be permitted unless he had a
hundred pounds a year, their number would be very small, which would be
a disadvantage, as then there would not be such choice in the nursery
for the church, curates being candidates for the higher ecclesiastical
offices, according to their merit and good behaviour.' He explained the
system of the English Hierarchy exceedingly well. 'It is not thought fit
(said he) to trust a man with the care of a parish till he has given
proof as a curate that he shall deserve such a trust.' This is an
excellent _theory_; and if the _practice_ were according to it, the
Church of England would be admirable indeed. However, as I have heard
Dr. Johnson observe as to the Universities, bad practice does not infer
that the _constitution_ is bad[1].
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 52.]
We had with us at dinner several of Dr. Taylor's neighbours, good civil
gentlemen, who seemed to understand Dr. Johnson very well, and not to
consider him in the light that a certain person did[1], who being
struck, or rather stunned by his voice and manner, when he was
afterwards asked what he thought of him, answered, 'He's a tremendous
companion.'
[Footnote 1: George Garrick. See Murphy's _Johnson_, p. 141.]
Johnson told me, that 'Taylor was a very sensible acute man, and had a
strong mind[1]; that he had great activity in some respects, and yet
such a sort of indolence, that if you should put a pebble upon his
chimney-piece, you would find it there, in the same state, a year
afterwards.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 26, 1776, and _post_, Sept. 21, 1777.]
And here is the proper place to give an account of Johnson's humane and
zealous interference in behalf of the Reverend Dr. William Dodd,
formerly Prebendary of Brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to his
Majesty[1]; celebrated as a very popular preacher[2], an encourager of
charitable institutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly
theological. Having unhappily contracted expensive habits of living,
partly occasioned by licentiousness of manners, he in an evil hour, when
pressed by want of money, and dreading an exposure of his circumstances,
forged a bond of which he attempted to avail himself to support his
credit, flattering himself with hopes that he might be able to repay its
amount without being detected. The person, whose name he thus rashly and
criminally presumed to falsify, was the Earl of Chesterfield[3], to whom
he had been tutor, and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings,
flattered himself would have generously paid the money in case of an
alarm being taken, rather than suffer him to fall a victim to the
dreadful consequences of violating the law against forgery, the most
dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfortunate divine had
the mortification to find that he was mistaken. His noble pupil appeared
against him, and he was capitally convicted.
[Footnote 1: 'While Lord Bathurst held the Great Seal, an attempt was in
vain made to corrupt him by a secret offer to Lady Bathurst of three
thousand guineas for the living of St. George's, Hanover Square. The
offer was traced to the famous Dr. Dodd, then a King's Chaplain, and he
was immediately dismissed.' Campbell's _Chancellors_, v. 464. See
Walpole's _Journal of the Reign of George III_, i. 298.]
[Footnote 2: Horace Walpole, who accompanied Prince Edward to a service
at the Magdalen House in 1760, thus describes the service (_Letters_,
iii. 282):--'As soon as we entered the chapel the organ played, and the
Magdalens sung a hymn in parts. You cannot imagine how well. The chapel
was dressed with orange and myrtle, and there wanted nothing but a
little incense to drive away the devil,--or to invite him. Prayers then
began, psalms and a sermon; the latter by a young clergyman, one Dodd,
who contributed to the Popish idea one had imbibed, by haranguing
entirely in the French style, and very eloquently and touchingly. He
apostrophised the lost sheep, who sobbed and cried from their souls: so
did my Lady Hertford and Fanny Pelham, till, I believe, the city dames
took them both for Jane Shores. The confessor then turned to the
audience, and addressed himself to his Royal Highness, whom he called
most illustrious prince, beseeching his protection. In short, it was a
very pleasing performance, and I got _the most illustrious_ to desire it
might be printed.' Dr. A. Carlyle (_Auto._ p. 503) heard Dodd preach in
1769. 'We had,' he says, 'difficulty to get tolerable seats, the crowd
of genteel people was so great. The unfortunate young women were in a
latticed gallery, where you could only see those who chose to be seen.
The preacher's text was, "If a man look on a woman to lust after her,"
&c. The text itself was shocking, and the sermon was composed with the
least possible delicacy, and was a shocking insult on a sincere
penitent, and fuel for the warm passions of the hypocrites. The fellow
was handsome, and delivered his discourse remarkably well for a reader.
When he had finished, there were unceasing whispers of applause, which I
could not help contradicting aloud, and condemning the whole
institution, as well as the exhibition of the preacher, as _contra bonos
mores_, and a disgrace to a Christian city.' Goldsmith in 1774 exposed
Dodd as a 'quacking divine' in his _Retaliation_. He describes Dr.
Douglas as a 'The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks,' and he
continues,--
'But now he is gone, and we want a detector,
Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture.'
See _post_, April 7, 1778.]
[Footnote 3: The fifth earl, the successor of the celebrated earl. On
Feb. 22, 1777, Dodd was convicted of forging a bond for L4,200 in his
name; _Ann. Reg._ xx. 168. The earl was unfortunate in his tutors, for
he had been also under Cuthbert Shaw (_ante_, ii 31 note 2).]
Johnson told me that Dr. Dodd was very little acquainted with him,
having been but once in his company, many years previous to this
period[1] (which was precisely the state of my own acquaintance with
Dodd); but in his distress he bethought himself of Johnson's persuasive
power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for him the Royal
Mercy. He did not apply to him, directly, but, extraordinary as it may
seem, through the late Countess of Harrington, who wrote a letter to
Johnson, asking him to employ his pen in favour of Dodd. Mr. Allen, the
printer, who was Johnson's landlord and next neighbour in Bolt-court,
and for whom he had much kindness[2], was one of Dodd's friends, of whom
to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not
desert him, even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to
the state of a man under sentence of death. Mr. Allen told me that he
carried Lady Harrington's letter to Johnson, that Johnson read it
walking up and down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after which
he said, 'I will do what I can;'--and certainly he did make
extraordinary exertions.
[Footnote 1: Mr. Croker quotes the following letter of Dodd, dated
1750:--'I spent yesterday afternoon with Johnson, the celebrated author
of _The Rambler_, who is of all others the oddest and most peculiar
fellow I ever saw. He is six feet high, has a violent convulsion in his
head, and his eyes are distorted. He speaks roughly and loud, listens to
no man's opinions, thoroughly pertinacious of his own. Good sense flows
from him in all he utters, and he seems possessed of a prodigious fund
of knowledge, which he is not at all reserved in communicating; but in a
manner so obstinate, ungenteel, and boorish, as renders it disagreeable
and dissatisfactory. In short it is impossible for words to describe
him. He seems often inattentive to what passes in company, and then
looks like a person possessed by some superior spirit. I have been
reflecting on him ever since I saw him. He is a man of most universal
and surprising genius, but in himself particular beyond expression.'
Dodd was born in 1729.]
[Footnote 2: 'One of my best and tenderest friends,' Johnson called him,
_post_, July 31, 1784. See _post_, April 10, 1778.]
He this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of his letters,
put into my hands the whole series of his writings upon this melancholy
occasion, and I shall present my readers with the abstract which I made
from the collection; in doing which I studied to avoid copying what had
appeared in print, and now make part of the edition of _Johnson's
Works_, published by the Booksellers of London, but taking care to mark
Johnson's variations in some of the pieces there exhibited.
Dr. Johnson wrote in the first place, Dr. Dodd's _Speech to the Recorder
of London_, at the Old-Bailey, when sentence of death was about to be
pronounced upon him.
He wrote also _The Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren_, a sermon
delivered by Dr. Dodd, in the chapel of Newgate[1].
[Footnote 1: _The Convict's Address to his Unhappy Brethren: Being a
Sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Dodd, Friday, June 6, 1777, in the
Chapel of Newgate, while under sentence of death, for forging the name
of the Earl of Chesterfield on a bond for L4,200. Sold by the
booksellers and news-carriers. Price Two-pence._ Johnson wrote to Mrs.
Thrale from Lichfield on Aug. 9:--'Lucy said, "When I read Dr. Dodd's
sermon to the prisoners, I said Dr. Johnson could not make a better."'
_Piozzi Letters_, i. 352. See _post_, p. 167.]
According to Johnson's manuscript it began thus after the text, _What
shall I do to be saved?_[1]--
[Footnote 1: 'What must I do to be saved?' _Acts_ xvi. 30.]
'These were the words with which the keeper, to whose custody Paul and
Silas were committed by their prosecutors, addressed his prisoners, when
he saw them freed from their bonds by the perceptible agency of divine
favour, and was, therefore, irresistibly convinced that they were not
offenders against the laws, but martyrs to the truth.'
Dr. Johnson was so good as to mark for me with his own hand, on a copy
of this sermon which is now in my possession, such passages as were
added by Dr. Dodd. They are not many: whoever will take the trouble to
look at the printed copy, and attend to what I mention, will be
satisfied of this.
There is a short introduction by Dr. Dodd, and he also inserted this
sentence, 'You see with what confusion and dishonour I now stand before
you;--no more in the pulpit of instruction, but on this humble seat with
yourselves.' The _notes_ are entirely Dodd's own, and Johnson's writing
ends at the words, 'the thief whom he pardoned on the cross[1].' What
follows was supplied by Dr. Dodd himself[2].
[Footnote 1: 'And finally we must commend and entrust our souls to Him
who died for the sins of men; with earnest wishes and humble hopes that
He will admit us with the labourers who entered the vineyard at the last
hour, and associate us with the thief whom he pardoned on the cross.' p.
14.]
[Footnote 2: _The Gent. Mag._ for 1777 (p. 450) says of this
address:--'As none but a convict could have written this, all convicts
ought to read it; and we therefore recommend its being framed, and hung
up in all prisons.' Mr. Croker, italicising _could_ and suppressing the
latter part of the sentence, describes it as a criticism that must have
been offensive to Johnson. The writer's meaning is simple enough. The
address, he knew, was delivered in the Chapel of Newgate by a prisoner
under sentence of death. If, instead of 'written' he had said
'delivered,' his meaning would have been quite clear.]
The other pieces mentioned by Johnson in the above-mentioned collection,
are two letters, one to the Lord Chancellor Bathurst, (not Lord North,
as is erroneously supposed,) and one to Lord Mansfield;--A Petition from
Dr. Dodd to the King;--A Petition from Mrs. Dodd to the Queen;--
Observations of some length inserted in the news-papers, on occasion of
Earl Percy's having presented to his Majesty a petition for mercy to
Dodd, signed by twenty thousand people, but all in vain. He told me that
he had also written a petition from the city of London; 'but (said he,
with a significant smile) they _mended_ it[1].' The last of these
articles which Johnson wrote is _Dr. Dodd's last solemn Declaration_,
which he left with the sheriff at the place of execution. Here also my
friend marked the variations on a copy of that piece now in my
possession. Dodd inserted, 'I never knew or attended to the calls of
frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful oeconomy;' and in the
next sentence he introduced the words which I distinguish by _Italicks_;
'My life for some _few unhappy_ years past has been _dreadfully
erroneous_.' Johnson's expression was _hypocritical_; but his remark on
the margin is 'With this he said he could not charge himself.'
[Footnote 1: Having unexpectedly, by the favour of Mr. Stone, of London
Field, Hackney, seen the original in Johnson's hand-writing, of 'The
Petition of the City of London to his Majesty, in favour of Dr. Dodd,' I
now present it to my readers, with such passages as were omitted
in-closed in crotchets, and the additions or variations marked in
Italicks.
'That William Dodd, Doctor of Laws, now lying under sentence of death
_in your Majesty's gaol of Newgate_, for the crime of forgery, has for a
great part of his life set a useful and laudable example of diligence in
his calling, [and as we have reason to believe, has exercised his
ministry with great fidelity and efficacy,] _which, in many instances,
has produced the most happy effect_.
'That he has been the first institutor, [or] _and_ a very earnest and
active promoter of several modes of useful charity, and [that] therefore
[he] may be considered as having been on many occasions a benefactor to
the publick.
'[That when they consider his past life, they are willing to suppose his
late crime to have been not the consequence of habitual depravity, but
the suggestion of some sudden and violent temptation.]
'[That] _Your Petitioners_ therefore considering his case, as in some of
its circumstances unprecedented and peculiar, _and encouraged by your
Majesty's known clemency_, [they] most humbly recommend the said William
Dodd to [his] your Majesty's most gracious consideration, in hopes that
he will be found not altogether [unfit] _unworthy_ to stand an example
of Royal Mercy.' BOSWELL.]
Having thus authentically settled what part of the _Occasional Papers_,
concerning Dr. Dodd's miserable situation, came from the pen of Johnson,
I shall proceed to present my readers with my record of the unpublished
writings relating to that extraordinary and interesting matter.
I found a letter to Dr. Johnson from Dr. Dodd, May 23, 1777, in which
_The Convict's Address_ seems clearly to be meant:--
'I am so penetrated, my ever dear Sir, with a sense of your extreme
benevolence towards me, that I cannot find words equal to the sentiments
of my heart.
* * * * *
'You are too conversant in the world to need the slightest hint from me,
of what infinite utility the Speech[1] on the aweful day has been to me.
I experience, every hour, some good effect from it. I am sure that
effects still more salutary and important must follow from _your kind
and intended favour_. I will labour--GOD being my helper,--to do justice
to it from the pulpit. I am sure, had I your sentiments constantly to
deliver from thence, in all their mighty force and power, not a soul
could be left unconvinced and unpersuaded.'
[Footnote 1: His Speech at the Old Bailey, when found guilty. BOSWELL.]
* * * * *
He added:--
'May GOD ALMIGHTY bless and reward, with his choicest comforts, your
philanthropick actions, and enable me at all times to express what I
feel of the high and uncommon obligations which I owe to the _first man_
in our times.'
On Sunday, June 22, he writes, begging Dr. Johnson's assistance in
framing a supplicatory letter to his Majesty:--
'If his Majesty could be moved of his royal clemency to spare me and my
family the horrours and ignominy of a _publick death_, which the publick
itself is solicitous to wave, and to grant me in some silent distant
corner of the globe, to pass the remainder of my days in penitence and
prayer, I would bless his clemency and be humbled.'
This letter was brought to Dr. Johnson when in church. He stooped down
and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for Dr.
Dodd to the King:--
'SIR,
'May it not offend your Majesty, that the most miserable of men applies
himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last refuge; that
your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom
your Laws and Judges have condemned to the horrour and ignominy of a
publick execution.
'I confess the crime, and own the enormity of its consequences, and the
danger of its example. Nor have I the confidence to petition for
impunity; but humbly hope, that publick security may be established,
without the spectacle of a clergyman dragged through the streets, to a
death of infamy, amidst the derision of the profligate and profane; and
that justice may be satisfied with irrevocable exile, perpetual
disgrace, and hopeless penury.
'My life, Sir, has not been useless to mankind. I have benefited many.
But my offences against GOD are numberless, and I have had little time
for repentance. Preserve me, Sir, by your prerogative of mercy, from the
necessity of appearing unprepared at that tribunal, before which Kings
and Subjects must stand at last together. Permit me to hide my guilt in
some obscure corner of a foreign country, where, if I can ever attain
confidence to hope that my prayers will be heard, they shall be poured
with all the fervour of gratitude for the life and happiness of your
Majesty. I am, Sir,
'Your Majesty's, &c.'
Subjoined to it was written as follows:
'To DR. DODD.
'SIR,
'I most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all known that I have
written this letter, and to return the copy to Mr. Allen in a cover to
me. I hope I need not tell you, that I wish it success.--But do not
indulge hope.--Tell nobody.'
It happened luckily that Mr. Allen was pitched on to assist in this
melancholy office, for he was a great friend of Mr. Akerman, the keeper
of Newgate. Dr. Johnson never went to see Dr. Dodd. He said to me, 'it
would have done _him_ more harm, than good to Dodd, who once expressed a
desire to see him, but not earnestly.'
Dr. Johnson, on the 20th of June, wrote the following letter:
'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES JENKINSON.
'SIR,
'Since the conviction and condemnation of Dr. Dodd, I have had, by the
intervention of a friend, some intercourse with him, and I am sure I
shall lose nothing in your opinion by tenderness and commiseration.
Whatever be the crime, it is not easy to have any knowledge of the
delinquent, without a wish that his life may be spared; at least when no
life has been taken away by him. I will, therefore, take the liberty of
suggesting some reasons for which I wish this unhappy being to escape
the utmost rigour of his sentence.
'He is, so far as I can recollect, the first clergyman of our church who
has suffered publick execution for immorality; and I know not whether it
would not be more for the interest of religion to bury such an offender
in the obscurity of perpetual exile, than to expose him in a cart, and
on the gallows, to all who for any reason are enemies to the clergy.
'The supreme power has, in all ages, paid some attention to the voice of
the people; and that voice does not least deserve to be heard, when it
calls out for mercy. There is now a very general desire that Dodd's life
should be spared. More is not wished; and, perhaps, this is not too much
to be granted.
'If you, Sir, have any opportunity of enforcing these reasons, you may,
perhaps, think them worthy of consideration: but whatever you determine,
I most respectfully intreat that you will be pleased to pardon for this
intrusion, Sir,
'Your most obedient
'And most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
It has been confidently circulated, with invidious remarks, that to this
letter no attention whatever was paid by Mr. Jenkinson (afterwards Earl
of Liverpool[1]), and that he did not even deign to shew the common
civility of owning the receipt of it. I could not but wonder at such
conduct in the noble Lord, whose own character and just elevation in
life, I thought, must have impressed him with all due regard for great
abilities and attainments. As the story had been much talked of, and
apparently from good authority, I could not but have animadverted upon
it in this work, had it been as was alleged; but from my earnest love of
truth, and having found reason to think that there might be a mistake, I
presumed to write to his Lordship, requesting an explanation; and it is
with the sincerest pleasure that I am enabled to assure the world, that
there is no foundation for it, the fact being, that owing to some
neglect, or accident, Johnson's letter never came to Lord Hawkesbury's
hands. I should have thought it strange indeed, if that noble Lord had
undervalued my illustrious friend; but instead of this being the case,
his Lordship, in the very polite answer with which he was pleased
immediately to honour me, thus expresses himself:--'I have always
respected the memory of Dr. Johnson, and admire his writings; and I
frequently read many parts of them with pleasure and great improvement.'
[Footnote 1: In the second edition he is described as 'now Lord
Hawkesbury.' He had entered public life as Lord Bute's private
secretary, and, according to Horace Walpole, continued in it as his
tool.' _Memoirs of the Reign of George III_, iv. 70, 115. Walpole speaks
of him as one of 'the Jesuits of the Treasury' (_Ib._ p. 110), and 'the
director or agent of all the King's secret counsels. His appearance was
abject, his countenance betrayed a consciousness of secret guilt; and,
though his ambition and rapacity were insatiate, his demeanour exhibited
such a want of spirit, that had he stood forth as Prime Minister, which
he really was, his very look would have encouraged opposition.' _Ib._ p.
135. The third Earl of Liverpool wrote to Mr. Croker on Dec. 7,
1845:--'Very shortly before George III's accession my father became
confidential secretary of Lord Bute, if you can call secretary a man who
all through his life was so bad a penman that he always dictated
everything, and of whom, although I have a house full of papers, I have
scarcely any in his own hand.' _Croker Corres._ iii. 178. The editor is
in error in saying that the Earl of Liverpool who wrote this was son of
the Prime Minister. He was his half-brother.]
All applications for the Royal Mercy having failed, Dr. Dodd prepared
himself for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnson
as follows:
'June 25, _Midnight_.
'Accept, thou _great_ and _good_ heart, my earnest and fervent thanks
and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts in my behalf.--Oh!
Dr. Johnson! as I sought your knowledge at an early hour in life, would
to heaven I had cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a
man!--I pray GOD most sincerely to bless you with the highest
transports--the infelt satisfaction of _humane_ and benevolent
exertions!--And admitted, as I trust I shall be, to the realms of bliss
before you, I shall hail _your_ arrival there with transports, and
rejoice to acknowledge that you was my Comforter, my Advocate and my
_Friend_! GOD _be ever_ with _you_!'
Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd this solemn and soothing
letter:
'To THE REVEREND DR. DODD.
'DEAR SIR,
'That which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you. Outward
circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below the notice of
an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the
Supreme Judge of heaven and earth. Be comforted: your crime, morally or
religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude. It corrupted
no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. It involved only a
temporary and reparable injury. Of this, and of all other sins, you are
earnestly to repent; and may GOD, who knoweth our frailty, and desireth
not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his Son JESUS
CHRIST our Lord.
'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so
emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions
one petition for my eternal welfare. I am, dear Sir,
'Your affectionate servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'June 26, 1777.'
Under the copy of this letter I found written, in Johnson's own hand,
'Next day, June 27, he was executed.'
To conclude this interesting episode with an useful application, let us
now attend to the reflections of Johnson at the end of the _Occasional
Papers_, concerning the unfortunate Dr. Dodd:
'Such were the last thoughts of a man whom we have seen exulting in
popularity, and sunk in shame. For his reputation, which no man can give
to himself, those who conferred it are to answer. Of his publick
ministry the means of judging were sufficiently attainable. He must be
allowed to preach well, whose sermons strike his audience with forcible
conviction. Of his life, those who thought it consistent with his
doctrine, did not originally form false notions. He was at first what he
endeavoured to make others; but the world broke down his resolution, and
he in time ceased to exemplify his own instructions.
'Let those who are tempted to his faults, tremble at his punishment; and
those whom he impressed from the pulpit with religious sentiments,
endeavour to confirm them, by considering the regret and self-abhorrence
with which he reviewed in prison his deviations from rectitude.'
Johnson gave us this evening, in his happy discriminative manner, a
portrait of the late Mr. Fitzherbert, of Derbyshire. 'There was (said
he) no sparkle, no brilliancy in Fitzherbert; but I never knew a man who
was so generally acceptable[1]. He made every body quite easy,
overpowered nobody by the superiority of his talents, made no man think
worse of himself by being his rival, seemed always to listen, did not
oblige you to hear much from him, and did not oppose what you said.
Every body liked him; but he had no friend, as I understand the word,
nobody with whom he exchanged intimate thoughts[2]. People were willing
to think well of every thing about him. A gentleman was making an
affected rant, as many people do, of great feelings about "his dear
son," who was at school near London; how anxious he was lest he might be
ill, and what he would give to see him. "Can't you (said Fitzherbert,)
take a post-chaise and go to him." This, to be sure, _finished_ the
affected man, but there was not much in it[3]. However, this was
circulated as wit for a whole winter, and I believe part of a summer
too; a proof that he was no very witty man. He was an instance of the
truth of the observation, that a man will please more upon the whole by
negative qualities than by positive; by never offending, than by giving
a great deal of delight. In the first place, men hate more steadily than
they love; and if I have said something to hurt a man once, I shall not
get the better of this, by saying many things to please him[4].'
[Footnote 1: Burke wrote to Garrick of Fitzherbert:--'You know and love
him; but I assure you, until we can talk some late matters over, you,
even you, can have no adequate idea of the worth of that man.' _Garrick
Corres._ i. 190. See _ante_, i. 82.]
[Footnote 2: 'I remember a man,' writes Mrs. Piozzi (_Synonomy_, i.
2l7), 'much delighted in by the upper ranks of society, who upon a
trifling embarrassment in his affairs hanged himself behind the stable
door, to the astonishment of all who knew him as the liveliest companion
and most agreeable converser breathing. "What upon earth," said one at
our house, "could have made--[Fitzherbert] hang himself?" "Why, just his
having a multitude of acquaintance," replied Dr. Johnson, "and ne'er a
friend."' See _ante_, ii. 228.]
[Footnote 3: Dr. Gisborne, Physician to his Majesty's Household, has
obligingly communicated to me a fuller account of this story than had
reached Dr. Johnson. The affected Gentleman was the late John Gilbert
Cooper, Esq., author of a _Life of Socrates_, and of some poems in
Dodsley's _Collection_. Mr. Fitzherbert found him one morning,
apparently, in such violent agitation, on account of the indisposition
of his son, as to seem beyond the power of comfort. At length, however,
he exclaimed, 'I'll write an Elegy.' Mr. Fitzherbert being satisfied, by
this, of the sincerity of his emotions, slyly said, 'Had not you better
take a postchaise and go and see him?' It was the shrewdness of the
insinuation which made the story be circulated. BOSWELL. Malone
writes:--'Mr. Cooper was the last of the _benevolists_ or
sentimentalists, who were much in vogue between 1750 and 1760, and dealt
in general admiration of virtue. They were all tenderness in words;
their finer feeling evaporated in the moment of expression, for they had
no connection with their practice.' Prior's _Malone_, p. 427. See
_ante_, ii. 129. This fashion seems to have reached Paris a few years
later. Mme. Riccoboni wrote to Garrick on May 3, 1769:--'Dans notre
brillante capitale, ou dominent les airs et la mode, s'attendrir,
s'emouvoir, s'affliger, c'est le bon ton du moment. La bonte, la
sensibilite, la tendre humanite sont devenues la fantaisie universelle.
On ferait volontiers des malheureux pour gouter la douceur de les
plaindre.' Garrick _Corres._ ii. 561.]
[Footnote 4: Johnson had felt the truth of this in the case of 'old Mr.
Sheridan.' _Ante_, i. 387.]
Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson having mentioned to me the
extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by Dr. Taylor, I rode
out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had
sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been
offered a hundred and thirty[1]. Taylor thus described to me his old
schoolfellow and friend, Johnson: 'He is a man of a very clear head,
great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no
disputing with him. He will not hear you, and having a louder voice than
you, must roar you down.'
[Footnote 1: Johnson, in his letters from Ashbourne, used to joke about
Taylor's cattle:--'July 23, 1770. I have seen the great bull, and very
great he is. I have seen likewise his heir apparent, who promises to
enherit all the bulk and all the virtues of his sire, I have seen the
man who offered an hundred guineas for the young bull, while he was yet
little better than a calf.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 33. 'July 3, 1771. The
great bull has no disease but age. I hope in time to be like the great
bull; and hope you will be like him too a hundred years hence.' _Ib._ p.
39. 'July 10, 1771. There has been a man here to-day to take a farm.
After some talk he went to see the bull, and said that he had seen a
bigger. Do you think he is likely to get the farm?' _Ib._ p. 43. 'Oct.
31, 1772. Our bulls and cows are all well; but we yet hate the man that
had seen a bigger bull.' _Ib._ p. 61.]
In the afternoon I tried to get Dr. Johnson to like the Poems of Mr.
Hamilton of Bangour[1], which I had brought with me: I had been much
pleased with them at a very early age; the impression still remained on
my mind; it was confirmed by the opinion of my friend the Honourable
Andrew Erskine, himself both a good poet[2] and a good critick, who
thought Hamilton as true a poet as ever wrote, and that his not having
fame was unaccountable. Johnson, upon repeated occasions, while I was at
Ashbourne, talked slightingly of Hamilton. He said there was no power of
thinking in his verses, nothing that strikes one, nothing better than
what you generally find in magazines; and that the highest praise they
deserved was, that they were very well for a gentleman to hand about
among his friends. He said the imitation of _Ne sit ancillae tibi
amor_[3], &c. was too solemn; he read part of it at the beginning. He
read the beautiful pathetick song, _Ah the poor shepherd's mournful
fate_, and did not seem to give attention to what I had been used to
think tender elegant strains, but laughed at the rhyme, in Scotch
pronunciation, _wishes and blushes_[4], reading _wushes_--and there he
stopped. He owned that the epitaph on Lord Newhall was pretty well done.
He read the _Inscription in a Summer-house_, and a little of the
imitations of Horace's _Epistles_; but said he found nothing to make him
desire to read on. When I urged that there were some good poetical
passages in the book. 'Where (said he,) will you find so large a
collection without some?' I thought the description of Winter might
obtain his approbation:
'See[5] Winter, from the frozen north
Drives his iron chariot forth!
His grisly hand in icy chains
Fair Tweeda's silver flood constrains,' &c.
He asked why an '_iron_ chariot'? and said 'icy chains' was an old
image[6]. I was struck with the uncertainty of taste, and somewhat sorry
that a poet whom I had long read with fondness, was not approved by Dr.
Johnson. I comforted myself with thinking that the beauties were too
delicate for his robust perceptions. Garrick maintained that he had not
a taste for the finest productions of genius: but I was sensible, that
when he took the trouble to analyse critically, he generally convinced
us that he was right.
[Footnote 1: Quoted by Boswell in his _Hebrides_, Aug. 16, 1773.]
[Footnote 2: In the letters that Boswell and Erskine published (_ante_,
384, note) are some verses by Erskine, of very slight merit.]
[Footnote 3: Horace, _Odes_, ii. 4.]
[Footnote 4:
'The tender glance, the red'ning cheek,
O'erspread with rising blushes,
A thousand various ways they speak
A thousand various wishes.'
Hamilton's _Poems_, ed. 1760, p. 59.]
[Footnote 5: In the original, _Now. Ib._ p. 39.]
[Footnote 6: Thomson, in _The Seasons_, Winter, 1. 915, describes how
the ocean
'by the boundless frost
Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd.'
In 1. 992, speaking of a thaw, he says,
'The rivers swell of bonds impatient.']
In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward[1], of Lichfield, who was
passing through Ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. Johnson
described him thus:--'Sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he
goes to Buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen
to him. And, Sir, he is valetudinarian, one of those who are always
mending themselves. I do not know a more disagreeable character than a
valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and
indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the
state of a hog in a stye[2].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_ March 24, 1776.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson wrote of Pope (_Works_, viii. 309):--'The
indulgence and accommodation which his sickness required had taught him
all the unpleasing and unsocial qualities of a valetudinary man.']
Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had
omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's
interval. Dr. Johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick[1],
disapproved much of periodical bleeding[2]. 'For (said he) you accustom
yourself to an evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herself, and
therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any
other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. You may
accustom yourself to other periodical evacuations, because should you
omit them, Nature can supply the omission; but Nature cannot open a vein
to blood you.'--'I do not like to take an emetick, (said Taylor,) for
fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'Poh! (said Johnson,) if you have
so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once,
and there's an end on't. You will break no small vessels' (blowing with
high derision).
[Footnote 1: When he was ill of a fever he wrote to Mrs. Thrale:--'The
doctor was with me again to-day, and we both think the fever quite gone.
I believe it was not an intermittent, for I took of my own head physick
yesterday; and Celsus says, it seems, that if a cathartick be taken the
fit will return _certo certius_. I would bear something rather than
Celsus should be detected in an error. But I say it was a _febris
continua_, and had a regular crisis.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 89.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson must have shortened his life by the bleedings that
he underwent. How many they were cannot be known, for no doubt he was
often bled when he has left no record of it. The following, however, I
have noted. I do not know that he was bled more than most people of his
time. Dr. Taylor, it should seem, underwent the operation every quarter.
Dec. 1755. Thrice. 54 ounces. Croker's _Boswell_, p. 100.
Jan. 1761. Once. _Ib._ p. 122.
April 1770. Cupped. _Pemb. Coll. MSS._
Winter of 1772-3. Three times. _Ante_, ii. 206, and _Pemb. Coll. MSS._
May 1773. Two copious bleedings. _Pr. and Med._ 130.
1774. Times not mentioned. 36 ounces. _Piozzi Letters_, i. 209.
Jan. 1777. Three bleedings. 22 ounces in first two. _Ib._ i. 343.
Jan. 1780. Once. _Post_, Jan. 20, 1780.
June 1780. Times not mentioned. Croker's _Boswell_, p. 649.
Jan. and Feb. 1782. Thrice. 50 ounces. _Post_, Feb. 4 and March 20,
1782.
May 1782. At least once. _Post_, under March 19, 1782, and _Piozzi
Letters_, ii. 240.
Yet he wrote to Mrs. Thrale, 'I am of the chymical sect, which holds
phlebotomy in abhorrence.' _Ib._ ii. 240. 'O why,' asks Wesley, who was
as strongly opposed to bleeding as he was fond of poulticing, 'will
physicians play with the lives of their patients? Do not others (as well
as old Dr. Cockburn) know that "no end is answered by bleeding in a
pleurisy, which may not be much better answered without it?"' Wesley's
_Journal_, ii. 310. 'Dr. Cheyne,' writes Pope, 'was of Mr. Cheselden's
opinion, that bleeding might be frequently repeated with safety, for he
advised me to take four or five ounces every full moon.' Elwin and
Courthope's _Pope's Works_, ix. 162.]
I mentioned to Dr. Johnson, that David Hume's persisting in his
infidelity, when he was dying, shocked me much. JOHNSON. 'Why should it
shock you, Sir? Hume owned he had never read the New Testament with
attention. Here then was a man, who had been at no pains to inquire into
the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other
way. It was not to be expected that the prospect of death would alter
his way of thinking, unless GOD should send an angel to set him right.'
I said, I had reason to believe that the thought of annihilation gave
Hume no pain. JOHNSON. 'It was not so, Sir[1]. He had a vanity in being
thought easy. It is more probable that he should assume an appearance of
ease, than that so very improbable a thing should be, as a man not
afraid of going (as, in spite of his delusive theory, he cannot be sure
but he may go,) into an unknown state, and not being uneasy at leaving
all he knew. And you are to consider, that upon his own principle of
annihilation he had no motive to speak the truth.' The horrour of death
which I had always observed in Dr. Johnson, appeared strong to-night. I
ventured to tell him, that I had been, for moments in my life, not
afraid of death; therefore I could suppose another man in that state of
mind for a considerable space of time. He said, 'he never had a moment
in which death was not terrible to him[2].' He added, that it had been
observed, that scarce any man[3] dies in publick, but with apparent
resolution; from that desire of praise which never quits us. I said, Dr.
Dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 'Sir,
(said he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to
have lived. The better a man is, the more afraid he is of death, having
a clearer view of infinite purity.' He owned, that our being in an
unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'Ah!
we must wait till we are in another state of being, to have many things
explained to us.' Even the powerful mind of Johnson seemed foiled by
futurity. But I thought, that the gloom of uncertainty in solemn
religious speculation, being mingled with hope, was yet more consolatory
than the emptiness of infidelity. A man can live in thick air, but
perishes in an exhausted receiver.
[Footnote 1: 'It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a
man, to tell him he is at the end of his nature.' _Sir Thomas Browne_
quoted in Johnson's _Works_, vi. 485. See _post_, April 15, 1778, and
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 12, 1773.]
[Footnote 2: In the last number of _The Idler_ Johnson says:--'There are
few things not purely evil of which we can say without some emotion of
uneasiness, _this is the last_.... The secret horrour of the last is
inseparable from a thinking being whose life is limited, and to whom
death is dreadful.']
[Footnote 3: In the first edition for _scarce any man_ we find _almost
no man_. See _ante_, March 20, 1776, note.]
Dr. Johnson was much pleased with a remark which I told him was made to
me by General Paoli:--'That it is impossible not to be afraid of death;
and that those who at the time of dying are not afraid, are not thinking
of death, but of applause, or something else, which keeps death out of
their sight: so that all men are equally afraid of death when they see
it; only some have a power of turning their sight away from it better
than others[1].'
[Footnote 1: Bacon, in his _Essay on Death_, says:--'It is worthy the
observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak but it
mates and masters the fear of death; and therefore death is no such
terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him, that can
win the combat of him.' In the _De Aug. Sci._ vi. 3. 12, he says:--'Non
invenias inter humanos affetum tam pusillum, qui si intendatur paullo
vehementius, non mortis metum superet.']
On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. Butter, physician at Derby, drank tea
with us; and it was settled that Dr. Johnson and I should go on Friday
and dine with him. Johnson said, 'I'm glad of this.' He seemed weary of
the uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's.
Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities
should be mentioned, because they mark his character. JOHNSON. 'Sir,
there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's
vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned
that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more
easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be
done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth[1].' Here was
an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes
and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I
well remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A
_Panegyrick_, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to
write _A Life_, he must represent it really as it was:' and when I
objected to the danger of telling that Parnell drank to excess, he said,
that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it
was seen, that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be debased
by it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my
_Journal_[2], that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if
he writes his life[3].
[Footnote 1: Johnson, in his _Lives of Addison and Parnell_ (_Works_,
vii. 399, 449), mentions that they drank too freely. See _post_, under
Dec. 2, 1784.]
[Footnote 2: _Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides_. 3d edit. p. 240 [Sept.
22]. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 3: In the _Life of Addison_ (_Works_, vii. 444) he says:--'The
necessity of complying with times, and of sparing persons, is the great
impediment of biography. History may be formed from permanent monuments
and records; but Lives can only be written from personal knowledge,
which is growing every day less, and in a short time is lost for ever.
What is known can seldom be immediately told; and when it might be told,
it is no longer known. The delicate features of the mind, the nice
discriminations of character, and the minute peculiarities of conduct,
are soon obliterated; and it is surely better that caprice, obstinacy,
frolick and folly, however they might delight in the description, should
be silently forgotten, than that, by wanton merriment and unseasonable
detection, a pang should be given to a widow, a daughter, a brother, or
a friend. As the process of these narratives is now bringing me among my
contemporaries, I begin to feel myself "walking upon ashes under which
the fire is not extinguished," and coming to the time of which it will
be proper rather to say "nothing that is false, than all that is true."'
See _ante_, i. 9, and 30.]
He had this evening, partly, I suppose, from the spirit of contradiction
to his Whig friend, a violent argument with Dr. Taylor, as to the
inclinations of the people of England at this time towards the Royal
Family of Stuart. He grew so outrageous as to say, 'that, if England
were fairly polled, the present King would be sent away to-night, and
his adherents hanged to-morrow.' Taylor, who was as violent a Whig as
Johnson was a Tory, was roused by this to a pitch of bellowing. He
denied, loudly, what Johnson said; and maintained, that there was an
abhorrence against the Stuart family, though he admitted that the people
were not much attached to the present King[1]. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the state
of the country is this: the people knowing it to be agreed on all hands
that this King has not the hereditary right to the crown, and there
being no hope that he who has it can be restored, have grown cold and
indifferent upon the subject of loyalty, and have no warm attachment to
any King. They would not, therefore, risk any thing to restore the
exiled family. They would not give twenty shillings a piece to bring it
about. But, if a mere vote could do it, there would be twenty to one; at
least, there would be a very great majority of voices for it. For, Sir,
you are to consider, that all those who think a King has a right to his
crown, as a man has to his estate, which is the just opinion, would be
for restoring the King who certainly has the hereditary right, could he
be trusted with it; in which there would be no danger now, when laws and
every thing else are so much advanced: and every King will govern by the
laws. And you must also consider, Sir, that there is nothing on the
other side to oppose to this; for it is not alleged by any one that the
present family has any inherent right[2]: so that the Whigs could not
have a contest between two rights.'
[Footnote 1: Dr. Taylor was very ready to make this admission, because
the party with which he was connected was not in power. There was then
some truth in it, owing to the pertinacity of factious clamour. Had he
lived till now, it would have been impossible for him to deny that his
Majesty possesses the warmest affection of his people. BOSWELL. See
_post_, March 21, 1783.]
[Footnote 2: The Duke of York in 1788, speaking in the House of Lords on
the King's illness, said:--'He was confident that his Royal Highness
[the Prince of Wales] understood too well the sacred principles which
seated the House of Brunswick on the throne of Great Britain ever to
assume or exercise any power, be his claim what it might, not derived
from the will of the people, expressed by their representatives, and
their lordships in parliament assembled.' _Parl. Hist._ xxvii. 678.]
Dr. Taylor admitted, that if the question as to hereditary right were to
be tried by a poll of the people of England, to be sure the abstract
doctrine would be given in favour of the family of Stuart; but he said,
the conduct of that family, which occasioned their expulsion, was so
fresh in the minds of the people, that they would not vote for a
restoration. Dr. Johnson, I think, was contented with the admission as
to the hereditary right, leaving the original point in dispute, _viz._
what the people upon the whole would do, taking in right and affection;
for he said, people were afraid of a change, even though they think it
right. Dr. Taylor said something of the slight foundation of the
hereditary right, of the house of Stuart. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) the
house of Stuart succeeded to the full right of both the houses of York
and Lancaster, whose common source had the undisputed right. A right to
a throne is like a right to any thing else. Possession is sufficient,
where no better right can be shown. This was the case with the Royal
Family of England, as it is now with the King of France: for as to the
first beginning of the right, we are in the dark[1].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, i. 430.]
Thursday, September 18. Last night Dr. Johnson had proposed that the
crystal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's large room, should be
lighted up some time or other. Taylor said, it should be lighted up next
night. 'That will do very well, (said I,) for it is Dr. Johnson's
birth-day[1].' When we were in the Isle of Sky, Johnson had desired me
not to mention his birth-day. He did not seem pleased at this time that
I mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly) 'he would _not_ have the
lustre lighted the next day.'
[Footnote 1: See Boswell's _Hebrides_, Sept. 18, 1773, and _post_, under
date of Sept. 9, 1779, note.]
Some ladies, who had been present yesterday when I mentioned his
birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by
wishing him joy. I know not why he disliked having his birth-day
mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer
to death, of which he had a constant dread[1].
[Footnote 1: 'The return of my birth-day,' he wrote in 1773, 'if I
remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general
care of humanity to escape.' _Piozzi Letters_, i. 134. In 1781 he viewed
the day with calmness, _if not with cheerfulness_. He writes:--'I rose,
breakfasted, and gave thanks at church for my creation, preservation and
redemption. As I came home, I thought I had never begun any period of
life so placidly. I have always been accustomed to let this day pass
unnoticed, but it came this time into my mind that some little festivity
was not improper. I had a dinner; and invited Allen and Levet.' _Pr. and
Med._ p. 198. In 1783 he again had 'a little dinner,' and invited four
friends to keep the day. Croker's _Boswell_, p. 739. At Streatham the
day, it would seem, was always kept. Mrs. Piozzi writes (_Anec._ p.
211):--'On the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our friend,
Dr. Johnson, the 17th and 18th of September, we every year made up a
little dance and supper to divert our servants and their friends.']
I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low
spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly
placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'Sir,
(said Johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different
turn.'
We talked of a collection being made of all the English Poets who had
published a volume of poems. Johnson told me 'that a Mr. Coxeter[1],
whom he knew, had gone the greatest length towards this; having
collected, I think, about five hundred volumes of poets whose works were
little known; but that upon his death Tom Osborne[2] bought them, and
they were dispersed, which he thought a pity, as it was curious to see
any series complete; and in every volume of poems something good may be
found.'
[Footnote 1: The son of a Mr. Coxeter, 'a gentleman,' says Johnson, 'who
was once my friend,' enlisted in the service of the East India Company.
Johnson asked Mr. Thrale to use his influence to get his discharge.
_Piozzi Letters_, i. 33.]
[Footnote 2: The bookseller whom Johnson beat, _ante_, i. 154.]
He observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a
bad style of poetry of late[1]. 'He puts (said he) a very common thing
in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other
people do not know it.' BOSWELL. 'That is owing to his being so much
versant in old English poetry[2].' JOHNSON. 'What is the purpose, Sir?
If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much
drink, the matter is not mended. No, Sir, ---- has taken to an odd mode.
For example; he'd write thus:
"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life's evening gray[3]."
_Gray evening_ is common enough; but _evening gray_ he'd think
fine[4].--Stay;--we'll make out the stanza:
"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life's evening gray;
Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
What is bliss? and which the way?"'
BOSWELL. 'But why smite his bosom, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why to shew he was in
earnest,' (smiling).--He at an after period added the following stanza:
'Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd;
--Scarce repress'd the starting tear;--
When the smiling sage reply'd--
--Come, my lad, and drink some beer[5].'
I cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as also
the three first lines of the second. Its last line is an excellent
burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. And, perhaps, the
advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied
being:--'Don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and
be merry.'
[Footnote 1: 'When a well-known author published his poems in the year
1777, "Such a one's verses are come out," said I: "Yes," replied
Johnson, "and this frost has struck them in again. Here are some lines I
have written to ridicule them; but remember that I love the fellow
dearly now--for all I laugh at him.
'"Wheresoe'er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that time has flung away;
Uncouth words in disarray,
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode, and elegy, and sonnet."'
Piozzi's _Anec._ p. 64.
Thomas Warton in 1777 published a volume of his poems. He, no doubt, is
meant.]
[Footnote 2: In _The Rambler_, No. 121. Johnson, twenty-six years
earlier, attacked 'the imitation of Spenser, which, by the influence of
some men of learning and genius, seems likely to gain upon the age....
They seem to conclude that, when they have disfigured their lines with a
few obsolete syllables, they have accomplished their design, without
considering that they ought, not only to admit old words, but to avoid
new. The laws of imitation are broken by every word introduced since the
time of Spenser.']
[Footnote 3: Warton's _Ode on the First of April_ is found a line which
may have suggested these two lines:--'The morning hoar, and evening
chill.']
[Footnote 4: 'Collins affected the obsolete when it was not worthy of
revival; and he puts his words out of the common order, seeming to
think, with some later candidates for fame, that not to write prose is
certainly to write poetry.' Johnson's _Works_, viii. 404. Goldsmith,
eleven years earlier, said in his _Life of Parnell_ (_Misc. Works_, iv.
22):--'These misguided innovators have not been content with restoring
antiquated words and phrases, but have indulged themselves in the most
licentious transpositions and the harshest constructions, vainly
imagining that the more their writings are unlike prose, the more they
resemble poetry.' Collins and Warton might have quoted by way of defence
the couplet in Milton's _L'Allegro_.--
'While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of _darkness thin_.']
[Footnote 4: As some of my readers may be gratified by reading the
progress of this little composition, I shall insert it from my notes.
'When Dr. Johnson and I were sitting _tete-a-tete_ at the Mitre tavern,
May 9, 1778, he said "_Where_ is bliss," would be better. He then added
a ludicrous stanza, but would not repeat it, lest I should take it down.
It was somewhat as follows; the last line I am sure I remember:
"While I thus cried,
The hoary seer reply'd,
Come, my lad, and drink some beer."
In spring, 1779, when in better humour, he made the second stanza, as in
the text. There was only one variation afterwards made on my suggestion,
which was changing _hoary_ in the third line to _smiling_, both to avoid
a sameness with the epithet in the first line, and to describe the
hermit in his pleasantry. He was then very well pleased that I should
preserve it.' BOSWELL.]
Friday, September 19, after breakfast Dr. Johnson and I set out in Dr.
Taylor's chaise to go to Derby. The day was fine, and we resolved to go
by Keddlestone, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, that I might see his
Lordship's fine house. I was struck with the magnificence of the
building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with
deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The number of old oaks, of an
immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one of
them sixty pounds was offered. The excellent smooth gravel roads; the
large piece of water formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with
a handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the family
chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated
and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'One should think
(said I) that the proprietor of all this _must_ be happy.'--'Nay, Sir,
(said Johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty[1].'
[Footnote 1: When I mentioned Dr. Johnson's remark to a lady of
admirable good sense and quickness of understanding, she observed, 'It
is true, all this excludes only one evil; but how much good does it let
in?'--To this observation much praise has been justly given. Let me then
now do myself the honour to mention that the lady who made it was the
late Margaret Montgomerie, my very valuable wife, and the very
affectionate mother of my children, who, if they inherit her good
qualities, will have no reason to complain of their lot. _Dos magna
parentum virtus_. BOSWELL. The latter part of this note was first given
in the second edition. The quotation if from Horace:--
'Cos est magna parentium Virtus.'
'The lovers there for dowry claim
The father's virtue and the mother's fame.'
FRANCIS, Horace, Odes, iii. 24. 21.]
Our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most
distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which I need not describe, as
there is an account of it published in _Adam's Works in Architecture_.
Dr. Johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before[1];
for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'It would do
excellently for a town-hall. The large room with the pillars (said he)
would do for the Judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for
a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.' Still he thought the
large room ill lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the
bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it
cost was injudiciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his
_appearing_ pleased with the house. 'But (said he) that was when Lord
Scarsdale was present. Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a
man's works when he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to
question you. You may therefore pay compliments without saying what is
not true. I should say to Lord Scarsdale of his large room, "My Lord,
this is the most _costly_ room that I ever saw;" which is true.'
[Footnote 1: He saw it in 1774 on his way to Wales; but he must, I
think, have seen it since, for it does not appear from his _Journal of a
Tour into Wales_ that he then saw Lord Scarsdale. He met him also at Dr.
Taylor's in July 1775. _Piozzi Letters_, i. 267.]
Dr. Manningham, physician in London, who was visiting at Lord
Scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon
afterwards my Lord himself, to whom Dr. Johnson was known, appeared, and
did the honours of the house. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnson, with a
warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'The earth does not
bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton.' We saw a good many fine
pictures, which I think are described in one of _Young's Tours_[1].
There is a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my
hand; I should like to view them at leisure. I was much struck with
Daniel interpreting Nebuchadnezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were shown a
pretty large library. In his Lordship's dressing-room lay Johnson's
small _Dictionary_: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying,
'Look 'ye! _Quae terra nostri non plena laboris_[2].' He observed, also,
Goldsmith's _Animated Nature_; and said, 'Here's our friend! The poor
Doctor would have been happy to hear of this.'
[Footnote 1: I do not find the description in Young's _Six Months' Tour
through the North of England_, but in Pilkington's _Present State of
Derbyshire_, ii. 120.]
[Footnote 2:
'Quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?'
'What place, what land in all the earth but with our grief is stored?'
Morris, _AEneids_, i. 460.]
In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a
post-chaise[1]. 'If (said he) I had no duties, and no reference to
futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with
a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would
add something to the conversation.' I observed, that we were this day to
stop just where the Highland army did in 1745[2]. JOHNSON. 'It was a
noble attempt.' BOSWELL. 'I wish we could have an authentick history of
it.' JOHNSON. 'If you were not an idle dog you might write it, by
collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your
authorities.' BOSWELL. 'But I could not have the advantage of it in my
life-time.' JOHNSON. 'You might have the satisfaction of its fame, by
printing it in Holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was
before writing came to be considered in a pecuniary view. Baretti says,
he is the first man that ever received copy-money in Italy[3].' I said
that I would endeavour to do what Dr. Johnson suggested; and I thought
that I might write so as to venture to publish my _History of the Civil
War in Great-Britain in 1745 and 1746_ without being obliged to go to a
foreign press[4].
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, March 21 and 28, 1776.]
[Footnote 2: At Derby.]
[Footnote 3: Baretti in his _Italy_, i. 236, says:--'It is the general
custom for our authors to make a present of their works to booksellers,
who in return scarcely give a few copies when printed.' The Venetian
bookseller to whom Metastasio gave his cleared, Baretti says, more than
L10,000. Goldoni scarcely got for each of his plays ten pounds from the
manager of the Venetian theatre, and much less from the booksellers.
'Our learned stare when they are told that in England there are numerous
writers who get their bread by their productions only.']
[Footnote 4: I am now happy to understand, that Mr. John Home, who was
himself gallantly in the field for the reigning family, in that
interesting warfare, but is generous enough to do justice to the other
side, is preparing an account of it for the press. BOSWELL. Dr. A.
Carlyle, who knew Home well, says (_Auto._ p. 295):--'All his opinions
of men and things were prejudices, which, though it did not disqualify
him for writing admirable poetry, yet made him unfit for writing
history.' See _ante_, i. 225, for Boswell's projected works.]
When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us to see the
manufactory of china there. I admired the ingenuity and delicate art
with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot,
while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. I thought
this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in
_its_ species. Yet I had no respect for this potter. Neither, indeed,
has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose
numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. The china was
beautiful, but Dr. Johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he
could have vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were
here made of porcelain[1].
[Footnote 1: Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale the next day:--'The finer
pieces [of the Derby china] are so dear that perhaps silver vessels of
the same capacity may be sometimes bought at the same price; and I am
not yet so infected with the contagion of china-fancy as to like
anything at that rate which can so easily be broken.' _Piozzi Letters_,
i. 380.]
I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always have in
walking about any town to which I am not accustomed. There is an
immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which
life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where
upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. The minute diversities in
every thing are wonderful. Talking of shaving the other night at Dr.
Taylor's, Dr. Johnson said, 'Sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not
shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' I thought this not
possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in
shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long or
short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the
under;--at the right side or the left side. Indeed, when one considers
what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of
a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of
difference there may be in the application of a razor.
We dined with Dr. Butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin Sir John
Douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of
Queensberry. Johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation.
Johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of Dr.
Nichols's[1] discourse _De Anima Medica_. He told us 'that whatever a
man's distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a physician, if
his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have
any influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none
of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife
privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said no. He
continued his attendance some time, still without success. At length the
man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs
_were_ in a bad way. When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him,
"Your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of
fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith answered it was
not.'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, April 14, 1775.]
After dinner, Mrs. Butter went with me to see the silk-mill which Mr.
John Lombe had[1] had a patent for, having brought away the contrivance
from Italy. I am not very conversant with mechanicks; but the simplicity
of this machine, and its multiplied operations, struck me with an
agreeable surprize. I had learnt from Dr. Johnson, during this
interview, not to think with a dejected indifference of the works of
art, and the pleasures of life, because life is uncertain and short; but
to consider such indifference as a failure of reason, a morbidness of
mind; for happiness should be cultivated as much as we can, and the
objects which are instrumental to it should be steadily considered as of
importance[2], with a reference not only to ourselves, but to multitudes
in successive ages. Though it is proper to value small parts, as
'Sands make the mountain, moments make the year[3];'
yet we must contemplate, collectively, to have a just estimation of
objects. One moment's being uneasy or not, seems of no consequence; yet
this may be thought of the next, and the next, and so on, till there is
a large portion of misery. In the same way one must think of happiness,
of learning, of friendship. We cannot tell the precise moment when
friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at
last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there
is at last one which makes the heart run over. We must not divide
objects of our attention into minute parts, and think separately of each
part. It is by contemplating a large mass of human existence, that a
man, while he sets a just value on his own life, does not think of his
death as annihilating all that is great and pleasing in the world, as if
actually _contained in his mind_, according to Berkeley's reverie[4]. If
his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it 'wings its distant way[5]'
far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every
sort. It must be acknowledged, however, that Pope's plaintive
reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever, on the day of his
death, is natural and common[6]. We are apt to transfer to all around us
our own gloom, without considering that at any given point of time there
is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. Before
I came into this life, in which I have had so many pleasant scenes, have
not thousands and ten thousands of deaths and funerals happened, and
have not families been in grief for their nearest relations? But have
those dismal circumstances at all affected _me_? Why then should the
gloomy scenes which I experience, or which I know, affect others? Let us
guard against imagining that there is an end of felicity upon earth,
when we ourselves grow old, or are unhappy.
[Footnote 1: See Hutton's _History of Derby_, a book which is deservedly
esteemed for its information, accuracy, and good narrative. Indeed the
age in which we live is eminently distinguished by topographical
excellence. BOSWELL. According to Hutton the Italians at the beginning
of the eighteenth century had 'the exclusive art of silk-throwing.'
Lombe went to Italy, and by bribery got admittance into the works.
Having mastered the secret he returned to England with two of the
workmen. About the year 1717 he founded a great silk-mill at Derby. He
died early, being poisoned, it was asserted, by an Italian woman who had
been sent over to destroy him. In this mill, Hutton, as a child, 'had
suffered intolerable severity.' Hutton's _Derby_, pp. 193-205.]
[Footnote 2: 'I have enlarged my notions,' recorded Johnson in his
_Journal of a Tour into Wales_ (Aug. 3, 1774), after he had seen some
iron-works.]
[Footnote 3: Young. BOSWELL.
'Think nought a trifle, though it small appear.'
Small sands the mountain, moments make the year,
And trifles life.'
_Love of Fame_, Satire vi.]
[Footnote 4: 'Pray, Sir, don't leave us;' said Johnson to an upholder of
Berkeley's philosophy, 'for we may perhaps forget to think of you, and
then you will cease to exist.' _Post_, 1780, in Langton's _Collection_.
See also _ante_, i. 471.]
[Footnote 5: Perhaps Boswell is thinking of Gray's lines at the close of
the _Progress of Poesy_:--
'Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate.']
[Footnote 6: Goldsmith wrote:--'In all Pope's letters, as well as in
those of Swift, there runs a strain of pride, as if the world talked of
nothing but themselves. "Alas," says he in one of them, "the day after I
am dead the sun will shine as bright as the day before, and the world
will be as merry as usual." Very strange, that neither an eclipse nor an
earthquake should follow the loss of a poet!' Cunningham's _Goldsmith's
Works_, iv. 85. Goldsmith refers, I suppose, to Pope's letter to Steele
of July 15, 1712, where he writes:--'The morning after my exit the sun
will rise as bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants
spring as green, the world will proceed in its old course, people will
laugh as heartily, and marry as fast as they were used to do.' Elwin's
Pope's _Works_, vi. 392. Gray's friend, Richard West, in some lines
suggested by this letter, gives a pretty turn to Pope's thoughts where
he says:--
'For me, whene'er all-conquering Death shall spread
His wings around my unrepining head,
I care not; tho' this face be seen no more,
The world will pass as cheerful as before;
Bright as before the day-star will appear,
The fields as verdant, and the skies as clear.'
Mason's _Gray_, ed. 1807, i. 152.]
Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when some of Dr. Dodd's pious friends
were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a
wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant[1]:--'No,
no (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' Johnson added,
'I respect Dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for
several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness[2].'
[Footnote 1: See _post_, April 12, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: A brother of Dodd's wife told Hawkins that 'Dodd's manner
of living was ever such as his visible income would no way account for.
He said that he was the most importunate suitor for preferment ever
known; and that himself had been the bearer of letters to great men,
soliciting promotion to livings, and had hardly escaped kicking down
stairs.' Hawkins's _Johnson_, p. 435.]
He told us, that Dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand
pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape.
He added, that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate for
some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five
hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys
who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much
circumspection[1]. He said, Dodd's friends had an image of him made of
wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was
carried into the prison.
[Footnote 1: Hawkins (_Life_, p. 523) says that a Mr. Selwin, who just
missed being elected Chamberlain of the City, went by request to see a
man under sentence of death in Newgate, 'who informed him that he was in
daily expectation of the arrival of the warrant for his execution;
"but," said he, "I have L200, and you are a man of character, and had
the court-interest when you stood for Chamberlain; I should therefore
hope it is in your power to get me off." Mr. Selwin was struck with so
strange a notion, and asked, if there were any alleviating circumstances
in his case. The man peevishly answered "No;" but that he had enquired
into the history of the place where he was, and could not find that any
one who had L200 was ever hanged. Mr. Selwin told him it was out of his
power to help him, and bade him farewell--"which," added he, "he did;
for he found means to escape punishment."']
Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world persuaded that _The
Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren_ was of his own writing[1].
'But, Sir, (said I,) you contributed to the deception; for when Mr.
Seward expressed a doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, because it
had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be
his, you answered,--"Why should you think so? Depend upon it, Sir, when
a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind
wonderfully."' JOHNSON. 'Sir, as Dodd got it from me to pass as his own,
while that could do him any good, there was an _implied promise_ that I
should not own it. To own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie,
with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply
telling a lie to make it be believed it was Dodd's. Besides, Sir, I did
not _directly_ tell a lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I
thought that Seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what I
said; but I would not put it in his power to say I had owned it.'
[Footnote 1: Dodd, in his Dedication of this Sermon to Mr. Villette, the
Ordinary of Newgate, says:--'The following address owes its present
public appearance to you. You heard it delivered, and are pleased to
think that its publication will be useful. To a poor and abject worm
like myself this is a sufficient inducement to that publication.']
He praised Blair's sermons: 'Yet,' said he, (willing to let us see he
was aware that fashionable fame, however deserved, is not always the
most lasting,) 'perhaps, they may not be re-printed after seven years;
at least not after Blair's death[1].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 97. 'They have,' says Lowndes (_Bibl.
Man._), 'passed through innumerable editions.' To how many the
book-stalls testify, where they are offered second-hand for a few
pence.]
He said, 'Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late[1]. There appeared
nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got
high in fame, one of his friends[2] began to recollect something of his
being distinguished at College. Goldsmith in the same manner recollected
more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.'
[Footnote 1: Goldsmith was thirty when he published _An Enquiry into the
Present State of Polite Learning in Europe_; thirty-six when he
published The _Traveller_; thirty-seven when he published _The Vicar of
Wakefield_, and thirty-nine when he brought out _The Good-Natured Man_.
In flowering late he was like Swift. 'Swift was not one of those minds
which amaze the world with early pregnancy; his first work, except his
few poetical Essays, was the _Dissentions in Athens and Rome_, published
in his thirty-fourth year.' Johnson's _Works_, viii. 197. See _post_,
April 9, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: Burke, I think, is meant.]
I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four,
and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the
window open, which he called taking _an air bath_[1]; after which he
went to bed again, and slept two hours more. Johnson, who was always
ready to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with
disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'I suppose, Sir, there is no
more in it than this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills
himself, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.'
[Footnote 1: This walking about his room naked was, perhaps, part of
Lord Monboddo's system that was founded 'on the superiority of the
savage life.' _Ante_, ii. 147.]
I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. Johnson told
me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager in
study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a
contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a
string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a
strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no
difficulty in getting up.' But I said _that_ was my difficulty; and
wished there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise
without pain, which I never did, unless after lying in bed a very long
time. Perhaps there may be something in the stores of Nature which could
do this. I have thought of a pulley to raise me gradually; but that
would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal inclination. I
would have something that can dissipate the _vis inertiae_, and give
elasticity to the muscles. As I imagine that the human body may be put,
by the operation of other substances, into any state in which it has
ever been; and as I have experienced a state in which rising from bed
was not disagreeable, but easy, nay, sometimes agreeable; I suppose that
this state may be produced, if we knew by what. We can heat the body, we
can cool it; we can give it tension or relaxation; and surely it is
possible to bring it into a state in which rising from bed will not be a
pain.
Johnson observed, that 'a man should take a sufficient quantity of
sleep, which Dr. Mead says is between seven and nine hours.' I told him,
that Dr. Cullen said to me, that a man should not take more sleep than
he can take at once. JOHNSON. 'This rule, Sir, cannot hold in all cases;
for many people have their sleep broken by sickness; and surely, Cullen
would not have a man to get up, after having slept but an hour. Such a
regimen would soon end in a _long sleep_[1].' Dr. Taylor remarked, I
think very justly, that 'a man who does not feel an inclination to sleep
at the ordinary time, instead of being stronger than other people, must
not be well; for a man in health has all the natural inclinations to
eat, drink, and sleep, in a strong degree.'
[Footnote 1: This regimen was, however, practised by Bishop Ken, of whom
Hawkins (_not Sir John_) in his life of that venerable Prelate, p. 4,
tells us: 'And that neither his study might be the aggressor on his
hours of instruction, or what he judged his duty prevent his
improvements; or both, his closet addresses to his GOD; he strictly
accustomed himself to but one sleep, which often obliged him to rise at
one or two of the clock in the morning, and sometimes sooner; and grew
so habitual, that it continued with him almost till his last illness.
And so lively and chearful was his temper, that he would be very
facetious and entertaining to his friends in the evening, even when it
was perceived that with difficulty he kept his eyes open; and then
seemed to go to rest with no other purpose than the refreshing and
enabling him with more vigour and chearfulness to sing his morning hymn,
as he then used to do to his lute before he put on his cloaths.'
BOSWELL.]
Johnson advised me to-night not to _refine_ in the education of my
children. 'Life (said he) will not bear refinement: you must do as other
people do[1].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, under Dec. 17, 1775.]
As we drove back to Ashbourne, Dr. Johnson recommended to me, as he had
often done, to drink water only: 'For (said he) you are then sure not to
get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never sure.' I said,
drinking wine was a pleasure which I was unwilling to give up. 'Why,
Sir, (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great
deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' He however owned, that in
his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life[1]; and said, he
would not give less for the life of a certain Scotch Lord[2] (whom he
named) celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a sober man. 'But
stay, (said he, with his usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,)
does it take much wine to make him drunk?' I answered, 'a great deal
either of wine or strong punch.'--'Then (said he) that is the worse.' I
presume to illustrate my friend's observation thus: 'A fortress which
soon surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and
obstinate resistance is made.'
[Footnote 1: Boswell shortened his life by drinking, if, indeed, he did
not die of it. Less than a year before his death he wrote to Temple:--'I
thank you sincerely for your friendly admonition on my frailty in
indulging so much in wine. I _do_ resolve _anew_ to be upon my guard, as
I am sensible how very pernicious as well as disreputable such a habit
is! How miserably have I yielded to it in various years!' _Letters of
Boswell_, p. 353. In 1776 Paoli had taken his word of honour that he
would not taste fermented liquor for a year, that he might recover
sobriety. _Ib._ p. 233. For a short time also in 1778 Boswell was a
water-drinker, _Post_, April 28, 1778.]
[Footnote 2: Sir James Mackintosh told Mr. Croker that he believed Lord
Errol was meant here as well as _post_, April 28, 1778. See Boswell's
_Hebrides_, Aug. 24, 1773.]
I ventured to mention a person who was as violent a Scotsman as he was
an Englishman; and literally had the same contempt for an Englishman
compared with a Scotsman, that he had for a Scotsman compared with an
Englishman; and that he would say of Dr. Johnson, 'Damned rascal! to
talk as he does, of the Scotch.' This seemed, for a moment, 'to give him
pause[1].' It, perhaps, presented his extreme prejudice against the
Scotch in a point of view somewhat new to him, by the effect of
_contrast_.
[Footnote 1: 'Must give us pause.' _Hamlet_, act iii. sc. 1.]
By the time when we returned to Ashbourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed.
Johnson and I sat up a long time by ourselves.
He was much diverted with an article which I shewed him in the _Critical
Review_ of this year, giving an account of a curious publication,
entitled, _A Spiritual Diary and Soliloquies_, by John Rutty, M.D. Dr.
Rutty was one of the people called Quakers, a physician of some eminence
in Dublin, and authour of several works[1]. This Diary, which was kept
from 1753 to 1775, the year in which he died, and was now published in
two volumes octavo, exhibited, in the simplicity of his heart, a minute
and honest register of the state of his mind; which, though frequently
laughable enough, was not more so than the history of many men would be,
if recorded with equal fairness.
[Footnote 1: 'He was the first,' writes Dr. T. Campbell (_Survey of the
South of Ireland_, p. 373), 'who gave histories of the weather, seasons,
and diseases of Dublin.' Wesley records (_Journal_, iv. 40):--'April 6,
1775. I visited that venerable man, Dr. Rutty, just tottering over the
grave; but still clear in his understanding, full of faith and love, and
patiently waiting till his change should come.']
The following specimens were extracted by the Reviewers:--
'Tenth month, 1753.
23. Indulgence in bed an hour too long.
Twelfth month, 17. An hypochondriack obnubilation from wind
and indigestion.
Ninth month, 28. An over-dose of whisky.
29. A dull, cross, cholerick day.
First month, 1757--22. A little swinish at dinner and repast.
31. Dogged on provocation.
Second month, 5. Very dogged or snappish.
14. Snappish on fasting.
26. Cursed snappishness to those under me, on a bodily
indisposition.
Third month, 11. On a provocation, exercised a dumb resentment
for two days, instead of scolding.
22. Scolded too vehemently.
23. Dogged again.
Fourth month, 29. Mechanically and sinfully dogged.'
Johnson laughed heartily at this good Quietist's self-condemning
minutes; particularly at his mentioning, with such a serious regret,
occasional instances of '_swinishness_ in eating, and _doggedness of
temper_[1].' He thought the observations of the Critical Reviewers upon
the importance of a man to himself so ingenious and so well expressed,
that I shall here introduce them.
[Footnote 1: Cowper wrote of Johnson's _Diary_:--'It is certain that the
publisher of it is neither much a friend to the cause of religion nor to
the author's memory; for, by the specimen of it that has reached us, it
seems to contain only such stuff as has a direct tendency to expose both
to ridicule.' Southey's _Cowper_, v. 152.]
After observing, that 'There are few writers who have gained any
reputation by recording their own actions,' they say:--
'We may reduce the egotists to four classes. In the _first_ we have
Julius Caesar: he relates his own transactions; but he relates them with
peculiar grace and dignity, and his narrative is supported by the
greatness of his character and atchievements. In the _second_ class we
have Marcus Antoninus: this writer has given us a series of reflections
on his own life; but his sentiments are so noble, his morality so
sublime, that his meditations are universally admired. In the _third_
class we have some others of tolerable credit, who have given importance
to their own private history by an intermixture of literary anecdotes,
and the occurrences of their own times: the celebrated _Huetius_ has
published an entertaining volume upon this plan, "_De rebus ad eum
pertinentibus_[1]." In the _fourth_ class we have the journalists,
temporal and spiritual: Elias Ashmole, William Lilly, George Whitefield,
John Wesley, and a thousand other old women and fanatick writers of
memoirs and meditations.'
[Footnote 1: Huet, Bishop of Avranches, born 1630, died 1721, published
in 1718 _Commentarius de rebus ad euni pertinentibus. Nouv. Biog. Gene._
xxv. 380.]
I mentioned to him that Dr. Hugh Blair, in his lectures on Rhetorick and
Belles Lettres, which I heard him deliver at Edinburgh, had animadverted
on the Johnsonian style as too pompous; and attempted to imitate it, by
giving a sentence of Addison in _The Spectator_, No. 411, in the manner
of Johnson. When treating of the utility of the pleasures of imagination
in preserving us from vice, it is observed of those 'who know not how to
be idle and innocent,' that 'their very first step out of business is
into vice or folly;' which Dr. Blair supposed would have been expressed
in _The Rambler_ thus: 'Their very first step out of the regions of
business is into the perturbation of vice, or the vacuity of folly[1].'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, these are not the words I should have used. No, Sir; the
imitators of my style have not hit it. Miss Aikin has done it the best;
for she has imitated the sentiment as well as the diction[2].' I intend,
before this work is concluded[3], to exhibit specimens of imitation of
my friend's style in various modes; some caricaturing or mimicking it,
and some formed upon it, whether intentionally or with a degree of
similarity to it, of which, perhaps, the writers were not conscious.
[Footnote 1: When Dr. Blair published his Lectures, he was invidiously
attacked for having omitted his censure on Johnson's style, and, on the
contrary, praising it highly. But before that time Johnson's _Lives of
the Poets_ had appeared, in which his style was considerably easier than
when he wrote _The Rambler_. It would, therefore, have been uncandid in
Blair, even supposing his criticism to have been just, to have preserved
it. BOSWELL.]
[Footnote 2: Johnson refers no doubt to the essay _On Romances, An
Imitation_, by A. L. Aikin (Mrs. Barbauld); in _Miscellaneous Pieces in
Prose_, by J. and A. L. Aikin (1773), p. 39. He would be an acute critic
who could distinguish this _Imitation_ from a number of _The Rambler_.]
[Footnote 3: See _post_, under Dec. 6, 1784.]
In Baretti's Review, which he published in Italy, under the title of
_Frusta Letteraria_[1], it is observed, that Dr. Robertson the historian
had formed his style upon that of _Il celebre Samuele Johnson_. My
friend himself was of that opinion; for he once said to me, in a
pleasant humour, 'Sir, if Robertson's style be faulty, he owes it to me;
that is, having too many words, and those too big ones[2].'
[Footnote 1: _Id est, The Literary Scourge_.]
[Footnote 2: See _ante_, ii. 236, where Johnson attacks 'the _verbiage_
of Robertson.']
I read to him a letter which Lord Monboddo had written to me, containing
some critical remarks upon the style of his _Journey to the Western
Islands of Scotland_. His Lordship praised the very fine passage upon
landing at Icolmkill[1]; but his own style being exceedingly dry and
hard, he disapproved of the richness of Johnson's language, and of his
frequent use of metaphorical expressions. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, this
criticism would be just, if in my style, superfluous words, or words too
big for the thoughts, could be pointed out[2]; but this I do not believe
can be done. For instance; in the passage which Lord Monboddo admires,
'We were now treading that illustrious region[3],' the word
_illustrious_, contributes nothing to the mere narration; for the fact
might be told without it: but it is not, therefore, superfluous; for it
wakes the mind to peculiar attention, where something of more than usual
importance is to be presented. "Illustrious!"--for what? and then the
sentence proceeds to expand the circumstances connected with Iona. And,
Sir, as to metaphorical expression, that is a great excellence in style,
when it is used with propriety, for it gives you two ideas for
one;--conveys the meaning more luminously, and generally with a
perception of delight.'
[Footnote 1: 'We were now treading that illustrious island, which was
once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and
roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings
of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be
impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were
possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever
makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the
present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me, and
from my friends, be such rigid philosophy, as may conduct us,
indifferent and unmoved, over any ground which has been dignified by
wisdom, bravery or virtue. The [That] man is little to be envied, whose
patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose
piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.' Had our Tour
produced nothing else but this sublime passage, the world must have
acknowledged that it was not made in vain. Sir Joseph Banks, the present
respectable President of the Royal Society, told me, he was so much
struck on reading it, that he clasped his hands together, and remained
for some time in an attitude of silent admiration. BOSWELL. See
Boswell's _Hebrides_, Oct. 19, 1773, and Johnson's _Works_, ix. 145.]
[Footnote 2: 'He that thinks with more extent than another will want
words of larger meaning.' _Ante_, i. 218.]
[Footnote 3: In the original _island_.]
He told me, that he had been asked to undertake the new edition of the
_Biographia Britannica_, but had declined it; which he afterwards said
to me he regretted[1]. In this regret many will join, because it would
have procured us more of Johnson's most delightful species of writing;
and although my friend Dr. Kippis has hitherto discharged the task
judiciously, distinctly, and with more impartiality than might have been
expected from a Separatist, it were to have been wished that the
superintendence of this literary Temple of Fame had been assigned to 'a
friend to the constitution in Church and State.' We should not then have
had it too much crowded with obscure dissenting teachers, doubtless men
of merit and worth, but not quite to be numbered amongst 'the most
eminent persons who have flourished in Great-Britain and Ireland[2].'
[Footnote 1: See _ante_, ii. 203, note 3.]
[Footnote 2: In this censure which has been carelessly uttered, I
carelessly joined. But in justice to Dr. Kippis, who with that manly
candid good temper which marks his character, set me right, I now with
pleasure retract it; and I desire it may be particularly observed, as
pointed out by him to me, that 'The new lives of dissenting Divines in
the first four volumes of the second edition of the _Biographia
Brittanica_, are those of John Aberne |
