LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY MRS. ERIC SCHMIDT '^'ji f^ THE LIFE OP SAMUEL JOHNSON. BY JAMES BOSWELL. WITH NOTES BY JOHN WILSON CROKER, H.IWKIXS, riOZZI, 31 ALONE, SCOTT, CHALMERS, AND OTHERS. IN FOUR VOLUMES, VOL. I. NEW YORK: JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER. 1887. P E E F A C E. The object of this undertaking is to place before the public, m an uniform and portable form, and at a very moderate price, all the existing materials for the biography of Dr. Johnson, together with copious illustrations, critical, explanatory, and graphical. The col- lection will be comprised in four volumes — one volume to be pub- lished on the 1st of every month, until the whole is completed. " The " Life of Johnson " by Boswell — the most interesting and instructive specimen of biography that has ever been given to the world — must, of course, occupy the chief space and attention ; and that author's " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides " will be incor- porated in his main narrative, after the example of his last editor, the Right Hon. John Wilson Croker ; who justly observes, that nothing could have prevented Boswell himself from making this arrangement, but the legal obstacle arising out of his previous con- tract with the bookseller who had published the Journal. Johnson's own diary of his Tour into Wales in 1174, nrst pub- lished by Mr. Duppa in 1816, and various private letters to Mrs Thrale and others, have also been inserted [within brackets] in the text of Boswell : he himself having uniformly availed himself of t1 preface. uimilar new materials as they reached his hand whUe occupied with the second and third editions of his work. The present Editors, however, have not judged it proper to follow the example of Mr, Croker, in interweaving with the text of Bos- well any materials, however valuable, derived from other pens than those of Dr. Johnson and the original biographer himself. Their plan has been to give, from minor biographers and miscellaneous authorities, in the form of foot-notes to Boswell's text, whatever appeared to bear directly on the subjects therein discussed, or on fads of Johnson's life therein omitted ; but to reserve for the con- cluding volume the rich assemblage of mere conversational frag- ments, supplied by Piozzi, Hawkins, Tyers, Miss Eeyuolds, Murphy, Cumberland, Nichols, and the other friends and acquaintances of Dr. Johnson, who have, in their various writings, added to the general record of his wit and wisdom. This arrangement has seemed that most consistent with a just estimation of the literary character of Boswell. Altogether unrivalled in his own style of narrative, it was considered as hardly fair to his memory, that his text should not appear pure and unbroken. The division of Boswell's text into chapters, now for the first time adopted, will, the Editors presume, be found convenient to the reader. In the Appendices to the various volumes ; in the foot-notes throughout ; and in the compilation of the miscellaneous pages of this valuable biography, the Editors have availed themselves, to the fullest extent compatible with their general scheme, of Mr Croker's admirable annotations. The edition of 1831 excited so much notice among the leading contributors to our periodical press, that a new and plentiful source of elucidation, both historical and critical, has been placed at the command of Mr. Croker's success- ors ; and of this, also, they have eudeavoured to make the proper osc. Finally, the Editors have Ijeen enabled, by the kindness of lite- PbEFACE. V\\ rary friends, to eurich the present work with a very consideraok supply of illustrative materials entirely new ; but of this it will become the Editors to say little, until their task shall have been completed. It has been their ambition, and it is their earnest hope, to be instrumental in opening and familiarising to the greatly expanded, and hourly expanding circle of intelligent readers in the lef.s affluent classes of the community, a mine of information and amusement, which may be said to have been hitherto accessible only to the pur- chasers of expensive books ; and even to these by no means so directly or so conveniently as, after the lapse of so many years, and with them of so many legal copyrights, might have fairly been expected in this sera cf cheap literature. Reserving for another occasion what they may have to say with respect to the minor biographers of Johnson, the Editors now pro- ceed to a few remarks on the great work of Boswell. His Journal of the Tour to the Hebrides in 1773, was published \n 1785, the year after Johnson's death, in one volume octavo ; and has since been separately printed many times. It was, as has been mentioned, first incorporated with the Author's general narrative of the Doctor's Life in the edition of Mr. Croker, 1831 ; and this example will assuredly be adhered to in all future editions. Not the least interesting circumstance connected with this Tour is, that Johnson read from time to time Boswell's record of his sayings and doings, and so far from being displeased with its minuteness, expressed great admiration of its accuracy, and encouraged the chronicler to proceed with his grand ulterior undertaking ; viz., the " Life of Johnson ;" which first appeared, in two volumes quarto, in April, 1791 — seven years after Dr. Johnson's death. Boswell gave a second edition of the Life in 1794, and was engaged in preparing a third, when death overtook him in 1795. His new materials were made use of by his friend and executor, the nil PREFACE. estimable Edinoud Malone, who brought out the third edition m 1799 ; and superintended, likewise the fourth in 1804 ; a fifth, in 1801 ; and a sixth, in 1811. In these editions, Mr. Malone gave many valuable notes of his own ; and was also furnished with important assistance by Dr. Charles Burney, author of the ** History of Music," and father of the authoress of " Evelina ;" by the Rev. J. Blakeway, of Shrewsbury ; James Bindley, Esq., First Commis- sioner of Stamps ; the Eev. Dr. Vyse, Rector of Lambeth ; the Rev. Dr Kearney, Archdeacon of Raphoe, in Ireland ; and James Boswell, Esq. jun., the second son of the Biographer. The contri- butions of Malone, and his various friends, are distinguished in the present collection by their respective signatures. Mr. Chalmers further enriched the Annotations on Boswell, in the ninth edition, which he published in 1822; and he liberally allowed Mr. Crokcr to make whatever use he pleased of that edi- tion, when preparing the eleventh, that of 1831. The tenth was an anonymous one, published at Oxford in 1826; but this was hardly more than a handsome reprint of the earlier copies. Besides the materials accumulated by Boswell himself, his intelli- gent son, Malone, Chalmers, and their various literary allies, Mr. Croker's character and station opened to him, when preparing the edition of 1831, many new and most interesting sources of information, both manuscript and oral. He acknowledges, more especially, in his preface, the copious communications of the Rev. Dr. Hall, Master of Pembroke College, Oxford, — from which he was enabled to throw unexpected light on some of the earlier chap- ters of Dr. Johnson's personal career; those of the Rev. Dr. Har- wood, the historian of Lichfield, who procured for him, through Mrs. Pearson, the widow of the legatee of Miss Lucy Porter, many letters addressed to that lady by Dr. Johnson, but for which Boswell had inquired in vain; of Lord Rokeby, the nephew and heir of Mrs. Montagu, who placed Johnson's correspondence with her PREFACE. W at his disposal; of Mr. Langton, the grandson of Bennet Langton, who, iu like manner, opened his family repositories; of Mr. Palmer^ grand-nephew of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who contributed, besides various autograph letters and notes of Johnson to his great-aunt. Miss Reynolds, a MS. of seventy pages, written by that lady, and entitled, " Recollections of Dr. Johnson ;" of Mr. Markland, whom he thanks (as the present Editors must again do) for " a great deal of zealous assistance and valuable information," — including "a copy of Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, copiously annotated, propria vianu, by Mr. Malone :" of Mr. J. L. Anderdon, for some of the original letters, memoranda, and note-books used by Boswell when com- posing the Life ; of the present Macleod, son of the chief who received Johnson at DutfVegan in 1173, for a curious autobiographi- cal fragment, written by his father; of Sir Walter Scott, for a series of very interesting notes on the " Tour to the Hebrides ;" of the venerable Lord Stowell, the friend and executor of Johnson, for dictating some recollections of the Doctor, of which, although the notes, by an unfortunate accident, were lost, the substance had not escaped Mr. Croker's own memory; of Dr. Elrington, the Lord Bishop of Ferns; and, finally, of Mr. D'Israeli,— the Marquess Wellesley, — the Marquess of Lansdowne, — Lord Bexley, — Lord St. Helens, — the late Earl Spencer; and various other distinguished persons. From the Preface to Mr. Croker's edition we shall now extract those passages of a more general interest, which ought to be iu the hands of all those who are to profit by that gentleman's ingenuity and research : " It were superfluous to expatiate on the merits, at least as a source of amuse- ment, of Boswell's Life of Johnson. Whatever doubts may have existed as to the prudence or the propriety of the original publication— however natu- rally private confidence was alarmed, or individual vanity offended, the voices of criticism and complaint were soon drowned in the general applause. And I* X PREFACE, no wonder : the work combines within itself the four most entertaining classes of writing — biography, memoirs, famihar letters, and that assemblage of lite rary anecdotes which the French have taught us to distinguish by the termina" tion Ana. " Having no domestic ties or duties, the latter portion of Dr. Johnson's life was, as Mrs. Piozzi observes, nothing but conversation, and that conversation was watched and recorded from night to night and from hour to hour with zealous attention and unceasing diligence. No man, the most staid or the most guarded, is always the same in health, in spirits, in opinions. Human life is a series of inconsistencies ; and when Johnson's early misfortunes, his protracted poverty, his strong passions, his violent prejudices, and, above all, his mental infirmities are considered, it is only wonderful that a portrait so laboriously minute and so painfully faithful does not exhibit more of blemish, incongruity, and error. " The hfe of Dr. Johnson is indeed a most curious chapter in the history of man ; for certainly there is no instance of the hfe of any other human being having been exhibited in so much detail, or with so much fidelity. There are, perhaps, not many men who have practised so much solf-examination as to know themselves as well as every reader knows Dr. Johnson. " We must recollect that it is not his table-talk or his literary conversations only that have been published ; all his most private and most trifling corres- pondence — all his most common as well as his most confidential intercourses — all his most secret communion with his own conscience — and even the solemn and contrite exercises of his piety, have been divulged and exhibited to the ' garish eye ' of the world without reserve — I had almost said, without delicacy. Young, with gloomy candour, has said •Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himself That hideous eight, a naked human heart.' What a man must Johnson have been, whose heart, having been laid more bare than that of any other mortal ever was, has passed almost unblemished through so terrible an ordeal! " But while we contemplate with such interest this admirable and perfect vortrait, let us not forget the painter : pupils and imitators have added drape- ries and backgrounds, but the head and figure are by Mr. Boswell. " Mr. Burke told Sir James Mackintosh, that he thought Johnsou showed fREPAcn. a more powers of mind in company than in his writings, and on another occasion eaid, that he thought Johnson appeared greater in Mr. Boswell's volumes than even in nis own. " It was a strange and fortunate concurrence, that one so prone to talk and who talked so well, should be brought into such close contact and confidence With one so zealous and so able to record. Dr. Johnson was a man of extra- ordinary powers, but Mr. Boswell had qualities, in their own way, almost as rare. He united lively manners with indefatigable diligence, and the volatile curiosity of a man about town with the drudging patience of a chronicler. With a very good opinion of himself, he was quick in discerning, and frank in applaud- ing, the excellencies of others. Though proud of his own name and lineage, and amoitious of the countenance of the great, he was yet so cordial an admirer of merit, wherever found, that much public ridicule, and something like con- tempt, were excited by the modest assurance with which he pressed his acquamtance on all the notorieties of his time, and by the ostentatious (but, in the main, laudable) assiduity with which he attended the exile Paoli and the low-born Johnson ! These were amiable, and, for us, fortunate inconsistencies. His contemporaries, indeed, not without some colour of reason, occasionally complained of him as vain, inquisitive, troublesome, and giddy ; but his vanity was inoffensive — his curiosity was commonly directed towards laudable objects — wnen he meddled, he did so, generally, from good-natured motives — and his giddiness was only an exuberant gaiety, which never failed in the respect and reverence due to literature, morals, and religion ; and posterity gratefully acknowledges the taste, temper, and talents with which he selected, enjoyed, and described that polished and intellectual society which still lives in his work, and without his work had perished ! • Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona Multi : sed oranes illacrymabilea Urgentur, ignotique longa Nocte, carent quia vate sacro.' * Sucn imperfect though interesting sketches as Ben Jonson's visit to Dram- mond, Selden's Table Talk, Swift's Journal, and Spence's Anecdotes, only tAn- * " Before great Agamemnon reign'd Reign'd kings as great as he, and brave, Whose huge ambition's now contain'd In the small compass of a grave; » In endless night they sleep, unwept, unknown ; No bard had they to make all time their own."— Pbahcis. Sii PREFACE. talize our curiosity and excite our regret that there was no Boswell to preserve tlie conversation and illustrate the life and times of Addison, of Swift himself, of Milton, and, above all, of Shakspeare ! We can hardly refrain from indulg- ing ourselves with the imagination of works so instructive and delightful ; hut that were idle ; except as it may tend to increase our obligation to the Ai-itpfui and fortunate biographer of Dr. Johnson. " Mr. Boswell's birth and education familiarized him with the highest of hia acquaintance, and his good-nature and conviviality with the lowest. He describes society of all classes with the happiest discrimination. Even his foibles assisted his curiosity ; he was sometimes laughed at, but always well received ; he excited no envy, he imposed no restraint. It was well known that he made notes of every conversation, yet no timidity was alarmed, no delicacy demurred ; and we are perhaps indebted to the lighter parts of his character for the patient indulgence with which everybody submitted to sit for their pictures. " Nor were bis talents inconsiderable. He had looked a good deal iKto books, and more into the world. The narrative portion of his work is written with good sense, in an easy and perspicuous style, and without (which seems odd enough) any palpable imitation of Johnson. But in recording conversa- tions he is unrivalled : that he was eminently accurate in substance, we have the evidence of all his contemporaries ; but he is also in a high degree charac- teristic — dramatic. The incidental observations with which he explains or enlivens the dialogue, are terse, appropriate, and picturesque — we not merely hear bis company, we see them ! " Yet his father was, we are told, by no means satisfied with the life he led, xior his eldest son with the kind of reputation he attained : neither liked to hear of his connexion even with Paoli or Johnson ; and both would have been better pleased if he had contented himself with a domestic life of sober respectability. " The public, however, the dispenser of fame, has judged differently, and considers the biographer of Johnson as the most eminent part of the family pedigree. With less activity, less indiscretion, less curiosity, less enthusiasm, he might, perhaps, have been what the old lord would, no doubt, have thought more respectable ; and have been pictured on the walls of Auchinleck (the very name of which we never should have heard) by some stiff, provincial painter, in a lawyer's wig or a squire's hunting cap; but his portrait by Rey PREFACE. Xiil aolds, would not have been ten times engraved ; his name could never have Decome — as it is likely to be — as faf spread and as lasting as the English lan- guage ; and ' the world had wanted ' a work to which it refers as a manual of amusement, a repository of wit, wisdom, and morals, and a lively and faithful history of the manners and literature of England, during a period hardly second in brilliancy, and superior in importance, even to the Augustan age of Anne." To these masterly strictures of Mr. Croker we now append some of the passages in which other writers have recorded their estima- tion of Boswell ; concluding with a few extracts from the periodical literature of our own times. Malone. " Highly as this work is now estimated, it will, I am confident, be still more valued by posterity a century hence, when the excellent and extraordinary man, whose wit and wisdom are here recorded, shall be viewed at a still greater distance ; and the instruction and entertainment they afford will at once produce reverential gratitude, admiration, and delight." — Preface^ 1804 Sir William Forbes. " The circle of Mr. Boswell's acquaintance among the learned, the witty, and, indeed, among men of all ranks and professions, was extremely extensive, as his talents were considerable, and his convivial powers made his company much in request. His warmth of hcarf towards his friends was very great ; and I have known few men who possessed a stronger sense of piety, or more fervent devotion (tinctured, no doubt, with some little share of superstition ; which had, probably, in some degree, been fostered by his habits of intimacy with Dr. Johnson), perhaps not always sufficient to regulate his imagination, or direct his conduct, yet still genuine, and founded both in his understanding and his heart. His Life of that extraordinary man must be allowed to be one of the most characteristic and entertaining biographxal works in the English language.'' — lAfc of BecUtie, vol. ii., p. 166. Cumberland. " Under the hospitable roof of Mr. Dilly, the biographer of Johnson passed many jovial, joyous hours : here he has located some of the liveliest ac«'uea jaV PREFACE. and most brilliant passages in his entertaining anecdotes of his friend Samuel Johnfion, who yet lives and speaks in hita. The book of Boswell is, ever aa the year comes round, my winter-evening's entertainment. I loved the man* he had great convivial powers, and an inexhaustible fund of good-humour in society ; nobody could detail the spirit of a conversation in the true style and character of the parties more happily than my friend James Boswell."--- Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 22'7. Mirrington. " Of those who were frequently at Sir Joshua Reynolds's parties; Mr. Bos- well was very acceptable to him. He was a man of excellent temper, and with much gaiety of manner, possessed a shrewd understanding, and close observa- tion of character. He had a happy faculty of dissipating that reserve, which too often damps the pleasure of Enghsh society. His good-nature and sociai feeling always incUned him to endeavour to produce that efiect ; which was so well known, that when he appeared, he was hailed as the harbinger of festivity. Sir Joshua was never more happy than when, on such occasion, Mr. Boswell was seated within his hearing. The Royal Society gratified Sir Joshua by electing Mr. Boswell their Secretary of Foreign Correspondence ; which made him an Honorary Member of that body." — Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, p. 83. Sir Walter Scott. " Of all the men distinguished in this or any other age. Dr. Johnson has lefk upon posterity the strongest and most vivid impression, so far as person, man- ners, disposition, and conversation are concerned. We do but name him, or open a book which he has written, and the sound or action recall to the imagination at once his form, his merits, his peculiarities, nay, the very uncouthness of his gestures, and the deep impressive tone of his voice. We learn not only what he said, but form an idea how he said it ; and have, at the same time, a shrewd guess of the secret motive why he did so, and whether is spoke in sport or in anger, in the desire of conviction, or for the love of debate. It was said of a noted wag, that his brn-mots did not give full satis- faction when pub ashed, because he could not print his face. But with respect to Dr. Johnson, this has been in some degree accomplished ; and, although Vne greater part of the present generation never saw him, yet he is, in our HJind's eye, a personification as lively as that of Siddons in Lady Macbeth or PREFACK. XV Kemble in Cardinal Wolsey. All this, as the world knows, arises from his having found in James Boswell such a biographer as no man but himself evei had, or ever deserved to have. Considering the eminent persons to whom it relates, and the quantity of miscellaneous information and entertaining gossip which it brings together, his Life of Johnson may be termed, without excep- tion, the best parlour-window book that ever was written." — Miscellaneout Prose Workx, vol. i., p. 260. Edinburgh Review. " Boswell was the very prince of retail wits and philosophers. One princi pal attraction of his Life of Johnson is the contrast which, in some respects, it presents to the Doctor's own works. Instead of the pompous common places which he was in the habit of piling together and rounding into periodf in his closet, his behaviour and conversation in company might be described as a continued exercise of spleen, an indulgence of irritable humours, a mas- terly display of character. He made none but home-thrusts, but desperate lounges, but palpable hits. No turgidity ; no flaccidness ; no bloated flesh : all was muscular strength and agility. It wag this vigorous and voluntary ex- ercise of his faculties, when freed from all restraint, in the intercourse of pri- vate society, that has left such a rich harvest for his Biographer ; and it can- not be denied that it has been well and carefully got in. Other works furnish us with curious particulars, but minute and disjointed : — they want picturesque grouping and dramatic eflFect. We have the opinions and sayings of eminent men : but they do not grow out of the occasion : we do not know at whose house such a thing happened, nor the effect it had on those who were present. We have good things served up in sandwiches, but we do not sit down, as in Boswell, to ' an ordinary of fine discourse.' There is no eating and drinking going on. We have nothing like Wilkes's plying Johnson with the best bits at Billy's table, and overcoming his Tory prejudices by the good things he offered and the good things he said ; nor does any Goldsmith drop in after tea with his peach-coloured coat, like one dropped from the clouds, bewildered, witb his finery and the success of a new work," — No. Ixvi. 1820. "The 'Life of Johnson' is one of the best books in the world. It is aa- Buredly a great, a very great, work. Homer is not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, — Shakspeare is not more decidedly the first of dramatists,— Xvi PREFACE. Demosthenes is not more decidedly the first of orators, than Boswell is the first of biographers. He has distanced all his competitors so decidedly, that ;t is not worth while to place them : Eclipse is first, and the rest nowhere. We are not sure that there is in the whole history of the human intellect so singular a phenomenon as this book. Many of the greatest men that ever lived have written biography — Boswell has beaten them all. This book re- sembles nothing so much as the conversation of the inmates of the Palace of Truth."— No. cxii. 1832. Quarterly Review, ** Our vivacious neighbours, more fond of talk, found a pleasure, when iilent, in writing down the talk of others, even to their Arlequiniana, for Harlequin too must talk in France. Of their flock, the bell-weather is the Menagiana. Yet the four volumes are eclipsed by the singular splendour of Boswell's Johnson. All other Ana are usually confined to a single person, and chiefly run on the particular subject connected with that person ; but Boswell's is the Ana of all mankind ; nor can the world speedily hope to re- ceive a similar gift ; for it is scarcely more practicable to find another Boswell than another Johnson." — No. xlvi. 1820. " Boswell's Life of Johnson is, we suspect, the richest dictionary of wit and wisdom any language can boast. Even if it were possible to consider his de- lineation of Johnson merely as a character in a novel of the period, the world would have owed him, and acknowledged, no trival obligation. But what can the best character in any novel ever be, compared to a full-length of the reality of genius ; and what specimen of such reality will ever surpass the • Omni3 votiva veluti depicta tabella Vita Senis?' — the first, and as yet by far the most complete picture of the whole life and conversation of one of that rare order of beings, the rarest, the most influential of all, whose mere genius en- titles and enables them to act as great independent controlling powers upon the" general tone of thought and feeling of their kind, and invests the very soil where it can be shown they ever set foot, with a living and sacred charm of interest, years and ages after the loftiest of the contemporaries, that did or did not condescend to notice them, shall be as much forgotten as if they had never strutted their hour on the glittering stage ? Boswell's • Johnson' is, without doubt, — excepting, yet hardly excepting, a few immortal monnmenta of creative genius,— that English book which, were this island to be sunk to- rREFACK. xvii morrow, with all that it inhabits, would be most prized in other days ani countries, by the students ' of us and of our history.' To the influence of Bosweli's we owe, probably three fourths of what is most entertaining, as well as no inconsiderable portion of whatever is most instructive, in all the booka of memoirs that have subsequently appeared." — No. xci. 1832. In this edition will be found some Notices of Michael Johnson, father of tie boctor ; and the whole of tne extraordinary Frag- ment, first published in 1805, under the title of " An Account of the Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, from his Birth to his Eleventh Year, written by Himself." r CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER I. 1709—1716. Introduction — Johnson's Birth and Parentage — He inherits from his Father " a vile Melan choly " — His account of the Members of his Family — Traditional Stories of his Precocity — Taken to London to be touched by Queen Anne for the Scrofula, . . .26 CHAPTER II. 1716—1728. Johnson goes to School at Lichfield — Particulars of his boyish days — Removed to the School of Stourbridge — Specimens of his School Exercises and early Verses — He leaves Stour bridge, and passes two years with his Father, ...... 41 CHAPTER III. 1723—1731. Enters at Pembroke College, Oxford — His College Life — The " Morbid Melancholy " lurking In his Constitution gains strength— Translates Pope's Messiah into Latin Verse — His Course of Reading at Oxford— Quits College, .......64 CHAPTER IV. 1731—1736. Johnson leaves Oxford— Death of his Father — Mr. Oilbert Walmesley— Captain Garrlck — Mrs. Hill Boothby — " Molly Aston" — Johnson becomes Usher of Market-Bosworth School — Removes to Birmingham — Translates Lobo's Voyages to Abyssinia — Returns to Lichfield — Proposes to print the Latin Poems of Politian — Offers to write for the Gentleman's Magazine — His juvenile Attachments — Marries — Opens a private Academy at Edial — David Garr'ck Ub Pupil — Commences " Irene," ....... TO Six TX CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAPTER V. 1737—1738. Johnson gojg to London with David Garriclc — Talces Lodgings in Exeter Street — Retires to Greenwich, and proceeds with " Irene " — Projects a Translation of the History of the Council of Trent — Returns to Lichiltid, and finishes " Irene " — Removes to London with his Wife — Becomes a Writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, . . . . .89 CHAPTER VI. 1738—1741. Johnson publishes " London, a Poem" — Letters to Cave relating thereto— Endeavours, with- out Success, to obtain the Degree of Master of Arts — Recommended by Pope to Earl Gower — The Earl's Letter on his Behalf — Begins a Translation of Father Paul Sarpi's History — Publishes " A Complete VindicEt'iot of the Licensers of the Stage," and " Marmor Norfol- ciense" — Pope's Note to Richardson concerning him — Characteristic Anecdotes — Writes the Debates in Parliament, under the Dbguise of " the Senate of Lilliput," • . 102 CHAPTER VII. 1741—1744. Jonnson finishes " Irene " — Writes " Essay on the Account of the Conduct of the Duchess of Marlborough " — Lives of Burman and Sydenham — " Proposals for printing Bibliotheca Harleiana" — Projects a History of Parliament — Writes " Considerations on the Dispute between Crousaz and Warburton, on " Pope's Essay on Man " — " Dedication to James's Dictionary " — " Friendship, an Ode " — His extreme Indigence at this Time — His Acquaint- ance with Savage — Anecdotes — Publishes " The Life of Richard Savage " — Case of the Countess of Macclesfield — Writes " Preface to the Harleian Miscellany," . . 128 CHAPTER VIII. 1745—1749. Miscellaneous Observations on Macbeth," and "Proposals for a new Edition of Shakspeare" — " Prologue, spoken by Garrick, on the opening of Drury Lane Theatre " — Prospectus of the Dictionary of the English Language — Progress of the Work— Kink's Head Club in Ivy Lane — Visit to Tunbridge Wells — "Life of Roscommon" — "Preface to Dodsley's Precep- tor" — "Vision of Theodore the Hermit" — "The Vanity of Human Wishes" — "Irene" acted at Drury Lane, ; . . . • • « > •. 146 CHAPTER IX. . 1750—1751. Johnson begins "The Rambler" — His Prayer on commencing the Undertaking — Obligation! to Correspondents — Adversaria — Success of the Rambler — Collected into Volumes — "Beauties" of the Rambler — Writes a Prologue, to be spoken by Garrick, fcr the Benefit of Milton's Grand-daughter — "Life of Cheynel" — Lauder's Forgery against Milton — Mrs. Anna Williams, .......... 169 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. XlA CHAPTER X. 1752—1753. Progress of the Dictionary— Conclusion of tlie Rambler — Death of Mrs. Johnson— Prayer on that Occasion— Inscription— Epitaph— Francis Barber— Robert Levett — Sir Joshua Reynolds — Bennet Langton — Topham Beaucleric — Johnson assists Hawlcesworth in " The Adven- turer," — Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, ..,..,.. 192 CHAPTER XT. 1754. Johnson writes the " Life of Cave "—The Dictionary— Lord Chesterfield— His alleged Neglect of Johnson — His Papers in " The World," in Recommendation of the Dictionary — Letter to the Earl— Bolingbrol^e'a Works edited by Mallet — Johnson visits Oxford for the purpose of consulting the Libraries — His Conversations with Mr. Warton, Mr. Wise, and others — Sir Robert Chambers — Letters to Warton — Collins, ...... 213 CHAPTER XII. 1755—1758. Johnson receives the Degree of M. A. by Diploma — Correspondence with Warton and tne an- tliorities of the University of Oxford — Publication of the Dictionary of the English Lan- guage — Remarlcable Definitions — Abridgment of the Dictionary — The Universal Visiter — The Literary Magazine — Defence of Tea — Pulpit Discourses — Proposals for an Edition of Shakspeare — Jonas Hanway — Soame Jenyns — Charles Burney, . . . . 228 CHAPTER XIII. 1758—1769. 'The Idler — Letters to Warton — Letters to Bennet Langton — Illness of Johnson's Mother- Letters to her, and to Miss Porter — His Mother's Death — " Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia " —Miscellanies — Excursion to Oxford — Francis Barber — John Wilkes — Smollett — Letter to Mrs. Montagu — Mrs. Ogle — Myine the Architect, ...... 267 CHAPTER XIV. 1760—1763. Miscellaneous Essays — Origin of Johnson's Acquaintance with Murphy— Akenslde and Rolt— Mackenzie and Eccles — Letters to Barettl — Painting and Music— Sir George Staunton — Letter to a Lady soliciting Church Preferment for her Son— The King confers on Johnson a Pension of £300 a Year— Letters to Lord Bute— Visit to Devonshire, with Sir Joshua Rey lold»— Character of Collins- Dedication of Hoole's Tasso, . . . 88( liU CONTENTS OF VOL. 1. CHAPTER XV. 1763. Boswell beo>rs^ acquainted with Johnson— Derrick — Mr. Thomas Sheridan — Mrs. Sheridan-*- Mr. Thomas Davies— Mrs. Davies — First Interview — His Dress — Johnson's Chambers ia Templ(> Lane— Dr. Blair— Dr. James Fordyce — Ossian — Christopher Smart— Thomas John- son, the Equestrian— Clifton's Eating House — The Mitre— Colley Cibber's Odes— Gray — Belief in the Appearance of departed Spirits— Churchill — Cock-Lane Ghost — Goldsmith — MaUet's " Elvira "—Scotch Landlords— Plan of Study, 809 CHAPTER XVI. 1763. firaham's " Telemachus, a Mask" — Dr. Oliver Goldsmith — Dr. John Campbell — " Hermippus Redivivus " — Churchill's Poetry — Bonnell Thornton — " Ode on St. Cecilia's Day" — The Con- noisseur — The World— Miss Williams's Tea Parties — Anecdotes of Goldsmith, . . 829 CHAPTER XVII. 1763, >widon — Miss Porter's Legacy — Boswell and his Landlord — Suppers at the Mitre — " The King can do no Wrong " — Historical Composition — Bayle — Arbuthnot — The noblest Prospect in Scotland — Jacobitism — Lord Hailes — Keeping a Journal — The King of Prussia's Poetry — Johnson's Library — " Not at Home " — Pity — Style of Hume — Inequality of Mankind — Constitutional Goodness — Miracles — Acquaintance of Young People— Hard Reading — Mel- ancholy — Mrs. Macaulay — Warton's Essay on Pope — Sir James Macdonald — Projected Tour to the Hebrides — School-boy Happiness, ...... 887 CHAPTER XVIII. 1763. Table-Talk — Influence of the Weather — Swift — Thomson — Burke — Sheridan — Evidences of Christianity — Derrick — Day at Greenwich — The Methodists — Johnson's " Walk " — The Con- vocation — Blacklock — Johnson accompanies Boswell to Harwich — The Journey — " Good Eating " — " Abstinence and Temperance " — Johnson's favourite Dishes — Bishop Berkeley " refuted "—Burke— Boswell sails for Holland, , . * . . . . 860 CHAPTER XIX. 1763—1765. Boawell at Utrecht -Letter from Johnson— The Frisick Language — Johnson's Visit to Lang ton — Institution of " The Club " — Pveynolds — Garrick — Dr. Nugent — Granger's " Sugat Cane " — Hypochondriac Attack — Days of Abstraction — Odd Habits — Visit to Dr. Percy — • Letter to Reynolds — Visit to Cambridge — Self-examination — Letter to, and from, Garrick— Johnson created LL.D. by Dublin University — Letter to Dr. Leland — Prayer on " Engaging la Politics "—William Gerard Hamilton, ....... '871 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. XXUi CHAPTER XX.- 1765—1766. icqualntance with t>.e Thrales— Publication of the Edition of Shakspeare—Kenrick— Letter to Boswell — Boswell returns to England — Voltaire on Pope and Dryden — Goldsmith's " Tra- veller," and " Deserted Village " — Suppers at the Mitre resumed — " Equal Happiness "— " Courting great Men " — Convents— Second Sight — Corsica — Rousseau — Subordination— " Making Verses " — Letters to Langton, ....... 894 CHAPTER XXI. 1765—1767. Boswell'a Thesis — Study of the Law — Rash Vows — Streathan —Oxford — London Improve- ments — Dedications — Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies — Mr. AVilliam Drummond — Translation of the Bible into the Gaelic — Case of Heely— Dr. Robertson— Cuthbert Shaw—" Tom Hervey " — Johnson's Interview with King George III. — Warburton and Lowth — Lord Lyttelton'a History — Dr. Hill — Literary Journals — Visit to Lichfield— Death of Catherine Chambers^ Lexiphanes— Mrs. Aston, ........ . 418 CHAPTER XXII. 1768. Btate of Johnson's Mind— Visit to Town-mailing — Prologue to Goldsmith's " Good-natured Man " — Boswell publishes his " Account of Corsica " — Practice of the Law — Novels and Comedies — The Douglas Cause — Reading MSS. — St. Kilda — Oxford — Guthrie — Hume — Robertson— Future Life of Brutes— Scorpions — Maupertuis— Woodcocks— Swallows — Bell's Travels— Chastity— Choice of a Wife — Baretti's Itnly— Liberty— Kenrick— Thomson — Mousey — Swift — Lord Eglingtoune— Letter on the Formation of a Library— Boswell at tlie Stratford Jubilee— Johnson's Opinion of the " Account of Corsica," . . , 438 APPENDIX. Ko. I. — Skb Note dm Paqb .....•• ciSS IL — Dr. Johnson's Account op his Own Eaklt Lifb, . . • • «flT HL— List or the Members or thb "Liisbabt Clui," . . • . . 4M TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. mr DEAR SIR, Evert liberal motive that can actuate an author in the dedication of his labours, concurs in directing; me to you, as the person to whom the following Work should be inscribed. K there be a pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of a contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity not altogether inexcusable, in appearing fully sensible of it, where can I find one, in complimenting whom I can with more general approbation gratify those feelings ? Your excellence, not only in the Art over which you have long presided with unrivalled fame, but also in Philosophy and elegant Literature, is well known to the present, and will continue to be the admiration of future ages. Your equal and placid temper, your variety of conversation, your true polite- ness, by which you are so amiable in private society, and that enlarged hospitality which has long made your house a common centre of union for the great, the accomplished, the learned, and the ingenious; all these qualities I can, in perfect confidence of not being accused of flattery, ascribe to you. If a man may indulge an honest pride, in having it known to the world, that he has been thought worthy of particular attention by ft person of the first eminence in the age in which he lived, whose company has been universally courted, I am justified in availing VOL. I. 2 "▼ tXvi TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. myself of the usual privilege of a Dedication, when 1 mention that there has been a long and uninterrupted friendship between us. If gratitude should be acknowledged for favours received, I have this opportunity, my dear Sir, most sincerely to thank you for the many happy hours which I owe to your kindness, — for the cordiality with which you have at all times been pleased to welcome me, — for the number of valuable acquaintances to whom you have introduced me, — for the nodes cosncBqtie Deum, which I have enjoyed under your roof. If a work should be inscribed to one who is master of the sub- ject of it, and whose approbation, therefore, must insure it credit and success, the Life of Dr. Johnson is, with the greatest propriety, dedicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was the intimate and beloved friend of that great man; the friend, whom he declared to be " the most invulnerable man he knew; whom, if he should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficulty how to abuse." You, my dear Sir, studied him, and knew him well : you venerated and admired him. Yet, luminous as he was upon the whole, you per- ceived all the shades which mingled in the grand composition ; all the little peculiarities and slight blemishes which marked the lite- rary Colossus. Your very warm commendation of the specimen which I gave in my "Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides," of my being able to preserve his conversation in an authentic and lively manner, which opinion the public has confirmed, was the best en- couragement for me to persevere in my purpose of producing the whole of my stores. In one respect, this Work will, in some passages, be different f-om the former. In my " Tour," I was almost unboundedly open in my communications, and from my eagerness to display the wonderful fertility and readiness of Johnson's wit, freely showed to the world its dexterity, even when I was myself the object of it. I trusted that TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. XXvii I should be liberally understood, as knowing very well what I was about, and by no means as simply unconscious of the pointed effects of the satire. I own, indeed, that I was aiTogant enough to suppose that the tenor of the rest of the book would sufficiently guard me against such a strange imputation. But it seems J judged too well of the world; for, though I could scarcely believe it, I have been undoubtedly informed, that many persons, especially in distant quar- ters, not penetrating enough into Johnson's character, so as to understand his mode of treating his friends, have arraigned my judgment, instead of seeing that I was sensible of all that they could observe. It is related of the great Dr. Clarke, that when in one of his leisure hours he was unbending himself with a few friends in the most playful and frolicksome manner, he observed Beau Nash approaching; upon which he suddenly stopped; — "My boys," said he, " let us be grave : here comes a fool." The world, my friend, I have found to be a great fool, as to that particular on which it has become necessary to speak very plainly. I have, therefore, in this Work been mOre reserved; and though I tell nothing but the truth, I have still kept in my mind that the whole truth is not always to be exposed. This, however, I have managed so as to occasion no diminution of the pleasure which my book should afford ; though malignity may sometimes be disappointed of its gratifications I am, my dear Sir, Your much obliged friend, And faithful humble servant, James Boswkll. London, AprU 20, 179t ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDinON. I AT last deliver to the world a Work which I have long promised, and of which, I am afraid, too high expectations have been raised. The delay of its publication must be imputed, in a considerable de- gree, to the extraordinary zeal which has been shown by distin- guished persons in all quarters to supply me with additional infor- mation concerning its illustrious subject ; resembling in this the grateful tribes of ancient nations, of which every individual was eager to throw a stone upon the grave of a departed hero, and thus to share in the pious office of erecting an honourable monument to his memory. The labour and anxious attention with which I have collected and arranged the materials of which these volumes are composed, will hardly be conceived by those who read them with careless facility. The stretch of mind and prompt assiduity by which so many con- versations were preserved, I myself, at some distance of time, con- template with wonder ; and I must be allowed to suggest, that the nature of the work, in other respects, as it consists of innumerable detached particulars, all which, even the most minute, I have spared no pains to ascertain with a scrupulous authenticity, has occasioned a degree of trouble far beyond that of any other species of compo- XXX ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. Bition. Were I to detail the books which I have consulted, and the inquiries which I have found it necessary to make by various chan- nels, I should probably be thought ridiculously ostentatious. Let me only observe, as a specimen of my trouble, that I have some- times been obliged to run half over London, in order to fix a date correctly ; which, when I had accomplished, I well knew would ob- tain me no praise, though a failure would have been to my discredit And after all, perhaps, hard as it may be, I shall not be surprised if omissions or mistakes be pointed out with invidious severity. I have also been extremely careful as to the exactness of my quota- tions ; holding that there is a respect due to the public, which should oblige every author to attend to this, and never presume to introduce them with, — " I think I have read ;" or, " If I remember right," when the originals may be examined. I beg leave to express my warmest thanks to those who have been pleased to favour me with communications and advice in the conduct of my Work, But I cannot sufficiently acknowledge my obligations to my friend Mr. Maloue,* who was so good as to allow me to read to him almost the whole of my manuscript, and make such remarks as were greatly for the advantage of the Work ; though it is but fair to him to mention, that upon many occasions I differed from him, and followed my own judgment. I regret ex- ceedingly that I was deprived of the benefit of his revision, when not more than one half the book had passed through the press ■, but after having completed his very laborious and admirable edition of Shakspeake, for which he generously would accept of no other re- ward but that fame which he has so deservedly obtained, he fulfilled ■ " Mr. Malone's acquaintance with Mr. Boswell commenced in 1T85, when, happening acci- dentally, at Mr. Baldwin's printing-house, to be shown a sheet of the ' Tour to the Hebrides,' which contained Johnson's character, he was so much struck with the spirit and fidelity of the portrait, that he requested to be introduced to the writer. From this period a friendship took place between them* which lipened into the strictest and most cordial intimacy, and lasted, without interruption, as long as Mr. Boswell lived." — Memoirs of Malone, by J. BosweH junior, p. 19, ADVERTISEMEXT TO THE FIRST EDITION. SXX\ his promise of a long-wished for visit to his relations in Ireland ; from whence his safe retnrn finihus Atticis is desired by his friends here, with all the classical ardour of Sic te Diva potens Cypri ; for there is no man in whom more elegant and worthy qualities are united ; and whose society, therefore, is more valued by those who know him. It is painful to me to think, that while I was carrying on this "Work, several of those to whom it would have been most interesting have died. Such melancholy disappointments we know to be inci- dent to humanity ; but we do not feel them the less. Let me par- ticularly lament the Keverend Thomas Warton, and the Reverend Dr. Adams.' Mr. Warton, amidst his variety of genius and learn- ing, was an excellent biographer. His contributions to my collec- tion are highly estimable ; and as he had a true relish of my " Tour to the Hebrides," I trust I should now have been gratified with a larger share of his kind approbation. Dr. Adams, eminent as the Head of a College, as a writer, and as a most amiable man, had know Johnson from his early years, and was his friend through life. What reason I had to hope for the countenance of that venerable gentleman to this Work, will appear from what he wrote to me upon a former occasion from Oxford, November IT, 1185 : — " Dear Sir, I hazard this letter, not knowing where it will find you, to thank you for your very agreeable ' Tour,' which I found here on my re- turn from the country, and in which you have depicted our friend so perfectly to my fancy, in every attitude, every scene and situa- tion, that I have thought myself in the company, and of the party almost throughout. It has given very general satisfaction ; and those who found most fault with a passage here and there, have agreed that they could not help going through, and being entertained with ' Dr. Thomas Warton, the historian of English poetry, died May 21, 1790, aged 63. Ih, Adams died Jan. 13, 1TS9, aged S^ XXXU ADVERTISEMENT TO TflE FIRST EDITION. the whole. I wish, indeed, some few gross expressions had been softened, and a few of our hero's foibles had been a little more shaded ; but it is useful to see the weaknesses incident to great minds ; and you have given us Dr. Johnson's authority that in history all ought to be told." Such a sanction to my faculty of giving a just representation of Dr. Johnson I could not conceal. Nor will I suppress my satisfac- tion in the consciousness, that by recording so considerable a por- tion of the wisdom and wit of "the brightest ornament of the eighteenth century," ' I have largely provided for the instruction and entertainment of mankind. tocdon, April 20, 1T91. > gee Mr. Malone's preface to Ms edition of Sluiksp«wa ADVERTISEMEKl TO THE SECOND ELITIOK That I was anxious for the success of a Work which bad employed much of my time and labour, I do not wish to conceal : but whatever doubts I at any time entertained, have been entirely removed by the very favourable reception with which it has been honoured. That reception has excited my best exertions to render my Book more perfect ; and in this endeavour I have had the assis- tance not only of some of my particular friends, but of many other learned and ingenious men, by which I have been enabled to rectify some mistakes, and to enrich the Work with many valuable addi- tions. These I have ordered to be printed separately in quarto, for the accommodation of the purchasers of the first edition. May I be permitted to say, that the typography of both editions does honour to the press of Mr. Henry Baldwin, now master of the Worshipful Company of Stationers, whom I have long known a worthy man and an obliging friend.' In the strangely mixed scenes of human existence, our feelings ai'e often at once pleasing and painful. Of this truth, the progress of ' Mr. Henry Baldwin died, at Richmond, Feb. 21, 1813. Connected with a phalanx of the flrst-rate wits, Bonnel Thornton, Garrick, Colraan, Steevens, &c., he set up, with the success It so well deserved, a literary newspaper, ' The St. James's Chronicle,' and brought it to a Height of literary eminence till then unknown. — Nichols. . 9i; xxxiii XXX17 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION". the present Work furnishes a striking instance. It was highly gratifying to me that my friend, Sir Joshua Reynoij)s, to whom it is inscribed, lived to peruse it, and to give the strongest testimony to its fidelity ; ' but before a second edition, which he contributed to improve, could be finished, the world has been deprived of that most valuable man ; a loss of which the regret will be deep, and lasting, and extensive, proportionate to the felicity which he diffused through a wide circle of admirers and friends. In reflecting that the illustrious subject of this Work, by being more extensively and intimately known, however elevated before has risen in the veneration and love of mankind, I feel a satisfaction beyond what fame can afford. We cannot, indeed, too much or too often admire his wonderful powers of mind, when we consider that the principal store of wit and wisdom which this Work contains, was not a particular selection from his general conversation, but was merely his occasional talk at such times as I had the good for- tune to be in his company ; and, without doubt, if his discourse at other periods had been collected with the same attention, the whole tenor of what he uttered would have been found equally excellent. His strong, clear, and animated enforcement of religion, morality, loyalty, and subordination, while it delights and improves the wise and the good, will, I trust, prove an effectual antidote to that detestable sophistry which has been lately imported from France, under the false name of philosophy, and with a malignant industry I Sir Joshua Reynolds died February 23, 1792, in his 69th year. Mr. Crol:er says : — " Mr. Wordsworth has obligingly furnished me with the following copy of a note in a blank page of his copy of Boswell's work, dictated and signed in Mr. Wordsworth's presence by the late SJ George Beaumont, whose own accuracy was exemplary, and who lived very much in tha society of Johnson's latter days: — ' Rydal Mount, September 12, 1826. Sir Joshua Reynolds told me at his table, immediately after the publication of this book, that every word of it might be depended upon as if given on oath. Boswell was in the habit of bringing the proof sheets to his house, previously to their being struck off ; and if any of the company happened to have been present at the conversation recorded, he requested him or them to correct any error ; and not satisfied with this, he would run over all London for the sake of verifying any tiod^e word which might be disputed. — G. H. Beacmont.' " ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. XXXT has been employed against the peace, good order, and happiness of society, in our free and prosperous country ; but, thanks be to God, without producing the pernicious effects which were hoped for by its propagators. It seems to me, in my moments of self-complacency, that this extensive biographical work, however inferior in its nature, may in one respect be assimilated to the Odyssey. Amidst a tliousapd entertaining and instructive episodes the Hero is never long out of sight ; for they are all in some degree connected with him ; and He, in the whole course of the history, is exhibited by the author for the best advantage of his readers : — Quid virtus et quid sapientia possit, Utile proposuit nobis exemplar TJlyssen.* Should there be any cold-blooded and morose mortals who really dislike this Book, I will give them a story to apply. When the great Duke of Marlborough, accompanied by Lord Cadogan, was one day reconnoitring the Army in Flanders, a heavy rain came on, and they both called for their cloaks. Lord Cadogan's servant, a good-humoured, alert lad, brought his Lordship's in a minute. The Duke's servant, a lazy, sulky dog, was so sluggish, that his Grace, being wet to the skin, reproved him, and had for answer with a grunt, " I came as fast as I could ;" upon which the Duke calmly said, " Cadogan, I would not for a thousand pounds have that fel- low's temper." There are some men, I believe, who have, or think they have, a very small share of vanity. Such may speak of their literary fame in a decorous style of diffidence. But I confess, that I am so formed by nature and by habit, that to restrain the effusion of delight, ou > " To show what pious wisdom's power can do, Tlie poet sets Ulysses in our view." — Francis. XXXvi ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. having attained such fame, to me would be truly painful. Why, then, should I suppress it ? Why, " out of the abundance of the heart " should I not speak ? Let me then mention with a warm, but no insolent exultation, that I have been regaled with sponta- neous praise of my work by many and various persons eminent for their rank, learning, talents, and accomplishments ; much of which praise I have under their hands to be reposited in my archives at Auchinleck. An honourable and reverend friend, speaking of the favourable reception of my volumes, even in the circles of fashion and elegance, said to me, " you have made them all talk Johnson." Yes, I may add, I have Johnsonized the land ; and I trust they will not only talk, but think, Johnson. To enumerate those to whom I have been thus indebted, would be tediously ostentatious. I cannot, however, but name one, whose praise is truly valuable, not only on^ account of his knowledge and abilities, but on account of the magnificent, yet dangerous embassy, in which he is now employed, which makes everything that relates to him peculiarly interesting. Lord Macartney * favoured me with his own copy of my book, with a number of notes, of which I have availed myself. On the first leaf I found, in his Lordship's hand- writing, an inscription of such high commendation, that even I, vain as I am, cannot prevail on myself to publish it. J. BOSWELL. July 1, 1793. • George, Earl Macartney, was born in Ireland, in 1787. In 1792, he was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to tlie Emperor of Ciiina. In 1797, an account of his embassy vras published, by his secretary. Sir George Staunton. He died in 1806, and, in the following year, a Memoir of his Life and a selection from his writings, were published by John Barrow, F.R.S., Secretary to the Admiralty ; who had also accompanied his lordship to China. THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LLR CHAPTER I. no9— me. btroduction — Johnson's Birth and I'arentage — He inherits from his Father " a Tile MeU» choly" — His account of the Members of his Family — Traditional Stories of his Precocity — Taken to London to be touched by Queen Anne for the Scrofula. To write the life of him who excelled all mankind in writing the jves of others,- and who, whether we consider his extraordinary endowments, or his various works, has been equalled by few in any age, is an arduous, and may be reckoned in me a presumptuous, task. Had Dr. Johnson written his own Life, in conformity with the opinion which he has given, that every man's life may be best writ- ten by himself,' had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. But although he at different times, in a desultory manner, committed to writing many particulars of the progress of his mind and fortunes, he never had persevering diligence enough t( form them into a regular composition. Of these memorials a fev. nave been preserved ; but the greater part was consigned by him to the flames, a few days before his death. ' Idler, No. 84. [" Those relations are commonly of most value. In which the writer telli his own story."] VOL. I, % » 26 LIFE OF JOHNSON. As I had the honor and happiness of enjoying his friendship foi upwards of twenty years ; as I had the scheme of writing his life constantly in view ; as he was well apprised of this circumstance, and from time to time obligingly satisfied my inquiries, by communi- cating to me the incidents of his early years ; as I acquired a facility in recollecting, and was very assiduous in recording his conversation, of which the extraordinary vigor and vivacity constituted one of the first features o-S his character ; and as I have spared lo pains in obtaining materials concerning him, from every quarter where I could discover that they were to be .found, and have been favoured with the most liberal communications by his friends ; I flatter my- self that few biographers have entered upon such a work as this, with more advantages ; independent of literary abilities, in which I am not vain enough to compare myself with some great names who have gone before me in this kind of writing. Since my work was announced, several Lives and Memoirs of Dr. Johnson have been published, the most voluminous of which is one compiled for the booksellers of London, by Sir John Hawkins, Knight,^ a man whom, during my long intimacy with Dr. JohnaoPi, I never saw in his company, I think, but once, and I am sure not above twice. ■ Johnson might have esteemed him for his decent religious demeanour, and his knowledge of books and literary history; but from the rigid formality of his manners, it is evident that they never could have lived together with companionable ease and fami- liarity ; nor had Sir John Hawkins that nice perception which was necessary to mark the finer and less obvious parts of Johnson's char acter. His being appointed one of his executors gave him an oppor tunity of taking possession of such fragments of a diary and otb^i 1 The greatest part of this book was written while Sir John Hawkins was alive ; and I a^ow that one object of my strictures was to make him feel some compunction for his illibera' treatment of Dr. Johnson. Since his decease, I have suppressed several of my remarks upon his work. Uut tliough I would not "war with the dead" uffensioely, I think it necessary to be strenuous in defi-'iiee of my illustrious friend, which I cannot be, without strong anina;id- versions upon a writer who has greatly injured him. Let me add, that though I doubt I should not have been very prompt to gratify Sir John Hawkins with any compliment in his lifetime, I do now frankly acknowledge, that, in my opinion, his volume, however inade- quate and improper as a life of Dr. Johnson, and however discredited by unpardonable inac- curacies in other respects, contains a collection of curious anecdotes and observations, which few men but its author could have brought together. — Boswell, [Sir John Hawkins published his Life of Johnson in 1787, and died in 1789 ] INTRODUCTION. 2T papers as were left ; of which, before delivering them up to the residuary legatee, whose property they were, he endeavoured to extract the substance. In this he has not been very successful, a3 I have found upon a perusal of those papers, which have been since transferred to me. Sir John Hawkins's ponderous labours, I must acknowledge, exhibit a farrago, of which a considerable portion is not devoid of entertainment to the lovers of literary gossiping ; but, besides its being swelled out with long unnecessary extracts from various works (even one of several leaves from Osborne's Harleian Catalogue, and those not compiled by Johnson, but by Oldys), a very small part of it relates to the person who is the subject of the book ; and, in that, there is such an inaccuracy in the statement of facts, as in so solemn an author is hardly excusable, and certainly makes his narrative very unsatisfactory. But what is still worse, there is throughout the whole of it a dark uncharitable cast, by which the most unfavourable construction is put upon almost every circumstance in the character and conduct of my illustrious friend ; who, I trust, will, by a true and fair delineation, be vindicated both from the injurious misrepresentations of this author, and from the slighter aspersions of a lady who once lived in great intimacy with him. There is, in the British Museum, a letter from Bishop Warburton to Dr. Birch, on the subject of biography ; which, though I am aware it may expose me to a charge of artfully raising the value of my own work, by contrasting it with that of which I have spoken, is so well conceived and expressed, that I cannot refrain from hero inserting it : " I shall endeavour," says Dr. Warburton, " to give you what satisfaction I can in anything you want to be satisfied in any subject of Milton, and am extremely glad you intend to write his life. Almost all the life-writers we have had before Tolaud and Desmaiseaux are indeed strange insipid creatures ; and yet I had rather read the worst of them, than be obliged to go through with this of Milton's, or the other's life of Boileau, where there is such a dull, heavy succession of long quotations of disinteresting passages, that it makes their method quite nauseous. But the verbose, tasteless Frenchman seems to lay it down as a principle, that every life must be a book, and, what's worse it proves a book without a life ; for what do we know of Boileau, after all his tedious stuff? You are the only one (and I speak it without a compliment) 28 LIFE OF JOHNSON that by the vigour of your style and senti.i^ents, and the real importance of your materials, have the art (which one would imagine no one could have missed) of adding agreements to the most agreeable subject in the world, which is literary history. — Nov. 24, 1737." * Instead of melting down my materials into one mass, and con- stantly speaking in my own person, by which I might have appeared to have more merit in the execution of the work, I have resolved to adopt and enlarge upon the excellent plan of Mr. Mason, in his Memoirs of Gray. Wherever narrative is necessary to explain, con- nect, and supply, I furnish it to the best of my abihties ;but in the chronological series of Johnson's life, which I trace as distinctly as I can, year by year, I produce, wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters, or conversation, being convinced that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers better acquainted with him, than even most of those were who actually knew him — but could know him only partially ; whereas there is here an accumulation of intelligence from various points, by which his character is more fully understood and illustrated. Indeed, I cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing any man's life, than not only relating all the most important events of it in their order, but interweaving what he privately wrote, and said, -and thought ; by which mankind are enabled as it were to see him live, and to "live o'er each scene"* with him, as he actually advanced through the several stages of his life. Had his other friends been as diligent and ardent as I was, he might have been almost entirely preserved. As it is, I will venture to say, that he will be seen in this work more completely than any man who has ever yet lived. And he will be seen as he really was ; for I profess to write not his panegyric, which must be all praise, but his Life ; which, great and good as he was, must not be supposed to be entirely perfect. To be as he wag, is indeed subject of panegyric enough to any man m this state of being ; but in every picture there should be shade » Brit. Mus. 4320. Ayscough's Catal. Sloane MSS. • " T5 make mankind in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold." INTRODUCTION. ay as well as ligat, and vvliea I delineate liim without reserve, I do what he himself recommended, both by his precept and his example : •' If the biographer writes from personal knowledge, and makes haste to gratify the public curiosity, there is danger lest his interest, his fear, his grati- tude, or his tenderness, overpower his fidelity, and tempt him to conceal, if not to invent. There are many who think it an act of piety to hide the faults or faiUngs of their friends, even when they can no longer suffer by their detec- tion ; we therefore see whole ranks of characters adorned with uniform pane- gyric, and not to be known from one another but by extrinsic and casual circumstances. ' Let me remember,' says Hale, ' when I find myself inclined to pity a criminal, that there is likewise a pity due to the country.' If we owe regard to the memory of the dead, there is yet more respect to be paid to knowledge, to virtue, and to truth." [Rambler, No. 60.] What I consider as the peculiar value of the following work, is the quantity it contains of Johnson's Conversation ; which is univer- Bally acknowledged to have been eminently instructive and enter- taining ; and of which the specimens that I have given upon a former occasion * have been received with so much approbation, that I have good grounds for supposing that the world will not be indifferent to more ample communications oi*a similar nature. That the conversation of a celebrated man, if his talents have been exerted in conversation, will best display his character,' is, I trust, too well established in the judgment of mankind, to be at all shaken by a sneering observation of Mr. Mason, in his Memoirs of Mr. William Whitehead, in which there is literally no Life, but a mere dry narrative of facts. I do not think it was quite necessary to attempt a depreciation of what is universally esteemed, because it was not to be found in the immediate object of the ingenious writer's pen ; for in truth, from a man so still and so tame, as to be contented to pass many years as the domestic companion of a super- annuated lord and lady,' conversation could no more be expected, ' Boswell alludes to his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, separately published in 17S5. but now given, according to the natural order of time, and the universally-approved exampU of Mr. Croker, as a constituent and important part of the author's Life of Johnson. * Johnson expresses a somewhat contrary opinion ; and every one must be aware, that bia OWD circle furnishes exceptions to Boswell's remark. » Whitehead lived with WilUam, third Earl of Jersey, and Anne Eggerton, his countess. 30 LIFE OF JOHNSON. than from a Chinese mandarin on a chimney-piece, or the fantastic figures on a gilt leather skreen. If authority be required, let us appeal to Plutarch, the prince of ancient biographers : — Ovre ralg eTCKfyaveordrttig Trpd^eoi -navTcog eveari 3T]Xo}Oig dpETjjg rj Kaniag, dXXa -rrpdyna Ppaxv TToXXaKig, KoX prina, Koi rraidtd rig eiKpaaLV rjOovg k-noi7]oev fidXXov i) i^dxai fivpiovEKpoi, TTapaTa^eig al [iiyi^rai, KaX TxoAiopkia TToXecjv : — . " Nor is it always in the most distinguished achievements that men's virtues or vices may be best discerned ; but very often an action of small note, a short saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person's real character more than the greatest sieges, or the most important battles." ' To this may be added the sentiments of the very man whose life I am about to exhibit : " The business of the biographer is often to pass slightly over those perform- ances and incidents which produce vulgar greatness, to lead the thoughts into domestic privacies, and display the minute details of daily life, where exterior appendages are cast aside, and men excel each other only by prudence and by virtue. The account of Thuanus is, with great propriety, said by its author to have been written, that it might lay open to posterity the private and familiar character of that man, cujus ingeiiiwn et candorum ex ipsius scriptis sunt olim semper miraturi, — whose candour and genius will, to the end of time, be by his writings preserved in admiration. "There are many invisible circumstances, which, whether we read as enquirers after natural or moral knowledge, whether we intend to enlarge our science or increase our virtue, are more important than public occurrences. Thus, Sallust, the great master of nature, has not forgot, in his account of Catiline, to remark, that his walk was now quick, and again slow, as an indica tion of a mind revolving with violent commotion.* Thus, the story of Melanc- thon aifords a striking lecture on the value of time, by informing us, that when he had made an appointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idleness of suspense ; and all the plans and enterprises of De Witt are now of less importance to the woild, > Plutarch's Life of Alexander ; Langhorne's translation. ' " You may sometimes trace A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased By all the demons of all passions, show'd Their work, even by the way In which he trode." Btron, vol. xvi, p. III. INTRODUCTION. 31 than that part of his persdnal character which represents him as careful of hU health and negligent of his hfe. " But, biography has often been alotted to writers, who seem very little acquainted with the nature of their task, or very neghgent about the perform- ance. They rarely afford any other account than might be collected from public papers, but imagine themselves writing a life, when they exhibit a chro- nological series of actions or preferments ; and have so little regard to the manners or behaviour of their heroes, that more knowledge may be gained of a man's real cha'racter, by a short conversation with one of his servants, than from a formal and studied narrative, begun with his pedigree, and ended with his funeral. " There are, indeed, some natural reasons why these narratives are often written by such as were not likely to give much instruction or delight, and why most accounts of particular persons are barren and useless. If a life be delayed till interest and envy are at an end, we may hope for impartiality, but must expect httle intelligence; for the incidents which give excellence to biography are of a volatile and evanescent kind, such as soon escape the memory, and are rarely transmitted by tradition. We know how few can por- tray a living acquaintance, except by his most prominent and observable parti- cularities, and the grosser features of his mind ; and it may be easily imagined how much of this little knowledge may be lost in imparting it, and how soon a succession of copies will lose all resemblance of the original." [Rambler, No. 60.] I am fully aware of the objections which may be made to the mi- nuteness, on some occasions, of my detail of Johnson's conversation, and how happily it is adapted for the petty exercise of ridicule, by men of superficial understanding, and ludicrous fancy ; but I remain firm and confident in my opinion, that minute particulars are fre- quently characteristic, and always amusing, when they relate to a dis- tinguished man. I am therefore exceedingly unwilling that anything, however slight, which my illustrious friend thought it worth his while to express, with any degree of point, should perish. For this almost superstitious reverence, I have found very old and venerable authority, quoted by our great modern prelate. Seeker, in whose tenth sermon there is the following passage : " Rabbi David Kimchi,' a noted Jewish commentator, whp lived about five hundred years ago, explains that passage in the first Psalm, 'His leaf also shall ' David KImchI, a Spanish Rabbi, died, at an advanced age, in 1240, leaving several world ■till held in high estimation by the learned Jews. 32 LIFE OF JOHNSON. not wither, from Rabbins yet older than himself, thus : — That ' even the idla talk,' so he expresses it, ' of a good man ought to be regarded ;' the most Buperfluous things, he saith, are always of some value. And other ancient authors have the same phrase nearly in the same sense." Of one thing I am certain, that, considering how highly the small .portion which we have of the table-talli, and other anecdotes, of our celebrated writers is valued, and how earnestly it is regretted that we have not more, I am justified in preserving rather too many of Johnson's sayings, than too few ; especially as, from the diversity of dispositions, it cannot be known with certainty beforehand, whether what may seem trifling to some, and perhaps to the col- lector himself, may not be most agreeable to many ; and the greater number that an author can please in any degree, the more pleasure does there arise to a benevolent mind. To those who are weak enough to think this a degrading task, and the time and labour which have been devoted to it misemployed, I shall content myself with opposing the authority of the greatest man of any age, Julius Caesar, of whom Bacon observes, that " in his book of apophthegms which he collected, we see that he esteemed it more honour to make himself but a pair of tables, to take the wise and pithy words of others, than to have every word of his own to be made an apophthegm or an oracle." [Advancement of Learn- ing, Book I.] Having said thus much by way of Introduction, I commit the fol- lowing pages to the candour of the public. Samuel Johnson was born in Lichfield, in Staffordshire, on the 18th of September, N. S. 1709 ; and his initiation into the Christian church was not delayed ; for his baptism is recorded, in the register of St. Mary's parish in that city, to have been performed on the day of his birth : his father is there styled Gentleman, a circumstance of which an ignorant panegyrist has praised him for not being proud ; when the truth is, that the appellation of Gentleman, though now lost in the indiscriminate assumption of Esquire, was commonly INTRODUCTION. 33 taken by those who could not boast of gentility.' His father was Michael Johnson, a native of Derbyshire, of obscure exti action, who settled in Lichfield as a bookseller and stationer. His mother was Sarah Ford, descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in Warwickshire. They were well advanced in years when they married, and never had more than two children, both sons : Samuel, their first-born, who lived to be the illustrious character wiiose various excellence I am to endeavour to record, and Nathaniel, who died in his twenty-fifth year.^ 1 The tiUe Gentleman had still, in 1709, some degree of its original meaning, and as Mr. Johnson served the office of sheriff of Lichfield in that year, he seems to have been fully entitled to it. The Doctor, at his entry on the books of Pembroke College, and at his matri- culation, designated himself &&Jiliufi {/enerosi. — Croker. ■•' Michael Johnson, the father of Samuel, was a bookseller at Lichfield ; a very pious and worthy man, but wrong-headed, positive, and afflicted with melancholy, as his son, from whom alone I had the information, once told me : his business, however, leading him to be much on horseback, contributed to the preservation of his bodily health, and mental sanity ; which, when he stayed long at home, would sometimes be about to give way; and Mr. John- son, said, that when his workshop, a detached building, had fallen half down for want of money to repair it, his father was not less diligent to lock the door every night, though he saw that anybody might walk in at the back part, and knew that there was no security obtained by barring the front door. " T/iis (said his son) was madness, you may see, and would have been discoverable in other instances of the prevalence of imagination, but that poverty pre- vented it from playing such ti-icks as riches and leisure encourage." Michael was a man of still larger size and greater strength than his son, who was reckoned very like him, but did not delight in talking much of his family — " One has (says he) w little pleasure in reciting th« anecdotes of beggary !" One day, however, hearing me praise a favourite friend with par- tial tenderness and true esteem : " Why do you like that man's acquaintance so ?" said he. " Because,"* replied I, "he is open and confiding, and tells me stories of his uncles and cousins; I love the light parts of a solid character." " Nay, if you are for family history (says Mr. Johnson, good-humouredly), I can fit you : I had an uncle, Cornelius Ford, who, upon a journey, stopped and read an inscription written on a stone he saw standing by the wayside, set up, as it proved, in honour of a man who had leaped a certain leap thereabouts, the extent of which was specified upon the stone : Why now, says my uncle, I could leap it in my boots; and he did leap it in his boots. I had likewise another uncle, .Andrew (conti- nued he), my father's brother, who kept the ring in Smithfield (where tliej' wrestled and box;d), for a whole year, and never was thrown or conquered. Here now are un :los for you, niMresx^ if that's the way to your heart." Michael Johnson was past fifty years old when he married his wife, who was upwards of forty ; yet, I think her son told me she remained three years childless before he was born into the world, who so greatly contributed to improve it. In three years more she brought anotlier BOn, Nathaniel, who lived to be twenty -seven or twenty-eight years ^ d,* and of whose manly spirit I have heard his brother speak with pride and pleasure, mentioning one circumstance, * Nathaniel was born in 1712, and died in 1737. Their father, Michael Johnson, was bom at Cubley in Derbyshire, in 16.56, at died at Lichfield, in 1731, at the age of seventy-six. furah Ford, his wife, was born at King's Norton, in the county of Worcester, in 1669, and died at Lichfield, in January, 1759, in her ninetieth year. King's Norton Dr. Johnson supposed to be in Warwickshire (see his inscription for his mother's tomb), but it is in Worcestershire nrobably on the confines of the coutty of Warwick.— Malone. 2* 34 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '^^°^' Mr. Michael Johnson was a man of a large and robust body, and of a strong and active mind ; yet, as in the most solid rocks veins of unsound substance are often discovered, there was in him a mix- ture of that disease, the nature of which eludes the most minute enquiry, though the effects are well known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about those things which agitate the greater part of rarticular enough, that when the company were one day lamenting the badness of the roads, Le inquired where they could be, as he travelled the country more than most people, and had r, ever seen a bad road in his life. The two brothers did not, however, much delight in each other's company, being alwaj's rivals for the mother's fondness; and many of the severe reflections on domestic life in Rasselas, took their source from its author's keen recollections of the time passed in his early years. Their father, Michael, died of an inflammatory fever, af the age of seventy-six, as Mr. Johnson told me : their mother at eighty -nine, of a gradual decay. She was slight in her person, he said, and rather below than above the common size. So excellent was her character, and so blameless her life, that when an oppressive neighbour once endeavoured to take from her a little field she possessed, he could persuade no attorney to undertake the cause against a woman so beloved in her narrow circle; and it ia this inc' dent he alludes to in the line of his " Vanity of Human Wishes," calling her " The general favourite as the general friend." Mrs. Piosxi. Note tiy Mr. Croter. — There seems some ditBcuIty in arriving at a satisfactory opinion as to Michael Johnson's real condition and circumstances. That in the latter years of his life he was poor, is certain ; and Dr. Johnson (in the " Account of his early Life") not only admits tlie general fact of poverty, but gives several instances of what maybe cnWtA indigpnce : yet, on the other hand, there is evidence, that for near fifty years he occupied a respectable rank amongst his fellow-citizens, and appears in the annals of Lichfield on occasions not bespeaking poverty. In 16S7, a subscription for recasting the cathedral bells was set on foot, headed by the bishop, dean, etc., aided by tlie neighbouring gentry : Michael Johnson's name stands the twelfth in the list ; and his contribution, though only 10^' , was not comparatively contemptible ; for no one, except the bishop and dean, gave so much as £10. Baronets and knights gave a guinea or two, and the great body of the contributors gave less than Johnson. (Ilarwood's Lichfield, p. 69.) In 1694, we find him burying in the Cathedral, and placing a marble stone over a young woman in whose fate he v/as interested. His house, a handsome one, and in one of the best situations in the town, was his own freehold ; and lie appeal's to kave added to it, for we find in the books of the corporation the following entry : " 170S, July n. Agreed, that. Mr. Michael Johnson, bookseller, have a lease of his encroachment of his kouse in Sadler's Street, for forty years, at 2.s. M per an." And this lease, at the expiration if the forty years was renewed to the Doctor as a mark of the respect of his fellow-citizens. Ii 1709, Michael Johnson served the ofBce of sheriff of the county of the city of Lichfield, ft 1718, he was elected junior bailiff; and in 1725, senior bailiff, or chief magistrate. Thus respected and apparently thriving in Lichfield, the following extract of a letter, writteu by the Rev. George Plaxton, chaplain to Lord Gower, will show the high estimation in which the tether of our great moralist was held in the neighbouring country : " Trentham, St Peter's day, 1716. Johnson, the Lichfield librarian, is now here ; he propagates learning all over this diocese, and advanceth knowledge to its just height ; all the clergy here are his pupils, and Buck all they have from him ; Allen cannot make a warrant without his precedent, nor our qiirmdam John Evans draw a recognizance Mne directione Michaeli''." (Gentleman's Maga- zine, October, 1791.) On the whole, it seems probable that the growing expenses of a family ^''^'^- 1- INTRODUCTION. 35 maDkind, and a general sensation of gloomy wretchedness. From him, then, his son inherited, with some other qualities, " a vile melancholy" which, in his too strong expression of any disturbance of the mind, " made him mad all his life, at least not sober." Michael was, however, forced by the narrowness of his circumstances to be very diligent in business, not only in his shop, but by occasionally resorting to several towns in the neighborhood, some of which were at a considerable distance from Lichfield. At that time booksellers' shops in the provincial towns of England were very rare, so that there was not one even in Birmingham, in which town old Mr. Johnson used to open a shop every market-day. He was a pretty good Latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to be made one of the magistrates of Lichfield : and, being a man of good sense, and skill in his trade, he acquired a reasonable share of wealth, of which, however, he afterwards lost the greatest part, by and Josses in trade, had in his latter years reduced Mr. Johnson, from the state of competency which he had before enjoyed, to very narrow circumstances. The following is the title-page and address to his customers, of one of Michael Johnson'a Sale Catalogues, in Mr. Upcott's collection: "A Catalogue of choice books, in all faculties, divinity, history, travels, law, physic, mathe- matics, philosophy, poetry, etc., together with bibles, common-prayers, shop-books, pocket- books, etc. Also fine French prints, for staircases and large chimney-pieces; maps, large and small. To be sold by Auction, or he who bids most, at the Talbot, in Sidbury, Worcester. The sale to begin on Friday, the 21st of this instant March, 1717-lS, exactly at six o'clock in the afternoon, and to continue till all be sold. Catalogues are given out at the place of sale, or by Michael Johnson of Lichfield. " To all Gentlemen, Ladies, and others, in and near Worcester : "I have had several auctions in your neighbourhood, as Gloucester, Tewkesbury, Evesham, etc., with success, and am now to address myself, and try my fortune with you. " You must not wonder that I begin every day's sale with small and common books ; the reason is, a room is some time a filling ; and persons of address and business seldom com- ing first, they are entertainment till we are full : they are never the last books of the best kind oJ that sort, for ordinary families and young persons, etc. But in the body of (he catalogue you will find law, mathematics, history ; and for the learned in divinity, tliere are Drs. South, Taylor, Tillotson, Beveridge, Flavel, etc., the best of that kind : anc[ to please the Ladies, 1 have added store of fine pictures and paper-hangings ; and, by the way, I wculd desire them to take notice, that the pictures shall always be put up by the noon of that day they are to be sold, that they may be viewed by daylight. " I have no more, but to wish you pleased, and myself a good sale, who am your bumble aervant. "M. Johnson,"] 3G LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^'^1*- eiigaj^iiig' unsuccessfully' iu a mauufacture of pavchmeat. He was a ZGalous high-churchman and a royalist, and retained his attach- ment to the unfortunate house of Stuart, though he reconciled himself by casuistical arguments of expediency and necessity, to take the oaths imposed by the prevailing power. There is a circumstance in his life somewhat romantic, but so well authenticated, that I shall not omit it. A young woman of Leek, in Staffordshire, while he served his apprenticeship there, conceived a violent passion for him ; and though it met with no favourable return followed him to Lichfield, where she took lodgings opposite to the house in which he lived, and indulged her hopeless flame. When he was informed that it so preyed upon her mind that her life was in danger, he, with a generous humanity, went to her and offered to marry her, but it was then too late : her vital power was exhausted; and she actually exhibited one of the very rare instances of dying for love. She was buried in the cathedral of Lichfield ; and he, with a tender regard, placed a stone over her grave with this inscrip- tion : Here lies the Body of Mrs. Elizabeth Blaney, a Stranger. She departed this Life 20th of September, 1694. Johnson's mother was a woman of distinguished understanding. 1 asked his old school-fellow, Mr. Hector, surgeon, of Bermingham, if she was not vain of her son. He said, " she had too much good sense to be vain, but she knew her son's value." Her piety was not inferior to her understanding ; and to her must be ascribed those early impressions of religion upon the mind of her son, from which the world afterwards derived so much benefit. He told me, that he remembered distinctly having had the first notice of Heaven, " a place to which good people went," and hell, " a place to which bad people went," communicated to him by her, when a little child in bed with her ; and that it might be the better fixed in his memory, ' In this undertaking, nothing prospered ; they had no sooner bought a large stock of ■kins, than a heavy duty was laid upon that article, and from Michael's absence by his many avocations as a bookseller, the parchment business was committed to a faithless servant, and thence they gradually declined into strait circumstances. — Gent. Mag., vol. Iv. p.lOO. ^i^r. 5J INTUOUUCTION. 3*2 she sent bim to repeat it to Thomas Jacksou, their man-servant : he not being in the way, this was not done ; but there was no occasion for any artificial aid for its preservation. In following so very eminent a man from his cradle to his grave, every minute particular, which can throw light on the progress of his mind, is interesting. That he Vas remarkable, even in his earliest years, may easily be supposed ; for — to use his own words in his life of Sydenham — " That the strength of his under- standing, the accuracy of his discernment, and the ardour of his curiosity, might have been remarked from his infancy, by a diligent observer, there is no reason to doubt : for, there is no instauce-.of any man, whose history has been minutely related, that did not in every part of his life discover the same proportion of intellectual vigour." In all such investigations it is certainly unwise to pay too much attention to incidents which the credulous relate with, eager satis- faction, and the more scrupulous or witty inquirer considers only as topics of ridicule ; yet there is a traditional story of the infant Her- cules of toryism, so curiously characteristic, that I shall not with- hold it. It was communicated to me in a letter from Miss Mary Adye of Lichfield. " When Dr. Sacheverel was at Lichfield, Johnson was not quite three years old. My grandfather Hammond observed him at the cathedral perched upon his father's shoulders, listening and gaping at the much celebrated preacher. Mr. Hammond asked Mr. Johnson how he could possibly think of bringing such an infiint to church, and in the midst of so great a crowd. He answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home ; for young as he was, he believed he had caught the public spirit and zeal for Sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with beholding him." ^ Nor can I omit a little instance of that jealous independence of ' The gossiping anecdotes of Lichfield ladies are all apocryphal. Sacheverel, by his sen- tence, pronounced in Feb. 1710, was interdicted for three years from preaching ; so that he could not have preached at Lichfield while Johnson was under three years of age. But what decides the falsehood of Miss Adye's story is, that Sacheverel's triumphal progress through the midland counties was in 1710; and it api)ears by the books of the corporation of Lich- Beld, that he was received in that town and complimented by the attendance of the corpora- Vlon, " and a present of three dozen of wine," on the 16th of June, 1710 ; when the '' inJUnt Hercules Q/toryism " was just ni7ie monthn old.— Croker, 38 IJFE OF JOHNSON. m*. Bpirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never forsook him. The fact was acknowleded to me by himself, upon the authority of his mother. One day, when the servant who used to be sent to school to conduct him home had not come in time, lie set out by himself though he was then so near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on his hands and knees to take a view of the kennel before he ventured to step over it. His schoolmistress, afraid that he might miss his way, or fall into the kennel, or be run over by a cart, fol- lowed him at some distance. He happened to turn about and per-- ceive her. Feeling her careful attention an insult to his manliness, ha ran back to her in a rage, and beat her, as well as his strength would permit. Of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life eminent to a degree almost incredible, the following early instance was told me in his presence at Lichfield, in 11*16, by his step-daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter, as related to her by his mother. When he was a child in petticoats, and had learnt to read, Mrs. Johnson one morn- ing put the common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day, and said, " Sam you must get this by heart." She went ap stairs, leaving him to study it : but by the time she had reached the second floor, she heard him following her. " What's the matter ?" said she. " I can say it," he replied ; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it more than twice. But there has been another story of his infant precocity generally circulated, and generally believed, the truth of which I am to refute upon his own authority. It is told that, when a child of three years old, he chanced to tread upon a duckling, the eleventh of a brood, and killed it ; upon which it is said, he dictated to his mother the following epitaph : " Here lies good master duck, Whom Samuel Johnson trod on ; If it had lived, it had been (jood luck. For then we'd had an odd one.^* There is surely internal evidence that this little composition com- bines in it, what no child of three years old could produce, wit! out ■S'AT, 8. IKTRODUCTION. 39 an extension of its faculties by immediate inspiration ; yet Mrs. Lucy Porter, Dr. Johnsuu's step-daughter, positively maintained to me, in his presence, that there could be no doubt of the truth of this anecdote, for she had heard it from his mother. So difficult is it to obtain an authentic relation of facts, and such authority may there be for error ; for he assured me, that his father made the verses, and wished to pass them for his child's. He added, " My father was a foolish old man ; that is to say, foolish in talking of his children." ' Young Johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the scrofula, or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well formed, and hurt his visual nerves so much, that he did not see at all with one of his eyes, though its appearance was little different from that of the other. There is amongst his prayers, one inscribed " When my eye was restored to its use," '■' which ascertains a defect that many of his friends knew he had, though I never perceived it.* I supposed him to be only near-sighted ; and indeed I must observe, that in no other respect could I discern any defect in his vision ; on the contrary, the force of his attention and perceptive quickness made him see and distinguish all manner of objects, whether of nature or of art, with a nicety that is rarely to be found. When he and I were travelling in the Highlands of Scotland, and I pointed out to him a mountain which I observed resembled a cone, he corrected my inaccuracy, by showing me that it was indeed pointed at the top, 1 This anecdote of the duck, though disproved by internal and external eridence, has nevertheless, upon supposition of its truth, been made the foundation of the following inge- nious and fanciful reflections of Miss Seward, amongst the communications concerning Dr. Johnson with which she has been pleased to favour me :— " These infant numbers contain the seeds of those propensities which, through his life, so strongly marked his character, of that poetic talent which afterwards bore such rich and plentiful fruits ; for, excepting his ortho- graphic works, every thing which Dr. Johnson wrote was poetry, whose essence consists not in numbers, or in jingle, but in the strength and glow of a fancy, to which all the stores of nature and of art stand in prompt administration ; and in an eloquence which conveys their blended illustrations in a language ' more tuneable than needs or rhyme or verse to add more harmony.' The above little verses also show that superstitious bias which grew with his^ growth, and strengthened with his strength,' and of late years particularly, injured his happi- ness, by-presenting to him the gloomy side of religion, rather than that bright and cheering one which gilds the period of closing life with the light of pious hope." This is so beautifully imagined, that J \touW not suppress H. But like many other theories, it is deduced from a supposed Tact, which }s,. indeed, a fiction. .' ' • ^ Prayers and Meditations, p. 27. r" finMliMnliiBg him rlf of the impei-fection of one of his eyes, he said, " The dog was never t6«a Ibr much."— Bdrk«t. 40 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ■^'^*' but that one side of it was larger than the other. And the ladies with whom he was acquainted agree, that no man was more nicely and minutely critical in the elegance of female dress. When I found that he saw the romantic beauties of Islam, in Derbyshire, much better than I did, I told him, he resembled an able performer upon a bad instrument. How false and contemptible, then, are all the remarks which have been made to the prejudice either of his candour or of his philosophy, founded upon a supposition that he was almost blind. It has been said, that he contracted this grievous malady from his nurse. His mother, — yielding to the superstitious notion, which, it is wonderful to think, prevailed so long in this country, as to the virtue of the regal touch ;' a notion which our kings encouraged, and to which a man of such inquiry and such judgment as Carte" could give credit ; carried him to Loudon, where he was actually touched by Queen Anne.^ Mrs, Johnson, indeed, as Mr. Hector informed me, acted by the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, then a physician in Lichfield. Johnson used to talk of this very frankly ; and Mrs. Piozzi has preserved his very picturesque description of the scene, as it remained upon his fancy. Being asked, if he could remember Queen Anne, — " He had," he said, " a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood." This touch, however, was without any effect. I ventured to say to him in allusion to the political principles in which he was educated, and of which he ever retained some odour, that his mother had not carried him far enough ; she should have taken him to Rome." 1 This healing gift is said to have been derived to our princes from Edward the Confessor, For much curious matter relating to the royal touch, see Harrington's " History of Ancient Statutes," p. 107. In the London Gazette, No. 2180, there is this advertisement: — "White- hall, Oct. 8, 1C86. His Majesty is graciously pleased to appoint to heal, weelily, for the evil, upon Fridays ; and hath commanded his physicians and chirurgeous to attend at the office appointed for that purpose in the Meuse, upon Thursdays, in the afternoon, tn give out tickets " 2 In consequence of a note, in vindication of the efficacy of the royal touch, which Carte, admitted into the first volume of his History of England, the corporation of London withdrew their subscription, and the work instantaneously fell inln aliimst total, but certaliriy unde- served, neglect. — Nichols. ■ It would seem, that Swift might l)e included amongst the believeirs, ap, in Ws Jwwrnal to Stella, he says, " I si)oke to the Duchess of Ormond, to get u !»d toucLjed.tor-tbe e^'ll^ the 8on of a grocer." ScotfsSWift, vol. li. p. 252. — Markl.ikd. * It appears by tlio nfiwjpapera of the. time, that on the 80th <»t;]Harch^.lTJV, Iwo lj\indrfl4 persons were touched by Queen Anne. Tiliaoa- ~" nauu! CHAPTEK li. 1716—1128. oh(i3on goes to School at Lichfield — Particulars of his boyish days — Removed to the SchiM), of Stourbridge — Specimens of his School Exercises and early Verses — He leaves Stour- bridge, and passes two years with his Father. He was first taught to read English by Dame Oliver, a widow, who kept a school for young children in Lichfield. He told me she could read the black letter, and asked him to borrow for her, from his father, a bible in that character. When he was going to Oxford, she came to take leave of him, brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present of gingerbread, and said he was the best scholar she ever had. He delighted in mentioning this early compliment ; adding, with a smile, that " this was as high a proof of his merit as he could conceive." His next instructor in English was a master, whom, when he spoke of him to me, he familiarly called Tom Brown, who, said he, " published a spelling-book, and dedicated it to the Universe : but, I fear, no copy of it can now be had." He began to learn Latin with Mr. Hawkins, usher or under- master of Lichfield school, " a man," said he, " very skilful in his little way." With him he continued two years, and then rose to be under the care of Mr. Hunter, the head master, who, according to his account, '* was very severe, and wrong-headedly severe. He used," he said, " to beat us unmercifully ; and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence ; for he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. He would ask a boy a question, and if he did not answer it, he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of knowing how to answer it. For instance, he would call up a boy and ask him Latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked. Now, sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need of a master to teach him." 41 42 Life of johnson. ^'^^^ It is, however, but justice to the memory of Mr. Hunter to men- tion, that though he might err in being too severe, the school of Lichfield was very respectable in his time. The late Dr. Taylor, prebendary of Westminster, who was educated under hira, told me, that " he was an excellent master, and that his ushers were most of them men of eminence ; that Holbrook, one of the most ingenious men, best scholars, and best preachers of his age, was usher during the greatest part of the time that Johnson was at school. Then carae Hague, of whom as much might be said, with the addition, that he was an elegant poet. Hague was succeeded by Green,' afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, whose character in the learned world is well known. In the same form with Johnson was Congreve, who afterwards became chaplain to Archbishop Boulter, and by that connection obtained good preferment in Ireland. He was a younger son of the ancient family of Congreve, in Staffordshire, of which the poet was a branch. His brother sold the estate. There was also Lowe, afterwards canon of Windsor.'"' Indeed, Johnson was very sensible how. much he owed to Mr. Hunter. Mr. Langton one day asked him, how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of Latin, in which, I believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time ; he said : " My master whipped me very well. Without that, sir, I should have done nothing." He told Mr. Lang- ton, that while Hunter was flogging his boys unmercifully, he used to say : " And this I do to save you from the gallows." Johnson, npon all occasions, expressed his approbation of enforcing instruc- tion by means of the rod : ° " I would rather," said he, " have the rod to be the general terror to all, to make them learn, than tell a child, if you do thus, or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. The rod produces an effect which terminates in itself. A child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't ; whereas, by exciting emulation and comparisons ' Dr. John Green was born in 1706, and died, Bishop of Lincoln, in 1779. He was one of tlie writers of the celebrated "Athenian Letters," published by the Earl of Hardwicke in 1798. ^ Among other eminent men, Addison, Wollaston, Garrick, Bishop Newton, Chief Justice Willes, Chief Baron Parker, and Chief Justice Wilmot, were educated at this seminary. ' In a conversation with Dr. Burney, in the year 1775, Johnson said: "There is now leal flogging in our great schools than formerly, but then Jess is learned there; so that what tho boys get at one end they lose at the other." (ETiT. 11—12. LICHFIELD SCHOOL. 43 of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief ; you make brothers and sisters hate each other." When Johnson saw some young ladies in Lincolnshire who were remarkably well behaved, owing to their mother's strict discipline and severe correction, he exclaimed in one of Shakspcare's lines a little varied,' ^^ Hod, I will honor thee for this thy duty.'''' That superiority over his fellows, which he maintained with so much dignity in his march through life, was not assumed from vanity and ostentation, but was the natural and constant effect of those extraordinary powers of mind, of which he could not but be con- scious by comparison ; the intellectual difference, which in other cases of comparison of characters is often a matter of undecided contest, being as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men above otliers. Johnson did not strut or stand on tip-toe ; be only did not stoop. From his earliest years, his superiority was perceived and acknowledged. He was from the beginning Ava^ avdpuiv, a king of men. His schoolfellow, Mr. Hector, has oblig- ingly furnished me with many particulars of his boyish days ; and assured me that he never knew him corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys from their business. He seemed to learn by intuition ; for though indolence and procrastination were inherent in his constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more than any one else. In short, he is a memorable instance of what has been often observed, that the boy is the man in miniature ; and that the distinguishing characteristics of each individual are the same, through the whole course of Ufe. His favourites used to receive very liberal assistance from him ; and such was the submis- sion and deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom Mr. Hector was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his humble attend- ants, and carry him to school. One in the middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one on each side supported him ; and thus he was borne triumphant. Such a proof of the early predomi- ' More than a little. The line is in King Ileniy VI , Part n. act iv. sc. last: "SworO, I will hallow thee for thi? »hy deed." — Malone. 44 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1724. nance of intellectual vigour is very remarkable, and does honour tc human nature.' Talking to me himself once of his being much dis- tinguished at school, he told me : " They never thought to raise me by comparing me to any one ; they never said, Johnson is as good a scholar as such a one, but such a one is as good a scholar as Johnson ; and this was said but of one, but of Lowe ; and I do not think he was as good a scholar." He discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused him to counteract his indolence. He was uncommonly inquisitive ; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never forgot anything that he either heard or read. Mr. Hector remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after a little pause, he repeated verbatim, varying only one epithet, by which he improved the line. He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions : his only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him ; no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. His defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports ; and he once pleasantly remarked to me, " how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle without them." Lord Chesterfield, however, has justly observed in one of his letters, when earnestly cautioning a friend against the pernicious effects of idleness, that active sports are not to be reckoned idleness in young people ; and that the listless torpor of doing nothing alone deserves that name. Of this dismal inertness of disposition, John- son had all his life too great a share. Mr. Hector relates, that " he could not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged in talking to himself than to his companion." Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who was long intimately acquainted with him, and has preserved a few anecdotes concerning him, regretting that he was not a more diligent collector, informs me, that " when a boy he was immoderately fond of reading romances ' This ovation Mr. Boswell believed to have been an honour paid to the early predominance of his intellectual powers alone; but they who remember what boys are, and who consider thit Johnson's corporeal prowess was by no means despicable, will be apt to suspect that the homage was enforced, at least as much by awe of tto one, as by admiration of the other, -r Andgbson. •*"'• ^'^^ STOURBRIDGE SCHOOL. 46 of chivalry, and he retained his fondness for them through life ; so that," adds his lordship, " spending part of a summer at ray jiar- Bonage-hoiise in the country, he chose for his regular reading the old Spanish romance of Fdixmarte of Hircania, in folio, which he read quite through. Yet I have heard him attribute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn or mind which prevented his ever fixing in any profession." After having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, Cornelius Ford,* Johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school at Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, of which Mr. Wentworth was then master. This step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the Rev. Mr. Ford, a man in whom both talents and good disposi- tions were disgraced by licentiousness," but who was a very able judge of what was right. At this school he did not receive so much benefit as was expected. It has been said, that he acted in the capacity of an assistant to Mr. Wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. " Mr. Wentworth," he told me, " was a very able man, but an idle man, and to me very severe ; but I cannot blame him much. I was then a big boy ; he saw I did not reverence him, and that he should get no honour by me. I had brought enough with me to carry me through ; and all I should get at his school would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former master. Yet he tauglit me a great deal." He thus discriminated to Dr. Percy, bishop of Dromore, his pro- gress at his two grammar-schools : — " At one, I learned much in the school, but little from the master ; in the ether, I learnt much from the master, but httle in the school." The Bishop also informs me, that Dr. Johnson's father, before he • Cornelius Ford, according to Sir John Hawkins, was his cousin-german, being the son of Dr. Ford, an eminent physician, who was brother to Johnson's mother. — Malone. ' He is said to be the original of the parson in Hogarth's Midnight Modern Conversation.— Bos WELL. In his Life of Fenton, Johnson mentions "Ford, a clergyman at that time too well known, whose abilities, instead of furnishing convivial merriment to the voluptuous and dissolute, might have enabled him to excel among the virtuous and the wise." — Croker. For Johnson's own account of " his mother's nephew," Ford, see poet, Slay 12, 177S. On •he authority of Sir John Hawkins, Mr. Nichols states, that "when the Midnight McJern Con- ▼ersation came out, the general opinion was, that the divine was the portrait of Orator Hen- ley." As Ford died in August 1731, and the print was not published till 1733, or 1734, tt tDpears unlikely that Hogarth should have meant to represent him.— W. Smith, jun. 46 LIFE OP JOHNSON. ^'^^ was received at Stourbridge, applied to have him admitted as a scholar and assistant to the Eev. Samuel Lea, M.A., head master of Newport school, in Shropshire ; — a very diligent, good teacher, at that time in high reputation, under whom Mr. Hollis is said, in the Memoirs of his Life, to have been also educated.* This application to Mr. Lea was not successful ; but Johnson had afterwards the gratification to hear that the old gentleman, who lived to a very advanced age, mentioned it as one of the most memorable events of his life, that " he was very near having that great man for a scholar." He remained at Stourbridge little more than a year," and then he returned home, *\'here he may be said to have loitered for two years in a state very unworthy his uncommon abilities. He had already given several proofs of his poetical genius, both in his school- exercises and in other occasional compositions. Of these I have obtained a considerable collection, by the favour of Mr. Wentwortb, son of one of his masters, and of Mr. Hector, his schoolfellow and friend ; from which I select the following specimens : TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL. PASTORAL I. Now, Tityrus, you, supine and careless laid, Play on your pipe beneath this beechen shade ; While wretched we about the world must roam, And leave our pleasing fields and native home, Here at your ease you sing your amorous flame, And the wood rings with AmariUis' name, Tityrus. Those blessings, friend, a deity bestow'd. For I shall never think him less than god : Oft on his altar shall my firstlings lie, Their blood the consecrated stones shall dye: ' As was likewise the Bishop of Dromore many years afterwards. '^ Yet here his genius was so distinguished that, although little better than a school hoy, he was admitted into the best company of the place, and had no common attention paiH to him ; of which remarkable instances were long remembered there. — Perot. SCHOOL EXJSHCISES. 47 He gave my flocks to graze the flo\ve.vy meads, And me to tuue at case th' imequul reeds. My admiration only I exprest (No sparli of envy ifei-boiirs in my breast), Tliat, when confusion o'er the country reigns, To you alone this hai^pj' state remains. Here I, thought faint myself, must drive ray goats Far from their ancient lields and humble cots. This scarce I lead, who left on yonder rock Two tender kids, the hopes of all the flock. Had we not been pervesre and careless grown, • This dire event ]>y omens was foreshown ; Our trees were blasted by the thunder stroke, And left-liand crows, from an old hollow oak, Foretold the coming evil by their dismal croak. ITiANSLATION OF nORACE.. BOOK I. ODE XXII. The man, my friend, whose conscious heart With virtue's sacred ardour glows, Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart Nor needs the guard of Moorish blows : Though Scythia's icy cliffs he treads. Or horrid Afric's faithless sands ; Or where the famed Hydaspes spreads His liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands. For while by Chloe's image charm'd. Too far in Siibine woods I stray 'd : Me singing, careless and unharmed, A grizly wolf surpi-ized, and fled. No savage more portentous stain'd Apulia's spacious wilds with gore ; No fiercer Juba's thirsty land, Dire nurse of raging lions, bore. 48 LIFE OF JOHNSON. Place me where no soft summer gale Among the quivering branches sighs ; Where clouds condensed for ever veil With horrid gloom the frowning skies : Place me beneath the burning line, A clime deny'd to human race : I'll sing of Chloe's charms divine, Her heavenly voice, and beauteous face. TRANSLATION OF UOKACE. BOOK II. ODE IX. Clouds do not always veil the skies, Nor showers immerse the verdant plain ; Nor do the billows always rise, Oi' storms afflict the ruffled mEsin. Nor, Valgius, on th' Armenian shores Do the chain'd waters always freeze; Nor always furious Boreas roars. Or bends with violent force the trees. But you are ever drown'd in tears. For Mystes dtvad you ever mourn ; No setting Sol can ease your care. But linds you sad at his return.- The wise, experienced Grecian sage Mourn 'd not Antilochus so long ; , Nor did King Priam's hoary age So much lament his slaughter'd son. Leave off, at length, these woman's sighs, Augustus' numerous trophies sing ; Kepeat that prince's victories, To whom all nations tribute bring. Niphates rolls an humbler wave. At length the undaunted Scythian yields, Content to live the Koman slave, And scarce forsakes his native fields. SCHOOL KXERCISE3 49 TRANSLATION Of PAHT OF THE DIALOGUE BETWEKS HECTOR AND ANDROMACHK. JROM THE SIXTH BOOK OF UOMEk's ILIAD. She ceased ; then godlike Hector answer'd kind (His various plumage sporting in the wind), That post, and all the rest shall be my care ; But shall I, then, forsake the unfinished war? How would the Trojans brand great Hector's name! And one base action sully all my fame, Acquired by wounds, and battles bravely fought ! Oh ! how my soul abhors so mean a thought ! Long since I learu'd to slight tliis Hceting breath, And view with cheerful eyes approaching death. The inexorable sisters have decreed . That Priam's house and Priam's self shall blt;ed : The day will come, in which proud Troy shall yieia, And spread its smoking ruins o'er the field. Yet Hecuba's, nor Priam's hoary age. Whose blood shall quench some Grecian's thirsty rage, Nor my brave brothers, that have bit the ground, Their souls dismiss'd through many a ghastly wound, Can in my bosom half that grief create, As the sad thought of your impending fate : When some proud Grecian dame shall tasks impose, Mimic your tears, and ridicule your woes ; Beneath Hyperia's waters shall you sweat, And, fainting, scarce support the liquid weight : Then shall some Argive loud insulting cry. Behold the wife of Hector, guard of Troy ! Tears, at my name, shall drown those beauteous eyva, And that fair bosom heave with rising sighs. Before that day, by some brave hero's hand, May I lie slain, and spurn the bloody sand. TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY.* This tributary verse receive, my fair, Warm with an ardent lover's fondest prayer. * lit Hector Infonns me that this was made almost impromptu la his preMBO*. 3 50 LIFE OF JOHNSON. May tliis returning day for ever find 'ITiy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy miuo; All pains, all cares, may favouring Heaven remove. All but the sweet solicitudes of love ! May powerful nature join with grateful art, To point each glance, and force it to the heart, then, when conquered crowds confess thy sway, When ev'n proud wealth and prouder wit obey, My fair, be mindful of the mighty trust, Alas! 'tis liard for beauty to be just. Those sovereign charms with strictest care employ : Nor give the generous pain, the worthless joy : With his own form acquaint the forward fool, Shown in the faithful glass of ridicule ; Teach mimic censure her own faults to find, No more let coquettes to themselves be blind, So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind. THE TOUNG AUTHOR.^ Whkn first the peasant, long inclined to roam, forsakes his rural sports and peaceful home, Pleased with the scene the smiling ocean yields, He scorns the verdant meads and flow'ry fields ; Then dances jocund o'er the watery way. While the breeze whispers, and the streamers play , Unbounded prospects in his bosom roll. And future millions lift his rising soul ; In blissful dreams he digs the golden mine, And raptured sees the new-found ruby shine. Joys insincere ! thick clouds invade the skies. Loud roar the billows, high the waves arise : Sick'ning with fear, he longs to view the shore, And vows to trust the faithless deep no more. So the young Author, panting after fame, And the long honours of a lasting name, latrusts his happiness to human kind. More false more cruel, than the seas or wind. * IWb he inserted, with many aiterutions, in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1T4BI JUVENILE VERSES. 51 '' Toll on, dull crowd," in ecstasies he cries, '• For wealth or title, perishable prize ; While I those transitory blessings scorn, Secure of praise from ages yet unborn." This thought once form'd, all counsel comes too late, He flies to press, and hurries on his fate ; Swiftly he sees the imagined laHrels spread, And feels the unfading wreath surround his head, Wiirn'd hy another's fate, vain youth, be wise, ^ Those dreams were Settle's once, and Ogilby's. I The pamphlet spreads, incessant hisses rise, To some retreat the baffled writer flies ; Where no sour critics snarl, no sneers molest. Safe from the tart lampoon, and stinging jest; There begs of Heaven a less distinguish'd lot. Glad to be hid, and proud to be forgot. IPILOGUK INTENDED TO HATE BEEN SPOKEN BY A LADY WHO WAS TO PERSONATE THE GHOST OF HERMIONE.' Ye blooming train, who give despair or joy. Bless with a smilq, or with a frown destroy ; In whose fair cheeks destructive Cupids wait, And with unerring shafts distribute fate ; Whose snowy breasts, whose animated eyes, Each youth admires, though each admirer dies ; Whilst you deride their pangs in barb'rous play, Unpitying see them weep, and hear them pray. And unrelenting sport ten thousand lives away ; For you, ye fair, I quit the gloomy plains. Where sable night in all her horror reigns ; No fragrant bowers, no delightful glades, Receive the unhappy ghosts of scornful maids. For kind, for tender nymphs the myrtle blooms, And weaves her bending boughs in pleasing glooms ; Perennial roses deck each purple vale. And scents ambrosial breathe in very gale : ' Some y«ung ladies at Lichfield having proposed to act "The Distressed Mother," Johnsoi ▼Tote this, and gave it to Mr. Uector to convey it privately to them. 52 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^'^^ Far hence are banish'd vapours, spleen, and tears, Tea, scandal, ivory teeth, and languid airs : No pug, nor favourite Cupid there enjoys The balmy kiss, for which poor Thyrsis dies ; Form'd to delight, they use no foreign arms. Nor torturing whalebones pinch them into charms; No conscious blushes there their cheeks inflame, For those who feel no guilt can know no shame ; Unfaded still their former charms they show. Around them pleasures wait, and joys forever ne» But cruel virgins meet severer fates ; Expell'd and exiled from the blissful seats, To dismal realms, and regions void of peace Where furies ever howl, and serpents hiss. O'er the sad plains perpetual tempests sigh, And pois'nous vapours, black'ning all the sky, With livid hue the fairest face o'ercast. And every beauty withers at the blast : Where'er they fly their lovers' ghosts pursue. Inflicting all those ills which once they knew ; , Vexation, Fury, Jealousy, Despair, Vex ev'ry eye, and ev'ry bosom tear ; Their foul deformities by all descry'd. No maid to flatter and no paint to hide. Then melt, ye ftiir, while clouds around you sigh, Nor let disdain sit louring in your eye ; With pity soften evei-y awful grace. And beauty smile auspicious in each face ; To ease their pains exert your milder power, So shall you guiltless reign, and all mankind adore. The two years which he spent at home, after his return from Stourbridge, he passed in what he thought idleness, and was scolded by his father for his want of steady application. He had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely lived from day to day. Yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed him through them. He used to mention one curious instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. Having imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. There were no apples ; but the £tat. a. EARLY STUDIES. 53 large folio proved to be Petrarch,' whom he had seen taentioiied, in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. His curiosity having been thus excited, he- sat down with avidity, and read a great part of the book. What he read during these two years, he told me, was not works of mere amusement, " not voyages and travels, but all literature, sir, all ancient writers, all manly ; though but little Greek, only some of Anacreon and Hesiod : but in this irregular manner," added he, " I had looked into a great many books, which were not commonly known at the universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their hands by their tutors ; so that when I came to Oxford, Dr. Adams, now mas- ter of Pembroke College, told me, I was the best qualified for the university that he had ever known come there." In estimating the progress of his mind during these two years, aa well as in future periods of his life, we must not regard his own hasty confession of idleness ; for we see when he explains himself, that he was acquiring various stores ; and, indeed, he himself con- cluded the account with saying, " I would not have you think I was doing nothing then.'-' He might, perhaps, have studied more assi- duously ; but it may be doubted, whether such a mind as his was not more enriched by roaming at large in the fields of literature, than if it had been confined to any single spot. The analogy between body and mind is very general, and the parallel will hold as to their food, as well as any other particular. The flesh of ani- mals who feed excursively is allowed to have a higher flavour than that of those who are cooi)ed up. May there not be the same dififcrence between men who read as their taste prompts, and men who are confined in cells and colleges to stated tasks ? * 1 This was, probably, tlie foKio edition of Petrarch's Op^ra Omnia qtim faUtnt, Bits. 15M. It could have been only the Latin work3 that Johnson read, as there Is no reason to suppose that he was, at this period, able to read Italian. — Cboker. * Dr. Johnson's prodigious memory and talents enabled him to collect from desultory read- ing a vast mass of general information ; but he was in no xcience, and, indeed, we might almost say, in no branch of literature, what is usually called n profound neholar — that character is only to be earned by laborious study ; and Mr. Boswell's fanciful allusion to the flavour of the flesh of animals seems fallacious, not to say foolish. — Crokkr. CHAPTER III. 1128—1731. Enters at Pembroke College, Oxford — His College Life— The "Morbid Melancholy" lurk- ing In his Constitution gains Strength — Translates Pope's Messiah into Latin Verse — Hig Course of Reading at Oxford — Quits College. That a man in Mr. MicLael Johnson's circninstances should think of sending his son to the expensive university of Oxford, at his own charge, seems very improbable. The subject was too delicate to question Johnson upon : but I have been assured by Dr. Taylor, that the scheme never would have taken place, had not a gentleman of Shropshire, one of his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to support him at Oxford, in the character of his companion ; though, in fact, he never received any assistance whatever from that gentleman.* He, however, went to Oxford, and was entered a commoner of Pembroke College, on the 31st of October, 1728, being then in his nineteenth year. The Reverend Dr. Adams, who afterwards presided over Pem- broke College with universal esteem, told me he was present, and gave me some account of what passed on the night of Johnson's arrival at Oxford. On that evening, his father, who had anxiously 1 A neighbouring gentleman, Mr. Andrew Corbett, having a son, who had been educated la the same school with Johnson, whom he was about to send to Pembroke College, in Oxford, a p-oposal was made and accepted, that Johnson should attend his son thither, in quality oi assistant in his studies. — Hawkins. Andrew Corbett appears, from the books of Pembroke College, to have been admitted February 24, 172T, and his name was removed from the books February 21, 1T32 ; so that, as Johnson entered in October, 1728, and does not appear to have returned after Christmas, 1729, Corbett was of the university twenty months he/ore and twelve or thirteen months iijter John- son. And, on reference to the college books, it appears that Corbett's residence was so irregular, and so little coincident with Johnson's, that there is no reason to suppose that Johnson was employed either as the 2^'"i'0(Ue tutor of Corbett, as Hawkins states, or his coin- panion, as Boswell suggests. — Ckokkk. 64 -^^T-^T. 19. I'KMl'.UOKE COLLKCiE. 55 accoiiipaiiied him, fuuud uieaiis to have hhu introduced to Mr. Jor den, wiio was to be liis tutor. His bciug put under any tutor, reminds us of what Wood saj's of Robert Burton, author of the " Anatomy of Mehxncholy," when elected student of Christ-cliurch ; " for form's sake, though he wanted not a tutor, he was put under tlie tuition of Dr. John Bancroft, afterwards Bishop of Oxou." ^ His father seemed very full of the merits of his son, and told the company he was a good scholar, and a i)oet, and wrote Latin verses. His figure and manner appeared strange to them ; but he behaved modestly, and sat silent, till upon something which oc^curred in the course of conversation, he suddenly struck in and quoted Macrobius ; and thus he gave the first impression of that more extensive reading in which he had indulged himself. His tutor, Mr. Jorden, fellow of Pembroke, was not, it seems, a man of such abilities as w^e should conceive requisite for the instructor of Samuel Johnson, who gave me the following accouut of him : " He was a very worthy man, but a heavy man ; and I did not profit much l)y his instructions.^ Indeed, I did not attend him much. The first day after I came to college I waited upon him, and then staid away four. On the sixth, Mr. Jorden asked me why I had not attended. I answered, I had been sliding in Cfirist- church meadow. And this I said with as much nonchalance as I am now talking to you. I had no notion that I was wrong or irreve- rent to my tutor." — Boswell. " That, sir, was great fortitude of mind." — Johnson. " No, Sir ; stark insensibility." ' The fifth of November was at that time kept with great solem- nity at Pembroke College, and exercises upon the subject of the day were required. Johnson neglected to perform his, which is much to 1 Athen. Oxon. edit. 1721, i. 627. ' " Johnson," says Hawkin.«, "would oftener risk the payment of a small fine than attend his lectures ; nor was he studious to conceal the reason of his absence. Upon occasion of one cueh imposition, he said to Jorden, 'Sir, you have sconced me two-i)ence for non-attendance at a lecture not worth a penny.' " It has been thought worth while to preserve this anecdote, ji.< an early specimen of the antithetical style of Johnson's conversation. — Crokfjj. 5 It oiight to be remenibered, that Dr. Johnson was apt, in his literary as well as moral e.\erci.ses, to overcharge his defects. Br. Adams informed me, that he attended liia tutor's lectures, and also the lectures in the College Hall, very regularly. — Boswell. When he related to me this anecilole, he laughed very heartily at his own insolence, and said they endured it from him with a gentleness that, whenever he thought of it, astoaishe^ himself. — Pioz/.i, 56 UFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^^ be regretted ; for his vivacity of imagination, and force of language, would probably have produced something sublime upou the Gun- powder Plot. To apologise for his neglect, he gave iu a short copy of verses, entitled Somnium, containing a common thought, " that the Muse had come to him in his sleep and whispered, that it did Dot become him to write on such subjects as politics ; he should confine himself to humbler themes :" but the versification was truly Virgilian.* He had a love and respect for Jorden, not for his literature," but for his worth. " Whenever," said he, "a young man becomes Jordeu's pupil, he becomes his son." Having given such a specimen of his poetical powders, he was asked by Mr. Jorden to translate Pope's Messiah into Latin verse, as a Christmas exercise. He performed it with uncommon rapidity, and in so masterly a manner, that he obtained great applause from it, which ever after kept him high in the estimation of his college, and, indeed, of all the university. It is said that Mr. Pope expressed himself concerning it in terms of strong approbation.' Dr. Taylor told me that it was first printed for old Mr. Johnson, without the knowledge of his son, who was very angry when he heard of it. A Miscellany of Poems, collected by a person of the name of Husbands,* was pubhshed at Oxford in 1131. In that Miscellany, Johnson's Translation of the Messiah appeared, with this modest motto from Scaliger's Poetics, " £Jx alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo tantum versijicator" I am not ignorant that critical objections have been made to this and other specimens of Johnson's Latin poetry. I acknowledge ' He told me, that when he made his first declamation, he wrote over but one copy, and that coarsely; and having given it into the hand of the tutor, was obliged to begin by chance, and continue on how he could, for he had got but little of it by heart ; so, fairly trusting to his present powers for immediate supply, he finished by adding astonishment to the ajiplause o( all who knew how little was owing to study. A prodigious risli, however, said some one: " Not at all," exclaims Johnson ; " no man, I suppose, leaps at once into deep water, who does not know how to swim." — Piozzi. '■^ Johnson used to say, ".He scarcely knew a noun from an adverb." — Nichols. 3 The poem having been shown to Pope, by a son of Dr. Arbuthnot, then a gentleman commoner of Christ-church, was read, and returned with this encomium, "The writer of this poem will leave it a question for posterity, whether his or mine be the original." — H. Dr. Matthew Panting died Feb. 12, 1739. See Gent. Mag., vol. ix. p. 106. ■•' I had this anecdote from Dr. Adams, and Di-. Johnson confirmed it. Bramston, in his •'Man of Taste," has the same thought: " Sure of all blockheads, scholars are the worst." — Boswell. Johnson's meaning, however, is, that a scholar who is a blockhead, must be the worst of all blockheads, because he is without excuse. But Bramston, in the assumed character of an ignoi-ant coxcomb, maintains, that all scholars are blockheads, on account of their scholar- ship. — J. Boswell, jun. ' Dr. Adams was about two years older than Johnson, having been born in 1707. He became a Fellow of Pembroke in 1723, D.D. in 17.')6, and Master of the College in 1775.— Hall. 66 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ^'^• made him really ashamed of himself, ' though I fear,' said he, ' I was too proud to own it.' " I have heard from some of his contemporaries that he was gener- ally seen lounging at the college gate, with a circle of young students round him, whom he was entertaining with wit, and keeping from their studies, if not spiriting them up to rebellion against the college discipline, which in his matui'er years he so much extolled." ' He very early began to attempt keeping notes or memorandums, by way of a diary of his life. I find, in a parcel of loose leaves, the following spirited resolution to contend against his natural indolence : " Oct. 1129. DcsidicB valedixi ; syrenis istius cantibus surdam posthac aurem obversurus. I bid farewell to Sloth, being resolved henceforth not to listen to her syren strains." I have also in my possession a few leaves of another Libellus, or little book, entitled "Annales," in which some of the early particulars of his history are registered in Latin. I do not find that he formed any close intimacies with his fellow ' There are preserved, in Pembroke College, some of these themes, or exercises, both lo prose and verse ^ the following, though the two first lines are awkward, has more point and pleasantry than his epigrams usually have. It may be surmised that the college beer was at this time indifferent : " Moa nee Falernm Temperani viies, neque Formiani Pocula colles." " Quid mirum Maro quod digne canit arma virumque, Quid quod putidulum nostra Cameena sonat ? Limosum nobis Promus dat callidus haustum, A'irgilio vires uva Falerna dedit. Carmina vis nostri scribant meliora Poetaj? Ingenium jubeas purior haustus alat!" Another is in a graver and better style : " Adjecere honce paulo plus artis Athence." "Quas natura dedit dotes, Academia promit ; Dat menti propriis Musa nit ere bonis. Materiam statuae sic prsebet marmora tellus, Saxea Phidiaca spiral imago manu." Johnson repeated this idea in the Latin verses on the termination of his Dictionary, entitled rNflOI 2EATT0N, but not, as 1 think, so elegantly as in the epigram.— Crokek. [Th» thought is beautifully expressed in the Spectator, by Addison, No. 415.] *^AT. 21. PEMUROKE COLLEGE. 67 collegians. But Dr. Adams told me, that be contracted a love and regard for Pembroke College, which he retained to the last. A short time before his death, he sent to that college a present of all his works,' to be deposited in their library : and he had thoughts of leaving to it his house at Lichfield ; but his friends who were about him very properly dissuaded him from it, and he bequeathed it to some poor relations. He took a pleasure in boasting of the many eminent men who had been educated at Pembroke. In this list are found the names of Mr. Hawkins the Poetry Professor, Mr. Sheu- stoue, Sir William Blackstone, and others ; ' not forgetting the cele- brated popular preacher, Mr. George Whitefield, of whom, though Dr. Johnson did not think very highly, it must be acknowledged that his eloquence was powerful, his views pious and charitable, his assi- duity almost incredible.; and that, since his death, the integrity of his character has been fully vindicated. Being himself a poet, John- son was peculiarly happy in mentioning how many of the sons of Pembroke were poets ; adding, with a smile of sportive triumph, " Sir, we are a nest of singing-birds." He was not, however, blind to what he thought the defects of his own college : and I have, from the information of Dr. Taylor, a very strong instance of that rigid honesty which he ever inflexibly preserved. Taylor had obtained his father's consent to be entered of Pembroke, that he might be with his schoolfellow Johnson, with whom, though some years older than himself, he was very intimate. This would have been a great comfort to Johnson. But he fairly told Taylor that he could not, in conscience, suffer him to enter where he knew he could not have an able tutor. He then made enquiry all round the university, and having found that Mr. Batenian, of Christ-church, was the tutor of highest reputation, Taylor was entered of that college.' Mr. Bateman's lectures were so excellent, ' Certainly, not all ; and those which we have are not all marked as presented by Wra.— Hall. ^ To the list should be added, Francis Beaumont, the dramatic writer ; Sir Thomas Browne, whose life Johnson wrote; Sir James Dyer, twenty-four years Chief Justice of the King's Bench ; Lord Chancellor Harcourt ; the celebrated John Pym ; Francis Rous, the Speaker of Cromwell's parliament, and the infamous Bishop Bonner. — W. Smith, Jr. 2 Circumstantially as this story is told, there is good reason for disbelieving It. Taylor waa admitted commoner of Christ-church, June 27, 1730: but it will be seen, that Johnson lef* Oxford six months before. — Crokeb. LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1T81. that Johason used to come and get them at second-hand from Tay- lor, till his poverty being so extreme, that his shoes were worn out, and his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliating circumstance was perceived by the Christ-church men, and he came no more. He was too proud to accept of money, and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation. How must we feel when we read such an anecdote of Samuel Johnson ! His spirited refusal of an eleemosynary supply of shoes arose, no doubt, from a proper pride. But, considering his ascetic disposition at times, as acknowledged by himself in his Meditations, and the exaggeration with which some have treated the peculiarities of his character, I should not wonder to hear it ascribed to a principle of superstitious mortification ; as we are told by Tursellinus, in his Life of St. Ignatius ■ Loyola, that this intrepid founder of the order of Jesuits, when he arrived at Goa, after having made a severe pil- grimage through the eastern deserts, persisted in wearing his miser- able shattered shoes, and when new ones were offered him, rejected them as an unsuitable indulgence. The res angusta domi prevented him from having the advantage of a complete academical education. The friend to whom he had trusted for support had deceived him. His debts in college, though not great, were increasing ; and his scanty remittances from Lich- field, which had all along been made with great difficulty, could be supplied no longer, his father having fallen into a state of insolvency. Compelled, therefore, by irresistible necessity, he left the college in autumn, 1131, without a degree, having been a member of it little more than three years.* 1 It will be observed, that Mr. Boswell slurs over the years 1729, 1780, and 1731, under the general inference that they were all spent at Oxford ; but Dr. Hall's accurate statement of dates from the college books proves, that Johnson personaUy left College Dec. 12, 1729, though his name remained on the books till Oct. 8, 1731. Here, then, are two important years, the 21st and 22d of his age, to be accounted for ; and Mr. Boswell's assertion (a little fai'ther on), that he could not have been assistant to Anthony Blackwall, because Blackwall died in 1730, before Johnson had left college, falls to the ground. That these two years were not pleasantly or profitably spent, may be inferred from the silence of Johnson and all his friends about them. It is due to Pembroke to note particularly tliis absence, because that Institution possesses two scholarships, to one of which Johnson would have been eligible, and probably (considering his claims) elected, in 1730, had he been a candidate. — Cbokek. *''*''• ^- PEMBROKE Cv)LLEGE. 69 Dr. Adams, the worthy and respectable master of Pembroke Col- lege, has generally had the reputation of being Johnson's tutor. The fact, however, is, that in 1731, Mr. Jorden quitted the college, and his pupils were transferred to Dr. Adams ; so that had Johnson returned. Dr. Adams v^ould have been his tutor. It is to be wished, that this connection had taken place. His equal temper, mild dis- position, and politeness of manners, might have insensibly softened the harshness of Johnson, and infused into him those more delicate charities, those pefites morales, in which, it must be confessed, our great moralist was more deficient than his best friends could fully justify. Dr. Adams paid Johnson this high compliment. He said to me at Oxford, in 11*16, " I was his nominal tutor ; but he was above my mark." When I repeated it to Johnson, his eyes flashed with grateful satisfaction, and he exclaimed, " That was liberal and noble." ' 1 If Adams called himself his nominal tutor, only because the pupil was above his mark, the expression would be liberal and noble ; but if he was his nominal tutor, only because be would have been his tutor if Johnson had returned, the case is different, and Boswell is, either way, guilty of an inaccuracy.— Croker. Johnson's ivtme, after the retirement o: Jorden, must have appeared on the College books among the pupils of Adams. " There was nothing marked in Dr. Adams's connection with Dr. Johnson, from whictl ht might, with propriety, be styled his tutor."— Dr. Parr, Nichols's Illust. vol. r. p. 277. CHAPTER IV. 1731—1736. Johnson leaves Oxford— Death of his Father— Mr. Gilbert Walmesley— Captain Gai-rlck— Mrs. Hill Boothby — " Molly Aston" — Johnson becomes Usher of Market-Bosworth School— iemoves to Birmingham — Translates Lobo's Voyages to Abyssinia — Returns to Lichfield — Proposes to print the Latin Poems of Politian — Offers to write for the Gentleman's Magazine — His juvenile Attachments — Marries — Opens a private Academy at Edial — David Garrick his Pupil — Commences "Irene." And now (I had almost said poor) Samuel Johnson returned to his native city, destitute, and not knowing how he should gain even a decent livelihood. His father's misfortunes in trade rendered him unable to support his son ; ^ and for some time there appeared no means by which he could maintain himself. In the December of this year his father died. The state of poverty in which he died appears from a note in one of Johnson's little diaries of the following year, which strongly dis- plays his spirit and virtuous dignity of mind. " 1732, Julii 15. Undecim aiireos deposni, quo die quicquid ante matris fimus (quod scruvi sit prccor) de pateniis bonis sperari licet, viginti scilicet libras, accepi. Usc[ue adco mihi fortuna fingenda est. Intcrea, nc pmopertate vires animi laiiguescant, nee in Jlagitia egestas abigat, cavendum. I layed by eleven guineas on this day, when 1 received twenty pounds, being all that I have reason to hope for out of my father's effects, previous to the death of my mother ; an event which I pray God may be very remote. I now therefore see that I miist make my own fortune. Meanwhile, let me take care that the powers of my mind be not debilitated by poverty, and that indigence do not force me into any criminal act." * Johnson's father, either during his continuance at the university, or possibly before, had been by misfortunes rendered insolvent, if not, as Johnson told me, an actual bankrupt. - Hawkins, p. 17. 70 -^^^^•22. LICHFIELD. fl Johnson was so far fortunate, that the respectable character of his parents, and his own merit, had, from his earliest years, secured him a kind reception in the best families at Lichfield. Among these I can mention Mr. Howard, Dr. Swinfen, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Levett, Captain Garrick, father of the great ornament of the British stage ; but above all, Mr. Gilbert Walraesley,' Registrar of the Ecclesiasti- cal Court of Lichfield, whose character, long after his decease, Dr. Johnson has, in his life "of Edmund Smith, thus drawn in the glowing colours of gratitude : ' " Of Gilbert Walmesley, thus presented to my mind, let me indulge myself in the remembrance. I knew him very early ; he was one of the first friends that literature procured me, and I hope, that at least my gratitude made me worthy of his notice. " He was of an advanced age, and I was only not a boy, yet he never received my notions with contempt. He was a Whig, with all the virulence wd malevolence of his party ; yet difference of opinion did not keep us apart. I honoured him, and he endured me. " He had mingled with the gay world without exemption from its vices or its follies; but had never neglected the cultivation of his mind. His belief of revelation was unshaken; his learning preserved his principles; he grew first regular, and then pious. " His, studies had been so various, that I am not able to name a man o« equal knowledge. His acquaintance with books was great, and what he did not immediately know, he could, at least, tell where to find. Such was hia amplitude of learning, and such his copiousness of communication, that it may b« doubted whether a day now passes, in which I have not some advantage from his friendship. " At this man's table I enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours, with companions such as are Hot often found — with one who has lengthened, and one who has gladdened life ; with Dr. James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man ! I am disappointed by that stroke of death M'hich has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure." • Mr. Warton informs me, that this early friend of Johnson was entered a Commoner of Trinity of College, Oxford, aged 17, in 169S ; and is the author of many Latin verse transla tions in the Gentleman's Magazine. One of them [vol. xv. p. 10'2] is a translation of "My time, ye Muses, was happily spent," &c. He died August 3, 1751, and a monument to his memory has been erected in the cathedral of Lichfield, with »n inscription written by Mr. Seward, one of the preoendaries. * The Life of Smith appeared in 1779. 72 lIfE of JOHNSON. 1^^- In these families he passed much time in his early years. In most of them he was in the company of ladies, particularly at Mr. Walmes- ley's, whose wife and sisters-in-law, of the name of Aston, and daughters of a baronet, were remarkable for good breeding : so that the notion which has been industriously circulated and believed, that he never was in good company till late in life, and, consequently, had been confirmed in coarse and ferocious manners by long habits, is wholly without foundation. Some of the ladies have assured me, they recollected him well when a young man, as distinguished for his complaisance. And that his politeness was not merely occasional and temporary, or confined to the circles of Lichfield, is ascertained by the tes- timony of a lady, who, in a paper with which I have been favored by a daughter of his intimate friend and physician. Dr. Lawrence, thus describes Dr, Johnson some years afterwards : "As the particulars of the former part of Dr. Johnson's life do not seem to be very accurately known, a lady hopes that the following information may not be unacceptable. She remembers Dr. Johnson on a visit to Dr. Taylor,' at Ashbourn, some time between the end of the year 3Y, and the middle of the year 40 ; she rather thinks it to have been after he and his wife were removed to London. During his stay at Ashbourn, he made frequent visits to Mr. Mey- nell, at Bradley, where his company was much desired by the ladies of the family, who were, perhaps, in point of elegance and accomplishments, inferior to few of those with whom he was afterwards acquainted. Mr. Meynell's eldest daughter w^s afterwards married to Mr. Fitzherbert, father to Mr. Alleyne Fitzherbert, " lately minister to the court of Russia. Of her. Dr. John- son said, in Dr. Lawrence's study, that she had the best understanding he ever met with in any human being. At Mr. Meynell's he also commenced that friendship with Mrs. Hill Boothby,'' sister to the present Sir Brook Boothby, which continued till her death. The young woman whom he used to call Molly Aston, * was sister to Sir Thomas Aston, * and daughter to a 1 Dr. Taylor must have been at this time a very young man. His residence at Ashbourn wai patrhuonial, and not ecclesiastical ; and the house and grounds which Dr. Johnson's visits have rendered remarkable, are now the property of Mr. Webster, Dr. Taylor's legatee.— Croker. ^ Afterwards Lord St Helens. ' Miss Boothby was born in 1708, and died in 1756. For the last three years of her life this ^dy corresponded with Dr. Johnson, and some other letters are inserted in the Appendix to VO). iv. * The words of Sir John Hawkins, {^etpont.) ' Sir Thomas Aston, Barton, Bart., who died in January 1724-5, left one son, named Thomai '*^'^^T. 22. MARKET-BOSWORTH. 73 jaronet ; she was also sister to the wife of his friend, Mr. Gilbert Walmes- ley. Besides his intimacy with the above-mentioned persons, who were surely people of rank and education, while he was yet at Lichfield he used to be fre- quently at the house of Dr. Swinfen, a gentleman of very ancient family in Staffordshire, from which, after the death of his elder brother, he inherited a good estate. He was, besides, a physician of very extensive practice ; but for want of due attention to the management of his domestic concerns, left a very .arge family in indigence. One of his daughters, Mrs. Desmoulins, afterwards found an asylum in the house of her old friend, whose doors were always open to f'e unfortunate, and who well observed the precept of the Gospel, for he * was kind to the unthankful and to the evil.' " ' • In the forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted of an offer to ^e employed as usher ' in the school of Market-Bosworth, in Lei- cestershire, to which it appears, from one of his little fragments of also, and eight daughters. Of the daughters, Catharine married Johnson's friend, the Hon. Henry Uervey ; Margaret, Gilbert Walmesley. Another of these ladies [Jane] married the Bev. Mr. Gastrell [the man who cut down Shakspeare's mulberry-tree] ; Mary, or Molly Aston, as she was usually called, became the wife of Captain Brodie of the nayy. Another Bister, who was unmarried, was living at Lichfield in 17T6. — Malone. [She died in 1785.] ' Here Mr. Boswell has admitted the insinuation of an anonymous informant against poor Mrs. Desmoulins, as bitter, surely, as anything which can be charged against any of his rival biographers ; and, strange to say, this scandal is conveyed in a quotation from the book of Charity. Mrs. Desmoulins was, probably, not popular with " the ladies of Lichfield." She is supposed to have forfeited the protection of her own family by, what tliey thought, a dero. j;atory marriage. Her husband, it is said, was a writing-master. — Croker. " It has appeared, since Boswell wrote, that Johnson had been endeavouring, the year before this, to obtain the situation of usher at the Grammar School of Stourbridge, where he himself had been partly educated. The following letter of thanks to the schoolmaster, who had tried to help him on that occasion, was first published in the Manchester Herald, and afterwards inserted in Nichols's Literary Anecdotes, vol. viii., p. 416 : " TO MR. GEOROE HICKMAN. " Lichfield, Octohfr 80, 1731. "Sir: — I have so long neglected to return you thanks for the favour and assistance received from you at Stourbridge, that I am afiaid you have now done expecting it. I can, 'adeed, make no apology, but by assuring you that this delay, whatever was the cause of it, proceeded neither from forgetfulness, disrespect, nor ingratitude. Time has not made th< sense of obligation less warm, nor the thanks I return less sincere. But while I am acknow- ledging one favour, 1 must beg another — that you would excuse the composition of the verses you desired. Be pleased to consider, that versifying against one's inclination is the most disagreeable thing hi the world; and that one's own disappointment is no inviting subject; and that though the gratifying of you might have prevailed over my dislike of it, yet it proves upon reflection, so barren, that, to attempt to write upon it, is to undertake to build wilhou mai •'rials. As I am yet unemployed, I hope you will, if anything should offer, remember aai ccommend, sir, your humble servant, " Sam. Johnsm' " 4 t4 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^^ a diary, that he went on foot, on the 16th of July. — " Julii lo Bosvortiam peeler petii." But it is not true, as has been erroneously related, that he was assistant to the famous Anthony Blackwall, whose merit has been honoured, by the testimony of Bishop Hurd,' who was his scholar ; for Mr. Blackwall died on the 8th of April, 1*130,^ more than a year before Johnson left the University. This employment was very irksome to him in every respect, and he complained grievously of it in bis letters to his Mend, Mr. Hector, who was now settled as a surgeon at Birmingham. The letters are lost ; but Mr. Hector recollects his writing " that the poet had described tlie dull sameness of his existence in these words, ' Vitam contimt una dies ' (one day contains the whole of my Kfe); that it was unvaried as the note of the cuckoo ; and that he did not know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or the boys to learn, the grammar rules." His general aversion to this painful drudgery was greatly enhanced by a disagreement between him and Sir Wolstan Dixie, the patron of the school, in whose house, I have been told, he officiated as a kind of domestic chaplain, so far, at least, as to say grace at table, but was treated with what he represented as intolerable harshness ; and after suffering for a few months such complicated misery,' he relinquished a situation which all his life afterwards he recollected with the strongest aversion, and • There is here (as Mr. James Boswell observes to me) a slight inaccuracy. Bish >p Hurd, in the Epistle Dedicatory prefixed to his Commentary on Horace's Art of Poetry, cfec, does not praise Blackwall, but the Rev. Mr. Budworth, head master of the Gram.mar School at Bre- wood, in Staffordshire, who had himself been bred under Blackwall. — Malons. [We shall see, presently, on the authority of Mi\ Nichols, that Johnson proposed himself to Mr. Bud- worth as an assistant.] - See Gent. Mag., Dec, 1784, p. 957. 3 Mr. Malone states, that he had read a letter of Johnson's to a friend, dated July 27, 173J, saying that he had then recently left Sir Wo'lstan Dixie's house, and had some hopes of suc- ceeding, either as master or usher, in the school of Ashbourn. If Mr. Malone be correct in the date of this letter, and Mr. Boswell be also right in placing the extiact from the diary under the year 17-32, Johnson's sojourn at Bosworth could have been not more than ten days, a time too short to be characteuised as " a period of complicated misery," and to be remem- bered during a long life " with the strongest aversion and horror." It seems very extraordi nary, that the laborious diligence and the lively curiosity of Hawkins, Boswell, Murphy, and Malone, were able to discover so little of the history of Johnson's life from December, 1729. to his marriage in July, 1736, and that what they have told should be liable to so much doi'lrt. It may be inferred, that it was a period to which Johnson looked back with little satlsfa but I cannot say I had a greater affection for you upon it than I had before, being long since so much endeared to you, as well by an early friendship, as by your many excellent and valuable qualifications ; and, had I a son of my own, it would be my ambition, instead of sending him to the university, to dispose of him as this young gentleman is. "He, and another ueiglibour of mine, one Mr. Samuel Johnson, set out this morning for London together. Davy Garrick to be with you fearly the next week, and Mr. Johnson to try his fate with a tragedy, and to see to get him- self employed in some translation, either from the Latin or the French. Johnson is a very good scholar and poet, and I have great hopes will turn out a fine tragedy writer. If it should any way He in your way, doubt not but you would be ready to recommend and assist your countryman, " G. Walmesley." How he employed himself upon his first coming to London is not particularly known.' I never heard that he found any protection or encouragement by the means of Mr. Colson, to whose academy David Garrick went. Mrs. Lucy Porter told me that Mr. Walmesley gave him a letter of introduction to Lintot, his bookseller, and that Johnson wrote some things for him ; but I imagine this to be a mis- take, for I have discovered no trace of it, and I am pretty sure he told me that Mr. Cave was the first publisher by whom his pen was engaged in London. He had a little money when he came to town, and he knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. His first lodgings were at in the 24th Rambler, was meant to represent Mr. Colson; but this may be doubted, for, as Mr. Colson resided constantly at Rochester till his removal to Cambridge, it is not likely that Mr. Walmesley's letter could produce any intercourse or acquaintance between him and Johnson ; and it appears, from Davies's Life of Garrick (vol. i. p. 14), a work revised by Johnson, that Mr. Colson's character could have no resemblance to the absurdities of Gelidus." - One curious anecdote was communicated by himself to Mr. John Nichols. Mr. Wilcox the bookseller, on being informed by him that his intention was to get his livelihood as au author, eyed his robust frame attentively, and, with a significant look, said, " You had betlfM buy a porter's knot," He, however, added, " Wilcox was one of my best friends." *TAr 2a ARRIVAL IN LONDON. 9l the house of Mr. Norri's, a staymaker, in Exeter Street, adjoining Catharine Street, in the Strand. " I dined," said he, " very well for eight-pence, with very good company, at the Pine-Apple in New Street, just by. Several of them had travelled. They expected to meet every day, but did not know one another's names. It used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine ; but I had a cut of meat for sixpence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny ; so that I was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing." ' He at this time, I believe, abstained entirely from fermented liquors : a practice to which he rigidly conformed for many years togetlier, at ditfereut periods of his life.'' His Ofellus, in the Art of Living in London,' I have heard him relate, was an Irish painter, whom he knew at Birmingham, and who had practised his own precepts of economy for several years in the British capital. He assured Johnson, who, I suppose, was then meditating to try his fortune in London, but was apprehensive of the expense, " that thirty pounds a year was enough to enable a man to 1 Painful as it is to relate, I have heard Dr. Johnson assert, that he subsisted himself, for a donsiderable space of time, upon the scanty pittance of four-pence halfpenny per day. — Clmberland. 2 At this time his abstinence from wine may, perhaps, be attributed to poverty, but in his subseciuent life he was restrained from that indulgence by, as it appears, moral, or rather medical, considerations. He probably found by experience that wine, though it dissipated for a moment, yet eventually aggravated th« hereditary disease under which he suffered ; and perhaps it may have been owing to a long course of abstinence, that his mental health seems to have been better in the latter than in the earlier portion of his life. He says, in his Prayers and Meditations, " By abstinence from wine and suppers, I obtained sudden and great relief, and had freedom of mind restored to me ; which I have wanted for all this year, without being able to find any means of obtaining it." — Croker. ^ [" Qu» virtus et quanta, boni, sit vivere parvo, (Nee meus hie sermo ; sed quae praecepit Ofellus, Rusticus, abnormis sapiens, crassar(ue Minerva,) Discite, non inter lances mensaque nitentes." HoR. Sat. ii. lib. il. "What and how great, the virtue and the art, To live on little with a cheerful heart, * (A doctrine sage, but, truly, none of mine,) Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine." Pope, iTnit. Tlie OJ'ellu« of Horace was an honest countryman, whose patrimony had been seized by Augustus, and given to one of the soldiers that had served against Brutus and Cassius.] 92 LIFE OF JOHNSOJf. '^^^• live there without being contemptible. He allowed ten pounds for clothes and linen. He said a man might live in a garret at eighteeu- pence a week ; few people would enquire where he lodged ; and if • they did, it was easy to say, ' Sir, I am to be found at such a place. By spending three-pence in a coffee-house, he might be for some hours every day in very good company ; he might dine for sixpence, breakfast on bread and milk for a penny, and do without supper. On clean-shirt-day he went abroad, and paid visits." I have heard him more than once talk of his frugal friend, whom he recollected with esteem and kindness, and did not like to have one smile at the recital. " This man," said he, gravely, " was a very sensible man, who perfectly understood common affairs : a man of a great deal of knowledge of the world, fresh from life, not strained through books. He borrowed a horse and ten pounds at Birmingham. Finding him- self master of so much money, he set off for West Chester, in order to get to Ireland. He returned the horse, and probably the ten pounds too, after he had got home." Considering Johnson's narrow circumstances in the early part of his Ufe, and particularly at the interesting era of his launching into the ocean of London, it is not to be wondered at, that an actual instance, proved by experience, of the possibility of enjoying the intellectual luxury of social life upon a very small income, should deeply engage his attention, and be ever recollected by him as a cir- cumstance of much importance. He amused himself, I remember, by computing how much more expense was absolutely necessary to live upon the same scale with that which his friend described, when the value of money was diminished by the progress of commerce. It may be estimated that double the money might now with difficulty be sufficient. Amidst this cold obscurity, there was one brilliant circumstance to cheer hhn ; he was well acquainted with Mr. Henry Hervey,' one of the branches of the noble family of that name, who had been quar- tered at Lichfield as an officer of the armv, and had at this time a >> > The Hon. Henry Hervey, third son of the first Earl of Bristol, quitted the army and took orders. He married a sister of Sir Thomas Aston, by whom he got the Aston Estate, and assumed the name and arms of that family. — Boswell. Mr. Harvey's acquaintance and kindness Johnson probably owed to his friend Walmesley Hervey and Walmesley, it will be recollected, married two sisters. — Croker. ■^^''■^- LEiTER FROM GREEXWICH. 93 house in London, where Johnson was frequently entertained, and had an opportunity of meeting genteel company. Xot very long before his death, he mentioned this, among other particulars of his life which he was kindly communicating to me ; and he described this early friend " Harry Hervey," thus : "He was a vicious man,' but very kind to me. If you call a dog Hervey I shall love him." He told me he had now written only three acts of his Irexe, and that he retired for some time to lodgings at Greenwich, where he proceeded in it somewhat further, and used to compose, walking in the Park ; but did not stay long enough at that place to finish it. At this period we find the following letter from him to Mr. Edward Cave, which, as a link in the chain of his literary history, it is proper to insert : Letter 3. TO MR. CAVE. "Grkksttich, next door to the Golden Heart, Church Street, July 12, 1787. " Sir, — HaYiug observed in your papers very uucommon offers of encourage- ment to men of kUers, I have chosen, being a stranger in Loudon, to commu- nicate to you the following design, which, I hope, if you join in it, will be of advantage to both of us. " The History of the Council of Trent having been lately translated into French, and published with large notes by Dr. Le Courayer, the reputation of that book is so much revived in England, that, it is presumed, a new transla- tion of it from the ItuHan,^ together with Le Courayer's notes from the French could not fail of a favourable reception. " If it be answered, that the History is already in English, it must be remem- bered, that there was the same objection against Le Courayer's tmdertaking, with this disadvantage, that the French had a version by one of their best translators, whereas you cannot read three pages of the English history with- out discovering that the style is capable of great improvements ; but whether those improvements are to be expected from this attempt, you must judge from the specimen, which, if you approve the proposal, I shall submit to your examination. " Suppose the merit of the versions equal, we may hope that the addition of the notes will tm-n the balance in our favour, considering the reputation of the anuotator. 1 For the excesses which I>r. Johnson characterise as vicious, Mr. Hervey was, probably as much to hepiiicd as blamed He was rertf iccentric. — Cboeer. ■■' This proves that JohnsoD Lad now acquired Italian ; probably directed to that study by the volume of Petrarch (mentioned anU, p. 53), the latter part of which conlained his Italian poems. — CsoKEB. ^94 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ''•'^^'^ " Be pleased to favour me with a speedy answer, if you are not willing to engage in this scheme ; and appoint me a day to wait upon you, if you are. I am, Sir, your humble servant, Sam. Johnson." It should seem from tliis letter, tliougli subscribed with his own name, that he had not yet been introduced to Mr. Cave. We shall presently see what was done in consequence of the proposal which it contains. In the course of the summer he returned to Lichfield, where he had left Mrs. Johnson, and there he at last finished his tragedy, which was not executed with his rapidity of composition upon other occasions, but was slowly and painfully elaborated. A few days before his death, while burning a great mass of papers, he picked out from among them the original unformed sketch of this tragedy, in his own hand- writing, and gave it to Mr. Langton, by whose favour a copy of it is now in my possession. It contains fragments of the intended plot, and speeches for the different persons of the drama, partly in the raw materials of prose, partly worked up into verse ; as also a variety of hints for illustration, borrowed from the Greek, Koman, and modern writers. The handwriting is very diffi' cult to be read, even by those who were best acquainted with John- son's mode of penmanship, which at all times was very particular. The King having graciously accepted of this manuscript as a literary curiosity, Mr. Langton made a fair and distinct copy of it, which he ordered to be bound up with the original and the printed tragedy ; and the volume is deposited in the King's library. His Majesty was pleased to permit Mr. Langton to take a copy of it for himself. The whole of it is rich in thought and imagery, and happy ex- pressions ; and of the disjecta membra scattered throughout, and as yet unarranged, a good dramatic poet might avail himself with con- siderable advantage. I shall give my readers some specimens of different kinds, distinguishing them by the itaUc character. "' Nor think to say, here will I stop, Here will I fix the limits of transgression, Nor farther tempt the avenging rage of heaven. When guilt like this once harbours in the breast^ *»«• 88- LICHFIELD — IRENE. 05 Those holy belnyi, whose unseen direction Guides through the maze of life the steps of man, Fly the detested mansions of impiety. And quit their charge to horror and to ruin." A small part only of this interesting admonition is preserved ia tne play, and is varied, I thinii, not to advantage : " The soul once tainted with so foul a crime, No more shall glow with friendship's hallow'd ardour, Those holy beings whose superior care Guides erring mortals to the paths of virtue, Aifi-ighted at impiety like thine, Resign their charge to baseness and to ruin." " I feel the soft infection Flush in my cheek, and wander in my veins. Teach me the Grecian arts of soft persuasion. *'/9«re this is love, which heretofore I conceived the dream of idle maidsy and mnUon poets.'''' *' Tliouyh no comets or prodigies foretold the ruin of Greece, sigiis which luaven must by another miracle enable iis to understand, yet might it be fore' l4Mm, by tokens no less certain, by the vices _which always bring it onj" The last passage is worked up in the tragedy itself as follows : Leontics. " That power that kindly spreada The clouds, a signal of impending showers. To warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade, Beheld, without concern, expiring Greece, And not one prodigy foretold our fate. Demetrius. " A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it ; A feeble government, eluded laws, A factious populace, luxurious nobles, And all the maladies of sinking states: When public villany, too strong for justice, Shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, Can brave Leontius call for airy wonders, Which cheats interpret, and which fools regard f 9G LIFE OP JOHNSON. ^'^^• When some neglected fabric nods beneath The weight of years, and totters to the temp'^st, Must heaven despatch the messengers of light, Or wake the dead, to warn us of its fall?" Mahomet (to Irene). " I have tried thee, and joy to find that thou deserves (■'• he loved hy Mahomet — viith a mind yreat as his own. Sure, thou art an errot of nature, and an exception to the rest of thy sex, a7id art immortal ; for senti merits like thine were never to sink into nothing. I thought all the thoughts oj the fair had been to select the graces of the day, dispose the colours of the fi aunt ing {fiovnng) robe, tune the voice and roll the eye, place the gem, choose t/» dress, ana add new loses to the fading cheek, but — sparkliitg." Thus in the tragedy : "Illustrious maid, new wonders fix me thine; Thy soul completes the triumphs of thy face; I thought, forgive my fair, the noblest aim, The strongest effort of a female soul, Was but to choose the graces of the day, To tune the tongue, to teach the eyes to roll. Dispose the colours of the flowing robe, And add new roses to the faded cheek." r shall select one other passage, on account of the doctrine whicL "t illustrates. Irene observes, " that the Supreme Being icill accept of virtue, whatever out- ward circumstances it may be accompanied with, and may be delighted with varieties of worship : but is answered, That variety cannot a feet that Being, who, infinitely happy in his own perfections, wants no external gratifications ; nor can infinite truth be delighted with falsehood ; that though he 7nay guide or ■pity those he leaves in darkness, he abandons those who shut their eyes agaiitst the beams of day." Johnson's residence at Lichfield, on his return to it at this time, f.-as only for three m®nths ; and as he had as yet seen but a small part of the wonders of the metropolis, he had little to tell his tomis- men. He related to me [Sept. 20, 1773], the following minute anecdote of this period : — " In the last age, when my mother lived n Loudon, there were two sets of people, those who gave the wall, and those who took it ; the peaceable and the quarrelsome. When I returned to Tnchfield, after having been in London, my mother *»AT 2S. LICHFIELD — LONDO}^. 97 iisked me, wlietlier I was one of tliose who gave the wall, or those who took it. Now it is fixed that every mau keeps to the right ; or, if one is taking the wall, another yields it ; and it is never a dispute." lie now removed to London with Mrs. Johnson ; but her daugh- ter, who had lived with them at Edial, was left with her relations in the country. His lodgings were for some time in Woodstock Street, near Hanover Square, and afterwards in Castle Street, near Caven- dish Square. As there is something pleasingly interesting, to many, in tracing so great a man through all his different habitations, 1 shall, before this work is concluded, present my readers with au exact list of his lodgings and houses, in order of time, which, in placid condescension to my respectful curiosity, he one evening [Oct. 10, 1*179] dictated to m'e, but wit'liout specifying how long he lived at each. In the progress of his life I shall have occasion to •"cntion some of them as connected with particular incidents, or with the writing of particular parts of his works. To some, this minute attention may appear trifling ; but when we consider the punctilious exactness with which the different houses in which Mil- ton resided have been traced by the writers of his life, a similar enthusiasm may be pardoned in the biographer of Johnson. His tragedy being by this time, as he thought, completely finished and fit for the stage, he was very desirous that it should be brought forward. Mr. Peter Garrick told me, that Johnson and he went together to the Fountain tavern, and read it over, and that he after- wards solicited Mr. Fleetwood, the patentee of Drury Lane theatre, to have it acted at his house ; but Mr. Fleetwood would not accept it, probably because it was not patronised by some man of high rank ; and it was not acted till 1749, when his friend David Gar- rick was manager of that theatre. The Gentleman's Magazine, begun and carried on by Mr. Edward Cave, under the name of Sylvanus Urban, had attracted the notice and esteem of Johnson, in an eminent degree, before he came to London as an adventurer in literature. He told me that when he first saw St. John's Gate, the place where that deservedly popular miscellany was originally printed, he " beheld it with reverence." ' 1 If, as Mr. Boswell supposes, Johnson looked at St. John's Gate as the printing-oHice ef 5 98 UFE OP JOHNSOIf. *^*- 1 8uppo^5 biers have presumed to treat men of the most respectable character and situation. This 'important article of the Gentleman's Magazine was, for seve- ral years, executed by Mr. William Guthrie, a man who deserves to be recorded in the literary annals of this country. He was descended of an ancient family in Scotland ; but, having a small patrimony, and being an adherent of the unfortunate house of Stuart, he could not accept any office in the State ; he therefore came to London, and employed his talents and learning as an " author by profession." His writings in history, criticism, and politics, had considerable merit.* He was the first English historian who had recourse to that authentic source of information, the Parliamentary Journals ; and such was the power of his political pen, that, at an early period, govern- ment thought it worth their while to keep it quiet by a pension, which he enjoyed till his death. Johnson esteemed him enough to wish that his life should be written. The debates in Parliament, which were brought home and digested by Guthrie, whose memory, ' How much poetry he wrote, I know not; but he informed me that he was the author of the beautiful little piece, " The Eagle and Robin Redbreast," in the collection of poems en- titled "The Union," though it ia there said to be written by Alexander Scott, before the year 1600. ^rXT.W. PARLIAME.VTAKY DEBATES. 101 though surpassed by others who have since followed him iu the same department, was yet very quick and tenacious, were sent by Cave to Johnson for his revision ; and, after some time, when Guthrie had attained to greater variety of employment, and the speeches were more and more enriched by the accession of Johnson's genius, it was resolved that he should do the whole himself, from the scanty notes furnished by persons emjlr/ed to attend Ji both houses of Parlia- ment. Sometimes, however, as he himself told me, he had nothing more communicated to him tbiin the naaes of the several speakers, and the part which they had taken in the debate CHAPTER VI. 1738—1741. /ohn^on publishes " London Poem" —Letters to Cave relaclng thereto — Endeavours, wnn- out Success, to obtain the Degree of Master of Arts — Recommended ty Pope to Earl Gower —The Earl's Letter on his Behalf— Begins a Translation of Father Paul Sarpi's History- Publishes " A Complete Vindication of the Licensers of the Stage," and " Marmor Norfol- ciense" — Pope's Note to Richardson concerning him— Characteristic Anecdotes — Writes the Debates in Parliament, under the Disguise of " the Senate of Lilliput." Thus was Johnson employed during some of the best years of his life, as a mere literary labourer " for gain, not glory," solely to obtain an honest support. He, however, indulged himself in occasional little sallies, which the French so happily express by the term jeux d'esprit, and which will be noticed in their order, in the progress ot this work. But what first displayed his transcendent powers, and " gave tho world assurance of the man," was his " Loudon, a Poem, in Imita- tion of the Third Satire of Juvenal ;" which came out in May this year, and burst forth with a splendour, the rays of which will for ever e»circle his name. Boileau had imitated the same satire with great success, applying it to Paris ; but an attentive comparison will satisfy every reader, that he is much excelled by the English Juve- nal.' Oldham had also imitated it, and applied it to London ; all which performances concur to prove, that great cities, in every age, and in every country, will furnish similar topics of satire. Whether Johnson had previously read Oldham's imitation, I do not know ; but it is not a little- remarkable, that there is scarcely any coinci- dence found between the two performances, though upon the very ' It is hardly fair to compare the poems in this hostile way : Boileau's was a mere hadina^t, complaining of, or laughing at, the personal dangers and inconveniences of Paris. Johnson^ v*)ject was to satirise the moral depravity of a great city.— Ceokbs;. 102 ^^^t-^- LONDON', A POEM. 103 same snbject. The only instances are, in describing London as the sink of foreign worthlessness : ♦ •' the common shore, Where France does all her filth and ordure pour." Oldham. " The common shore of Paris and of Eome." "No calling or profession comes amiss, A. needy monsieur can be what he please. " All sciences a fasting monsieur knows." JOHNSOK. Oldham. Johnson. The particulars which Oldham has collected, both as exhibiting the horrors of London, and of the times, contrasted with better days, are different from those of Johnson, and in general well chosen, and well expressed.* There are in Oldham's imitation, many prosaic verses and bad rhymes, and his poem sets out with a strange inadvertent blunder : — " Though much concern'd to leave my old dear friend, I must, however, his design commend Of fixing in the country." It is plain he was not going to leave his friend ; his friend was going to leave kim. A young lady at once corrected this with good criti- cal sagacity, to " Though much concern'd to lose my old dear friend." There is one passage in the original better transfused by Oldham than by Johnson : — " Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in ae, Qudm quod ridiculos homines fac it. ''^ '■ I own it pleased me to find amongst them one trait of the manners of the age in London, m the last century, to sliield from the sneer of English ridicule, what was, some timj atgo, toe common a \ ractice in my native city of Edinburgh ! " If what I've said can't from the town affright, Consider other dangers of the night; When brickbats are from upper stories thrown. And emptied chamherpot^ come pouring down From garret windows." J 04 LIFE OF JOIINSOJJ. ^^^ which is an exquisite remark on the galling meanness and contempt annexed to poverty. Johnson's imitation is, — " Of all the griefs that harass the distreet, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest." Oldham's, though less elegant, is more just, — "" Nothing in poverty so ill is borne, As its exposing men to grinding scorn." Where or in what manner this poem was composed, I am soiiy that I neglected to ascertain with precision from Johnson's own authority. He has marked upon his corrected copy of the first edi- tion of it, " Written in 1138 ;" and, as it was published in the month of May in that year, it is evident that much time was not employed in preparing it for the press. The history of its publication I am enabled to give in a very satisfactory manner ; and judging from myself, and many of ray friends, I trust that it will not be uninterest- ing to my readers. We may be certain, though it is not expressly named in the fol- lowing letters to Mr. Cave, in It 38, that they all relate to it : — Letter 4. TO MR. CAVE. " Castle street, Wednesday Morning. [March, 1738.] " Sir, — When I took the liberty of writing to you a few days ago, I did not expect a repetition of this same pleasure so soon -, for a pleasure I shall always think it, to converse in any manner with an ingenious and candid man: but having the enclosed poem in my hands to dispose of for the benefit of the author, (of whose abilities I shall say nothing, since I send you his perform- ance,) I believe I could not procure more advantageous terms from any person than from you, who have so much distinguished yourself by your generoua encouragement of poetry ; and whose judgment of that art nothing but your commendation of my trifle* can give me any occasion to call in question. I ao not doubt but you will look over this poem with another eye, and reward it in a different manner from a mercenary bookseller, who counts the lines he ia to purchase, and considers nothing but the bulk. I cannot help taking notice, that, besides what the author may hope for on account of his abilities, he haa likewise another claim to your regard, as he lies at present under very disad- 1 His Ode "Ad Urbanum'^ was, no doubt, the trifle referred to. — CROKBat *"'••*• LONDON, A POF.M, 105 vantageous circumstances of fortune. I beg, therefore, that you will favour me with a letter to-morrow, that I may know what you can aftbrd to allow him that he may either part with it to you, or find out (which I do not expect) some other way more to his satisfaction. ■' I have only to add, that as I am sensible I have transcribed it very coarsely, which, after having altered it, I was obliged to do, I will, if you please to trans- mit the sheets from the press, correct it for you ; and take the trouble of alter- ing any stroke of satire which you may dislike. " By exerting on this occasion your usual generosity, you will not only en- courage learning, and reheve distress, but (though it be in comparison of the other motives of very small account) oblige, in a very sensible manner, Sir, your very humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 5. TO MR. CAVE. " Monday, No. 6, Castle Street. [March, 1738.] Sir, — I am to return you thanks for the present' you were so kind as to send by me, and to entreat that you will be pleased to inform me by the penny-post, whether you resolve to print the poem. If you please to send it me by tho post, with a note to Dodsley, I will go and read the lines to him, that we may have his consent to put his name in the title page. As to the printing, if it can be set immediately about, I will be so much the author's friend, as not to con- tent myself with mere solicitations in his favour. I propose, if my calculation be near the truth, to engage for the reimbursement of all that you shall lose by an impression of five hundred ; i)rovided, as you very generously propose, that the profit, if any, be set aside for the author's use, excepting the present you made, which, if he be a gainer, it is fit he should repay. I beg that you will let one of your servants write an exact account of the expense of such an impression, and send it with the poem, that I may know what I engage for. I am very sensible, from your generosity on this occasion, of your regard to learning, even in its unhappiest state ; and cannot but think such a temper deserving of the gratitude of those who suffer so often from a contrary dispo- sition, I am, Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 6. TO MR. CAVE. [April, irSS.] «' Sir, — I waited on you to take the copy to Dodsley's ; as I remember the number of lines which it contains, it will be no longer than Eugenio," with the quotations, which must be subjoined at the bottom of the page ; part of the ' Though Cave had not taste enough to be struck with the value of the poem, he had, we see, charity enough to relieve the pressing wants of the author in the shape of a present.— Croker. » A poem, published in 17.37, of which see an account, post, under April 80, 17V3. 5* 106 tiFE OF JOHNSON. '^*^' beauty of the performance (if any beauty be allowed it) consisting in adapting Juvenal's sentiments to modern facts and persons. It will, with those addi- tions, very conveniently make five sheets. And since the expense will be no more, I shall contentedly insure it, as I mentioned in my last. If it be not there- fore gone to Dodsley's, I beg it may be sent me by the penny-post, that I may have it in the evening. I have composed a Greek Epigram to Eliza,' and think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as Lewis le Grand. Pray send me word when you will begin upon the poem, for it is a long way to walk. I would leave my Epigram, but have not daylight to transcribe it. I am. Sir, yours, &c. " Sam. Johnson." Letter 1. TO MR. CAVE. [April, 1788.] '* Sir, — I am extremely obliged by your kind letter, and will not fail to attend you to-morrow with Irene, who looks upon you as one of her best friends. " I was to-day with Mr. Dodsley, who declares very warmly in favour of the paper you sent him, which he desires to have a share in, it being, as he says, a creditable thing to be concerned in. I knew not what answer to make till I had consulted you, nor what to demand on the author's part ; but am very willing that, if you please, he should have a part in it, as he will undoubtedly be more diligent to disperse and promote it. If you can send me word to-morrow what I shall say to him, I will settle matters, and bring the poem with me for the press, which, as the town empties, we cannot be too quick with. I am, Sir, yours, &c. *' Sam. Johnson." To us wlio have long known the manly force, bold spirit, and masterly versification of this poem, it is a matter of curiosity to observe the diffidence with which its author brought it forward into public notice, while he is so cautious as not to avow it to be his own production ; and with what humility he offers to allow the printer to "alter any stroke of satire which he might dislike." That any such alteration was made, we do not know. If we did, we could not but feel an indignant regret ; but how painful is it to see that a writer of such vigorous powers of mind was actually in such dis- tress, that the small profit of so short a poem, however excellent, could yield, was courted as a " relief 1" I The learned Mrs. Elizabeth Carter. This lady, of whom frequent mention will be found 1b these Memoir.'', was daughter of Nicholas Carter, D.D. She was born in 1717, and died, In Clarges Street, February 19, 1S06, in her eighty-ninth year. — Malonb, ^"■^- LONDON, A POEM. 101 It has been generally said, I know not with ^hat truth, that Jchnson offered his " London " to several booksellers, none of whom would purchase it. To this circumstance Mr. Derrick * alludes in the following lines of Lis " Fortune, a Rhapsody :" — " Will no kind patron Johnson own ? Shall Johnson friendless range the town ? And every publisher refuse The offspring of his happy muse ?" But we have seen that the worthy, modest, and ingenious Mr. Robert Dodsley,' had taste enough to perceive its uncommon merit, and thought it creditable to have a share in it. The fact is, that, at a future conference, he bargained for the whole property of it, for which he gave Johnson ten guineas, who told me, " I might perhaps have accepted of less, but that Paul AVliitehead had a little before got ten guineas for a poem, and I would not take less than Paul Whitehead." I may here oljserve, that Jolmson appeared to me to undervalue Paul Whitehead upon every occasion when he was mentioned, and, in my opinion, did not do him justice ; but when it is considered that Paul Whitehead was a member of a riotous and profane club, we may account for Johnson's having a prejudice against him. Paul Whitehead was, indeed, unfortunate in being not only slighted by Johnson, but violently attacked by Churchill, who utters the rdlowing imprecation : — " May I (can worse disgrace on manhood fall ?) Be born a Whitehead, and baj^tized a Paul !" ' Samuel Derrick, a native of Ireland, was born in 1724. He was apprenticed to a linen- -Jraper, but abandoned that calling, first, for the stage, where he soon failed, and then for tha trade of literature. Besides " Fortune, a Rhapsody " (1753), he published a translation of the Third Satire of Juvenal, a View of the Stage, an edition of Dryden's Poems, and "Lettere written from Liverpoo', Chester," etc. It will be seen that Johnson had " a great kindness " for him, and that he was Bosweirs "first tutor in the ways of London." In 1761, Derrick succeeded Beau Nash as master of the ceremonies at Bath, where he died in 1769. 2 Robert Dodsley was born in 1703. He had been servant to Miss Lowther, and in 1733 published, by subscription, a volume of poems, entitled "The Muse in Livery." He after- wards wrote " The Toyshop," " The King and Miller of Mansfield," " Cleone, a Tragedy," •' The Economy of Human Life," and other pieces. In 1758 he projected, in concert with Mr. Burke, the Annual Register, and in 1759 he was succeeded in his liusiness as a bookseller &y his brother James R. Dodsley died in 1764. 108 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^38 yet I slmll never be persuaded to think meanly of the author of so brilliant and pointed a satire as " Manners." ' Johnson's " London " was published in May, 1*138 ;^ and it is remarkable, that it came out on the saine morning with Pope's satire, entitled " 1138 :" so that England had at once its Juvenal and Horace as poetical monitors. The Rev. Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, to whom I am indebted for some obliging com- munications, was then a student at Oxford, and remembers well the effect which " Loudon" produced. Everybody was delighted with it ; and there being no name to it, the first buzz of the literary cir- cles was, " Here is an unknown poet, greater even than Pope." And it is recorded in the Gentleman's Magazine of that year, p. 269, that it " got to a second edition in the course of a week." ' " Paul Whitehead, a small jioet, was summoned before the Lords for a poem called 'Manners,' together with Dodsley, his publisher. Whitehead, who hung loose upon society, skulked and escaped; but Dodsley's shop and family made his appearance necessary. He was, however, soon dismissed ; and the whole process was probably intended rather to inti- midate Pope than to punish Whitehead." — Johnson, Life of Pope. 2 Sir Jolic 3awkins, p. 86, tells us, " The event (Savage's retirement) is anted'itcd in the poem of ' London ;' but in every particular, except the difference of a year, what is there said of the departure of Thales must be understood of Savage, and looked upon as true his- tory." This conjecture is, I believe, entirely gi-oundless. I have been assured that Johnson said he was not so much as acquainted with Savage when he wrote his "London." If the departure mentioned in it was tlie departure of Savage, the event was not antedated but foreseen ; for " London " was published in May, 173S, and Savage did not set out for Wales till July, 1739. However well Johnson could defend the credibility of second sight, he did not pretend that he himself was possessed of that faculty.- — Boswell. Notwithstanding Mr. Boswell's proofs, and Dr. Johnson's own assertion, the identity of Savage and Thales has been repeated by all the biographers, and has obtained general vogue. It may, therefore, be worth while to add, that Johnson's residence at Greenwich (which, as it was the scene oftiisjancied parting from Thales, is currently taken to have been that of his real separation from Savage), occurred two years before the latter event ; and at that time it does not appear that Johnson was so much as acquainted with Savage, or even with Cave, at whose house he first met Savage : again, Johnson distinctly tells us, in his Life of Savage, that the latter took his departure for Wales, not by embarking at Greenwich, but by the Bris- tol stage-coach ; and, finally and decisively, Johnson, if Thales had been Savage, could never have admitted into his poem two lines which seem to point so forcibly at the drunken fray, when Savage stabbed a Mr. Sinclair, for which he was convicted ol murder : — " Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs you in a jest." There is, certainly, a curious coincidence between some points of the characters of Thales and Savage ; but it seems equally certain that the coincidence was fortuitous. Mr. Murphy endeavors to reconcile the difficulties by supposing that Savage's retirement was in contem- plation eighteen months before it was carried into effect : but even if this were true (which may well be doubted), it would not alter the facts — that " London " was written before John- son knew Savage ; and that one of the severest strokes in the Satiie touched Savage's sorest point. — Crokeb. *TAT, 8d LONDON, A /-OEXr — POPE. 109 One of the warmest patrons of this poem ou its first appearance was General Oglethorpe, whose "strong benevolence of soul" was unabated during the course of a very long life ; though it is painffti to think, that he had but too much reason to become cold and callous, and discontented with the world, from the neglect which he experi- enced of his pubhc and private worth, by those in whose power it was to gratify so gallant a veteran with marks of distinction. This extraordinary person was as remarkable for his learning and taste, as for his other eminent qualities ; and no man was more prompt, active, and generous, in encouraging merit. I have heard Johnstni gratefully acknowledge, in his presence, the kind and effectual sup- port which he gave to his "London," though unacquainted with its author. , Pope, who then filled the poetical throne without a rival, it may reasonably be presumed, must have been particularly struck by the sudden appearance of such a poet ; and to his credit let it be remem- bered, that his feelings and conduct on the occasion were candid and liberal. He requested Mr. Richardson,* son of the painter, to endeavour to find out who this new author was. Mr. Ricliardsoii, after some enquiry, having informed him that he had discovered only that his name was Johnson, and that he was some obscure man, Pope said, " He will soon be deterre.^' * We shall presently see, from a note written by Pope, that he was himself afterwards more successful in his enquiries than his friend. That in this justly-celebrated poem may be found a few rhymes which the critical precision of Englisli prosody at this day would disallow cannot be denied ; but with this small imperfection, which in the general blaze of its excellence is not perceived, till the mind has subsided into cool attention, it is, undoubtedly, one of tiie no- blest productions in our languags, both for sentiment and cxpressiou. The nation was then in that ferment against the court iind tlie ' There were three Richardsons known at this period in the literary world : 1st, .Johnson thfl elder, usually called the Painter, though he was an author as well as a painter ; he died in 1745, agehink proper). " It will, above all, be necessary to take notice, that it is a thing distinct from the Commentary. "I was so far from imagining they stood still,' that I conceived them to have a good deal before-hand, and therefore was less anxious in providing then. more. But if ever they stand still on my.^ccount, it must, doubtlesf, be charged to me ; and whatever else shall be reasonable, I shall not oppose ; but beg a suspense of judgment till morning, when I must entreat you to send me a dozen proposals, and you shall then have copy to spare. I am. Sir, yours, impransus, " Sam. Johnson." " Pray muster up the proposals if you can, or let the boy recall them from the booksellers." But although he corresponded with Mr. Cave concerning a trans- lation of Crousaz's Examen of Pope's Essay on Man, and gave advice as one anxious for its success, I was long ago convinced by a perusal of the Preface, that this translation was erroneously ascribed to him ; and I found this point ascertained beyond all doubt, by the following article in Dr. Birch's manuscripts in the British Museum : — "Elisaj Carterae, S. P. D. Thomas Birch. Versionem tuani Examinis Crou- saziani jam perlegi. Sumniam styli et elegantiam, et in re difficillima proprie- tatem, admiratus. Dabam Xovenib. 27° 1738." Indeed, Mrs. Carter has lately acknowledged to Mr. Seward, that she was the translator of the " Examen." It is remarkable, that Johnson's last quoted letter to Mr. Cave concludes with a fair confession that he had not a dinner ; and it is no less remarkable, that though in this state of want himself, his benevolent heart was not insensible to the necessities of an humble labourer in literature, as appears from the very next letter : — Letter 11. TO MR. CAVE. [No date.] "Dear Sir, — You remember I have formerly talked with you about a Mill- ' The ccmpositors in Mr. Cave's printing-office, who appear by this letter to have IheD j(.TJf(;d for copy. — Nichols. ^lAT.fiS. gentleman's magazine. lit tary Dictionary. The eldest Mr. Macbean,' who was with Mr. Chambers, haa very good materials for such a work, which I have seen, and will do it at a very low rate.* I think the terms of war and navigation might be comprised, with good explanations in one 8vo. pica, which he is willing to do for twelve shillings a sheet, to be made up a guinea at the second impression. If you think on it, I will wait on you with him. I am, Sir, your humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." "Pray lend me Topsel on Animals." 1 must not omit to mention, that this Mr. Macbean was a native of Scotland. In the Gentleman's Magazine of this year, Johnson gave a Life of Father Paul ; * and he wrote the Preface to the volume,f which, though prefixed to it when bound, is always published with the appendix, and is therefore the last composition belonging to it. The ability and nice adaptation with which he could draw up a pre- fatory address, was one of his peculiar excellencies. In appears, too, that he payed a friendly attention to Mrs. Eliza- beth Carter ; for in a letter from Mr. Cave to Dr. Birch, November 28th, this year, I find " Mr. Johnson advises Miss C. to undertake a translation of Boethius de Cons, because there is prose and verse, and to put her name to it when published." This advice was not followed ; probably from an apprehension that the work was not sufficiently popular for an extensive sale. How well Johnson him- self could have executed a translation of this philosophical poet, we may judge from the following specimen which he has given in the Rambler {Motto to No. 1 ) :— "0 qui perpetua mundum ratione gubernas Terrarum caslique sator ! Disjice terrense nebulas et pondera molis, Atque tuo splendore mica ! Tu namque serenum, Tu requies tranquilla piis. Te cernere finis, Principium, vector, dux, semita, terminus, idem." 1 Alexander Macbean published, in 1773, a Dictionary of Ancient Geography, to which Johnscn furnished the preface. In 1781, he being then oppressed by age and poverty, the Doctor obtained .'ar him, through the interest of Lord Thurlow, an admission into the Charier House. He died in June, 1784. " He was," says Johnson, (post, June 26, 1754,"' " one of those who, as Swift says, stood as a screen between ne and death." * This book was published. 119 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^80 *' Thou whose power o'er moving worlds presides, Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides, On darkling man in pure effulgence shine, And cheer the clouded miud with light divine. 'Tis thine alone to calm the pious breast, With silent confidence and holy rest ; From thee, great God ! we spring, to thee we tend, Path, motive, guide, original, and end!" In 1739,' beside the assistance which he gave to the Parhamen- tary Debates, his writings in the Grentleman's Magazine were " The Life of Boerhaave,"* in which it is to be observed, that he disco- vers that love of chemistry wliich never forsook him ; " An Appeal to the Pul)lic in Behalf of the Editor -/'f "An Address to the Reader f'f " An Epigram both in Greek and Latin to Eliza,"* and also English Verses ^ to her ; ' and " A Greek Epigram to Dr. ■' Johnson addressed to Mrs. Carter, in the Magazine for April, 173S (not 1739), an epigram Co Eliza* both in Greek and Latin ; and probably, also, the following Latin epigram in that for July : " Elysios Popi dum ludit laita per hortos, En avida lauros carpit Elisa manu, Nil opus furto. Lauros tibi, dulcis Elisa, Si neget optata Popus, Apollo dabit." This year's Magazine also contains the celebrated Latin epigram " To a Lady (Miss Maria Aston) who spoke in Defence of Liberty," and a Greek epigram to "Dr. Birch." — Croker. ^ 1 have permitted this statement to remain in the text, though I can find in the Magazine for 1739 but one copy of English verses to Eliza. They are in December, and signed Ama- sius, which is the signature of some other pieces now known to have been written by Collins; but, as Boswell erroneously attributed the Greek and Latin verses to Eliza to this year, the English verses may, like the others, have belonged to 1738; though even in that volume I can find nothing addressed to Eliza in English which could be Johnson's, except a translation of his own (as I conceive) Latin epigram on the gathering Pope's laurels. It Is not easy to account for the inaccuracy with which Mr. Boswell confounds these two years.— Croker. 3 And, probably, the following Latin epigram to Dr. Birch : "In BiRcniuM. / "Arte nova raraque fide perscripserat ausus Birchius egregios claraque gesta virum. Hunc oculis veri Fautrix lustravit acutis, Et placido tandem haac edidit ore, Dea : • Perge modo, atque tuas olim post funera laudes Qui scribat meritas Birchius alter erit.' " My chief reason for supposing this Latin epigram to be Johnson's are, that it is a version of his own acknowledged Greek epigram which appeared in the preceding Magazine, and that he had followed his Greek epigram on Eliza with a liatin paraphrase in the same style a« this. — Cbokeb. *'"'•'**• MARMOK XOKFCLCIEXSE. 119 Birch.."* It has been erroueously supposed, that an essay pub- lished ill tha; Magazine this year, entitled "The Apotheosis of Mil to".," '-vas written by Johnson ; and on that supposition it has been i:r.| I'operly inserted in the edition of his works by the booksellers, after his decease. Were there no positive testimony as to this point, the style of the performance, and the name of Shakspeare not being mentioned in an Essay professedly reviewing the principal English poets, would ascertain it not to -be the production of Johnson. But there is here no occasion to resort to internal evidence ; for my Lord Bishop of Salisbury (Dr. Douglas) has assured me, that it was writ- ten by Guthrie. His separate publications were, " A Complete Vin- dication of the Licensers of the Stage, from the malicious and scan- dalous Aspersions of Mr. Brooke, Author of Gustavus Vasa,"* being an ironical attack upon them for their suppression of that Tragedy ; and " Marmor Norfolciense ; or, an Essay on an ancient prophetical Inscription, in monkish Rhyme, lately discovered near liynne, in Norfolk, by Probus Britannicus."* In this performance, he, in a feigned inscription, supposed to have been found in Norfolk, the county of Sir Robert Walpole, then the obnoxious prime minister of this country, inveighs against the Brunswick succession, and the measures of government consequent upon it.' To this supposed prophecy he added a Commentary, making each expression apply to the times, with warm anti-Hanoverian zeal. This anonymous pamphlet, I believe, did not make so much noise as was expected, and, therefore, had not a very extensive circula- tion. Sir John Hawkins relates, that " warrants were issued, and messengers employed to apprehend the author ; who, though he had forborne to subscribe his name to the pamphlet, the vigilance of those in pursuit of him had discovered :" and we are informed, that he lay concealed in Lambeth-marsh till the scent after him grew cold. This, however, is altogether without foundation ; Mr. Steele, one of the Secretaries of the Treasury, who, amidst a variety of business, politely obliged me with his attentiou to my enquiry, in- formed me, that "he directed every possible search to be made in the records of the Treasury and Secretary of State's Office, but • Tbe inscription and the translation of it are presenred in the Loudon Magazine for tJ4J year 1739, p. 2U, 120 LIFE OF JOHNSON. *T*' could find no trace whatever of any warrant Jiaviug been issued to apprehend the author of this pamphlet." " Marmor Norfolciense," became exceedingly scarce, so that I, for many years, endeavoured in vain to procure a cppy of it. At last I was indebted to the malice of one of Johnson's numerous petty ad- versaries, who, in 1115, published a new edition of it, " with Notes and a Dedication to Samuel Johnson, LL.D., by Tribunus ;" in which some puny scribbler invidiously attempted to found upon it a charge of inconsistency against its author, because he had accepted of a pension from his present Majesty, and had written in support of the measures of government. As a mortification to such impotent malice, of which there are so many instances towards men of emi- nence, I am happy to relate, that this felum imbelle did not reach its exalted object, till about a year after it thus appeared, when I men- tioned it to him, supposing that he knew of the republication. To my surprise, he had not yet heard of it. He requested me to go directly and get it for him, which I did. He looked at it and laughed, and seemed to be much diverted with the feeble efforts of his unknown adversary, who, I hope, is alive to read this account. " Now," said he, " here is somebody who thinks he has vexed me sadly ; yet, if it had not been for you, you rogue, I should probably never have seen it."' - These two satirical pamphlets were, in some degree, prompted by the principle whicb Johnson frequently declared to be the only true genuine motive tc writing, namely, pecu- niary profit. This principle was not only avowed by Johnson, but seenis tc have been wrought by him into a habit. He was never greedy of money, but without money could not be stimulated to write. Yet was he not so indifferent to the subjects that he was requested to write on, as at any time to abandon either his religious or political principles. He would no more have put his name to an Arian or Socinian tract than to a defence of Atheism. At the time when ' Faction Detected" came out, a pamphlet of which the late Lord Egmont is now generally understood to have been the author, Osborne, the bookseller, held out to him a strong temptation to answer it, which he refused, being convinced, as he assured me, that the charge contained ,in it was made good, and that the argument grounded thereon was un- answerable. The truth is, that Johnson's political prejudices were a mist that the eye of his judgment could not penetrate: in all the measures of Walpole's government he could see nothing right ; nor could he be convinced, in his invectives against a standing army, as the Jacobites affected to call it, that the peasantry of a country was not an adequate defence against an invasion of it by an armed force. He almost asserted in terms, that the succession to the crown had been illegally interrupted, and that from whig politics none of the benefits of government could be expected. From hence it appears, and to his honor be it said, that his principles cooperated with his necessities, and that prostitution of his talents could Dot, Is justice, be imputed to him. — Hawkins. JStat. 30. PAPER OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 121 As Mr. Pope s uote concerning Johnson, alluded to in a former page, refers both to his " London," and his " Marmor Norfolciense," I have deferred inserting it till now. I am indebted for it to Dr. Percy, the bishop of Dromore, who permitted me to copy it from the original in his possession. It was presented to his lordship by Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom it was given by the son of Mr. Richard- son the painter, the person to whom it is addressed. I have trans- cribed it with minute exactness, that the peculiar mode of writing, and imperfect spelling of that celebrated poet, may be exhibited to the curious in literature. It justifies Swift's epithet of " paper- sparing Pope," for it is written on a slip no larger than a common message-card, and was sent to Mr. Richardson, along with the imi- tation of Juvenal. " This is imitated b_v one Johnson who put in for a Publick-school in Shrop- shire, but was disappointed. He has an infirmity of the convulsive liind, that attacks him sometimes, so as to make Him a sad Spectacle.' Mr. P. from the merit of This Work which was all the knowledge he had of Him endeavour'd to serve Him without his own application ; & wrote to my L"^. gore, but he did not succeed. Mr. Johnson published afterw^'. another Poem in Latin with Notes the whole very Humerous call'd the Norfolk Prophecy. P." Johnson had been told of this note ; and Sir Joshua Reynolds in- formed him of the compliment which it contained, but, from delicacy, avoided showing him the paper itself. When Sir Joshua observed to Johnson that he seemed very desirous to see Pope's note, he answered, " Who would not be proud to have such a man as Pope so solicitous in inquiring about him ?" The infirmity to which Mr. Pope alludes, appeared to me also, as will be hereafter observed, to be of the convulsive kind, and of the nature of that distemper called St. Vitus's dance ; and in this opi- nion I am confirmed by the description which Sydenham gives of that disease. " This disorder is a kind of convulsion. It manifests tself by halting or unsteadiness of one of the legs, which the patient draws after him like an idiot. If the hand of the same side be ap- > It is clear that, as Johnson advanced in life, these convulsive infirmities, though never entirely absent, were so far subdued, that he could not be called a sad spectacle We have seen that he was rejected from two schools on account of these distortions, which in his latter years were certainly not violent enough to excite disgust. — Croker. 6 122 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^* plied to the breast, or any other part of the body, he cannot keep it a moment iu the same posture, but it will be drawn into a differ- ent one by a convulsion, notwithstanding all his efforts to the con- trary." Sir Joshua Reynolds, however, was of a different opinion, and favoured me with the following Paper. " Those motions or tricks of Dr. Johnson are improperly called convulsions. He could sit motionless, when he was told so to do, as wfU as any other man. My opinion is, that it proceeded from a habit ^ which he had indulged himself in, of accompanying his thoughts with certain untoward actions ; and those actions always appeared to me as if they were meant to reprobate some part of his past conduct. Whenever he was not engaged in conversation, such thoughts were sure to rush into his mind ; and, for this reason, any company, any employment whatever, he preferred to being alone. The great business of his life (he said) was to escape from himself. This disposition he considered as the disease of his mind, which nothing cured but company. " One instance of his absence and particularity, as it is characteristic of the man, may be worth relating. When he and I took a journey together into the West, we visited the late Mr. Bankes, of Dorsetshire ; the conversation turning upon pictures, which Johnson could not well see, he retired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as far as he could reach before him, then bringing up his left leg, and stretching his right still further on. The old gentleman observing him, went up to him, and in a very courteous manner assured him, though it was not a new house, the flooring was perfectly safe. The Doctor started from his reverie, like a person waked out of his sleep, but spoke not a word." While we are on this subject, my readers may not be displeased with another anecdote, communicated to me by the same friend, from the relation of Mr. Hogarth. Johnson used to be a pretty frequent visitor at the house of Mr. Eichardson, author of Clarissa, and other novels of extensive reputation. Mr. Hogarth came one day to see Richardson, soon after the execution of Dr. Cameron for having taken arms for the house of Stuart in 1745-6 ; and being a warm partisan of George ' Sir Joshua Reynolds's notion on this subject is confirmed by what Johnson himself said to » young lady, the niece of his friend Christopher Smart. See a note by Mr. Boswell on soin« particulars communicated by Reynolds, under March 30, 1783. — Malone. ^ [The then representative of the family of Bankes of Corfe Castle: for the gallant defence of which mansion by Lady Bankes, during the great civil war, see Clarendon, vol. iv. The present representative of this distinguished family is William John Bankes, the well known Oriental traveller, and late M.P. for Dorsetshire. 1835.] -^TAT. 80. CASE OF DR. CAMERON. 125i the Secoucl, he observed to Richardson, that certainly there must have been some very unfavourable circumstances lately discovered in this particular case, which had induced the King to approve of an execution for rebellion so long after the time when it was com- mitted, as this had the appearance of putting a man to death in cold blood,' and was very unlike his Majesty's usual clemency. While he was talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strango ridiculous manner. He concluded that he was an idiot, whom his relations had put under the care of Mr. Richardson, as a very good man. To his great surprise, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and Mr. Richardson were . sitting, and all at once took up the argument, and burst out into an invective against George the Second, as one who, upon all occasions, was unrelenting and barbarous ; mentioning many instances ; particularly, that when an ofiicer of high rank had been acquitted by a court-martial, George the Second had, with his own hand, struck his name off the list. In short, he displayed such a power of eloquence, that Hogarth looked at him with astonishment, and actually imagined that this idiot had been at the moment inspired. Neither Hogarth nor Johnson were made known to each other at this interview.* ' Impartial posterity may, perhaps, be as little inclined as Dr. Johnson was, to justify the uncoraraou rigour exercised in the ease of Dr. Archibald Cameron. He was an amiable and truly licnest man ; and his offence was owing to a generous, though mistaken, principle of duty. Being obliged, after 1746, to give up his profession as a physician, and to go into foreign parts, he was honoured with the rank of Colonel, both in the French and Spanish service. He was a son of the ancient and respectable family of Cameron of Lochiel ; and his brother, who was the chief of that brave clan, distinguished himself by moderation and humanity, while the Highland army marched victorious through Scotland. It is remarkable of this chief, that though he had earnestly remonstrated against the attempt as hopeless, he was of too heroic a spirit not to venture his life and fortune in the cause, when personally asked by Liui whom he thought his prince. — Boswell. ^ Mr. Hogarth, among the variety of kindnesses shown to me, was used to be very earnest that I should obtain the acquaintance, and, if iiossible, the friendship, of Dr. Johnson, whose conversation was, (he said,) to the talk of other men, like Titian's paintings compared to Hudson's. Of Dr. Johnson, when my father and Hogarth were talking together about him one day, "That man," said the latter, " is not contented with believing the Bible, but he fairly resolves, I think, to believe nothing i^it the Bible. Johnson (added he), though so wise a fellow, is more like King David than King Solomon ; for he says, in his haste, that aU men are liars." Dr. Johnson made four lines on the death of poor Hogarth, which werf equally true and pleasing : I know not why Garrick's were preferred to them : — ' The hand of him here torpid lies, That drew tlie essential form of grace ; Here closed in death the attentive eyes, That saw the manners in the face.' " — FlOZZI. 124 LIFE OP JOHNSON. ^^**- In 1*140, Dr. Johnson wrote for the Gentleman's Magazine the •■' Preface," f the " Life of Admiral Blake " * and the first parts of those of " Sir Francis Drake " * and " Philip Barretier," * both which he finished the following year. He also wrote an " Essay on Epitaphs," * and an " Epitaph on Philips, a Musician," * which was afterwards published, with some other pieces of his, in Mrs. Wil- liams's Miscellanies. This Epitaph is so exquisitely beautiful, that I remember even Lord Kames, strangely prejudiced as he was against Dr. Johnson, was compelled to allow it very high praise. It has been ascribed to Mr. Garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature G. ; but I have heard Mr. Garrick declare, that it was written liy Dr. Johnson, and give the following account of the man- ner in which it was composed. Johnson and he were sitting togetlier ; when, amongst other things, Garrick repeated an Epi- taph upon this Pliilips by a Dr. Wilkes, in these words : " Exalted soul ! whose harmony could please The love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease ; Could jarring discord, like Amphion, move To beauteous order and harmonious love ; Rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, And meet thy blessed Saviour in the skies." Johnson shook his head at these common-place funeral lines, and said to Garrick, " I think, Davy, I can make a better." Then, stirring about his tea for a little while, in a state of meditation, he almost extempore produced the following verses : " Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power or hapless love ; Rest here, distress'd by poverty no more, Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before ; Sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine. Till angels wake thee with a note hke thine !" At the same time that Mr. Garrick favoured me with this anec- dote, he repeated a very pointed Epigram by Johnson, on George the Second and Colley Gibber, which has never yet appeared, and of which I know not the exact date. Dr. Johnson afterwards gave it to me himself : '*""*^ gentleman's magazine. 126 " Augustus still survives in Maro's strain, And Spenser's verse prolongs Eliza's reign; Great George's acts let tuneful Cibber sing, For Nature form'd the Poet for the King." In 1141, he wrote for the Gentleman's Magazine, the "Pre- face ;"f " Conclusion of his Lives of Drake and Barretier ;" * " A free Translation of the Jests of Hierocles, with an Introduction ;"f and, I think, the following pieces : " Debate on the Proposal of Parliament to Cromwell, to assume the Title of King, abridged, modified, and digested ;"f " Translation of Abbe Guyon's Disserta- tion on the Amazons ;"f " Translation of Fontenelle's Panegyric on Dr. Morin."f Two notes upon this appear to me undoubtedly his. He this year, and the two following, wrote the Parliamentary De- bates. He told me himself, that he was the sole composer of them for those three years only. He was not, however, precisely exact in his statement, which he mentioned from hasty recollection; for it is sufficiently evident, that his composition of them began November 19, 1740, and ended February 23, 1742-3. It appears from some of Cave's letters to Dr. Birch, that Cave had better assistance for that branch of his Magazine, than Has been generally supposed; and that he was indefatigable in getting it made as perfect as he could. Thus, 21st July, 1735, , " I trouble you with the inclosed, because you said you could easily correct what is here given for Lord Chesterfield's speech. I beg you will do so af soon as you can for me, because the month is far advanced." And 15th July, 1737, " As you remember the debates so far as to perceive the speeches already printed are not exact, I beg the favour that you will peruse the inclosed, and, in the best manner your memory will serve, correct the mistaken passages, or add anything that is omitted. I should be very glad to have something of the Duke of Newcastle's speech, which would be particularly of service. A gentle- man has Lord Bathurst's speech to add something to." And July 3, 1744, " You will see what stupid, low, abominable stuff is put upon your nobl« And learned friend's character, such as I should quite reject, and endeavonr to do something beUer towards doing justice to the character. But as I cannot 126 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*^ fixpect to attain my desire in that respect, it would be a great satisfaction, as well as an honour to our worlc, to have the favour of the genuine speech. It Is a method that several have been pleased to take, as I could show, but I think myself under a restraint. I shall say so far, that I have had some by a third hand, which I understood well enough to come from the first ; others by penny-post, and others by the speakers themselves, who have been pleased to visit St. John's Gate, and show particular marks of their being pleased." — [Birch's MSS. in Brit. Mus. 4302.] There is no reason, I believe, to doubt the veracity of Cave. It is, however, remarkable that none of these letters are in the years during which Johnson alone furnished the Debates, and one of them is in the very year after he ceased from that labour. Johnson told me, that as soon as he found that the speeches were thought genu- ine, he determined that he would write no more of them; " for he would not be accessory to the propagation of falsehood." And such was the tenderness of his conscience, that a short time before his death he expressed his regret for his having been the author of fic- tions which had passed for realities. He nevertheless agreed with me in thinking, that the debates which Ee had framed were to be valued as orations upon questions of public importance. They have accordingly been collected in volumes, properly arranged, and recommended to the notice of par- liamentary speakers by a preface, written by no inferior hand.' I must, however, observe, that altliough there is in those debates a wonderful store of political information, and very powerful eloquence, I cannot agree that they exhibit the manner of each particular speaker, as Sir John Hawkins seems to think. But, indeed, what opinion can we have of his judgment and taste in public speaking, who presumes to give, as the characteristics of two celebi^ated ora- tors, " the deep-mouthed rancour of Pulteney, and the yelping per- tinacity of Pitt ?" » 1 I am assured that the editor is Mr. George Chalmers, whose commercial works are well- linowu and esteemed. — Boswell. " Mr. Murphy says:— "That Johnson was the author of the debates during that period (Nov. 19, 1740, to Feb. 1742-3) was not generally known ; but the secret transpired several years afterwards, and was avowed l)y himself on the following occasion :— Mr. Wedderburna (afterwards Lord Loughborough ana Earl of Rosslyn), Dr. Johnson, Dr. Francis (the transsla- tor of Horace), the present writer, and others, dined with the late Mr. Foote. An important debate towards the end of Sir Robert Walpole's administration being ir.eiitioned. Dr. Francis ^'f'^1'- S2. PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. 121 observed, "that Mr. Pitt's speech on that occasion was the best he had ever read." He added " that he had employed eight years of his life in the study of Demosthenes, and finished a ti-anslation of that celebrated orator, with all the decorations of style and language within the reach of his capacity ; but he had met with nothing equal to the speech above mentioned." Many of the company remembered the debate; and some passages were cited with the appro- bation and amilause of all present. During the ardour of conversation, Johnson remained silent. As soon as the warmth of praise subsided, he opened with these words : — " That speech I wrotein a garret in Exeter Street." The company was struck with astonishment. After stariug at each other in silent amaze. Dr. Francis asked how that speech could be writ- ten by liim? "Sir," said Johnson, " I wrote it in Exeter Street. I never had been in the gallery of the House of Commons but once. Cave had interest with the door-keepers. He, and tiie persons employed under him, gained admittance : they brought away the subject of discussion, flie names of the speakers, the sides they took, and the order in which they rose, together with notes of the arguments advanced in the course of the debate. The whole was afterwards communicated to me, and I composed the speeches in the form which they now have in the Parliamentary Debates." To this discovery Dr. Francis made answer : — " Then, sir, you have exceeded Demosthenes himself ; for to say that you have exceeded Francis's Demosthenes, would be saying nothing." The rest of the company bestowed lavish enco- miums on Johnson : one, in particular, praised his impartiality ; observing, that he dealt out reason and eloquence with an equal hand to both parties. " That is not quite true," said Johnson; "Isaved appearances '.olerably well, but I took care that the Whig ooos should aot havf the best of it." CHAPTER VII. 1741—1744 Johnson finishes " Irene " — Writes " Essay on the Account of the Conduct of the Duchess oi Marlborough '"—Lives of Burman and Sydenham — " Proposals for printing Bibliotheca Harleiana " — Projects a History of Parliament — Writes " Considerations on the Dispute between Crousaz and Warburton, on " Pope's Essay on Man " — " Dedication to James'a Dictionary " — " Friendship, an Ode " — His extreme Indigence at this Time— His Acquaint- ance with Savage — Anecdotes — Publishes " The Life of Richard Savage "—Case of the Countess of Macclesfield — Writes " Preface to the Harleian Miscellany." This year I find that his tragedy of Irene had been for soeqg time ready for the stage, and that his necessities made him desirous of getting as much as he could for it without delay ; for there is the following letter from Mr. Cave to Dr. Birch, in the same volume of manuscripts in the British Museum, from which I copied those above quoted. They were most obligingly pointed out to me by Sir Wil- liam Musgrave, one of the curators of that noble repository. "Sept, 9, 1741. " 1 have put Mr. Johnson's play into Mr. Gray's hands, in order to sell it to him, if he is inclined to buy it ; but I doubt whether he will or not. He would dispose of the copy, and whatever ad^ antage may be made by acting it. Would your society,* or any gentleman, or body of men that you know, take such a bargain ? He and I are very unfit to deal with theatrical persons. Fleetwood was to have acted it last season, but Johnson's diffidence or * prevented it." I have already mentioned that " Irene," was not brought inti public notice till Garrick was manager of Drury-lane theatre ' Not the Royal Society ; but the Society for the Encouragement of Learning, of which Dr. Birch was a leading member. Their object was, to assist authors in printing expensive works. It existed from about 1735 to 1746, when, having incurred a considerable debt, it was dissolved. - There is no erasure here, but a mere blank ; to fill up which may be an exercise foi ingenious conjecture. — BoswEli. 126 ''f^f-SS. BIBLIOTflECA fiARLEIAKA. 129 la 1742 * be wrote for the Gentleman's Magazine, the " Preface,"f the " Parliamentary Debates," * " Essay on the Account of the Conduct of the Duchess of Marlborough," * then the popular topic of conversation. This Essay is a short but masterly performance. We find him, in Xo. 13 of his Rambler, censuring a profligate sen- timent in that " Account," and again insisting upon it strenuously in conversation. " An Account of the Life of Peter Burman," * I believe chiefly taken from a foreign publication ; as, indeed, he could not himself know much about Burman ; " Additions to his Life of Barretier," * " The Life of Sydenham," * afterwards pre- fixed to Dr. Swan's edition of his works ; " Proposals for printing Bibliotheca Harleiana, or a Catalogue of the Library of the Earl of Oxford." * His account of that celebrated collection of Books, in which he displays the importance to literature, of what the French call a catalogiie raisonne, when the subjects of it are extensive and various, and it is executed with ability, cannot fail to impress all his readers with admiration of his philological attainments. It was afterwards prefixed to the first volume of the Catalogue, in which the Latin accounts of books were written by him. He was em- ployed in this business by Mr. Thomas Osborne, the bookseller, who purchased the library for £13,000, a sum which Mr. Oldys says, in one of his manuscripts, was not more than the binding of the books had cost ; yet, as Dr. Johnson assured me, the slowness of the sale was such, that there was not much gained by it. It has been confidently related, with many embellishments, that Johnson one day knocked Osborne ' down in his shop with a folio, and put his foot upon his neck. The simple truth I had from Johnson him- ' From one of his letters to a friend written in June, 1742, it should seem that he then pur- posed to write a play on the subject of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, and to have it ready for the ensuing winter. The passage alluded to, however, is somewhat ambiguous ; and the work which he then had in contemplation may have been a Jiwiory of that monarch. — Malose. '' Osborne appears, in the Dunciad, contending for the prize among the booksellers, and r,arrTing it off :-^ " Osborne, though perfect modesty o'ercome, Crown'd with the Jordan, walks contented home." He was extremely ignorant : of title-pages or editions he had no knowledge or remembrance but in all the petty tricks of his trade he was most expert. Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Pope Bays, that he was " entirely destitute of shame, without sense of any disgrace, but that ot poverty." He died in 1767. 6* 130 LIFE OF JOHNSOlf. 1^^- self. " Sir, he was impertinent to me, and 1 beat him. But it was not in his shop : it was in my own cliamber." A very diligent observer may trace him where we should not easily suppose him to be found. I have no doubt that he wrote the little abridgment entitled " Foreign History," in the Magazine for December. To prove it I shall quote the introduction : — " As this is that season of the year in which Nature may be said to com- mand a suspension of liostilities, and which seems intended, by putting a short Btop to violence and slaughter, to afford time for malice to relent, and animos- ity to subside ; we can scarce expect any other account than of plans, negoci- ations, and treaties, of proposals for peace, and preparations for war." As also this passage : " Let those who -despise the capacity of the Swiss, tell us by what wonderful policy, or by what happy conciliation of interests, it is brought to pass, that in a body made up of different communities and different religions, there should be no civil commotions, though the people are so warlike, that to nominate and raise an army is the same." I am obliged to Mr. Astle for his ready permission to copy the two following letters, of which the originals are in his possession. Their contents show that they were written about this time, and that Johnson was now engaged in preparing an historical account of the British Parliament. Letter 12. TO MR. CAVE. [Aug. 1743.] " Sir, — I believe I am going to write a long letter, and have therefore taken a whole sheet of paper. The first thing to be written about is our historical design. " You mentioned the proposal of printing in numbers as an alteration in the scheme, but I believe you mistook, some way or other, my meaning; I had In other view than that you might rather print too many of five sheets, than oi five and thirty, " With regard to what I shall say on the manner of proceeding, I would have it understood as wholly indifferent to me, and my opinion only, not my resolution. Emptoris sit eligere. " I think the insertion of the exact dates of the most important events in the margin, or of so many events as may enable the reader to regulate the order of facts with sufficient exactness, the proper medium between a journal, which has regard only to time, and a history, which ranges facts according ta *"! 88. LETTER TO MK. CAVE. 131 tlicir dependence on each other, and postpones or anticipates according tc the convenience of narration. I think the worli ought to partake of the spirit of history, wliich is contrai-y to minute exactness, and of the regularity of a journal, which is inconsistent with spirit. For this reason, I neither ad- mit numbers or dates, nor reject them. " I am of your opinion with regard to placing most of the resolutions, &c. in the margin, and think we shall give the most complete account of parHa- mentary proceedings that can be contrived. The naked papers, without an historical treatise interwoven, require some other book to make them under- stood. I will date the succeeding facts with some exactness, but I think in the margin. " You told me on Saturday that I had received money on this work, and found set down 13Z. 2s. Gd. reckoning the half guinea of last Saturday. A3 you hinted to me that you had many calls for money, I would not press you too hard, and therefore shall desire only, as I send it in, two guineas for a . sheet of copy ; the rest you may pay me when it may be more convenient ; and even by this sheet payment I shall, for some time, be very expensive. " The Life of Savage I am ready to go upon ; and in great primer, and pica notes, I reckon on sending in half a sheet a day ; but the money for that shall likewise lie by in your hands till it is done. With the debates, shall not I have business enough? if I had but good pens. " Towards Mr. Savage's Life what more have you got ? I would willingly have his trial, &c., and know whether his defence be at Bristol, and would have his collection of Poems, on account of the preface ; — ' The Plain Dealer,' —all the Magazines that have anything of his or relating to him. " I thought my letter would be long, but it is now ended ; and I am. Sir, yours, &c., " Sam. Johnson." " The boy found nie writing this almost in the dark, when I could not quite easily read yours. " I have read the Italian — nothing in it is well. " I had no notion of having anything for the Inscription. I hope you don't think I kept it to extort a price. I could think of nothing till to-dajfc If you could spare me another guinea for the history, I should take it very kindly to-night ; but if you do not, I shall not think it an injury. I am almost wel again." Letter 13. TO MR. CAVE. "Sir, — You did not tell me your determination about the Soldier's Letter, which I am confident was never printed. I think it will not do by itself, or in any other place so well as the Mag. Extraordinary. If you will have it all, I believe you do not think I set it high ; and I will be glad if what you give you will give quickly 13& LIFR OF JOHNSON. "*8. " You need not be in care about something to print, for I hav« got the State Trials, and shall extract Layer, Atterbury, and Macclesfield from them, and shall bring them to you in a fortnight; after which I will try to get the South Sea Report." \^No date, nor signature.^ I would also ascribe to him an "Essay on the Description of China, from the Fernch of Da Halde.""}" His writings in the Gentleman's Magazine in 1143, are, the Pre- face,f the Parliamentary Debates, f " Considerations on the Dis- pute between Crousaz and Warburton, on Pope's Essay on Man ;"f in which, while he defends Crousaz, he shows an admirable metaphy- gical acuteness and temperance in controversy ; " Ad Lauram pari- turam Epigrarama ;" * * and " A Latin Translation of Pope's Verses * Angliacas inter pulcherrima Laura pucllas, Mox uteri pondus depositura grave, Adsit, Laura, tibi facilis Lucina dolenti, Neve tibi noceat praenituisse Deae. Mr. Hector was present when this Epigram was made impromptu. The first line was pro* posed by Dr. James, and Johnson was called upon by the company to finish it, which he instantly did. — Boswell. The following elegant Latin Ode, which appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine for ] T*! (vol. xiii. p. 548), was, many years ago, pointed out to James Bindley, Esq., as written by Tohnson, and may safely be attributed to him : — AD ORNATISSIMAM PUELLAM. Vanse sit arti, sit studio modus, Formosa virgo : sit speculo quies, Curamque qu»rendi decoris Mitte, supervacuosque cultus. Ut fortuitis verna coloribus Depicta vulgo rura magis placent, Nee invident horto nitenti Divitias operosiores : • Lenique fons cum murmure pulchrior Obliquat ultro prsecipitem fugam Inter reluctantes lapillos, et Ducit aquas temere sequentes : Utque inter undas, inter et arbores, Jam vere primo dulce strepunt aves, Et arte nulla gratiores Ingeminant sine lege cantus : Natira sic te gratia, te nitor Simplex decebit, te veneres tu» ; Nudua Cupido suspicatur Artifices nimis apparatus. ^''*''- ^- GENTI.KMAX's MAOAZIXE. 133 on his Grotto :" and, as he eould employ his pen with equal success upon a small matter as a great, I suppose him to be the author of an advertisement for Osborne, concerning the great Harleian Catalogue. But I should think myself much wanting, both to my illustrious friend and my readers, did I not introduce here, with more than ordinary respect, an exquisitely beautiful Ode, which has not been inserted in any of the collections of Johnson's poetry, written by him at a very early period, as Mr. Hector informs me, and inserted in the Gentleman's Magazine of this year. Friendship, an Ode.* " Friendship, peculiar boon of Heaven, The noble mind's delight and pride To men and angels only given, To all the lower world denied. " While love, unknown among the blest, Parent of thousand wild desires, The savage and the human breast Torments alike with raging fires ; " With bright, but oft destructive, gleam. Alike o'er all his lightnings fly; Thy lambent glories only beam Around the favourites of the sky. ** Thy gentle flows of guiltless joya On fools and villains ne'er descend > Ergo fluentem tu mal6 sedula, Ne saeva inuras semper acu comam ; Nee sparsa odorato nitentes Pulvere dedecores capillos; Quales nee olim vel Ptolemaeia i Jaetabat uxor, sidereo in choro Utci'pque devotse refulgent Verticis exuviae decori ; Nee diva mater, cum similem tuae Uentita formam, et pulchrior aspice, Permisit incomtas protervis Fusa comas agitare ventis. — HIaioh. 1T«L 184 LIFE OF JOHNSON. In vain for thee the tyrant sighs, And hugs a flatterer for a friend. "Directress of the brave and just, guide us through life's darksome way I And let the tortures of mistrust On selfish bosoms only prey. " Mor shall thine ardour cease to glow. When souls to blissful climes remove ; What raised our virtue here below, Siiall aid our happiness above." Juhnsou had now an opportunity of obliging his schoolfellow Dr. James, of whom he once observed, " No man brings more mind to his profession." James published this year his " Medicinal Diction- ary," in three volumes folio. Johnson, as I understood from him, had written, or assisted in writing, the proposals for this work ; and being very fond of the study of physic, in which James was his master, he furnished some of the articles. He, however, certainly wrote for it the Dedication to Dr. Mead,"!" which is conceived with great address, *to conciliate the patronage of that very eminent man.' It has been circulated, I know not with what autlieuticity, that Johnson considered Dr. Birch as a dull writer, and said of him, " Tom Birch is as brisk as a bee in conversation ; but no sooner does he take a pen in his hand, than it becomes a torpedo to him, and benumbs all his faculties." That the literature of this country is much indebted to Birch's activity and diligence, must certainly be acknowledged. We have seen that Johnson honoured * him with a * " Sir, — That the Medicinal Dictionary is dedicated to you, is to be imputed only to your reputation for superior skill in those sciences which I have endeavouied to explain and faci- litate : and you are, therefore, to consider this address, if it be agreeable to you, as one of the rewards of merit ; and, if it be otherwise, as one of the inconveniences of eminence. " However you shall receive it, my design cannot be disappointed ; because this public appeal to your judgment will show that I do not found my hopes of approbation upon the ignorance of my readers, and that I fear his censure least whose knowledge is most exten- Bivc. 1 am, Sir, your most obedient humble servant, R. James." ' No doubts as the case has turned out, Birch is honoured by Johnson's compliment ; but at the time when it was written, Birch was of eminence in the literary world, and (what affected Johnson more s?»rly) high in the estimation of Cave; and Johnson's learned flat ^"'-^ LETTER TO LEVETT. 135 Greek Ejjigram ; and his correspondence with him, during many years, proves that he had no mean opinion of him. Lftter 14. TO DR. BIRCH. " Thursday, Sept. 29, 1T43. " Sir, — I hope j'ou will excuse nic for troubling you on an occasion on which I know not whom else to apply to : I am at a loss for the lives and characters of Earl of Stanhope, the two Craggs, and the minister Sunderland ; and beg that you will inform [me] where I may find them, and send any pamphlets, &c., relating to them to Mr. Cave, to be perused for a few days by. Sir, your most humble servant. " Sam. Johnson." His circumstances were at this time embarrassed ; yet his affec- tion for his mother was so warm, and so liberal, that he took upon himself a debt of hers, which, though small in itself, was then con- siderable to him. This appears from the following letter which he wrote to Mr. Levett, of Lichfield, the original of which lies now before me : Letter 15. TO MR. LEVETT, in lichfield. " December 1, 1T4S. " Sir, — I am extremely sorry that we have encroached so much upon your forbearance with respect to the interest, which a great perplexity of affairs hindered me from thinking of with that attention that I ought, and which I am not immediately able to remit to you, but will pay it (I think twelve pounds) in two months. I look upon this, and on the future interest of that mortgage, as my own debt; and beg that you will be pleased to give me directions how to pay it, and not to mention it to my dear mother. If it be necessary to pay this in less time, I believe I can do it; but I take two months for certainty, aaJ beg an answer whether you can allow me so much time. I think myself very much obliged to your forbearance, and shall esteem it a great happiness to be able to serve you. I have great opportunities of dispersing anything that you may think it proper to make public. I will give a note for the money, payable at the time mentioned, to any one here that you shall appoint. I am, Sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." "At Mr. Osborne's, bookseller, in Gray's Inn." teries of him, Miss Carter, and Mr. Urban, were all probably prompted by the same motive— a desire to propitiate Cave. I have seen a MS. letter of Bishop Warburton's, in which he Insists, in his usual decisive tone, on the poor use which Birch made In his writings of the materials which he possessed. — Croker. 136 LIFE OF joai^soK "^f*^ It does not appear that he wrote anything in 1744' for th3 Gcu- tleman's Magazine, but the Preface.f His hfe of Barretier was now repubhshed in a pamphlet by itself. But he produced one work this year, fully sufficient to maintain the high reputation which he had acquired. This was " The Life of Richard Savage ;"* a man, of whom it is difficult to speak impartially, without wondering that he was for some time the intimate companion of Johnson ; for hia character^ was marked by profligacy, insolence, and ingratitude : yet, as he undoubtedly had a warm and vigorous, though unregu- lated mind, had seen life in all its varieties, and had been much in the company of the statesmen and wits of his time, he could commu- nicate to Johnson an abundant supply of such materials as his philo- sophical curiosity most eagerly desired ; and as Savage's misfortunes and conduct had reduced him to the lowest state of wretchedness as a. writer for bread, his visits to St. John's Gate naturally brought Johnson and him together ' ' In this and the two next years Mr. Boswell has not assigned to Johnson any contribu- tions to tlie Gentleman's Magazine, yet there seems little doubt that from his connection with that worls he derived, for some j'ears, the chief and almost the only means of subsistence for himself and his wife : perhaps he may have acted as general editor with an annual allowance, and he no doubt employed himself on more literary works than have been acknowledged. In this point the public loss is, perhaps, not great. What he was unwilling to avow, we need not be very solicitous to discover. Indeed, his personal history is, about -this period, a blank, hidden, it is to be feared, in the obscurity of indigence.^CROKER. ' As a specimen of Savage's temper, I insert the following letter from him to a noble lord [Tyrconnell], to whom he was under great obligations, but who, on account of his bad con- duct, was obliged to discard him. The original was in the hands of the late Francis Cockayne Cust, Esq., one of his Majesty's counsel learned in the law : — " Right Honourable Brute and Boobt — I find you want (as Mr. is pleased to hint) to 8 .rear away my life, that is, the life of your creditor, because he asks you for a debt. The public shall soon be acquainted with this, to judge whether you are not fitter to be an Irish evidence than to be an Irish peer. I defy and despise you. I am, your determined ad- versary, R. S." ' Sir John Hawkins gives the world to understand, that Johnson, "being an admirer of genteel manners, was captivated by the address and demeanour of Savage, who, as to his exterior, was, to a remarkable degree, accomplished." — Hawkins's Life, p. 62. But Sir John's notions of gentility must appear somewhat ludicrous, from his stating the following circumstance as presumptive evidence that Savage was a good swordsman : — " That he understood the exercise of a gentleman's weapon, may be inferred from the use made of it in that rash encounter related in his Life." The dexterity here alluded to was that Savage, in «. nocturnal fit of drunkenness, stabbed a man at a coffee-house, and killed him : for which he was tried at the Old Bailey, and found guilty of murder. Johnson, in leed, describes him as having " a grave and manly deportment, a solemn ilgnity of mien ; but which, upon a nearer acquaintance, softened into an engaging easlnesf *f^'- «*• SAVAGE. 137 It is melancholy to reflect, that Johusou and Savage were some- times in such extreme indigence/ that they could not pay for a lodg- ing ; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets " Yet in these almost incredible scenes of distress, we may suppose that Savage mentioned many of the anecdotes with which Johnson afterwards enriched the life of his unhappy companion, and those of other poets. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that one night in particular, when Savage and he walked round St. James's Square for want of a lodg- ing, they were not at all depressed by their situation ; but, in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and " resolved they would stand by their countryP I am afraid, however, that by associating with Savage, who was habituated to the dissipation and licentiousness of the town, Johnson, though his good principles remained steady, did not entirely pre- serve that conduct, for which, in days of greater simplicity, he was remarked by his friend Mr. Hector ; but was imperceptibly led into of manners." How highly Johnson admired him for that knowledge which he himself so much cultivated, and what kindness he entertained for him, appears from the following lines In the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1738, which 1 am assured were written by Johnson : — " Ad Ricardum Savage. ♦' HumoMi studiwin generis cut pectore/ervet colat humami/m te foveaique genus." 1 The following striking proof of Johnson's extreme indigence, when he published the Life of Savage, was communicated to Mr. Boswell, by Mr. Richard Stowe, of Apsley, in Bed- fordshire, from the information of Mr. Walter Harte, author of the Life of Gustavus Adol- phus : — " Soon after Savage's Life was published, Mr. Harte dined with Edward Cave, and occasionally praistd it. Soon after, meeting him. Cave said, ' You made a man very happy t'other day.'^' How could that be ?' says Harte ; ' nobody was there but ourselves.' Cave answered, by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to Johnson, dressed so shabbily, that he did not choose to appear ; but, on hearing the conver- sation, he was h'ghly delighted with the encomiums on his book." — Malone. * As Johnson was married before he settled in London, and must have always had n habitation for his wife, some readers have wondered how he ever could have been driven to stroll about with Savage, all night, for want of a lodging. But it should be remembered, that Johnson, at different periods, had lodgings in the vicinity of London ; and his finances certainly would not admit of a double establishment. When, therefore, he spent a convivial day in London, and found it too late to return to any country residence he may occasionally have had, having no lodging in town, he was obliged to pass the night in the manner described above ; for though, at that period, it was not uncommon for two men to sleep kogether, Savage, it appears, could accommodate h'ln with nothing but his company in tha •pen air. — Malosb. 138 LIFE OP JOHNSOI^. 1^44. some indulgences which occasioned much distress to his virtuous mind.* That Johnson was anxious that an authentic and favourable account of his extraordinary friend should first get possession of the public attention, is evident from a letter which he wrote in the Gen- tleman's Magazine for August of the year preceding its publication. Letter 16. TO MR. UEBAN. " As your collections show how oflen you have owed the ornaments of your pocticnl piiges to the correspondence of the unfortunate and ingenious Mr. Savage, I doubt not but you have so much regard to his memory as to encou rage any design that may have a tendency to the preservation of it from insults or calumnies ; and therefore, with some degree of assurance, intreat you to inform the public, that his Life will speedily be published by a person who was favoured with his confidence, and received from himself an account of most of the transactions which he proposes to mention, to the time of hie retirement to Swansea in Wales. " From that period, to his death in the prison of Bristol, the account will be continued from materials still less liable to objection ; his own letters, and those of his friends, some of which will be inserted in the work, and abstracts of others subjoined in the margin. " It may be reasonably imagined, that others may have the same design ; but as it is not credible that they can obtain the same materials, it must be expected they will supply from invention the want of intelligence ; and that, under the title of ' The Life of Savage,' they will publish only a novel, filled 1 We are to remember, that Johnson was, at this time, a husband: can it, therefore, be supposed that the society of such a man as Savage had any tendency to improve him in the exercise of the domestic virtues ? Nay rather we must doubt it, and ascribe to an indifference in the discharge of them, arising from their nocturnal excursions, the incident of a temporary separation of Johnson from his wife, wliich soon tooli place ; and that, while he was in a lodging in Fleet street, she was harboured by a friend near the Tower. It is true that this separation continued but a short time ; and that if, indeed, his affection, at that instant, was alienated from her,. it soon returned.— Hawkins. Sir John Hawkins very uncharitably attributes to the influence of Savage, a separation which toolc place {as he alone asserts) between Johnson and his' wife about this period. Thia separation (if Hawkins be even so far correct) may be explained without any reference to Savage. The whole course of Johnson's life and conduct warrants us in supposing that thia temporary separation was produced by pecuniary distress, and not by an interruption of affection. Johnson would be naturally solicitous that his wife should find in her own family a temporary refuge from the want with which he was struggling. There is nowhere to be found a single trace to justify the accusation which Hawkins so wantonly, and so odiously, and, it may be assumed, so falsely makes. Johnson's fate, in this particular, is a Uttlo hard : be is at on;e ridiculed for being extravagantly uxorious, and censured for a profligate disre- gard of his wife — Crokrk. '^■'■^■''- "'^- LIFE OF SAVAGE. l3g with romantic ailventures aud imaginary amours. You may therefore, perhaps, gratify the lovers of truth and wit, by giving me leave to inform them in your Magazine, that my account will be published in 8vo, by Mr. Roberts, in War- wick Lane." [iVb signature.^ In February, 1744, it accordingly came forth from the shop of Roberts, betvA'eeu whom and Johnson I have not traced any connec- tion, except the casual one of this publication.' In Johnson's " Life of Savage," although it must be allowed that its moral is the re- verse of — "Iicspi(X)-e exemplar vitcc mnrumqne jitbeho,'' a very useful lesson is inculcated, to guai'd men of warm passions from a too free indulgence of them ; and the various incidents are related in so clear HTul animated a manner, and illuminated throughout with so much philosophy, tliat it is one of the most interesting narratives in the English language.''' Sir Joshua Reynolds told me, that upon his return from Italy he met with it in Devonshire, knowing nothing of its author, and began to read it while he was standing with his arm leaning against a ciiimney-piece. It seized his attention so strongly, that, not being able to lay down the book till he had finished it, when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed. The rapidity with which this work was composed, is a wonderful circumstance. Johnson has been heard to say [Aug. 19, 1173], " I wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the Life of Savage at a sitting ; but then I sat up all night." ' There seeins reason to suppose that Cave sometimes permitted the name of ano- ther printer to appear on the title-pages of books of which he was, in fact, the publisher. In this case the fact is certain ; as it appears from the letter tro Cave, August, 1T43, that Johnson sold the work to liim even before it was written. — Ckoker. Cave was the purchaser of the copyright, and the following is a copy of Johnson's receipt for the money : — " The 14th day of December, received of Mr. Ed. Cave, the sum of fifteen guineas, in full, for compiling and writing ' The Life of Richard Savage, Esq.,' deceased ; and in full for all materials thereto applied, and not found by the said Edward Cave. I say, received by me, Sam. Johnson. Dec. 14, 1743." " It gives, like Kaphael's Lazarus or Murillo's Beggar, pleasure as a work of art, while the original could only excite disgust. Johnson has spread over Savage's character the varnish, or rather the veil, of stately diction an^ extenuatory phrases, but cannot prevent the observant reader from seeing that the subject of this biographical essay was, as Mr. Boswell calls him, " an ungrateful and insolent profligate ;" and so little do his works show of that poatical talent for which he has been celebrated, that, if it had not been for Johnson's embalming partiality, his worlis would probably be now as unheard of as they are unread. — Oroker. 140 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ^^^4, He exhibits the genius of Savage to the best advantage, in the specimens of his poetry which he has selected, some of which are of uncommon merit. We, indeed, occasionally find such vigour and such point, as might make us suppose that the generous aid of Johnson had been imparted to his friend, Mr. Thomas Warton hiade this remark to me; and, in support of it, quoted from the poem entitled, " The Bastard," a line in which the fancied superior- ity of one "stamped in Nature's mint with extasy," is contrasted with a regular lawful descendant of some great and ancient family : " rfo tenth transmitter of a foolish face." But the fact is, that this poem was published some years before Johnson and Savage were acquainted. It is remarkable, that in this biographical disquisition there appears a very strong symptom of Johnson's prejudice against players; a prejudice which may be attributed to the following causes: first, the imperfection of his organs, which were so defec- tive that he was not susceptible of the fine impressions which thea- trical excellence produces upon the generality of mankind; secondly, the cold rejection of his tragedy ; and, lastly, the brilliant success of Garrick, who had been his pupil, who had come to London at the same time with him, not in a much more prosperous state than him- self, and whose talents he undoubtedly rated low, compared with his own. His being outstripped by his pupil in the race of immediate fame, as well as of fortune, probably made him feel some indigna- tion, as thinking, that whatever might be Garrick's merits in his art, the reward was too great when compared with what the most suc- cessful efforts of literary labour could attain. At all periods of his life, Johnson used to talk contemptuously of players;* but in this work he speaks of them with peculiar acrimony; for which, perhaps, 1 It is another of those remarkable inconsistencies in Johnson's character, before alluded to, that as the first publication of this determined admirer of the metropolis was a satire on Loudon, so the first production of this despiser of the stage should be a play ! Mr. Boswell is obliged to admit what was too obvious to be concealed — but he does so with reluctance and gieat tenderness of expression^that Dr. Johnson enmed Garrick, and we shall see that he even envied Sheridan, and to this source must, we fear, be attributed his "indignation" against players. This is no doubt a blot on Johnson's character, and we have seen, and sbal) see, too many instances of this infirmity. — Crokeb. *'*■'• ^- SAVAG E GARRiCK. j 4 1 Ihere was formerly too much reason, from the licentious au4 disso- lute manners of those engaged in that profession. It is bat justice to add, that in our own time such a change has taken place, that there is no longer room for such an unfavourable distinction. Ilis schoolfellow and friend. Dr. Taylor, told me a pleasant anec- dote of Johnson's triumphing over his pupil, David Garrick. When that great actor had played some little time at Goodman's Fields, Johnson and Taylor went to see him perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with him and old Giffard. Johnson, who was ever depreciating stage-players, after censuring some mistakes in emphasis, which Garrick had committed in the course of that night's acting, said, " The players, sir, have got a kind of rant, with which they run on, without any regard either to accent or emphasis." Both Garrick and Giffard were offended at this sarcasm, and endea- voured to refute it; upon which Johnson rejoined, " Well now, I'll give you something to speak, with which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how just my observation is. That shall be the criterion. Let me hear you repeat the ninth Commandment, ' Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.' " Both tried at it, said Dr. Taylor, and both mj^itook the emphasis, w-hich should be upon not and false witness} Johnson put them right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee. His " Life of Savage"' was no sooner published, than the follow- ing liberal praise was given to it, in " The Champion," a periodical paper : " This pamphlet is, without flattery to its author, as just and well written a piece of its kind as I ever saw ; so that at the same time that it highly deserves, it certainly stands very Httle in need of this recommendation. As to the his- tory of the unfortunate person, whose memoirs compose this work, it is cer- tainly penned with equal accuracy and spirit, of which I am so much the better judge, as I know many of the facts mentioned to be sti'ictly true, and very fairly related. Besides, it is not only the story of Mr. Savage, but innu- merable incidents relating to other persons, and other affairs, which rendera 'I suspect Dr. Ta}-lor was inaccurate in this statement. The emphasis should be equaJly npon shalt and not, as both concur to form the negative injunction ; and false witness, Iik» other acts prohibited in the Decalogue, should not be marked by any peculiar emphasis, tjut only be distinctly enunciated.— Boswell. 1 4^ T,TFE OF JOHNSON. *''** this a very amusing, and, withal, a very instructive and valuable pcrformacce. The author's observations are short, significant, and just, as his narrative is remarkably smooth and well disposed. His reflections open to all the recesses of the human heart; and, in a word, a more just or pleasant, a more engaging or a more improving treatise, on all the excellencies and defects of human nature, is scai'cc to be found in our own, or, perhaps, any other language." Johnson's partiality for Savage made him entertain no doubt of his story, however extraordinary and improbable. It never occurred to him to question his being the son of the Countess of Macclesfield, of whose unrelenting barbarity he so loudly complained, and the particulars of which are related in so strong and affecting a manner in Johnson's life of him. Johnson was certainly well warranted iu publishing his narrative, however offensive it might be to the lady and her relations ; because her alleged unnatural and cruel conduct to her son, and shameful avowal of guilt, were stated in a Life of Savage now lying before me, which came out so early as 172t, and no attempt had been made to confute it, or to punish the author or printer as a libeller : but for the honour of human nature, we should be glad to find the shocking tale not true ; and from a respectable gentleman connected with ^the lady's family, I have received such information and remarks, as, joined to my own inquiries, will, I think, render it at least somewhat doubtful, especially when we con- sider that it must have originated from the person himself who went by the name of Richard Savage. If the maxhn, falsum in nno, falsum in omnibus, were to be received without qnalification, the credit of Savage's narrative, as conveyed to us, would be annihilated : — for it contains some asser- tions which, beyond a question, are not true. 1. In order to induce a belief that the Earl of Rivers — on account of a criminal connection with wdiora, Lady Macclesfield is said la have been divorced from her husband, by act of parliament [1691 ) —had a peculiar anxiety about the child which she bore to him, it is alleged, that his Lordship gave him his own name, and had it duly recorded in the register of St. Andrew's, Holburn. I have carefully inspected that register, but no such entry is to be found. 2. It is stated that " Lady Macclesfield,, having lived for some time upon very uneasy terms with her husband, thought a public ^"- ^- SAVAGE. 143 confession of adultery the most obvious and expeditious method of obtaining her liberty ;" and Johnson, assuming this to be true, stig- matises her with indignn.tion, as " the wretch who had, without scruple, proclaimed herself an adultress." But I have perused the Journals of both houses of Parliament at the period of her divorce, and there find it authentically ascertained, that so far from volun- tarily submitting to the ignominious charge of adultery, she made a strenuous defence by her Counsel ; the bill having been first moved the 15th of January, 1697-8, in the House of Lords, and proceeded on (with various applications for time to bring up witnesses at a distance, etc.,) at intervals, till the 3d of March, when it passed. It was brought to the Commons, by a message from the Lords, the 5th of March, proceeded on the Ith, 10th, 11th, 14th, and 15th, on which day, after a full examination of witnesses on both sides, and hearing of Counsel, it was reported without amendments, passed, and carried to the Lords. That Lady Macclesfield was convicted of the crime of which she was accused, cannot be denied ; but the question now is, whether the pei'son calling himself Richard Savage was her son. It has been said,^ that when Earl Rivers was dying, and anxious to provide for all his natural children, he was informed by Lady Macclesfield, that her son by him was dead. Whether, then, shall we believe that this was a malignant lie, invented by a mother to prevent her own child from receiving the bounty of his father, which was accordingly the consequence, if the person whose life Johnson wrote was her son ; or shall we not rather believe that the person who then assumed the name of Richard Savage w^as an impostor, being in reality the son of the shoemaker, under whose wife's care ^ Lady Macclesfield's child was placed ; that after the death of the real Richard Savage, he attempted to personate him ; and that the fraud being known to Lady Macclesfield, he was there- fore repulsed by her with just resentment. There is'a strong circumstance in support of the last supposition ; though it has been mentioned as an aggravation of Lady Maccles- ' By Johnson, in his Life of Savage. — Malone. * This, as an accurate friend remarks te me, is not correctly stated. The shoemaker Dnder whose care Savage was placed, with a view to his becoming his apprentice, was npt tbv bosband of his nurse. See Johnson's Life of Savage — J. Boswell, jun. 144 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1744, field's unnatural conduct, and that is, her having prevented him from obtaining the benefit of a legacy left to him by Mrs. Lloyd, his godmother. For if there was such a legacy left, his not being able to obtain payment of it, must be imputed to his consciousness that ne was not the real person. The just inference should be, that by the death of Lady Macclesfield's child before its godmother, the legacy became lapsed, and therefore that Johnson's Richard Savage was an impostor. If he liad a title to the legacy, he could not have found any diffi- culty in recovering it ; for had the executors resisted his claim, the whole costs, as well as tlie legacy, must have been paid by them, if he had been the child to whom it was given. The talents of Savage, and the mingled fire, rudeness, pride, meanness, and ferocity of his character,' concur in making it credi- ble that he was fit to plan and carry on an ambitious and daring scheme of imposture, similar instances of which have not been wanting in higher spheres, in the history of different countries, and have had a considerable degree of success. Yet, on the other hand, to the companion of Johnson (who, through whatever medium he was conveyed into this world, be it ever so doubtful, " to whom related, or by whom begot," was, unquestionably, a man of no common endowments), we must allow the weight of general repute as to his Status or parentage, though illicit ; and supposing him to be an impostor, it seems strange that Lord Tyrconnel, the nephew of Lady Macclesfield, should patronise him, and even admit him as a guest in his family.* Lastly, it must 1 Johnson's companion appears to have persuaded that lofty-minded man, that he resem- bled him in having a noble pride; for Johnson, after painting in strong colours the quarrel between Lord Tyrconnel and Savage, asserts that " the spirit of Mr. Savage, indeed, never suffered him to solicit a reconciliation : he returned reproach for reproach, and insult for insult." But the respectable gentleman to whom I have alluded, has in his possession a let- ter from Savage, after Lord Tyrconnel had discarded him, addressed to the Rev, Mr. Gilbert, his Lordship's chaplain, in which he requests him, in the humblest manner, to represent his case to the Viscount. ^ Trusting to Savage's information, Johnson represents this unhappy man's being received as a companion by Lord Tyrconnel, and pensioned by his Lordship, as posterior to Savage's conviction and pardon. But I am assured, that Savage had received the voluntary bounty of Lord Tyrconnel, and had been dismissed by him long before the murder was committed, bed that his lordship was very instrumental in procuring Savage's pardon, by his intercession with the Queen, through Lady Hertford. If, therefore, he had been desirous of preventing ibe publication by Savage, he would have left him to his fate. Indeed, I must observe, that ■^TAT.85. . SAVAGE. 145 ever appear very suspicious, that three different accounts of the Life of Kichard Savage, — one publislied in " The Plain Dealer," in 1124, another in 1*127, and another by the powerful pen of Johnson, in 1744 ; — and all of them while Lady Macclesfield was alive,* should, notwithstanding the severe attacks upon her, have been suffered to pass without any public and effectual contradiction. I have thusjendeavoured to sum up the evidence upon the case, as fairly as I can ; and the result seems to be, that the world must ribrate in a .state of uncertainty as to wliat was the truth This digression, I trust, will not be censured, as it relates to a matter exceedingly curious, and very iiitinuitcly connected with Johnson, both as a man and an author. He this year wrote the " Preface to the Harleian Miscellany." * The selection of the pamphlets of which it was composed was made by Mr. Oldys, a man of eager curiosity, and indefatigable diligence, who first exerted that spirit of inquiry into the literature of the old English writers, by which the works of our great dramatic poet have of late been so signally illustrated. although Johnson mentions that Lord Tyrconnel's patronage of Savage was " upon his pro- mise to lay aside his design of exposing the cruelty of his mother," the great biographer has forgotten that he himself has mentioned, that Savage's story has been told several years before in " The Plain Dealer;" from which he quotes this strong saying of the generous Sir Richard Steele, that the " inhumanity of his mother had given him a right to find every good man his f.ither." At the same time it "must be acknowledged, that Lady Macclesfield and her relation?, might still wish that her story should not be brought into more conspicuous notice by the satirical pen of Savage. ' Miss Mason, after having forfeited the title of Lady Macclesfield by divorce, was mar- ried to Colonel Brett, and, it is said, was well known in all the polite circles. Colley Cibber, I am informed, had so high an opinion of her taste and judgment as to genteel life and man- ners, that he submitted every scene of his " Careless Husband " to Mrs. Brett's revisal and correction. Colonel Brett was reported to be free in his gallantry with his lady's maid. Mrs. Brett came into a room one day in her own house, and found the Colonel and her maid both fast asleep in two chairs. She tied a white handkerchief round her husband's neck, which was a sufficient proof that she had discovered his intrigue; but she never at any time took noti.-« of it to him. This incident, as I am told, gave occasion to the well-wrought scene of t«i Charles and Lady Easy, and Kdging. — Boswkll. VOL. I. CHAPTER VIII. 1U5— 1149. * " Miscellaneous Observations on Macbeth," and " Proposals for a new Edition of Bbak*' f leare " — "Prologue, spoken by Garrick, on the opening of Drury Lane Theatre" — Prospectus of the Dictionary of the English Language — Progress of the Work — King's Head Club in Ivy Lane — Visit to TuiibriJge Wells — " Life of Roscommon " — " Preface to Dods- ley's Preceptor " — " Vision of Theodore the Hermit " — " The Vanity of Human AVishes " — " Irene " acted at Drury Lane. In 1*145, he published a pamphlet entitled, "Miscellaneous Obser- vations on tlie Tragedy of Macbeth, with Remarks on Sir T. H/s (Sir Thomas Hanmer's) Edition of Shakspeare," * to which he affixed, Proposals for a new edition of that poet. As we do not trace anything else published by him during the course of this year, we may conjecture that he was occupied entirely with that work. But the little encouragement which was given by the public to iiis anonymous proposals for the execution of a task which Warburton was known to have undertaken, probably damped his ardour. His pamphlet, however, was highly esteemed, and was fortunate enough to obtain the approbation even of the supercilious Warburton himself, who, in the Preface to his Shakspeare, pub- lished two years afterwards, thus mentioned it : " As to all those things which have been published under th^ titles of Essays, Re- marks, Observations, etc., on Shakspeare. if you except some Critical Notes on Macbeth, given as a specimen of a projected edition, and written, as appears, by a man of parts and genius, the rest are abso- lutely below a serious notice." Of this flattering distinction shown to him by Warburton, a ve'-y grateful remembrance was ever entertained by Johnson, who said, " He praised me at a time when praise was of value to me." In 174G, it is probable that he was still employed upon his Shaks- peare, which perhaps he laid aside for a time, upon account of the high expectations which were fo'-oied of Warburton's edition of that ^^^'^^ ^^- gentleman's magazine. lit great poet. It is somewhat curious, that bis literary career ap- pears to have been almost totally suspended in the years 1745 and 1T46, those years which were marked by a civil war in Great Britain, when a rash attempt was made to restore the House of Stuart to the throne. That he had a tenderness for that unfortu- nate House, is well known; and some may fancifully imagine, that a sympathetic ai^iety impeded the exertion of his intellectual powers:' but I am inclined to think that he was, during this time, sketching the outlines of his great philological work. None of his letters during those years, are extant, so far as I can discover. This is much to be regretted. It might afford some entertainment to see how he then expressed himself to his private friends concerning State affairs. Dr. Adams informs me, that " at this time a favourite object which he had in contemplation was ' The Life of Alfred ;' in which, from the warmth with which he spoke about it, he would, I believe, had he been master of his own will, engaged himself, rather than on any other subject." In 1141, it is supposed tliat the Gentleman's Magazine for May was enriched by him with five short poetical pieces, distinguished by three asterisks. The first is a translation, or rather a para- phrase, of a Latin Epitaph on Sir Thomas Hanmer. Whether the Latin was his or not, I have never heard, though I should think it probably was, if it be certain that he wrote the English ; as to which my only cause of doubt is, that his slighting the character ot Ilanmer as an editor, in his " Observations on Macbeth," is very different from that in the Epitaph. It may be said, that there is the same contrariety between the character in the Observations, and that in his own Preface to Shakspcare ; but a considerable time elapsed between tlie one publication and the other, whereas, the Observations and the Epitaph came close together. The others are, " To Miss , on her giving the Author a gold and silk net- work Purse of her own weaving ;" " Stella in Mourning ;" " The • In the Garrick Correspondence, there is a letter from Gilbert Walmesley, dated Nov. 3, 1746, which contains this passage :— " When you see Mr. Jolinson, pray give my comi.liments, ind tell liim I esteem him as a great genius — quite lofit,hoth to himself and the world.^ I pon which the Editor observes, "It is obvious that Walmesley had been anxiously expect- jig from his friend, performances adequate to liis powers, but at length almost despaired, that ae could ever be roused to useful strenuous exertion of his ti»ue." i48 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "*^- Winter's Walk;" " An Ode;" and, " To Lyce, an elderly Lady.'' I am not positive that all these were his productions ; ' but as " The Winter's Walk " has never been controverted to be his, and all of them have the same mark, it is reasonable to conclude that they are all written by the same hand. Yet to the Ode, in which we find a passage very characteristic of him, being a learned description of the gout, " Unhappy, whom to beds of pain, Arthritic/c tyranny consigns ; there is the following note, " The author being ill of the gout :" but Johnson was not attacked with that distemper till a very late period of his life. May not this, however, be a poetical fiction ? Why may not a poet suppose himself to have the gout, as well as to sup- pose himself to be in love, of which we have innumerable instances, and which has been admirably ridiculed by Johnson in his " Life of Cowley ?" I have also some difficulty to believe that he could pro- duce such a group of conceits as appear in the verses to Lyce, in which he claims for this ancient personage as good a right to be assimilated to heaven, as nymphs whom other poets have flattered ; he therefore ironically ascribes to her the attributes of the sky, in Buch stanzas as this : " Her teeth the night with darkness dies, She's starr'd witli pimples o'er; Iler tongue like nimble lightning plies, And can with thunder roar." 1 In the " Universal Visiter," to which Johnson contributed, the mark which Is affixed to gome pieces unquestionably his, is also found subjoined to others, of which he certainly waa not the author. The mark, therefore, will not ascertain the poems in question to have been written by him. Some of them were probably the productions of Hawkesworth, who, it is believed, was afflicted with the gout. The verses on a Purse were inserted afterwards, in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies, and are, unquestionably, Johnson's." — Malone. There is no evidence whatever that any of these were Johnson's, and every reason to sup- pose that they are Hawkesworth's. The ode which Boswell doubts about, on internal evi- dence, is the ode to Spring, which, with those on Summer, Autumn, and Winter, have been of late published as Johnson's, and are, no doubt, all by the same hand. We see that Spring bears internal marks of being Hawkesworth's. Winter and Summer, Mr. Chalmers asserts to be his also, and the index to the Gent. Mag. for 1748 attributes Summer to Mr. Greville, a name known to have been assumed by Hawkesworth. The verses on the "Purse," and to " Stella in Mourning," are certainly by the same hand as the four odes. The whole must thert'fore be assigned to Hawkesworth, and should be removed from their place iu Johnson'i works. — Ckokeb. *''*'-*^- gentleman's magazine. 149 But as, at a very advanced age, he could condescend to trifle iu namhy-pamhy rhymes, to please Mrs. Thrale and her daughter, he may have, in his earlier years, composed such a piece as this. It is remarkable, that in this first edition of " The Winter's Walk," the concluding line is much more Johnsonian than it was afterwards printed ; for in subsequent editions, after praying Stella to " snatch him to her arms," he says, " And shield me from the ills of life." Whereas in the first edition it is " And hide me from the sight of life." A horror of life in general is more consonant with Johnson's habitua; gloomy cast of thought.* I have heard him repeat with great energy the following verses, which appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine for April this year ; but I have no authority to say they were his own. Indeed, one of the best critics of our age suggests to me, that " the word indiffex' mtly being used in the sense of ivithout concern, and being also very unpoetical, renders it improbable that they should have been his composition." ON LORD LOVAT's EXECUTION. " Pitied by gentle minds Kilmarnock died ; The brave, Balmerino, were on thy side ; Radcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth, Steady in what he still mistook for truth, Beheld his death so decently unmoved, The soft lamented, and the brave approved. But Lovat's fate indifferently we view, True to no king, to no religion true : No fair forgets the ruin he has done ; No child laments the tyrant of his son ; No Tory pities, thinking what he was ; No ^VJlig compassions, /o?' he left the cause; The brave regret not, for he was not brave ; The honest mourn not, knowing him a knave !" ' I Johnson's habitual horror was not of life, but of death. — Crozer. * These verso« are somewhat too severe on the cxtraordmary person who la the chtff 150 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*^' This year his old pupil and friend, David Garrick, having become joint patentee and manager of Drury Lane theatre, Johnson hon oured his opening of it with a Prologue,* which, for just and manly dramatic criticism on the whole range of the English stage, as well as for poetical excellence, is unrivalled. Like the celebrated Epilogue to the " Distressed Mother," it was, during the season, often called for by the audience. The most striking and brilliant passages of it have been so often repeated, and are so well recollected by all the lovers of the drama and of poetry, that it would be superfluous to point them out.' In the Gentleman's Magazine for December this year, he in- serted an " Ode on Winter," which is, I think, an admirable speci- men of his genius for lyric poetry. But the year 1*141 is distinguished as the epoch when Johnson's arduous aud important work, his "Dictionary of rHE English Language," was announced to the world, by the publication of its Plan or Prospectus. How long this immense undertaking had been the object of his contemplation, I do not know. I once asked him by what means he had attained to that astonishing knowledge of our language, by which he was enabled to realise a design of such extent aud accu- mulated difficulty. He told me, that " it was not the effect of par- ticular study ; but that it had grown up in his mind insensibly." I have been informed by Mr. James Dodsley, that several years be- fore this period, when Johnson was one day sitting in his brother Robert's shop, he heard his brother suggest to him, that a Diction- ary of the English Language would be a work that would be well received by the public ; that Johnson seemed at first to catch at the Sgure in them ; for he was, undoubtedly, brave. His pleasantry during his solemn trial (in which, by the way, I have heard Mr. David Hume observe, that we have one of the very few Bpeeches of Mr. Murray, now Earl of Mansfield, authentically given) was very remarkable. U'hen ask>ed if he had any questions to put to Sir Everard Fawliener, who was one of the strongest witnesses against him, he answered, " I only wish him joy of his young wife." And after sentence of death, in the horrible terms in such cases of treason, was pronounced upon him, as he was retiring from the bar, he said, " Fare you well, my lords, we shall not all meet again in one place." lie behaved with perfect composure at his execution, and called out, **Z>iiloe et decomm est pro pairid mori." — Boswell. > " Thei-e are but two decent prologues in our tongue, — Pope's to Cato — Johnson's *» Drury Lane. These, with the epilogue to the ' Distressed Mother,' and, I think, one of Goldsmith's, and a prologue of old Colman's to Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster, are th« beat things of the kind we have." — Byron. -^^TAT. 3S. PL.VX OF THE DICTIOXARY. 151 proi)o.sitioii, but, after a pause, said, iu bis abrupt decisive manner, "I believe I shall not undertake it." That he, however, had be* stowed much thought upon the subject, before he published his " Plan," is evident from the enlarged, clear, and accurate views which it exhibits ; and we find him mentioning iu that tract, that many of the writers whose testimonies were to be produced as au- thorities, were selected by Pope ; which proves that he had been furnished, probably by Mr. Robert Dodsley, with whatever hints that eminent poet had contributed towards a great literary project, that had been the subject of important consideration in a former reign. The bookseliers who contracted with Johnson, single and unaided, for the execution of a work, which iu other countries has not been effected but by the co-operating exertions of many, were Mr. Robert Dodsley, Mr. Charles Hitch, Mr. Andrew Millar, the two Messieurs Longman, and the two Messieurs Knapton. The price stipulated was fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds. The " Plan" was addressed to Philip Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield; then one of his Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State; a nobleman who was very ambitious of literary distinction, and who, upon being informed of the design, had expressed himself in terms very favour- able to its success. Tliere is, perhaps, in everything of any conse- quence, a secret history which it would be amusing to know, could we have it authentically communicated. Johnson told me (Sept. 22, 1177), " Sir, the way in which the plan of my Dictionary came to be inscribed to Lord Chesterfield, was this : I had neglected to write it by the time appointed. Dodsley suggested a desire to have it addressed to Lord Chesterfield. I laid hold of this as a pretext for delay, that it might be better done, and let Dodsley have his desire. I said to my friend. Dr. Bathurst, ' Now, if any good comes of my addressing to Lord Chesterfield, it will be ascribed to deep policy, when, in fact, it was only a casual excuse for laziness.' " ' It is worthy of observation, that the 'Plan" has not only the > The reader will see, in the very next page, that this account of the affair was, to say the Oest of it, inaccurate; but if it were correct, would it not invalidate Johnson's subsequent complaint of Lord Chesterfield's inattention and ingratitude ? for, even if Iiis lordship had neglected what was dedicated to him only by laziness and accident, he could not justlj be charged with ingratitude ; a dedicator who means no compliment, has no reason to complain if he be not rewarded : but more of this hereafter.— Crokeb, 152 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*' substantial merit of comprehension, perspicuity, and precision, but that the language of it is unexceptionably excellent ; it being altogether free from that inflation of style, and those uncommon but apt and energetic words, which, in some of his writings, have been censured, with more petulance than justice ; and never was there a more dignified strain of compliment than that in which he courts the attention of one who, he had been persuaded to believe, would be a respectable patron, " With regard to questions of purity or propriety," says he, " I was once in doubt whether I should not attribute to myself too much in attempting to decide them, and whether my province was to extend beyond the proposition of the question, and the display of the suffrages on each side ; but I have been since determined by your lordship's opinion, to interpose my own judgment, and shall therefore endeavour to support what appears to me most consonant to grammar and reason. Ausonius thought that modesty forbade him to plead inability for a task to which Caesar had judged him equal : * Cur me posse negem, posse quod ille putat V And I may hope, my lord, that since you, whose authority in our language is so generally acknowledged, have commissioned me to declare ray own opinion, I shall be considered as exercising a kind of vicarious jurisdiction; and that the power which might have been denied to my own claim, will be readily allowed me as the delegate of your lordship." This passage proves, that Johnson's addressing his "Plan" to Lord Chesterfield was not merely in consequence of the result of a report by means of Dodsley, that the earl favoured the design ; but that there had been a particular communication with his lordship concerning it. Dr. Taylor told me, that Johnson sent his " Plan " to him in manuscript, for his perusal ; and that when it was lying upon his table, Mr. William Whitehead happened to pay him a visit, and being shewn it, was highly pleased with such parts of it as he had time to read, and begged to take it home with him, which he was allowed to do ; that from him it got into the hands of a noble lord, who carried it to Lord Chesterfield,' When Taylor observed this ' This also must be inaccurate, for the plan contains numerous allusions and references to Lord Chesterfield's opinions : and there is the evidence both of Lord Chesterfield and Johnson, that Dodsley was the person who communicated with his lordship sn the sut)- Ject.— Crokkr 'i'-'^^T-^ THE DICTIONARY. 153 might be an advantage, Johnson replied, " No, sir, it would have come out with more bloom, if it had not been seen before by any- body." The opinion conceived of it by another noble author, appears from the following extract of a letter from the Earl of Orrery to Dr. Birch : " Caledon, Dec. 80, 1747. "I have jnst now seen the specimen of Mr. Johnson's Dictionary addressed to Lord Chesterfield. I am much pleased with the plan, and I think the specimen is one of the best that I have ever read. Most specimen'3 disgust, rather than prejudice us in favour of the work to follow ; but the language of Mr. Johnson's is good, and the arguments are properly and modestly expressed. However, some expressions may be cavilled at, but they are trifles. I'll mention one : the barren laurel. The laurel is not barren, in any sense whatever ; it bears fruits and flowers. Sed hce sunt 7iU(/ce, and I have great expectations from the performance." That he was fully aware of the arduous nature of the under- taking, he acknowledges ; and shows himself perfectly sensible of it in the conclusion of his " Plan ;" but he had a noble conscious- ness of his own abilities, which enabled him to go on with undaunted spirit. Dr. Adams found him one day busy at his Dictionary, when the following dialogue ensued : — " Adams. This is a great work, sir. How are you to get all the etymologies ? Johnson. Why, sir, here is a shelf with Junius, and Skinner, and others ; and there is a Welch gentleman who has published a collection of Welch proverbs, who will help me with the Welch. Adams. But, sir, how can you do this in three years ? Johnson. Sir, I have no doubt that I can do it in three years. Adams. But the French Academy, which con- sists of forty members, took forty years to compile their Dictionary. Johnson. Sir, thus it is. This is the proportion. Let me see ; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. As three to sixteen hundred, 50 is the proportion of an Englishman to a Frenchman." With so much ease and pleasantry could he talk of that prodigious labour which he had undertaken to execute. The public has had, from another pen,' a long detail of what had • Sir John Hawkins's List of former Englisli Dictionaries is, however, by no means com plete. — Malone, 154 LIFE OF JOHNSOX. ^'*' been done in this country by prior Lexicographers ; and no doubt Johnson was wise to avail himself of them, so far as they went : but the learned yet judicious research of etymology, the various, yet accurate display of definition, and the rich collection of authorities, were reserved for the superior mind of our great philologist. For the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses ; and let it be remembered by the natives of North-Britain, to whom he is supposed to have beeu so hostile, that five of them were of that country. There were two Messieurs Macbean ; Mr. Shiels, who, we shall hereafter see [April 10, lt76], partly wrote the Lives of the Poets to which the name of Gibber is affixed ; Mr Stewart, son of Mr. George Stewart, bookseller at Edinburgh ; and a Mr. Maitland. The sixth of these humble assistants was Mr. Peyton, who, I believe, taught French, and published some elemen- tary tracts. To all these painful labourers, Johnson showed a never-ceasing kindness, so far as they stood in need of it. The elder Mr. Mae- bean had afterwards the honour of being Librarian to Archibald, Duke of Argyle, for many years, but was left without a shilling. Johnson wrote for him a preface to, " A System of Ancient Geogra- phy ;" and by the favour of Lord Thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother of the Charter-house. For Shiels, who died of a con- sumption, he had much tenderness ; and it has been thought that some choice sentences in the Lives of the Poets were supplied by him. Peyton, when reduced to penury, had frequent aid from the bounty of Johnson ; who at last was at the expense of burying him and his wife. While the Dictionary was going forward, Johnson lived part of the time in Holborn, part in Gough Square, Fleet Street ; and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several tasks. The words partly taken from other dictionaries, and partly supplied by himself, having been first written dowu with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing their etymologies, definitions, and various signi- fications.' The authorities were copied from the books themselves, 1 Boswell'a account of the manner in which Johnson compiled his Dictionary is confused Hud erroneous. He began his task (as he himself expressly described to me), by devoting ^TAT. 8U THE DICTIONARY, Irio 111 which lie had marked the passages with a black-lead pencil,' the traces of which could easily be effaced. I have seen several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken ; so that they were just as when used by the copyists. It is remarkabl-e, that he was so attentive in the choice of the passages in which words were authorized, that one may read page after page of his Dictionary with improvement and pleasure ; and it should not pass unobserved, that he has quoted no author whose writings had a tendency to hurt sound religion and morality. The necessary expense of preparing a work of such magnitude foi the press, must have been a considerable deduction from the price stipulated to be paid for the copyright. I understand that nothing was allowed by -the booksellers on that account ; and I remember his telling me, that a large portion of it having, by mistake, been written upon both sides of the paper, so as to be inconvenient for the compositor, it cost him twenty pounds to have it transcribed -ipon one side only He is now to be considered as " tugging at his oar," as engaged ill a steady, continued course of occupation, suflBcient to employ all his time for some years ; and which was the best preventive of that constitutional melancholy which was ever lurking about him, ready to trouble his quiet. But his enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more diversity of employment, and the pleasure of animated relaxation.^ He therefore not only exerted his talents in occasional composition, very different from Lexicography, but his first care to a diligent perusal of all such English writers as were most correct in their lan- guage, and under every sentence which he meant to quote he drew a line, and noted in the ni.ivgin the first letter of the word under which it was to occur. He then delivered these books to his clerks, who transcribed each sentence on a separate slip of paper, and arranged the same under the word referred to. By these means he collected the several words and their different significations ; and when the whole arrangement was alphabetically formed, he gave the definitions of their meanings, and collected their etymologies from Skinner, Junius, and other writers on the subject. — Percy. ' Johnson's copy of Hutlibras, 1726, with the passages thus marked on every page, is now ii. Mr. Upcott's collection. It has Johnson's signature, dated Aug. 1747. - For the sake of relaxation from his literary labours, and probably also for Mrs. John- son's health, he this summer visited Tunbridge Wells, then a place of much greater resort than it is at present. Here he met Mr. Cibber, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Samuel Richardson, Mr. Whis* ton, Mr. Onslow (the Speaker), Mr Pitt, Mr. Lyttleton, and several other distinguished per- sons In a print, representing some of "the remarkable characters " who were present at Tunbridge W' ells in 174S (see Richardson's Correspondence), Dr. Johnson stands the first figure.— Malosk. 156 LIFE OF JOHNSON. *^^ formed a club in Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, with a view to enjoy literary discussion, and amuse bis evening hours. The members associated with him in this Uttle society were his beloved friend Dr. Richard Bathurst, Mr. Hawkesworth, afterwards well known by his writings, Mr. John Hawkins, an attorney,' and a few others of different professions."'' In the Gentleman's Magazine for May of this year, he wrote a " Life of Roscommon,"* with Notes; which he afterwards much improved (indenting the notes in text), and inserted amongst his Lives of the English Poets. Mr. Dodsley this year brought out his " Preceptor," one of the ' He was afterwards, for several years chairman of the Middlesex Justices, and upon occasion of presenting an address to the liing, accepted the usual offer of knighthood. He ia author of " A History of Music," in five volumes in quarto. By assiduous attendance upon Johnson in his last illness, he obtained the office of one of his executors ; in consequence of whicli the booksellers of London employed him to publish an edition of Dr. Johnson's works, and to write his Life. ^ Sir John Hawkins says : — " The club met weekly at the King's Head, a famous beef- steak house, in Ivy Lane, every Tuesday evening. Thither Johnson constantly resorted, and, with a disposition to please and be pleased, would pass those hours in a free and unrestrained interchange of sentiments, which otherwise had been spent at home in painful reflection. The persons who composed this little society were — the Rev. Dr. Salter, father of the late Mas- ter of the Charter House ; Dr. Hawkesworth ; Mr. Ryland, a merchant ; Mr. John Payne, then a bookseller ; Mr. Samuel Dyer, a learned young man intended for the dissenting minis- try ; Dr. William M'Ghie, a Scots physician ; Dr. Edmund Barker, a young physician ; Dr. Richard Bathurst, also a j'oung physician ; and myself. ^ — At these meetings I had oppor- tunities of observing, not only that in conversation Johnson made it a rule to talk his best, but that on many subjects he was not uniform in his opinions, contending as often for victory as for truth. At one time good, at another evil, was predominant in the moral constitution of the world. Upon one occasion, he would deplore the non-observance of Good Friday, and on another deny that among us of the present age there is any decline of public worship. He would sometimes contradict self-evident propositions, such as, that the luxury of this country has increased with its riches ; and that the practice of card-playing is more general than hereto- fore. At this versatility of temper none, however, took offence: as Alexander and Ctesarwere born for conquest, so was Johnson for the office of a symposiarch, to preside in all conversa- tions ; and I never yet saw the man who would venture to contest his right. — Let it not, how- ever, be imagined, that the members of this our club met together with the temper of gla- diators, or that there was wanting among them a disposition to yield to each other in all diversities of .opinion : and. indeed, disputation was not, as in many associations of this kind, the purpose of the meeting; nor were their conversations, like those of the Rota club, restrained to particular topics. On the contrary, it may be said, that with the gravest dis- courses was intermingled "mirth, that after no repenting draws " (Milton) ; for not only in Johnson's melancholy there were lucid intervals, but ho was a great contributor to the mirth of conversation, by the many witty sayings he uttered, and the many excellent stories which his memiry had treasured up, and he would on occasion relate; so that those are greatly mistaken who infer, either from the general tendency of his writings, or that appearance of hebetude which marked his countenance when living, and is discernible in the pictures an<; prints of him, that he could only reason and discuss, dictate and control. Ia the talent of •*"'■• ^- " VANITY OF lIClfAN WISHES." , 151 most valuable books for the improvement of young minds that has appeared in any language; and to this meritorious work Johnsoi: furnished " The Preface/'* containing a general sketch of the book, with a short and perspicuous recommendation of each article; as, also, " The Vision of Theodore, the Hermit, found in his Cell,"* a most beautiful allegory of human life, under the figure of ascending the mountain of Existence. The Bishop of Dromore heard Dr. Johnson say, that he tliought this was the best thing he ever wrote.' In January, 1149, he published " The Vanity of Human Wishes, being the Tenth Satire of Juvenal imitated."* He, I believe, com- posed it the preceding year.* Mrs. Johnson, for the sake of country air, had lodgings at Hampstead, to which he resorted occasionally, and there the greatest part, if not the whole, of this Imitation was written. The fervid rapidity with which it was produced, is scarcely credible. I have heard him say, that he composed seventy Unes of it in one day, without putting one of them upon paper till they were finished.^ I remember when I once regretted to him that he had not given us more of Juvenal's Satires, he said he probably should give more, for he had them all in his head: by which I understood, that he had the originals and correspondent allusions floating in his mind, which he could, when he pleased, embody and render perma- humourf there hardlj- ever was his equal, except, perhaps, among the old comedians, such as Tarleton, and a few others mentioned by Gibber. By means of this he was enabled to ^ve to any relation that required it, the graces and aids of expression, and to discriminate, •with the fiicest exactness, the characters of those w"hom it concerned. In aping this faculty, I have seen Warburton disconcerted, and when he would fain have been thought a man of pleasantry, no^ i little out of countenance." 1 The bishS, -d me, that Johnson composed it, in one night, after finishing an evening at Holborn. — TrbftJ. ^ Sir John Hawkins, with solemn inaccuracy, represents his poem as a consequence of the Indifferent reception of his tragedy. But the fact is, that the poem was published on the 9th of January, and the tragedy was not acted till the 6th of the February following. 3 This was Johnson's general habit of composing; his defect of sight rendered writing and written corrections troublesoK " "> he Ur*''"'-fore exercised memory where others would have employed pen and paper. — Croki,^ + Mr. Murphy, a better judge than Sir J. Hawkins, tells us, to the same effect, that " John- Bon was surprised to be told, but it certain4y was true, that with all his great powers of mind, wit and humour -were his most shining talents;" and Mrs. Piozzi says, that "his vein of humour was rich and apparently inexhaustible — to such a degree, that Mr. Murphy used to gay he was incomparable at buffoonery." This should be borne in mind in reading Johnson'i conversations, because much of that peculiarity called humour cannot be adequately con- veyed in words, and many things may appear trite, dull, or offensively rude in mere naTra tlon, whicii were enlivened or softened by the air and style of tue Jelivery. — Cao£»" 158 LIFE OF. JOHNSOX. 1749 nent without much labour.' Some of them, however, he observed, were too gross for imitation. The profits of a single poem, however excellent, appear to have been very small in the last reign, compared with what a publicatioa of the same size has since been known to yield. I have mentioned, upon Johnson's own authority, that for his " London " he h^d only ten guineas; and now, after his fame was established, he got for his " Vanity of Human Wishes " but five guineas more, as is proved by an authentic document in my possession." It will be observed, that he reserves to himself the right of print- ing one edition of his satire, which was his practice upon occasion of the sale of all his writings; it beiug his fixed intention to publish at some period, for his own profit, a complete collection of his works. His "Vanity of Human Wishes" has less of common life, but more of a philosophic dignity, than his " London." More readers, therefore, will be delighted with the pointed spirit of " London," than with the profound reflection of " The Vanity of Human Wishes." ' Garrick, for instance, observed, in his sprightly manner, with more vivacity than regard to just discrimination, as is usual with wits, " When Johnson lived much with the Herveys, and saw a 1 Johnson knew Juvenal welL " His peculiarity," he says, " is a mixture of gaiety and stateliness, of pointed sentences and declamatory grandeur." A good idea of it may be formed from Johnson's own beautiful Imitation of the Third Satire. His Imitation of the Tenth (still more beautiful as a poem) has scarcely a trait of the author's manner ; — that is to say, of that " mixture of gaiety and stateliness," which, according to his own definition, constitutes the "peculiarity of Juvenal." The "Vanity of Human Wishes" is uniformly stately and severe, and without those light and popular strokes of sarcasm, which abound so much in the " London." — Gifford's Juvenal, vol. i. p. Ixxiii. 2 " Nov. 25, 1748, I received of Mr. Dodsley fifteen guineas, for which I assign to him the right of copy of an Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, written by me, reserving to myself the right of printing one edition. Sam. Johnson." ^ Jan. 9, 182L Read Johnson's " Vanity of Human Wishes," — all the examples and mode of giving them sublime, as well as the latter part, with the exception of an occasional couplet. I do not so much admire the opening. I remember an observation of Sharp's (the Cvn/Bersaiionisi , as he was called in London, and a very clever man), that the first line of this poem was superfluous, and that Pope would have begun at once : — " Survey mankind froni China to Peru." The former line, " Let observation," 4c. is certainly heavy and useless. But 'tis a grand poem — and so true ! — true as the Tenth of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages changes aU things — time — language — the earth^the bounds of the sea — the stars of the sky, and every thing " about, around, and underneath " man, except man himfielf. The infinite variety oi lives ;onduct but to death, aa« the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. — Bybok.] ■*"■'• *^- "VAXITY OF HUMAN "WISHIiS. 159 good deal of what was passing iu life, he wrote his ' London,' which is lively and easy: when he became more retired, he gave us his 'Vanity of Human Wishes,' which is as hard as Greek: had he gone ou to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as Hebrew." ' But " The Vanity of Human Wishes " is,* in the opinion of the best judges, as high an effort of ethic poetry as any language can show. The instances of variety of disappointment are chosen so judiciously, and painted so strongly, that, the moment they are read, they bring conviction to every thinking mind. That of the scholar * must have depressed the too sanguine expectations of many an ambitious student. That of the warrior, Charles of Sweden, is, I think, as highly finished a picture as can possibly be conceived. Were all the other excellencies of this poem annihilated, it must ever have our grateful reverence from its noble conclusion ; in which we are consoled with the assurance that happiness may be attained, if we " apply our hearts " to piety : " Where then shall hope and fear their objects find? Shall dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate ? Shall no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, No cries attempt the mercy of the skies ? ' l»om Mr. Langton. — Boswell. Garrick's criticism (if it deserves the name) and his facts are b»ili unfounded. " The A'anity of Human Wishes " is in a graver and higher tone than the " London," but not harder to be understood. On the contrary, some classical allusions, incons-istent with modern manners, obscure passages of the latter ; while all the illustrations, sentiments, and expressions of the former are, though wonderfully noble and dignified, yet perfectly intelligible, and almost familiar. Moreover, we have seen that when Johnson wrote "London," he was not living the gay and fashionable life which Mr. Garrick is represented as mentioning. Alas ! he was starving in obscure lodgings on eight-pence, and sometimes even four-pence a day (see ante, p. 90) ; and there is, in " London," nothing to show any intimacy with the great or fashionable world. As to the Uerveys, it may be here observed — contrary to Mr. Boswell's (as well as Mr. Garrick's) supposition — that he was intimate with that family previous to the publication of " London :"— that the sneer in that poem ^f Clodio's jest," stood, in the first edition, " ff y''sjest,^' and was probably aimed at Lord Hervey, who was a favourite theme of satire with the opposition writers of the day. — Croker. 2 When Dr. Johnson, one day, read his own Satire, in which the life of a scholar is painted, fith the various obstructions thrown in his way to fortune and to fame, he burst into a pas- sion of tears; Mr. Thrale's family and Mr. Scott only were present, who, in a jocose way, flapped him on the back, and said, " What's all this, my dear sir? Why you and I, and Her- cules, you know, were all troubled with melancholy." He was a very large man, and made out the triumvirate with Johnson and Hercules comically enough." — Fiozzi. ICO LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^** Inquirer cease ; petitions yet remain, Which Ileav'n may hear, nor deem Religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to. Heaven the measure and the choice. ■ Safe in His hand, whose eye discerns afar The secret ambush of a specious pray'r ; Implore His aid, in His decisions rest. Secure, whate'er He gives, He gives the best: Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign'd ; For love, which scarce collective man can fill ; For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill ; For faith, which panting for a happier seat. Counts death kind Nature's signal for retreat : These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, These goods He grants, who grants the power to gain ; With these celestial wisdom calms the mind. And makes the happiness she does not find." ' Garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being mana- ger of Drury Lane theatre, he kindly and generously made use of it to bring out Johnson's tragedy, which had been long kept back for want of encouragement. But in this benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the temper of Johnson, which could not brook that a drama which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged to keep more than the nine years of Horace, should be revised and altered at the pleasure of an actor. Yet Garrick knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for the stage. A violent dispute having ensued between them, Garrick ajiplied to the Reverend Dr. Taylor to interpose. Johnson was at first very obstinate. " Sir," said he, " the fellow wants me to make Mahomet ' In this poera, a line in which the danger attending on female beauty is mentioned, baa very generally, I believe, been misunderstood : — " Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring, And Sedley cursed the lorm that pleased a king." The lady mentioned in the fii'st of these verses, was not the celebrated Lady Vane, whoss Memoirs were given to the public by Dr. Smollett, but Ann Vane, who was mistress to Frede- rick, Prince of Wales, and died in 1736, not long before Johnson settled in London. Pome account of this lady was published, under the title of " The Secret History »f Vanella," 8vo. 1T32. See also, ' Vanella in the Straw," 4to. 1732.— Boswell. *T*T.40. " IREiVE " REPRESENTED, 161 run luad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels."*. He was, however, at last, with difficulty pre- vailed on to comply with Garrick's wishes, so as to allow of some changes, but still there were not enough. Dr. Adams was present the first night of the representation of Irene, and gave tne the following account : — " Before the curtain drew up, there were catcall? whistling, which alarmed Johnson's friends. The Prologue, which vvas written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience,* and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when Mrs. Pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was. to speak two lines with the bowstring round her neck. The audience cried out ' Murder ! murder .' ' ' ' She several times attempted to speak ; but in vain. At last she was obliged to go off the stage alive." This passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it. The Epilogue, as Johnson informed me, was written by Sir William Yonge. I know not how his play came to be thus graced by the pen of a per- son then so eminent in the political world. Notwithstanding all the support of such performers as Garrick, Barry, Mrs. Gibber, Mrs. Pritchard, and every advantage of dresa ' Mahomet was in fact played by Mr. Barry, and Demetrius by Mr. Garrick ; but probably at this time the parts were not yet cast. * The expression used by Dr. Adams was " soothed." I should rather think the audienc* was awed by the extraordinary spirit and dignity of the following lines : — " Be this at least his praise, be this his pride. To force applause no modern arts are tried : Should partial catcalls all his hopes confound, He bids no trumpet quell tlie fatal sound ; Should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, He rolls no tliunders o'er the drowsy pit ; No snares to captivate the judgment spreads, Nor bribes your eyes, to prejudice your heads. Unmoved, though witlings sneer and rivals rail. Studious to please, yet not ashamed to fail, He scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain, With merit needless, and without it vain ; In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust; Ye fops be silent, and ye wits be just !" * This shows how ready modern audiences are to condemn in a new play what they h»T« frequently endured very quietly in an old one. Rowe has made Moneses, in Tamerlane, di4 |>y the bowstring, without offence. — Malonk. 162 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1'**- and decoration, the tragedy of Irene did not please the public' Mr. Garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights, so that the. author had his three nights' profits ; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands of Mr. James Dodsley, it appears that his friend, Mr. Kobert Podsley, gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the right of one edition." Irene, considered as a poem, is entitled to the praise of superior excellence. Analysed into parts,- it will furnish a rich store of noble sentiments, fine imagery, and beautiful language ; but it is deficient in pathos, in that delicate power of touching the human feelinga, which is the. principal end of the drama.' Indeed, Garrick has com- plained to me, that Johnson not only had not the faculty of pro- ducing the impressions of tragedy, but that he had not the sensibility to perceive them. His great friend Mr. Walmesley's prediction, that he would " turn out a fine tragedy writer," was, therefore, ill- founded. Johnson was wise enough to be convinced that he had not the talents necessary to write successfully for the stage, and never made another attempt in that species of composition. When asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, " Like the Monument;" meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. And let it be remembered, as an ad- monition to the gmus irritahile of dramatic writers, that this great man, instead of previously complaining of the bad taste of the town, 1 I knf'W not what Sir John Hawkins means by the cold reception of Irene. I was at tho first representation, and most of the subsequent. It was much applauded the first night, par- ticularly toe speech on to-morrow. It ran nine nights at least. It did not, indeed, become a stock-pUy ; but there was not the least opposition during the representation, except the first night, in the last act, where Irene was to be strangled on the stage, which John [BuW^ could not bear, though a dramatic poet may stab or slay by hundreds. The bowstring was not a Christian nor an ancient Greek or Roman death. But this offence was removed after the first night, and Irene went off the stage to be strangled. Many stories were circulated at the time, o{ the author's being observed at the representation to be dissatisfied with some of the speechtts and conduct of the play, himself ; and, like La Fontaine, expressing his disappro- bation aloud. — Burnet. '^ The amount of the three benefit nights, it is to be feared, was not very considerable, as the profit, that stimulating motive, never invited the author to another dramatic attempt. — Murphy. It appears, by a MS. note in Mr. Isaac Reed's copy of that Life, that the receipts of the third, sixth, and ninth nights, after deducting sixty guineas a night for the expenses of the house, amounted to £195 17.*. ; Johnson cleared, therefore, in all, very nearly £300. ' Aaron Hill (vol ii p. 855), in a letter to Mr. Mallet, gives the following account of " Irene: " — " I was at the anomalous Mr. Johnson's benefit, and found the play liis proper representative ; strong sense ungraced by sweetness or decorum." Xf^f-^- THE GUEEN'-ROOM. 163 subinitteci to its decision without a murmur. He had, indeed, upon all occasions, a great deference for tlie general opinion : " A man," said he, " who writes a book thinks himself wiser and wittier than the rest of mankind ; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the public to whom he appeals must, after all, be th? judges of his pretensions." On occasion of this play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that, as a dramatic author, his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore : he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat. He humorously observed to Mr. Langton, " that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes." Dress, in- deed, we must allow, has more effect, even upon strong minds, than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession, than he had harshly expressed in his Life of Savage.' With some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to show them acts of kindness. He, for a considerable time, used to frequent the Green-room, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue ; saying, " I'll come no more behind your scenes, David ; for the silk stock- ings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propen- sities." Letter 16. TO MISS LUCY PORTER." . " GOFF Square, July 12, 1749. " Dear Miss, — I am extremely obliged to you for your letter, which I would aave answered last post, but that illness prevented me. I have been often out • This appears to have been by no means the case. His most acrimonious attacks od Garrick, and Sheridan, and players in general, were subsequent to this period. — CnoKER. ' This is one of Johnson's letters to bis step-daughter, which Mr. Croker receiv.}.! from the Rev. Dr. Ilarwood, the historian of Lichfield, 164 LIFE OF JOUNS,N. *^*' fif order of late, and have very much neglected my affairs. You have acted very prudently with regard to Levett's aflair, which will, I think, not at all embarrass me, for you may promise him, that the mortgage shall be taken up at Michaelmas, or, at least, some time between that and Christmas ; and if he requires to have it done sooner, I will endeavour it. I make no doubt, by that time, of cither doing it myself, or persuading some of my friends to do it for me. " Please to acquaint him with it, and let me know if he be satisfied. When he once called on me, his name was mistaken, and therefore I did not se.e him; but, finding the mistake, wrote to him the same day, but never heard more of him, though I entreated him to let me know where to wait on him. You frighted me, you little gipsy, with your black wafer, for I had forgot you were in mourning, and was afraid your letter had brought me ill news of my mother, whose death is one of the few calamities on which I think with terror. I long to know how she does, and how you all do. Your poor mamma is come home, but very weak ; yet I hope she will grow better, else she shall go into the country. She is now up stairs, and knows not of my writing. I am, dear miss, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." CHAPTER IX. It50— 1751. 'ohnson begins "The Rambler" — His Prayer on commencing the Undertaking— Obligatlocj to Correspondents — Adversaria — Success of the Rambler — Collected into Volumes — "Beauties" of the Rambler— Writes a Prologue, to be spoken by Garrick, for the Benefit of Milton's Grand-daughter — " Life of Cheynel " — Lauder's Forgery against Slilton-- Mrs. Anna Williams. In 1750 Johnson came forth m the character for which he was emi- nently quaUfied, a majestic teacher of moral and religious wisdom. The vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. The Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, were the last of the kind pub- lished in England, which had stood the test of a long trial ; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruc- tion would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. A few days before the first of his Essays came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of " The Tatler Revived," which, I believe, was " born but to die." John- son was, I think, not very happy in the choice of his title, — " The Rambler ;" which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses ; which the Italians have literally, but ludicrously, translated by II Vagahondo ; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, " The Rambler's Magazine." He gave Sir Joshua Reynolds the following account of its getting this name : " What must be done, Sir, will be done. "When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. The Rambler seemed the Dest that occurred, and I took it." ' ' I have heard Dr. Warton mention, that he was at Mr. Rcbert Dodsley's with the lat* 165 166 LIFE OF JOHNSON. *''•• With what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which he composed and offered up on the occasion : " Almighty God, the giver of all good things, without whose help all labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is folly : grant, I beseech Thee, that in this undertaking thy Holy Spirit may not be withheld from me, but that I may promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others t g»ant this, Lord, for the sake of thy son, Jesus Cuuist. Amen." The first paper of the Rambler was published on Tuesday the 20th of March, 1149-50 ; and its author was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every Tuesday and Saturday, till Saturday the 14th of March, 1152, on which day it closed. This is a strong con- firmation of the truth of a remark of his, which I have had occasion to quote elsewhere [Aug. 16, 1113], that "a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it ;" for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his Dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind during all that time ; having received no assistance, except four billets in No. 10, by Miss Mulso, now Mrs. Chapone ; No. 30, by Mrs. Catherine Talbot ; No. 91, by Mr. Samuel Richardson, whom he describes in an intro- ductory note, as " an author who has enlarged the knowledge of human nature, and taught the passions to move at the command of virtue ;" and Numbers 44 and 100, by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter. Posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, with- out even being read over by him before they were printed.' It can Mr. Moore, and several of his friends, considei-ing what sliould be the name of the periodical paper which Moore had undertalien. Garrick proposed the Salad, whicli, by a curious coin- cidence, was afterwards applied to himself by Goldsmith : — " Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree !" At last, the company having separated, without anything of which they approved havinf been offered, Dodsley himself thought of The World. ' The fine Rambler on Procrastination [No 184] was hastily composed in Sir Joshua Key nold's parlour, while the boy waited to carry it to the press, and numberless are theicetaacei of his writing under the immediate pressure of importunity or distress. — Piozzi. JBtit. C THE RAMBLER — ADVERSARIA. 16t be accounted for only in this way; that, by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, was ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly accustomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energetic expres- sion. Sir Joshua Eeynolds once asked him, by what means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow of language. He told him, that he had early laid it down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every company : to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could put it in ; and that by constant practice, and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him. Yet, he was not altogether unprepared as a periodical writer : for I have in my possession a small duodecimo volume, in which he has written, in the form of Mr. Locke's Common-Place Book, a variety of hints for essays on different subjects. He has marked upon the first blank leaf of it, " To the 128th page, collections for the Ram- bler ;" and in another place, " In fifty-two there were seventeen provided ; in 97 — 21 ; in 190 — 25." At a subsequent period (pro- bably after the work was finished) he added, " In all, taken of pro- vided materials, 30." ' Sir John Hawkins, who is unlucky upon all occasions, tells us, that " this method of accumulating intelligence had been practised by Mr. Addison, and is humorously described in one of the Specta- tors [No. 46.], wherein he feigns to have dropped his paper of notanda, consisting of a diverting medley of broken sentences and loose hints, which he tells us he had collected, and meant to make use of. Much of the same kind is Jolmson's Adversaria."* But the truth is, that there is no resemblance at all between them. - This, no doubt, means, that, of the first 52 Ramblers, 17 had been prepared, and so on, till, at the completion of the whole 20S numbers, he found that only 80 had been formed of materials previously provided. — Croker. 2 In this instance Mr. Boswell is more unlucky than Hawkins, whose account is by no means incoiTect. He knew very well, and distinctly states, that Addison's published " Notanda " were a mere pleasantry, consisting of topics drolly selected and aiTanged; but he infers, rationally enough, that Addison had taken the idea from his own real practice ol collecting notanda ; and he is quite justified in adding, ' much of the same kind are John* Bon's Adversaria." — Croker, 168 LIFE OF JonKSON. ^'■•• Addison's note was a fiction, in which unconnected fragments of his lucubrations were purposely jumbled together, in as odd a manner as he could, in order to produce a laughable effect : whereas, John- son's abbreviations are all distinct, and applicable to each subject of which the head is mentioned. For instance, there is the following specimen : Youth's Entry^ &c. " Baxter's account of things in which he had changed his mind as he grew up. Voluminous. — No wonder. — If every man was to tell, or mark, on how many subjects he has changed, it would make vols, but the changes not always observed by man's self. — From pleasure to bus. \hudness\ to quiet ; from thoughtfulness to reflect, to piety ; from dissipation to domestic, by impercept. gradat. but the change is certain. Dial non progredi, progress, esse conspici' mus. Look back, consider what was thought at some dist. period. '■'■Hope predom. in youth. Mind not wilUnfjly indulges unpleasing thoughts. The world lies all enamelled before him, as a distant prospect sun-gilt;* — ine- qualities only found by coming to it. Love is to be all joy — children excellent. — Fame to be constant — caresses of the great — applauses of the learned — smiles of Beauty. ^'Ftar of disgrace — Bashfulness — Finds things of less importance. Mis- carriages forgot like excellencies ; — if remembered, of no import. Danger of sinking into negligence of reputation ; — lest the fear of disgrace destroy actiy- ity. '■'Confidence in himself. Long tract of life before him. — No thought of sick- ness. — Embarrassment of affairs. — 'Distraction of family. Public calamities. — No sense of the prevalence of bad habits. Negligent of time — ready to un- dertake — careless to pursue — all changed by time. "Confident of others — unsuspecting as unexperienced — imagining himself secure against neglect, never imagines they will venture to treat him ill. Ready to trust ; expecting to be trusted. Convinced by time of the selfish- ness, the meanness, the cowardice, the treachery of men. "Youth ambitious, as thinking honours easy to be had. " Different kinds of praise pursued at different periods. Of the gay in youth. — dang, hurt, &c. despised. "Of the fancy in manhood. Ambit.— stocks — bargains.— Of the wise and sober in old age — seriousness — formality — maxims, but general — only of the rich, otherwise age is happy — but at last everything referred to riches — no having fame, honour, influence, without subjection to caprice. "Horace. 1 This most beautiful image of the enchanting delusion of youthful prospect has not beea used in any of .Johnson's essa/s. •*'■*»• *-• i'HE RAMBLER — ADVERSARtA. 169 "Hard it would be if men entered life with the same views with which they leave it, or left as they enter it. — No hope — no undertaking — no regard to be- BHvolence — no fear of disgrace, &c. " Youth to be taught the piety of age — age to retain the honour of youth." This, it will be observed, is the sketch of Number 196 of the Rambler. I shall gratify my readers with another specimen : " Confederacies difficult ; why. " Seldom in war a match for single persons — nor in peace ; therefore kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in learning — every great work the work of one. Bruy. Scholars' friendship like ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart. The apple of discord — the laurel of discord — the poverty of criticism. Swift'.H opinion of the power of six geniuses united. That union scarce possible. His remarks just ;^man a social, not steady nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled by passions. Orb drawn by attraction, rep. [i-epelled\ by centri- fugal. " Common danger unites by crushing other passions — but they return Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces insolence and envy. Too much regard in each to private interest ; — too little. *'The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies. — The fitness of social attraction diffused through the whole. The mischiefs of too partial love of our country. Contraction of moral duties. — 01 inloi, ov (piTt-og. " Every man moves upon his own centre, and therefore repels others from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general laws. " Of confederacy with supei'iors every one knows the inconvenience. With equals, no authority ; — every man his own opinion — his own interest. " Mail and wife hardly united ; — scarce ever without children. Computation, if two to one against two, how many against five ? If confederacies were easy— useless ; — many oppresses many. — If possible only to some, dangerous. Principum amicitiasy Here we see the embryo of Number 45 of the Adventurer ; and it ?s a confirmation of what I shall presently have occasion to men- tion, that the papers in that collection marked T. were written by Johnson. This scanty preparation of materials will not, however, much diminish our wonder at the extraordinary fertility of his mind ; for the proportion which they bear to the number of essays which he wrote, is very small ; and it is remarkable, that those for which he had made no preparation, are as rich and as highly finished, as VOL. I. 8 no LIFE OP JOHNSO>r. iftrt. those for which the hints were lying by him. It is also to be ob- served, that the papers formed from his liints are worked up with such strength and elegance, that we almost lose sight of the hints, which become like " drops in the bucket." Indeed, in several in- stances, he has made a very slender use of them, so that many of them remain still unapplied. As the Rambler was entirely the work of one man, there was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very much to exclude tlie charm of variety ; and the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. So slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, that even in the closing number the author says, " I have never been much a favourite of the public." * Yet, very soon after its commencement, there were who felt and acknowledged its uncommon excellence. Verses in its praise ap- peared in the newspapers ; and the editor of the Gentleman's Mag- azine mentions, in October, his having received several letters to the same purpose from the learned. " The Student, or Oxford and 1 The Ramblers, certainly, were little noticed at first. Smart, the poet, first mentioned them to me as excellent papers, before I had heard any one else speak of them. When I went into Norfolk, in the autumn of 1751, I found but one person (the Rev. Mr. Squires, a man of learning, and a general purchaser of new books) who knew anything of them. But he had been misinformed concerning tlie true author ; for he had been told they were written by a Mr. Johnson of Canterbury, the son of a clergyman who had had a controversy with Bentley, and who had changed the readings of the old ballad entitled Norton Falgaie^ in Bentley 's bold style («ieo periculo), till not a single word of the original song was left. Before I left Norfolk, in the year 1760, the Ramblers were in high favour among persons of learning and good taste. Others there were, devoid of both, who said that the hard words in the Rambler were used by the author to render his Dictionary indispensably necessary. — Burnet. It may not be improper to correct a slight error in the preceding note, though it does not at all affect the principal object of Dr. Burney's remark. The clergyman above alluded to, was Mr. Richard Johnson, schoolmaster at Nottingham, who, in 1717, published an octavo volume in Latin, against Bentley's edition of Horace, entitled "Aristarchus Anti-Bentleianus." In the middle of this Latin work (as Mr. Bindley observes to me) he has introduced four pages of Eng- lish criticism, in which he ludicrously corrects, in Bentley's manner, one stanza, not of the ballad the hero of which lived in Norton Falgate, but of a ballad celebrating the achievement* of Tcm Bostock, who, in a sea-fight, performed prodigies of valour. The stanza on which this ingenious writer has exercised his wit, is as follows : " Then old Tom Bostock he fell to the work. He pray'd like a Christian, but fought like a Turk, And cut 'em off all in a jerk. Which nobody can deav." etc. — M^lobs. ^■f^'-^l- THE RAMBLER. HI Cambridge Monthly Miscellany," in which Mr. Bonnel Thornton and Mr. Colman ' were the principal writers, describes it as " a work that exceeds anything of the kind ever published in this kingdom, some of the Spectators excepted — if indeed they may be excepted." And afterwards, "May the public favours crown his merits, and may not the English, under the auspicious reign of George the Second, neglect a man, who, had he lived in the first century, would have been one of the greatest favourites of Augustus." This flattery of the monarch had no effect. It is too well known, that the second George never was an Augustus to learning and genius.* Johnson told me, witli an amiable fondness, a little pleasing cir- cumstance relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in whose judgment and taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of the Rambler had come out, " I thought very well of you before : but I did not imagine you could have written anything equal to this." Distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as ' I doubt if Colman wrote in tliis work. Smart was the principal contributor, and T. War- ton a very considerable one. — Chalmeus. ^ Richardson, the author of Clarissa, to whom Cave had sent the first five numbers of the Rambler, became, as they proceeded, " so inexpressibly pleased with them," that he wrote to Cave in strong commendation, and intimated his conviction (the name of the author being still a secret), tliat Johnson was the only man who could write them. Cave, in his answer dated " St. John's Gate, August 23, 1750," says : — "Excuse this ramble from the purpose of your letter. I return to answer, that Mr. John- son is the Great Ramblur, being, as you observe, the only man who can furnish two sucli pa- pers in a week, besides his other great business, and has not been assisted with above three. I may discover to you, that the world is not so kind to itself as you wish it. The encourage- ment, as to sale, is not in proportion to the high character given to the work by the judicious, not to say the rr.ptures expressed' by the few that do read it; but its being tlms relishiid in numbers gives hope that the sets must go off, as it is a fine paper, and, considering the late Lour of having the copy, tolerably printed. " When the author was to be kept private (which was the first scheme), two gentlemen, oe- longing to the Prince's court, came to me to inquire his name, in order to do him service ; and also brought a list of seven gentlemea to be served with the Rambler. As I was not at liberty, an inference was drawn, that I was desirous to keep to myself so excellent a writer. Soon after, Mr. Doddington sent a letter directed to the Ramhler, inviting him to his house, when he should be disposed to enlarge his acquaintance. In a subsequent number a kind of excuse was made, with a liint that a good writer might not appear to advantage in conversa- iion. Since that time several circumstances, and Mr. Oarrick and others, who knew the au- thor's powers and style from the first, unadvisedly asserting their (but) suspicions, overturned the scheme of socresy. (About which tliere is also one paper.) "I have had letters of approbation from Dr Young, Dr. Hartley, Dr. Sharp, Miss Carter, etc., etc., most of them, like you, setting them in a rank equal, and some superior, to the Spectators (of which"! have not read many, for the reasons which you assign) ; but, notwith- standing such recommendation, whether the price of twopence, or the unfavourable season of their first publication, liiudcrs tlic denjand, no boast ;an be made of it." — Crokek. 112 . LIFE OF JOHNSON. ''''**■ that of a wife whom a man loves aud esteems. Her approbation may be said to " come home to his bosom ;" aud being so near, its effect is most sensible aud permanent. Mr. James Elphiuston, who has since published various works, and who was ever esteemed by Johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in Scotland while the Rambler was coming out in single pa- pers • at London. With laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge of an edition of those Essays at Edinburgh, which followed progressively the London publication.' The following letter written at this time, though not dated, will show how much pleased Johnson was with this publication, and what kindness and regard he had for Mr. Elphiuston. Letter 17. TO MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON. [Jfo dateJ] " Dear Sir : — I cannot but confess the failures of my correspondence ; but hope the same regard which you express for me on every other occasion, will incline you to forgive me. I am often, very often, ill ; and, when I am well, am obliged to work: and, indeed, have never much used myself to punctuality. You are however, not to make unkind inferences, when I forbear to reply to your kindness ; for, be assured, I never received a letter from you without great pleasure, and a very warm sense of your generosity and friendship, which I heartily blame myself for not cultivating veith more care. In this, as in many other cases, I go wrong, in opposition to conviction ; for I think scarce any temporal good equally to be desired with the regard and familiarity of worthy men. I hope we shall be some time nearer to each other, and have a more ready way of pouring out our hearts. " I am glad that you still find encouragement to proceed in your publication ; and shall beg the favour of six more volumes to add to my former six, when you can, with any convenience, send them me. Please to present a set, in my name, to Mr. Ruddimau,^ of whom, I hear, that his learning is not his highest ' It was executed in the printing-oflBce of Sands, Murray, and Cochran, with uncommon jlegance, upon writing-paper, of a duodecimo size, and with the greatest correctness : and Mr. Elphinston enriched it with translations of the mottos. When completed, it made eight landsome volumes. It is, unquestionably, the most accurate and beautiful edition of this sork ; and there being but a small impression, it is now become scarce, and sells at a very high price. 2 Mr. Thomas Ruddiman, the learned grammarian of Scotland, well known for his various excellent works, and for his accurate editions of several authors. He was also a man of ttie most worthy private character. His zeal for the Royal House of Stuart did not render bii^ 'ess estimable in Dr. Johnson's eye. — Boswell. •«TAT. tl. THE RAMBLER. 1 T3 excellence. I have transcribed the mottos, and returned ihem, 1 hope not toe late, of which I think many very happily performed. Mr. Cave has put the last in the Magazine, in which I think he did well. I beg of you to write soon, and to write often, and to write long letters, which I hope in time to repay you ; but you must be a patient creditor. I have, however, this of gratitude, that 1 think of you with regard, when I do not, perhaps, give the proofs which 1 ought, of being. Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." This year, he wrote to the same gentleman another letter upon a mournful occasion. Letter 18. TO MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON. " September 25, 1750. " Dear Sir : — You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, lost an excel- lent mother; and I hope you will not think me incapable of partaking in your grief. I have a mother, now eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, I must soon lose, unless it please God that she should rather mourn for me. I read the letters in which you relate your mother's death to Mrs. Strahan, and think I do myself honour, when I tell you that I read them with tears ; but tears are neither to you nor to me of any further use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. The business of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of which we are lamenting our depri- vation. The greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate his virtues. This your mother will still per- form, if you diligently preserve the memory of her life, and of her death : a life, so far as I can learn, useful, wise, and innocent ; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. I cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness by obeying her precepts ; and that she may, in her present state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which her instructions or example have contributed.^ Whether this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of God ; yet, surely, there is something pleasing in the behef, that our separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal ; and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be made probable that that union that has received the divine approbation shall continue to eternity " There is one expedient by which you may, in some degree, continue her presence. If you write down minutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many 1 This letter may be read as a commentary on the celebrated passages in Johnson's Me Of the allegorical papers In the Rambler, Labour and Rest (No. 33) was Johnson's favourite ; but Serotinus (No. 165), the man who returns late in life to receive honours inJiia Dative country, and meets with mortification instead of respect, was considered by nini as « masterpiece in the science of life and manners. — Piozzi. 8* 178 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "*•> force aud perspicuity.* It must, indeed, be allowed, that the struc- ture of his sentences is expanded, and often has somewhat of the inversion of Latin ; and that he delighted to express familiar thoughts in philosophical language, being in this the reverse of Socrates, who, it is said, reduced philosophy to the simplicity of common life. But let us attend to what he himsel]" says in his con- cluding paper : — " When common words were less pleasmg to the ear, or less distinct in their signification, I have famiharised the terms of philosophy, by applying them to popular ideas." And, as to the second part of this objection, upon a late careful revision of the work, I can with confidence say, that it is amazing how few of those words, for which it has been unjustly characterised, are actually to be found in it ; I am sure, not the proportion of one to each paper.'' This idle charge has been echoed from one babbler to another, who have confounded Johnson's Essays with Johnson's Dictionary ; and because he thought it right in a lexicon of our lan- guage to collect many words which had fallen into disuse, but were supported by great authorities, it has been imagined that all of these have been interwoven into his own compositions. That some ' Yet his style did not escape the harmless shafts of pleasant humour ; for the ingenious Bonnel Thornton published a mock Rambler iri the Drury Lane Journal. — Boswell. * Mr. Boswell's zeal carries him too far : Johnson's style, especially in the Rambler, is fre- quently turgid, even to ridicule; but he has been too oftened censured with a malicious flip- pancy; which Boswell may be excused for resenting ; and even graver critics have sometimes treated him with inconsiderate injustice ; for instance,— The Rev. Dr. Burrowes (now Dean of Gorki, in an " Essay on the Style of Dr. Johnson," published in the first volume of the Tran- sactions of the Royal Irish Academy (17S7), observes : — "Johnson says, that he has rarely admitted any word not authorized by former writers; hut where are we to seek authorities for 'resuscitation, orbity, volant, fatuity, divaricate, asinine, narcotic, vulnerary, empireumatic, papilionaceous,' and innumerable others of the same stamp, which abound in and disgrace his pages? — for 'obtund, disruption, sensory, or panoply,' all occurring in the short compass of a single essay in the Rambler ; or for ' crema- tion, horticulture, germination, and decussation,' within a few pages in his Life of Browne? They may be found, perhaps, in the works of former writers, but they make no part of the English language. They are the illegitimate offspring of learning by vanity." It is wonder- ful, that, instead of asking where these words were to be founfl. Dr. Burrowes did not think of referring to Johnson's own Dictionary. He would have found good authorities for almost every one of them ; for instance, for resuscitatio7i, Milton and Bacon are quoted ; for volant, >Iilton and Phillips; ior fatuity, Arbuthnot ; for asinine, Milton; for narcotic and vulne- rary, Browne; for germination, Bacon^ and so on. But although these authorities, which Dr. Burrowes might have found in the Dictionary, are a sufficient answer to his question, let iti»e also observed, that many of these words were in use in more familiar authors than John- »on chose to quote, and that the majority of them are now become familiar, -rhich is a sulB- pjent proof that the Enpilish language has not considered them as illegitimate.- -C«oeer, *'-'^- *1- THE RAMBLER STYLE. 179 of tliem have been adopted by him uuiiecessarily, may, perhaps, be all.M'ed : but, in general, they are evidently an advantage ; foi without them his stately ideas would be confined and cramped. " He that thinks with more extent than another, will want words of larger meaning." [Idler, No. 10.] He once told me, that he had formed his style upon that of Sir William Temple, and upon Chambers's Proposal for his Dictionary.' He certainly was mis- taken ; or if he imagined at first that he was imitating Temple, h was very unsuccessful ; ' for nothing can be more unlike than the simplicity of Temple, and the richness of Johnson. Their styles differ as plain cloth and brocade. Temple, indeed, seems equally erroneous in supposing that he himself had formed his style upon Sandys's View of the State of Religion in the Western Parts of the World. The style of Johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great writers in the last century. Hooker, Bacon, Sanderson, Hakewill, and others ; those " Giants," as they were well charac- terised by A GREAT Personage, whose authority, were I to name him, would stamp r reverence on the opinion.^ "\V^e may, with the utmost propriety, apply to his learned style ihat passage of Horace, a part of which he has taken as the motto to his Dictionary : — " Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti ; Audcbit qufecumque pariim splcndoris habebunt, Et sine pondere erunt, et hoiiore indigna ferentur, Verba movere loco, quanivis iuvita recedant, Et verseutur adhuc intra penetralia Vestae. Obscurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque Proferet in lucem specioaa vocabula rerum, Qua3 priscis memorata Catonibiis atque Cethegis, Nunc situs in formis premit et deserta vetustas : Adsciscet nova, qu^ genitor produxerit usus : ' Chambers's Proposal for a second edition of his Dictionary, was probably in circulation when Johnson first came to London. — Malone. " See under April 9, 1778 ; wher^, in a conversation at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, Johnson him- self mentions the particular improvements which Temple made in the English style. — MiLONK. 3 Hooker he admired for his logical precision, Sanderson for his acuteness, and Taylor for his amazing erudition ; Sir Thomas Browne for his penet- ation, and Cowley for the ease and unaffected structure of his periods. The tinsel of Sprat disgusted him, and he could but just endure tlie smooth verbosity of Tillotson. Hammond and Barrow he thought involved ; and of the latter that he was unnecessarilj prolix. — H.vwkins. ISO Life of johnsoK. 1'8^ Vehemens, et liquidus, puroque simillimus amni, Fundet opes Latiumque beabit divite lingua." Epist. lib. ii. ep. 2.' . To SO great a master of thinkiug, to one of such vast and various knowledge as Johnson, might have been allowed a liberal indaJ- euce of that licence which Horace claims in another place : — " Si forte necessse est ludiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum, Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis Continget ; dabiturque licentia sunipta pudentur : Et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si Gi-Eeco fonte cadant, parce detorta. Quid autem Caecilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, adeniptum Virgilio Varioque ? Ego cur, acquirere pauca Si possum, invideor ; cum lingua Catonis et Enni Sernionem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum Nomina protulerit? Licuit, semperque licebit Signatum prsesente nota producere nomen." De Arte Poet.* ' •' But liow severely with themselves proceed The men, who wrote such verse as we can read ! Their own strict judges, not a word they spare That wants or force, or light, or weight, or care, Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place — Nay, though at court (pei-haps) it may find grace — Such they'll degrade ; and sometimes, in its stead, In downright charity revive the dead ; Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears. Bright through the rubbish of some hundred years ; Command old words that long have slept to wake, W^ords that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spake ; Or bid the new be English, ages hence, (For Use will father what's begot by Sense ;) Pour the full tide of eloquence along. Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong. Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue." POPB, IttOk. • " Words must be chosen and be placed will skill: You gain your point, when, by the noble art Of good connection, an unusal word Is made at first familiar to the ear ; But if you write of things abstruse or new. Some of your own inventing may be used, So it be seldom and discreetly done ; But he that hopes to have new words allow'd '*''^'^- ^ THE RAMBLER — STYLE. 1^1 Yet Johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the English language, of his own formation; and he was very much offended at the general licence by no means " modestly taken" in his time, not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical. Sir Thomas Browne, whose life Johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of Anglo-Latin diction; and to his example we are to ascribe Johnson's sometimes indulging himself in this kind of phraseology.* Johnson's comprehension of mind was the mould for his language. Ead his conceptions been narrower, his expression would have been jasier. His sentences have a dignified march; and it is certain that siis example has given a general elevation to the language of his •ountry, for many of our best writers have approached very near to him; and, from the influence which he has had ujdou our composi- tion, scarcely anything is written now that is not better expressed than was usual before he appeared to lead the national taste." This circumstance, the truth of which must strike every critical reader, has been so happily enforced by Mr. Courtenay, in his " Moral and Literary Character of Dr. Johnson," that I cannot prevail on myself to withhold it, notwithstanding his, perhaps, too great partiality for one of his friends : Must so derive them from the Grecian spring, As they may seem to flow without constraint. Can an impartial reader discommend In Varius or in Virgil, what he lilies In Plautus or Cascilius ? Why should I Be envied for tlie little I invent, When Ennius and Cato's copious style Have so enrich'ed and so adorn'd our tongue? Men ever had, and ever will have, leave To coin new words well suited to the age." Roscommon. ' The observation of his having imitated Sir Thomas Browne has been made by many peo- ple; and lately it has been insisted on, and illustrated by a variety of quotations from Browne, in one of the popular Essays written by the Rev. Mr. Knox, master of Tunbridga School, whom I have set down in my list as one of those who have sometimes not unsuccess- nilly imitated Dr. Johnson's style. ' The distinguishing excellence of Johnson's inartiier, both in speaking and writing, con- Bists in the apt and lively illustrations by example, with which, in his vigorous sallies, he enforces his just and acute remarks on human life and manners, in all their modes and representations ; the character and charm of his (style, in a happy choice of dignified and appropriate expressions, and that masterly involution of phrase, by which he contrives tc bolt the prominent idea strongly on the mind. — Biary of a Lover of Literature. !S2 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ''^ " By nature's gift ordain'd mankind to rule, He, like a Titian, form'd his brilliant school ; And taught congenial spirits to excel, While from his lips impressive wisdom fell. Our boasted Goldsmith felt the sovereign sway : From him derived the sweet, yet nervous lay. To Fame's proud cliff he bade our Kanaelle rise : Hence Reynolds' pen with Reynolds' pencil vies. With Johnson's flame melodious Burney glows, While the grand strain in smoother cadence flows. And you, Malone, to critic learning dear. Correct and elegant, refined though clear, By studying him, acquired that classic taste, Which high in Shakspeare's fane thy statue placed. Near Johnson Steetens stands on scenic ground. Acute, laborious, fertile, and profound. Ingenious Hawkesworth to this school we owe. And scarce the pupil from the tutor know. Here early parts accomplish'd Jones sublimes, And science blends with Asia's lofty rhymes : Harmonious Jones ! who in his splendid strains Sings Camdeo's sports, on Agra's flowery plains, In Hindu fictions while we fondly trace Love and the Muses, deck'd with Attic grace. Amid these names can Boswell be forgot, Scarce by North Britons now esteem'd a Scot ? * Who to the sage devoted from bis youth, Imbibed from him the sacred love of truth ; The keen research, the exercise of mind. And that best art, the art to know mankind. — Nor was his energy confined alone To friends around his philosophic throne ; Its influence wide improved our lettered isle, And lucid vigour marked the general style : At Nile's proud waves, swoln from their oozy bed, ' The following observation in Mr. Boswell's " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides " many sufficiently account for that gentleman's being " now scarcely esteemed a Scot" by many of his countrymen: "If he (Dr. Johnson) was particularly prejudiced against the Scots, it ia because they were more in his way ; because he thought their success in England rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit ; and because he could not but see in them that nationality which, I believe, no liberal-minded Scotchman will deny." Mr. Boswell, Indeed, is so free from national prejudices, that he might with equal propriety have been described as — " Scarce by South Britons now esteem'd a Scot.— CouRTENAr." *''^'- ■*^- THE RAMBLER — STYLE ] 83 First o'er the neighbouring meads majestic spread : Till gathering force, they more and more expand, And with new virtue fertilise the land. Johnson's language, however, must be allowed to be too mascu line for the delicate gentleness of female writing. His ladies, therefore, seem strangely formal, even to ridicule; and are well denominated by the names which he has given them, as Misella, Zozima, Properantia, lihodoclia/ It has of late been the fashion to compare the style of Addison and Johnson, and to depreciate, I think very unjustly, the style of Addison as nerveless and feeble, because it has not the strength and energy of that of Johnson. Their prose may be balanced like the poetry of Dryden and Pope. Both are excellent, though in different ways. Addison writes with the ease of a gentleman. His readers fancy that a wise and accomplished companion is talking to them ; so that he insinuates his sentiments and tastes into their minds by an imperceptible influence. Johnson writes like a teacher. He dic- tates to his readers as if from an academical chair. They attend with awe and admiration; and his precepts are impressed upon them by his commanding eloquence. Addison's style, like a light wine, pleases every body from the first. Johnson's, like a liquor of more body, seems too strong at first, but, by degrees, is highly relished; and such is the melody of his periods, so much do they caj^tivate the ear, and seize upon the attention, that there is scarcely any writer, however inconsiderable, who does not aim, in some degree, at the same species of excellence. But let us not ungratefully undervalue that beautiful style, which has pleasingly conveyed to us much instruction and entertainment.' Though comparatively weak, opposed to Johnson's Herculean vigour, let us not call it positively feeble. Let us remember the character of his style, as given by ' Mr. Burke said pleasantly, that "his ladies were all Johnsons in petticoats." Mr. rturphy seems to pass somewhat of the same censure on the letter in the 12th Rambler, from 1 young woman that wants a place : yet — such is the uncertainty of criticism — this is the japer quoted by Mr. Chalmers, as an example of such ease and familiarity of style, which dLudc him almost doubt whether it was Johnson's. Brit. Ess. vol. xix. p. -!4. — Croker. " "By the judicious .advict of Mr. Mallet, I was directed to the writings of Swift and Vddison: wit and simplicity are their common attributes, but the style of Swift is supported by manly original vigour ; that of Addison is adorned by the female graces of elegance and cildoess." — Gibbon. 184 ll^ifi Oe JOHNSON. ^''^ Johnson himself : " What he attempted, he performed; he \s tiever feeble, and he did not wish to be energetic; he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. His sentences have neither studied ampUtude, nor affected brevity: his periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy.' Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison.'"' Though the Rambler was not concluded till the year 1752, I shall under this year, say all that I have to observ* upon it. Some of the translations of the raottos by himself, are admirably done. He acknowledges to have received "elegant translations " of many of them from Mr. James Elphinston ; and some are very happily trans- lated by a Mr. F. Lewis, of whom I never heard more, except that Johnson thus described him to Mr. Maloue : " Sir, he lived in Lon- don, and hung loose upon society." The concluding paper of his Rambler is at once dignified and pathetic. I cannot, however, but wish, that he had not ended it with an unnecessary Greek verse, translated also into an English couplet.' It is too much like the conceit of those dramatic poets, who used to conclude each act with • When Johnson showed me a proof sheet of the character of Addison, in which he so highly extols his style, I could not help observing, that it had not been his own model, as no two styles could differ more from each other. " Sir, Addison had his style, and I have mine." When I ventured to ask him, whether the difference did not consist in this, that Addison's style was full of idioms, colloquial phrases, and proverbs ; and his own more strictly grammatical, and free from such phraseology and modes of speech as can never be literally translated or understood by foreigners ; he allowed the discrimination to be just. Let any one who doubts it, try to translate one of Addison's Spectators into Latin, French, or Italian ; and though so easy, familiar, and elegant, to an Englishman, as to give the intellect no trouble ; yet he would find the transfusion into another language extremely difficult if not impossible. But a Rambler, Adventurer, or Idler, of Johnson, would fall into any classical or European language, as easily as if it had been originally conceived in it. — Bcrnev. His manner of criticising and commending Addison's prose was the same in conversation as we read it in the printed strictures, and many of the expressions used have been heard to fall from him on commons occasions. It was, notwithstanding, observable enough (or I fancied so), that he did never like, though he always thought fit to praise, it; and his praises resem- bled those of a man who extols the superior elegance of high-painted porcehiin, while he himself always chooses to eat off plate. I told him so one day, and he neither denied it nor appeared displeased. — Piozzi. ^ I shall probably, in another work, maintain the merit of Addison's poetry, which hfv# Deen very unjustly depreciated. [Mr. Boswell, it is believed, never executed this intention.] * [Avrtjv £K fiaKupuv uvtu^loq etj] afio^fifj. Celestial powers ! that piety regard. From you my labours wait their last reward,"' • *'TAT. r.. PROLOGUE FOR MRS. FOSTKR J8C a rhyme , and the expression in the first line of his couplet, " Ce- Ic'tial powers" though proper in Pagan poetry, is ill suited to Chris tianity, with " a conformity " to which he consoles himself. How iruch better would it have been, to have ended with the prose sen- tence, "I shall never envy the honours which wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if I can be numbered among the writers who have given ardour to virtue, and confidence to truth." His friend, Dr, Birch, being now engaged in preparing an edition of Ralegh's smaller pieces. Dr. Johnson wrote the following letter to that gentleman : Letter 19. TO DR. BIRCH. " GoDGH-sQUARE, ifoy 12, 1750. Sir, — Knowing that j'ou are now preparing to favour tlie public with a new edition of Ralegh's miscellaneous pieces, I have taken the liberty to send you a manuscript, which fell by chance within my notice. I perceive no proofs of forgery in my examination of it ; and the owner tells me, that as he has heard, the hand-writing is Sir Walter's. If you should find reason to conclude it genuine, it will be a kindness to the owner, a blind person,' to recommend it 60 'he booksellers. I am. Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." His just abhorrence of Milton's political notions was ever strong. But this did not prevent his warm admiration of Milton's great poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious justice, beyond all who have written upon the subject. And this year he not only wrote a Prologue, wdiich was spoken by Mr. Garrick before the acting of Comus at Drury Lane Theatre, for the benefit of Milton's grand- daughter, but took a very zealous interest in the success of the charity. On the day preceding the performance, he publislied the following letter in the "General Advertiser," addressed to the printer of that paper " Sir, — That a certain degree of reputation is acquired merely by approving the works of genius, and testifying a regard to the memory of authours, is a truth too evident to be denied ; and therefore to ensure a participation of fame with a celebrated poet, many, who would, perhaps, have contributed to starve bim when alive, have heaped expensive pageants upon his grave." ' Mt?. Williams is probably the person meant. • Al>' ding probably to Mr. Auditor Benson — [who, in 1737, erected a monument to Miltoc 186 LIFE OF JOHNSON, "61. " Tt must, indeed, be confessed, that this method of becomii:g known to posterity with honour, is peculiar to the great, or at least to the wealthy ; but an opportunity now offers for almost every individual to secure the praise of paying a just regard to the illustrious dead, united with the pleasure of doing good to the Uving. To assist industrious indigence, struggling with distress and debilitated by age, is a display of virtue, and an acquisition of happiness and honour. " Whoever, then, would be thought capable of pleasure in reading the works of our incomparable Milton, and not so destitute of gratitude as to refuse to lay out a trifle in rational and elegant entertainment, for the benefit of hig living remains, for the exercise of their own virtue, the increase of their repu- tation, and the pleasing consciousness of doing good, should appear at Drury Lane theatre to-morrow, April 5, when Coraus will be performed for the benefit of Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, grand-daughter to the author, and tho only surviving branch of his family. ''N. B. There will be a new prologue on the occasion, written by the au- thor of Irene, and spoken by Mr. Garrick; and, by particular desire, there will be added to the Masque a dramatic satire, called Lethe, ii which Mr. Gar- rick will perform." * In 1151 we are to consider him as carrying on both his Dictionarj and Kambler. But he also wrote " The Life of Cheynel,"* in the miscellany called " The Student ;" and the Rev. Dr. Douglas having with uncommon acuteness clearly detected a gross forgery and impo- sition upon the public by William Lauder, a Scotch schoolmaster, who had, with equal impudence and ingenuity, represented Milton as a plagiary from certain modern Latin poets, Johnson, who had been so far imposed upon as to furnish a Preface and Postscript to his work, now dictated a letter for Lauder, addressed to Dr. Doug- las, acknowledging his fraud in terms of suitable contrition." in Westminster Abbey, and did not omit to inscribe his own name on it.] See Dunclad, b. iii. and iv. — Malone. ' For the honour of letters, the dignity of sacred poetry, the spirit of the English nation, and the glory of human nature, it is to be regretted tliatwe do not find a more liberal assist- ance. Tonson, the boolcseller, whose family had been enriched by the sale of the poet's writings, gave £20, and Bishop Newton, his biographer, brought a large contribution ; but all their efforts, joined to the allurements of Johnson's pen and Garrick's performance, procured only £130. — Anderson. ^ Lest there should be any person, at any future period, absurd enough to suspect that Johnson was a partaker in Lauder's fraud, or had any knowledge of it, when he assisted him with his masterly pen, it is proper here to quote the words of Dr. Douglas, now Bishop ol Salisbury, at the time when he detected the imposition. "It is to be hoped, nay it i? expected, that the elegant and nervous writer, whose judicious sentiments and inimitable Etyle point out the author of Lauder's Preface and Postscript, will no longer allow one to *'»''• •^- PREFACE FOR LAUDER. ISt This extraordinary attempt of Lauder was no sudden effort. He had brooded over it for many years : and to this hour it is uncer tain what his principal motive was, unless it were a vain notiou ot his superiority, in being able, by whatever means, to deceive man- kind. To effect this, he produced certain passages from Grotius, Mascnius, and others, which had a faint resemblance to some parts of the " Paradise Lost." In these he interpolated some fragmeuts of Hog's Latin translation of that poem, alleging that the mass thus fabricated was the archetype from which Milton copied. These fabrications he published from time to time in the Gentleman's Magazine ; and, exulting in his fancied success, he in 1*150 ventured to collect them into a pamphlet, entitled "An Essay on Milton's Use and Lnitation of the Moderns in his Paradise Lost." To this pamphlet Johnson wrote a Preface, in full persuasion of Lauder's honesty, and a Postscript recommending, in the most persuasive terms, a subscription for the relief of a grand-daughter of Milton, of whom he thus speaks : . " It is yet in the power of a great people to reward the poet whose name tliey boast, and from their alliance to whose genius they claim some kind of superiority to every other nation of the earth; that poet, whose works may possibly be read when every other monument of British greatness shall be obliterated ; to reward him, not with pictures or with medals, which, if lie sees, he sees with contempt, but with tokens of gratitude, which he, perhaps, may even now consider as not unworthy the regard of an immortal spirit." Surely this is inconsistent with "enmity towards Milton," which Sir John Hawkins imputes to Johnson upon this occasion, adding, "I could all along observe that Johnson seemed to approve not only of the design, but of the argument; and seemed to exult in a persuasion, that th9 plume Mm^el/ with his featheri, who alx'P^^"''^^^ so little to deserve assistance: an assist- ance which 1 am persuaded would never have been communicated, had there been the least suspicion of those facts which I have been the instrument of conveying to the world in these jhects." Milton no Plagiary, 2d edit. p. 78. And his Lordship has been pleased now to Authorise me to say, in the strongest manner, that there is no ground whatever for any infavorable reflection against Dr. Johnson, who expressed the strongest indignation against Liiuder. — Boswell. In the Gent. Mag. for 1754, is a short account of a renewed attack by Lauder on Milton's cliaracter, in a pamphlet entitled " The Grand Impostor detected, or Milton convicted of forgery against King Charles I." Mr. Chalmers thinks that this review was probably written by Jibnnson ; but It is, on every account, very unlikely. The article is trivial, and seelas to bs written neither ia the style nor sentiments of Johnson. — Croker, 188 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^^• -eputation of Milton was likely to suffer by this discovery. That he was not privy to the imposture, I am well persuaded; that he wished well to the argu ment, may be inferred from the Preface, which indubitably was written bj Johnson." Is it possible for any man of clear judgment to suppose that Johnson, who so nobly praised the poetical excellence of Milton in a Postscript to this very " discovery," as he then supposed it, could, at the same time, exult in a persuasion that the great poet's reputation was likely to suffer by it ? This is an inconsistency of which John- son was incapable ; nor can anything more be fairly iuferred from the Preface, than that Johnson, who was aUke distinguished for ar- dent curiosity and love of truth, was pleased with an investigation by which both were gratified. That he was actuated by these mo- tives, and certainly by no "unworthy desire to depreciate our great epic poet, is evident from his own words ; for, after mentioning the general zeal of men of genius and literature, " to advance the hon- our, and distinguish the beauties of Paradise Lost," he says, "Among the inquiries to which this ardour of criticism has naturally given occasion, none is more obscure in itself, or r^iore worthy of rational curiosity, than a retrospect of the progress of this mighty genius in the construction of bia work ; a view of the fabric, gradually rising, perhaps, from small begin- nings, till its foundation rests in the centre, and its turrets sparkle in the skies ; to trace back the structure through all its varieties to the simplicity of its first plan; to find what was first projected, whence the scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what assistance it was executed, and from what stores the materials were collected ; whether its founder dug them from the quarries of Nature, or demolished other buildings to embellish his own." ' Is this the language of one who wished to blast the laurels of Milton ? ' [Letter 20. TO MR. RICHARDSON. " March 9, 1750-t. ' Dear Sir, — Though Clarissa wants no help from external splendour, I waa glad to see her improved in her appearance, but more glad to find that she was now got above all fears of prolixity, and confident enough of success to sup- J " Proposals [written evidently by Johnson] for printing the Adamus Exul of Grc.tius, with a Translation and Notes by Wm. Lauder, A.M."— Gent. Mag. 1747, p. 404.— M.ilone. 2 But is it not extraordinary that Johnson, who had himself meditated a history of modern Latin poetry (see ante, p. 78), should lot have shown his curiosity and love (J" truth, by, at ^'^'•^2. CLARISSA. ISS ply whatever had been hitherto suppressed. I never indeed found a hint of* any such defalcation, but I regretted it ; for though the story is long, every 'ctter is short. " I wish you would add an index rcrmn,^ that when the reader recollects any incident, he may easily find it, which at present he cannot do, unless he knows in which volume it is told ; for Clarissa is not a performance to be read with eagerness, and laid aside for ever; but will be occasionally consulted by the busy, the aged, and the studious; and therefore I beg that this edition, by which I suppose posterity is to abide, may want nothing that can facilitate its use. " I am, Sir, yours, &c. "S. Johnson."] Though Johnson's circumstances were at this time far from being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. Mrs. Anna Williams, daughter of a very ingenious Welsh physician, and a woman of more than ordinary talents and literar ture, having come to London in hopes of being cured of a cataract, in both her eyes, which afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visiter at his house, while Mrs. John- son lived ; and, after her death, having come under his roof in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house.^ least, comparing Lauder's quotations with the original authors ? It was, we might say, his duty to have done so, before he so far pronounced his judgment as to assist Lauder; and had he attempted but to verify a single quotation, he must have immediately discovered the fraud. — Croker. ■ This proposition of an index rerum to a novel will appear extraordinary, but Johnson at this time appears to have been very anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of Richardson, who lived in an atmosphere of flattery, and Johnson found it necessary to fall into the fashion of the society. Mr. Northcote relates, that Johnson introduced Sir Joshua Reynolds and his sister to Richardson, but hinted to them, at the same time, that if they wished to see the lat- ter in good humour, they must expatiate on the excellencies of Clarissa ; and Mrs. I'iozzi tells us, that when talking of Richardson he once said, " You think I love flattery — and so I do ; but a little too much always disgusts me : that fellow, Richardson, on the contrary, could not be contented to sail quietly down the stream of reputation without longing to taste the ttoth from every stroke of the oar." — Croker. ^ Before the calamity of total deprivation of sight befell Mrs. Williams, she, with the assist- ance of her father, had acquired a knowledge of the French and Italian languages, and had made great improvements in literature, which, together with the exercise of her needle, at which she was very dexterous, as well after the loss of her sight as before, contributsd to sup- port her under her affliction, till a time when it was thought by her friends, that relief might be obtained from the hand of an operating surgeon. At the requAt of Dr. Johnson, I went with her to a friend of mine, Mr. Samuel Sharp, senior surgeon of Guy's Hospital, who before 190 LIFE OF JOHNSON. l'^*l- had given me to understand that he would couch her gratis if the cataract was ripe ; but upon making the experiment it was found otherwise, and that the crystalline humour was not suf- ficiently inspissated for the needle to take effect. She had been almost a constant companion of Mrs. Johnson for some time before her decease, but had never resided in the house ; after- wards, for the convenience of performing the intended operation, Johnson took her home; and, upon the failure of that, kept her as the partner of his dwelling till he removed into chambers. Afterward, in 1766, upon his taking a house in Johnson's Court, in Fleet Streeti, he invited her thither, and in that, and his last house, in Bolt Court, she successively dwe'.t for the remainder of her life. The loss of her sight made but a small abatement of her cheer- fulness, and was scarce any interruption of her studies. With the assistance of two female friends, she translated from the French of Pere La Bletrie " th» Life of the Emperor Julian," and, in 1766, she published, by subscription, a quarto volume of Miscellanies, in prose and verse, and thereby increased her little fund to three hundred pounds, which, being prudently invested, yielded an income that, under such protection as she experienced from Dr. Johuson, was sufficient for her support. She was a woman of an enlightened understanding; plain, as it is called, in her person, and easily provoked to anger, but possessing, nevertheless, some excellent moral qualities, among which no one was more conspicuous than her desire to pro- mote the welfare and happiness of others, and of this she gave a signal proof, by her solici- tude in favour of an institution for the maintenance and education of poor deserted females in the parish of St. Sepulchre, London, supported by the voluntary contributions of ladies; and, as the foundation-stone of a fund for its future subsistence, she bequeathed to it the whole of the little which she had been able to accumulate. To the endowments and qualities here ascribed to her, may be added a larger share of experimental prudence than is the lot of most of her sex. Johnson, in many exigencies, found her an able counsellor, and seldom showed his wisdom more than when he hearkened to her advice. In return, she received from his conversation the advantages of religious and moral improvement, which she culti- vated so, as in a great measure to smooth the constitutional asperity of her temper. When these particulars are known, this intimacy, which began with compassion, and terminated in a friendship that subsisted till death dissolved it, will be easily accounted for. — Hawkins, p. 822. Mrs. AVilliams was a person extremely interesting. She had uncommon firmness of mind, a boundless curiosity, retentive memory, and strong judgment. She had various powers of pleasing. Her personal afflictions and slender fortune she seemed to forget, when she had the power of doing an act of kindness : she was social, cheerful, and active, in a state of body that was truly deplorable. Her regard to Dr. Johnson was formed with such strength of judg- ment and firm esteem, that her voice never hesitated when she repeated his maxims, or re- cited his good deeds ; though upon many other occasions her want of sight led her to make so much use of her ear, as to affect her speech. Mrs. Williams was blind before she was ac- quainted with Dr. Johnson. She had many resources, though none very great. With tha Miss Wilkinsons she generally passed a part of the year, and received from them presents, and from the first who died, a legacy of clothes and money. The last of them, Mrs. Jane, •eft her an annual rent ; but fi'om the blundering manner of the will, I fear she never reaped the benefit of it. The lady left money to erect a hospital for ancient maids ; but the number she had allotted being too great for the donation, the Doctor (Johnson) said, it would be bet- ter to expunge the word maintain, and put in to starve such a number of old maids. They asked him what name should be given it: he replied, "Let it be called Jenny's Whim." [The name of a well-known tavern near Chelsea in former days.] " Lady Philips made her a small annual allowance, and some other Welsh ladies, to all of whom she was related. Mrs. Montague, on the death of Mr. Montague, settled upon her (by deed) ten pounds per annum. As near as I can calculate, Mrs. Williams had about thirty-five or forty pounds a year. The furniture she used [in her apartment in Dr. Johnson's house] was her own ; her expenses were small, tea and bread and butter being at least half of her nourishment. Sometimes she had a servant or charwoman to do the ruder offices of the house ; but she was herself active and industrious. I have frequently seen her at work. Upon remarking one day hv '^'AT. 4i jfj^g -wiLUAMg 191 facility in moving about the iiouse, searching into drawers, and finding books, without tha help of sight, ' Believe me (said she), persons who cannot do these common offices without sight, did but little while they enjoj-ed that blessing.' Scanty circumstances, bad health, an blindness, are surely a sufficient apology for her being sometimes impatient: htr natural disposition was good, friendly, and humane." — Lady Knight. I see her now— a jalf, shrunken old lady, dressed in scarlet, made in the handsome French fashion of the time (1775), with a lace cap, with two stiffened projecting wings on the teuiple.f, und a black lace hood over it. Her temper has been recorded as mai-ked with AVulsh lire, and this might be excited by some of the meaner ijmiates of tlie uiipcr floors [of Di-. Jolin.'ars liter, does he mention her age, which was at her death sixty-three. — Croker. 2 Offended perhaps, and not unreasonably, that she was not mentioned in Johnson's will.— Cbokej. ' I isked him, if he ever disputed with his wife (I had heard that he loved her passion- ately) '' Perpetually," said he : " my wife had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desird the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become (roubeeome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigli for the hour o 196 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^^ this IS perfectly compatible with his fondness for her, especiiilly when it is remembered that he had a high opinion of her under- standing, and that the impressions which her beauty, reai or imaginary, had originally made upon his fancy, being continued by habit, had not been effaced, though she herself was doubtless much altered for the worse.' The dreadful shock of separation took place in the night ; and he immediately despatched a letter to his friend, the Reverend Dr. Taylor, which, as Taylor told me. eipressed grief in the strongest manner he had ever read ; so that it s much to be regretted it has not been preserved." The letter wasbrought to Dr. Taylor, at his house in the Cloisters, Westminster, about three in the morning ; and as it signified an earnest desise to see him, he got up, and went to Johnson as soon as he was dr^sed, and found him in tears and in extreme agitation. After beia^ a little while together, Johnson requested him to join with him h prayer. He then prayed extempore, as did Dr. Taylor ; and thus by means of that piety which was ever his primary object, his trouiiled mind was, in some degree, soothed and composed. The next day he wrote as follows : I Letter 21. TO THE REV. DR. TAYLOR. " Marh 18, 1752. " Dear Sir, — Let me have your company and instruction, lo not live away from me. My distress is great. sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber : a clean fltor is so com- fortable, she would say sometimes, by way of twitting ; till at last I told her, tlat I thouglit we had talk enough about the floor, we would now have a touch at the ceiling." On another occasion I have heard him blame her for a fault many people have, of setting tie miseries of their neighbours half unintentionally, half wantonly, before their eyes, showing fiera the bad side of their profession, situation, &c. He said, "She would lament the de^ndence of pupilage to a young heir, &c. and once told a waterman who rowed her along tfe Thames in a wherry, that he was no happier than a galley-slave, one being chained to the off by autho- rity, the other by want. I had, however (said he, laughing), the wit to get her ilaughter on my side always before we began the dispute." She read comedy better than aay body he ever heard (he said) ; in tragedy she mouthed too much. — Piozzi. ' Garrick told Mr. Thrale, however, that she was a little painted puppet, of lo value at all, and quite disguised with affectation, full of odd airs of rural elegance ; and himade out some comical scenes, by mimicking her in a dialogue he pretended to have overhiftrd. Mr. Johnson has told me that ner hair was eminently beautiful, quite blonde like that (f a baby ; but that she fretted about the colour, and was always desirous to dye it black, whicti he very iudiciously hindered her from doing. The picture I found of her at Lichfield was very pretty, and her daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter, said it was like. The intelligence I gained of her from eld Levett, was only perpetatal illness and perpetual opivm. — Piozzi. » Id the Gentleman's Magazine for February, 1794, p. 100, was printed a letter pEtending *TAT. 43. DEATH OF MRS. JORXSOX. 1 9t " Pray desire Mrs. Taylor to inform me what mourning I should buy for hit mother and Miss Porter, and bring a note in writing with you. " Remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man. I am, dear Sir, &c. " Sam. Johnson.'' That his sufferings upon the death of his wife were severe, beyond what are commonly endured, I have no doubt, from the information of many who were then about him, to none of whom I give more credit than to Mr. Francis Barber, his faithful negro servant,' who came into his family about a fortnight after the dismal event. These sufferings were aggravated by the melancholy inherent in his constitution ; and although he probably was not oftener in the wrong than she was, in the little disagreements which sometimes troubled his married state, during which, he owned to me, that the gloomy irritability of his existence was more painful to him than ever, he might very naturally, after her death, be tenderly disposed to charge himself with slight omissions and offences, the sense of which would give him much uneasiness." Accordingly we find, about a year after her decease, that he thus addressed the Supreme Being : — " Lord, who givest the grace of repentance, and hearest the prayers of the penitent, grant that by true contrition I may obtain forgiveness of all the sins committed, and of all duties to be that written by Johnson on the death of his wife : but it is merely a transcript of the 41st number of " The Idler," on the death of a friend. A fictitious date, March 17, 1741, S., was added, to give a colour to this deception. — Malone. ' Francis Barber was born in Jamaica, and was brought to England in 1750 by Colonel Bathurst, father of Johnson's very intimate friend Dr. Bathurst. Re was sent, for some time, to the Reverend Mr. Jackson's school, at Barton, in Yorkshire. The colonel by his will left him his freedom, and Dr. Bathurst was willing that he should enter into Johnson's service, in which he continued from 1752 till Johnson's death, with the exception of two intervals ; In one of which, upon some difference with his master, he went and served an apothecary in Cheapside, but still visited Dr. Johnson occasionally ; in another, he took a fancy to go to sea. Part of the time, indeed, he was, by the kindness of his master, at a school in Northampton- shire, that he might have the advantage of some learning. So early and so lasting a connec- tion was there between Dr. Johnson and this humble friend. — Boswell. The uses for which Francis was intended to serve Johnson were not very apparent, for Diogenes himself never wanted a servant less than he seemed to do. The great bushy wig which, throughout his life, he affected to wear, by that closeness of texture which it had con- tracted and been suffered to retain, was ever nearly as impenetrable by a comb as a quickset hedge ; and little of the dust that had once settled on his outer garments was ever known tc have been disturbed by the brush. — Hawkins. » See his beautiful and affecting Rambler, No. 54.— Malonk. 198 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "™- neglected, in my union with the wife whom thou hast taken from me ; for the neglect of joint devotion, patient exhortation, and mild instruction." [Pr, aLd Med. p. 19.] The kindness of his heart, notwithstanding the impetuosity of his temper, is well known to his friends ; and 1 cannot trace the smallest foundation of the following dark and uncharitable assertion by Sir John Hawkins : — " The apparition of his departed wife was altogether of the terrific kind, and hardly afforded him a hope that she was in a state of happi ness." That he, in conformity with the opinion of many of the most able, learned, and pious Christians in all ages, supposed that there was a middle state after death, previous to the time at which departed souls are finally received to eternal felicity, appears, I think, unquestionable from his devotions: — "And, Lord, so far as it may be lawful in me, I commend to thy fatherly goodness iht smd of my departed wife; beseeching thee to grant her whatever is best in her present state, and finally to receive her to eternal happiness.^' * [Pr. and Med. p. 20.] But this state has not been looked upon with horror, but only as less gracious. He deposited the remains of Mrs. Johnson in the church of Bromley in Kent,' to which he was probably led by the residence qf his friend Hawkesworth at that place. The funeral sermon which he composed for her, which was never preached, but, having been given to Dr. Taylor, has been published since his death, is a per- formance of uncommon excellence, and full of rational and pious comfort to such as are depressed by that severe affliction which Johnson felt when he wrote it. When it is considered that it was '- It does not appear that Johnson was fully persuaded that there was a middle state: hii prayers being only conditional, i. e. if such a state existed. —Ma lone. 2 A few months before his death, Johnson honoured her memory by the following epitaph, irhich was inscribed on her tombstone, in the church of Bromley : — Hie conduntur reliquiae ELIZABETHS Antiqua Jarvisiorura gente, Peatlingse, apud Leicestrienses, ortse ; Formosse, cultae, ingeniosje, piae ; Uxoris, primis nuptiis, Henkici Porter. Secundis, Samuelis Johnson ; Qui multum amatam, diuque defletam Hoc lapide contexit. Obiit Londini, Mense Mart. AD. MDCCLII. Sif^t-^ ROBERT LEVETT. 199 written in such an agitation of mind, and in the short interval be- tween her death and burial, it cannot be read without wonder. From Mr. Francis Barber I have had the following authentic and artless account of the situation in which he found him recently after his wife's death : — " He was in great affliction. Mrs. Williams was then living in his house, which was in Gough Square. He was busy with the Dictionary. Mr. Shiels, and some others of the gentlemen who had formerly written for him, used to come about him. He had then little for himself, but frequently sent money to Mr. Shiels when in distress. The friends who visited him at that time were chiefly Dr. Bathurst,* and Mr. Diamond, an apothecary in Cork Street Burlington-gardens, with whom he and Mrs. Williams gene- rally dined every Sunday. There was a talk of his going to Iceland with him, which would probably have happened, had he lived. There were also Mr. Cave, Dr. Hawkesworth, Mr. Eyland, merchant on Tower-hill, Mrs. Masters, the poetess, who lived with Mr. Cave, Mrs. Carter, and sometimes Mrs. Macaulay ; also, Mrs. Gardiner, wife of a tallow-chandler on Snow-hill, not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman ; Mr. (now Sir Joshua) Reynolds ; Mr. Miller, Mr. Dodsley, Mr. Bouquet, Mr. Payne, of Paternoster-row, book- sellers ; Mr. Strahan, the printer ; the Earl of Orrery, Lord South- well, Mr. Garrick." Many are, no doubt, omitted in this catalogue of his friends, and in particular, his humble friend Mr. Robert Levett, an obscure practiser in physic amongst the lower people, his fees being some- times very small sums, sometimes whatever provisions his patients could afford him; but of such extensive practice in that way, that Mrs. Williams has told me, his walk was from Houndsditch to Marybone. It appears, from Johnson's diary, that their acquaint ' Mr. Bathurst, though a phj'sician of no inconsiderable merit, had not the good fortune to get much practice in London. He was, therefore, willing to accept of employment abroad, and, to the regret of all who knew him, fell a sacrifice to the destructive climate, in the expe- dition against the Havannah. Mr. Langton recollects the following passage in a letter from Dr. Johnson to Mr. Beauclerk : — The Havannah is taken ; a conquest too dearly obtained ; Vr, Bathurst died before it ; ' Vix PHamwi tanti totaque Troja fiiit.'' " — Boswell. Dr. Johnson told Mrs. Piozzi that he loved "Dear, dear Bathurst better than he ever loved any human creature ;" and it was on him tha'. he bestowed the singular eulogy of being a good hater. " Dear Bathurst," said he, " waj a man to my very heart's content ; he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue, and he hated a Whig : he was a very good hater /" — Crokbb. 200 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 17M ance commenced about the year 1146 ; and such was Johnson's predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate abili- ties, that I have heard him say he should not be satisfied, though attended by all the College of Physicians, unless he had Mr. Levett with him. Ever since I was acquainted with Dr. Johnson, and many years before, as I have been assured by those who knew him earlier, Mr. Levett had an apartment in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious breakfast. He was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while any company was present.' The circle of his friends, indeed, at this time was extensive and various, far beyond what has been generally imagined." To trace his acquaintance with each particular person, if it could be done, would be a task, of which the labour would not be repaid by the advantage. But exceptions are to be made ; one of which must be a friend so eminent as Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was truly his dulce decus, and with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last hour of his life. When Johnson lived in Castle Street, Cavendish Square, he used frequently to visit two ladies who lived opposite to him. Miss Cotterells, daughters of Admiral Cotterell. Reynolds used also to visit there, and thus they met.' Mr. Reynolds, • Robert Levett, though an Englishman by birth, became early in life a waiter at a coffee- house in Paris ; where the surgeons who frequented it, finding him of an inquisitive turn, and attentive to their conversation, made a purse for him, and gave him some instructions in their art. They afterwards furnished him with the means of other knowledge, by procuring him free admission to such lectures in pharmacy and anatomy as were read by the ablest professors of that period. Where the middle part of his life was spent is uncei'tain He resided above twenty years under Johnson's hospitable roof, who never wished him to be regarded as an inferior, or treated him like a dependent. — Steevens. 2 Mr. Murphy, who is, as to this period, better authority than Mr. Boswell, says, " It was late in life before he had the habit of mixing, otherwise than occasionally, with polite com- pany ;" and Dr. Harwood has favoured me with the following memorandum, in Johnson's writing, made about this time, of certain visits which he was to make (perhaps on his return from Oxford in 1754) ; and which, as it contains the names of some of the highest and lowest of his acquaintances, is probably a list of nearly all his friends : — " Visits to Brodie, Fowke, Taylor, Elphinston, Osborn, Garden[er], Richardson, Strahan, Millar, Tonson, Dodsley, Rey« nolds, Lennox, Gully, Hawkesworth, Gardiner, Drew, Lawrence, Garrick, Robinson, sen., Boyle, Wilson, Henry, Tyers, Hawkins, Ryland, Payne, Newberry, Bathurst, Grainger, Baker, Weston, Millar, Craster, Simpson, Rose, Oiffard, Gregory, Desmoulins, Lloyd, Sherrard. — Croeer. » It would be naturally inferred, from Mr. Boswell's account, that the acquaintance be- tween Johason and Sir Joshua took place so early as at the time when the former resided Sn *"''■ ^- SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 201 as I have observed above, had, from the first reading of his Life of Savage, conceived a very high admiration of Johnson's powers of writing. His conversation no less delighted hun ; and he cultivated nit acqunintance with the Inudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement. Sir Joshua, indeed, was lucky enough, at their very first meeting, to make a remark, which was so much above the common-place style of conversation, that Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had the habit of thinking for himself. The ladies were regretting the death of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations ; upon which Reynolds observed, "You have, however, the comfort of being relieved from a burthen of gratitude." They were shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish ; but Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, and was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of human nature/ which it exhibited, like some of the reflections of Rochefou- cault. The consequence was, that he went home with Reynolds, and supped with him. Sir Joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of John- son about the time of their first acquaintance. When they were one evening together at the Miss Cotterells', the then Duchess of Argyle " and another lady of high rank came in. Johnson, thinking that the Miss Cotterells were too much engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew angry ; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by making their great visitors imagine that his Castle street. This can hardly have been the case. Reynolds, then a youth under age, passed the years 1741 and 1742 in London, but did not again revisit the metropolis till the end of 1752. (See Northcote's Life, pp. 12, 31, and 82.) That the acquaintance did not com- mence on the first visit is proved by its having occurred after the publication of the Life ol Savage, which was in 1744 Barber also must have been in error when he described Reyrolds as one of Johnson's intimates at the period of his wife's death. — Croker ■ Johnson himself has a sentiment somewhat similar in his 87th Rambler : — 'There are mhids so impatient of inferiority, that their gratitude is a species of revenge, and they return benefits, not because recompense is a pleasure, but because obligation is a pain." — J. BoswKLL, jun This is, no doubt, "a somewhat similar sentiment;" but, in the Rambler, Johnson mentions it with the censure he deserves ; whereas, in the text, he is represented ai applauding it. Such an observation is very little like the usual good mannei-s, good nature, and good sense of Sir Joshua ; and we cannot but suspect the authority, whatever it was, oc which Boswell admitted this anecdote. — Croker. ^ Jane Warburton, second wife of John second Duke of Argyle. His Grace died in 1743, She survived till 1767.- -Croker. 9* 20*2 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '^ friend and he were low indeed, he addressed himself in a loud tone to Mr. Reynolds, saying, " How much do you think you and I could get in a weeli, if we were to work as hard as we could ?" — as if they had been common mechanics.' His acquaintance with Bennet Langton, Esq., of Langton, in Lin- colnshire, another much valued friend, commenced soon after the conclusion of his Rambler ; which that gentleman, then a youth, had read with so much admiration, that he came to London chiefly with a view of endeavouring to be introduced to its author.* By a for- tunate chance, he happened to take lodgings in a house where Mr. Levett frequently visited ; and having mentioned his wish to his landlaily, she introduced him to Mr. Levett, who readily obtained Johnson's permission to bring Mr. Langton to him ; as, indeed, Johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no shyness, real or affected, but was easy of access to all who were properly recom- mended, and even wished to see numbers at his levee, as his morning ' Mrs. Chapone, in one of her letters to Miss Carter, gives the following account of her meeting Johnson and Miss Williams at Richardson's country-house, near Fulham, about this time : — " 10th July, 1752. " We had a visit, whilst at Northend, from your friend Mr. Johnson and poor Mrs. Williams. I was charmed with his behaviour to her, which waii like that of a fond father to his daughter. She seemed much pleased with her visit ; showed very good sense, with a great deal of modesty and humility ; and so much patience and cheerfulness under her misfortune, that it doubled my concern for her. Mr. Johnson was very communicative and entertaining, and did me the honour to address most of his discourse to me. I had the assurance to dispute with him on the subject of human malignity, and wondered to hear a man, who, by his actions, shows s"^ much benevolence, maintain that the human heart is naturally malevolent, and that all the benevolence we see in the few who are good is acquired by reason and reli- gion. You may believe I entirely disagreed with him, being, as you know, fully persuaded that benevolence, or the love of our fellow-creatures, is as much a part of our natures as self- love ; and that it cannot be suppressed or extinguished without great violence from the force of other passions. I told him, I suspected him of these bad notions from some of his Ram- blers, and had accused him to you ; but that you had persuaded me I had mistaken his sense. To which he answered, that if he had betrayed such sentiments in the Ramblers, it was with- out design ; for that he believed that the doctrine of human malevolence, though a true one, is not a useful one, and ought not to be published to the world. Is there any truth that would not be useful, or that should not be known ?" — Works, vol. i., p. T2. ^ Mr. Langton was born about 1787, and entered, as Dr. Hall informs me. of Trinity Col- lege, Oxford, July 7, 1757. So much of his history is told with that of Dr. Johnson's, that it la unnecessary to say more in this place, except that he was remarkable for his knowledge of Greek, and that he seems, at one time of his life, to have practised engineering as a profes- Blon. On Dr. Johnson's death, he succeeded him as professor of ancient literature in t\t% Royal Academy. He died on the 10th of December, 1801, and was buried at Southampton, • CaOKER. *'*'-^- BENNET LANGTON. 203 circle of company might, with strict propriety, be called. Mr Langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared He had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. From perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-drest, in short, a remarkably, decorous philosopher. Instead of which, down from his bed-chamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. But his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so congenial with those in which Langton had been educated, that he conceived for him that venera- tion and attachment which he ever preserved. Johnson was not the less ready to love Mr. Langton, for his being of a very ancient family ; for I have heard him say, with pleasure, " Langton, sir, has a grant of free-warren from -Henry the Second ; and Cardinal Ste- phen Langton, in King John's reign, was of this family." Mr. Langton afterwards went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Oxford, where he formed an acquaintance with his fellow- student, Mr. Topham Beauclerk ; ' who, though their opinions and modes of hfe were so different, that it seemed utterly improbable that they should at all agree, had so ardent a love of literature, so acute an understanding, such elegance of manners, and so well dis- cerned the excellent qualities of Mr. Langton, a gentleman eminent not only for worth and learning, but for an inexhaustible fund of entertaining conversation, that they became intimate friends. Johnson, soon after this acquaintance began, passed a considera- ble time at Oxford. He at first thought it strange that Langton Bhould associate so much with one who had the character of being loose, both in his principles and practice ; but, by degrees, he him tiimself was fiiscinated. Mr. Beauclerk's being of the St. Albau' family, and having, in some particulars, a resemblance to Charles the Second, contributed, in Johnson's imagination, to throw a lustre upon his other qualities ; and, in a short time, the moral, pious Johnson, and the gay, dissipated JBeauclerk, were companions. " What a coalition ! (said Garrick, when he heard of this :) I shall • Topham Eeauderk, only son of Lord Sidney Beauclerk, thii-d son of the first Duke of S/.. JJbans, was oorn in 1 "89. and entered Trinity College, Oxford, in Nov., 1757 204 LIFE OF JOHNSON. *^** have my old friend to bail out of the Round-house." But I can bear testimony that it was a very agreeable association. Beauclerk was too polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to oflFeud Johnson by sallies of infidelity or licentiousness ; and Johnson delighted in the good qualities of Beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. Innumerable were the scenes in which Johnson was amused by these young men. Beauclerk could take more liberty with him than any- body with whom I ever saw him ; but, on the other hand, Beauclerk was not spared by his respectable companion, when reproof was proper. Beauclerk had such a propensity to satire, that at one time Johnson said to him, " You never open your mouth but with intention to give pain ; and you have often given me pain, not from the power of what you said, but from seeing your intention." At another time applying to him, with a slight alteration, a line of Pope, he said, — " Thy love of folly, and thy scorn of fools — Every thing thou dost shews the one, and every thing thou say'st the other." At another time he said to him, " Thy body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue." Beauclerk not seeming to relish the com- pUment, Johnson said, " Nay, sir, Alexander the Great, marching in triumph into Babylon, could not have desired to have had more said to him.' Johnson was some time with Beauclerk at his house at Windsor, where he was entertained with experiments in natural philosophy. One Sunday, when the weather was very fine, Beauclerk enticed him, insensibly, to saunter about all the morning. They went into a church-yard, in the time of divine service, and Johnson laid him- self down at his ease upon one of the tomb-stones. *' Now, sir, ' said Beauclerk, " you are like Hogarth's Idle Apprentice." When Johnson got his pension, Beauclerk said to him, in the humorous phrase of Falstafi", " I hope you'll now purge and live cleanly, like a gentleman." One night, when Beauclerk and Langton had supped at a tavern iu London, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into theif heads to go and knock up Johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. They rapped violently at the dooi^ *TAT. 4d. BKAUCLERK AND LANGTON. 205 of his chambers in the Temple, till at last he appeared iu his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a night- cap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruf- fians were coming to attack him. When he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good- humour agreed to their proposal: " What, is it you, you dogs ! I'll have a frisk with you." ' He was soon drest, and they sallied forth together into Covent Garden, where the green-grocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. Johnson made some attempts to help them ; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd inter- ference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. They then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called Bishop, which Johnson had always liked: while, iu joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he re- peated the festive lines : " Short, short then be thy reign, And give us to the world again !" They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, took a boat, and rowed down to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and Johnson were so well pleased with their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: but Langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young ladies. John- son scolded him for " leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a tset of wretched un-idea'd girls." Garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, " I heard of your frolic t'other night. You'll be in the Chronicle." * Upon which Johnson afterwards observed, " He durst not do such a thing. His wife would not lei him !" ' Johnson, as Mr. Kemble observes to me, might here have had in his thoughts the wonls of Sir John Brute (a character which, doubtless, he had seen represented by Garrick), who uses nearly the same expression in "The Provoked Wife," Act iii. Scene 1. — Malone. ' Mr. Langton has recollected, or Dr. Johnson repeated, the passage wrong. The lines afa hi Lord Laasdowne's Drinking Song to Sleep, and run thus : " Short, very short be then thy reign, For I'm in haste to laugh and drink again." ' As Johnson's companions in this frolic were both thirty years younger than he, it is nc vender that Garrick should be a little alarmed at such extravagances. Nor can we bel. 206 LIFK OF JOHNSON. ^^^ He entered upon this year, 1753, with his usual piety, as appears from the following prayer, which I transcribed from that part of his diary which he burnt a few days before his death: " January 1, 1753, N. S., which I shall use for the future. " Almighty God, who hast continued my life to this day, grant tiiivl, by the assistance of thy Holy Spirit, I may improTe the time which thou shalt grant me, to my eternal salvation. Halve me to remember, to thy glory, thy judg- ments and thy mercies. Make me so to consider the loss of my wife, whom thou hast talvcn from me, that it may dispose me, by thy grace, to lead the residue of my life in thy fear. Grant this, Lord, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." * He now relieved the drudgery of his Dictionary, and the melan- eholy of his grief, by taking an active part in the composition of " The Adventurer," in which he began to write April 10, marking his essays with the signature T, by which most of his papers in that collection ^re distinguished : those, however, which have that signa- tnre, and also that of Mysargyrus, were not written by him, but, as I suppose, by Dr. Bathurst. Indeed, Johnson's energy of thought and richness of language, are still more decisive marks than any signature. As a proof of this, my readers, I imagine, will not doubt that No. 39, on Sleep, is his; for it not only has the general texture and colour of his style, but the authors with whom he was peculiarly conversant are readily introduced in it in cursory allusion. The translation of a passage in Statius,* quoted in that paper, and marked C. B., has been erroneously ascribed to Dr. Bathurst, whose Christian name was Richard. How much this amiable man actu- ally contributed to " The Adventurer" cannot be known. Let me add, that Hawkesworth's imitations of Johnson are sometimes so happy, that it is extremely difficult to distinguish them with cer- tainty, from the composition of his great archetype. Hawkesworth Bmiling at the philosopher of fifty scolding a young man of twenty for having the had taste to prefer the company of a set of wretched un-idea'd girls. — Croker. [See Johnson's rear sons for liking the society of men much younger than himself, ^o*/, July 21, 1763. ■ " We may learu from Dr. Johnson's devotional pieces the proper use to be made of the beginning of a nuw year (as suggesting useful and appropriate topics of meditation), and by the example of that excellent person, how much a pious mind is wont to be affected by this memorial of the lapse of life." — Paley.J "^ This is a slight inaccuracy. The Latin Sapphics translated by C. B. in that paper, wer« written by Cowley, and are in his fourth book on Plants. — Malone. *""■•**■ THE ADVENTURER. 201 was his closest imitator, a circumstance of which that writer would once have been proud to be told ; though, when he had become elated by having risen into some degree of consequence, he, in a conversation with me, had the provoking effrontery' to say he was not sensible of it. Johnson was truly zealous for the success of " The Adventurer ;" and very soon after his engaging in it, he wrote the following letter : Letter 22. TO THE REV. DR. JOSEPH WARTON. "8th March, 1T5.3. "Dear Sir, — I ought to have written to you beTore now, but I ought to do many things which I do not ; nor can I, indeed, claim any merit from this let- ter ; for being desired by the authors and proprietor of the Adventurer to look out for another hand, my thoughts necessarily fixed upon you, whose fund of literature will enable you to assist them, with very httle interruption of your studies. " They desire you to engage to furnish one paper a month, at two guineas a paper, which you may very readily perform. We have considered that a paper should consist of pieces of imagination, pictures of life, and disquisitions of literature. The part which depends on the imagination is very well supplied, as you will find when you read the paper ; for descriptions of life, there is now a treaty almost made with an author and an authoress ; and the province of criticism and literature they are very desirous to assign to the commentators on Virgil. " I hope this proposal will not be rejected, and tliat the next post will bring us your compliance. I speak as one of the fraternity, though I have no part in the paper, beyond now and then a motto ; but two of the writers are my particular friends, and I hope the pleasure of seeing a third united to them, will not be denied to, dear sir, your most obedient and most humble ser- vant, " Sam. Johnson." The consequence of this letter was. Dr. Wartou's enriching the collection with several admirable essays.* • This is not a tone in which Mr. Boswell should have allowed himself to speak of Dr. Hawkesworth on such an occasion ; the improved style of Dr. Johnson in the Idler, might as well be said to be borrowed from the Adventurer, as that of the Adventurer from the Ram- bler. Johnson and Hawkesworth, may have influenced each other, and yet either might say, withoul fffronter'y, that he was not conscious of it. Boswell had the mania of imagining that every eminent writer of the day owed his fame to being an imitator of Johnson ; we shall see several instances of it in the course of the work. — Croker. ' In this place, though rather out of date, may be given Johnson's letter to Warton on tU« eooclusion of the Adventurer : — 208 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "58 Johnson's saying, " I have no part in the paper beyond now and then a motto," may seem inconsistent with his being the author of the papers marked T. But he had, at this time, written only one number ; and besides, even at any after period, he might have used the same expression, considering it as a point of honour not to own them ; for Mrs. Williams told me that, " as he had given those Essays to Dr. Bathurst, who sold them at two guineas each, he- ncver would own them ; nay, he used to say he did not write them : but the fact was, that he dictated them, while Bathurst wrote." I read to him Mrs. Williams's account ; he smiled, and said uothing. I am not quite satisfied with the casuistry by which the produc- tions of one person are thus passed upon the world for the produc- tions of another. I allow that not only knowledge, but powers and qualities of mind may be communicated ; but the actual effect of individual exertion never can be transferred, with truth, to any other than its own original cause. One person's child may be made the child of another person by adoption, as among the Romans, or by the ancient Jewish mode of a wife having children born to her upon her knees, by her handmaid. But these were children in a different sense from that of* nature. It was clearly understood that they were not of the blood of their nominal parents. So in hterary chil- Letteb 23. TO THE REV. DR. JOSEPH WARTON. " 8th March, 1754. •'Wear Sir, — I cannot but congratulate you upon the conclusion of a work, in which you have borne so great a part with so much reputation. I immediately determined that your name should be mentioned, but the paper having been some time written, Mr. Hawkesworth, I suppose, did not care to disorder its text, and therefore put your eulogj' in a note. He and every other man mentions your papers of criticism with great commendation, though not with greater than they deserve. " But how little can we venture to exult in any intellectual powers or literary attainments when we consider the condition of poor Collins. I knew him a few years ago full of hopes and full of projects, versed in many languages, high in fancy, and strong in retention. This busy and forcible mind is now under the government of those who lately would not have been able to comprehend the least and most narrow of its designs. What do you hear of -him? are there hopes of his recovery? or is he to pass the remainder of his life in misery and degradation — perhaps with complete consciousness of his calamity ? " You have flattered us, dear Sir, for some time with the hope of seeing you ; when you come you will find your reputation increased, and with it the kindness of those friends who do not envy you ; for success always produces either love or hatred. I enter my name among those that love, and love you more and more in proportion as by writing more you are more known ; and believe, that as you continue to diffuse among us your integrity and learning, I shall be still with greater esteem and affection, dear Sir, your most obedient and humble ser- vant, '.'Sam. JOHNSOR," ■^TAT. 44 THE ADVENTURER. 209 dren, an author may give the profits and fame of his composition tc another man, but cannot make that other the real author. A Highland gentleman, a younger branch of a family, once consulted me if he could not validly purchase the Chieftainship of his family, from the Chief who is willing to sell it. I told him it was impossi- ble for him to acquire, by purchase, a right to be a different person from what he really was : for that the right of Chieftainship attached to the blood of primogeniture, and, therefore, was incapa- ble of being transferred. I added, that though Esau sold his birth- right, or the advantages belonging to it, he still remained the first- born of his parents ; and that whatever agreement a Chief might make with any of the clan, the Heralds' OfBce could not admit of the metamorphosis, or with any decency attest that the younger was the elder ; but I did not convince the worthy gentleman. Johnson's papers in the Adventurer are*very similar to those of the Rambler ; but being rather more varied in their subjects,* and being mixed with essays by other writers, upon topics more gene- rally attractive than even the most elegant ethical discourses, the sale of the work, at first, was more extensive. Without meaning, however, to depreciate the Adventurer, I must observe, that as the value of the Rambler came, in the progress of time, to be better known, it grew upon the public estimation, and that its sale has far exceeded that of any other periodical papers since the reign of Queen Anne. In one of the books of his diary I find the following entry : "April 3, 1753. I began the second vol. of my Dictionary, room being left in the first for Preface, Grammar, and History, none of them yet begun. " God, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in tliis labour, and in the whole task of my present state ; that when I shall render up, at the last day, an account of the talent committed to me, I may recei"ve pardon, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.'^ [Letter 24. TO MR. RICHARDSON. " 26th Sept., 1763. "Dear Sir : — I return you my sincerest thanks for the volumes of your new • Dr. Johnson honered and somewhat disguised his style, in writing the Adventurers, i« order that his papers might pass for those of Dr. Bathurst, to whom he consigned llie profits This was Ilawkeswcrtji's opinion. — Burnev. 21.0 LIFE OF JOHNSON. _ 1'^68- work;' but it is a kind of tyrannical kindness to give only so much at a time as makes more longed for ; but that will probably be thought, even of the whole, when you have given it. " I have no objection but to the preface, in which you first mention the letters as fallen by some chance into your hands, and afterwards mention your health as such, that you almost despaired of going through your plan. If you were to require my opinion which part should be changed, I should be inclined to the suppression of that part which seems to disclaim the composition. What is modesty if it deserts from truth ? Of what use is the disguise by which nothing is concealed ? " You must forgive this, because it is meant well. " I thank you once more, dear sir, for your books ; but cannot I prevail thia time for an index ? — such I wished, and shall wish, to Clarissa." Suppose that in one volume an accurate index was made to the three works — but while I am writing an objection arises — such an index to the three would look like the preclusion of a fourth, to which I will never contribute ; for if I cannot benefit mankind, I hope never t« injure them. I am, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson."] He this year favoured Mrs. Lenox with a Dedication* to the Earl of Orrery, of her " Shakspeare Illustrated." * 1 " Sir Charles Grandison," which was originally published in successive volumes. Thia relates to the sixth and seventh volumes. — Croker. ^ Richardson adopted Johnson's hint ; for, in 1755, he published in octavo, " A Collection of the Moral and Instructive Sentiments, Maxims, Cautions, and Reflections, contained in the Histories of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles Grandison, digested under proper heads." It is remarkable, that both to this book, and to the first two volumes of Clarissa, is prefixed a Preface &y a friend. The "friend," in this latter instance, was the celebrated Dr. M'arbur- ton.- — Malone. ^ Johnson's acquaintance was now sought by persons of the first eminence in literature, and %is house, in respect of the conversations there, became an academy. Many persons were •lesirous of adding him to the number of their friends. Invitations to dine with such of those is he liked, he so seldom declined, that, to a friend of his, he said, " I never but once, upon a resolution to employ myself in study, balked an invitation out to dinner, and then I stayed at home and did nothing." Little, however, did that laxity of temper, which this confession leems to imply, retard the progress of the great work in which he was employed : the conclu- lion, and also the perfection of his dictionary, were objects from which his attention was not to be diverted. The avocations he gave way to were such only as, when complied with, lerved to invigorate his mind to the performance of his engagements to his employers and the public, and hasten the approach of the day that was to reward his labour with applause. Mrs. Lenox, a lady now well known in the literary world, had written a novel, entitled " The Life of Harriot Stuart," which in the spring of 1751 was ready for publication. One evening at the [Ivy Lane] Club, Johnson proposed to us the celebrating the birth of Mrs. Lenox's fi-rst literary child, as he called her book, by a whole night spent in festivity. LTpon his mentioning it to me, I told hira I had never sat up a whole night in my life ; but he conti- nuing to press me, and saying, that I should find- great delight in it, I, as did all the r?5t a' '^•'••^^•^ MRS. LENOX. Ml our compaily, consented. The place appointed was the Devil Tavern, and there, about the hour of eight, Mrs. Lenox and her husband, and a lady of her acquaintance, still [1785] liv- ing, as also the club, and friends to the number of near twenty, assembled. The supper was elegant, and Johnson had directed that a magnificent hot apple-pie should make a part of it, and this he would have stuck with bay leaves, because, forsooth, Mrs. Lenox was an authoress, and had written verses ; and further, he had prepared for her a crown of laurel, with which, but not till he had invoked the muses by some ceremonies of his own invention, he encircled her brows. The night passed, as must be imagined, in pleasant conversation and harmless mirth, intermingled, at different periods, with the refreshments of coffee and tea. About five, Johnson's face shone with meridian splendour, though his drink had been only lemonade ; but the far greater part of the company had deserted the colours of Bacchu: , and were with difficulty rallied to partake of a second refreshment of coffee, which was scarcely ended when the day began to dawn. This phenomenon began to put us in mind of our reckoning ; but the waiters were all so overcome with sleep, that it was two hours before a bill could be had, and it was not till near eight that the creaking of the street door gave the ilgnal for our departure. — Hawkihb. CHAPTER XI. 1154. Johnson writes the " Life of Cave — The Dictionary — Lord Chesterfield — His alleged Neglec of Johnson — His Papers in " The AVorld," in Kecommendation of the Dictionary — Letter tc the Earl Bolingbroke's Works edited by Mallet — -Johnson visits Oxford for the purpose »f consulting the Libraries — His Conversations with Mr. Warton, Mr. AVise, and others — SU Robert Chambers — Letters to Warton — Collins. In 1154 I can trace notning published by him, except his numbers of the Adventurer, and " The Life of Edward Cave," in the Gentle- man's Magazine for February. In biography there can be no ques- tion that he excelled, beyond all who have attempted that species of composition ; upon which, indeed, he set the higheit value. To the minute selection of characteristical circumstances, for which the ancients were remarkable, he added a philosophical research, and the most perspicuous and energetic language. Cave was certainly a man of estimable qualities, and was eminently diligent and success- ful in his own business, which, doubtless, entitled him to respect. But he was peculiarly fortunate in being recorded by Johnston ; wlio, of the narrow life of a printer and publisher, without any digressions or adventitious circumstances, has made an interesting and agreeable nan'ative. The Dictionary, we may believe, afforded Johnson full occupation this year. As it approached to its conclusion, he probably worked with redoubled vigour, as seamen increase their exertions and ala- crity when they have a near prospect of their haven. Lord Chesterfield, to whom Johnson had paid the high compli- ment of addressing to his lordship the Plan of his Dictionary, had behaved to him in such a manner as to excite his contempt and in- dignation. The world has been for many years amused with a story confidently told, and as confidently repeated with additional circum- stances, that a sudden disgust was taken by Johnson upon occasiou 212 **'^*-^ LORD CHESTERFIELD. 2lS of bis having been one day kept long in waiting in bis lordship's antechamber, for which the reason assigned was, that he had com- pany with him ; and that at last, when the door opened, out walked Colley Gibber ; and that Johnson was so violently provoked when he found for whom he had been so long excluded, that he went away in a passion, and never would return. I remember having mentioned this story to George Lord Lyttelton, who told me he was very inti- mate with Lord Chesterfield ; and, holding it as a well-known truth, defended Lord 'Chesterfield by saying, that "Cibber, who had been introduced familiarly by the back-stairs, had probably not been there above ten minutes." It may seem strange even to entertain a doubt concerning a story so long and so widely current, and thus implicitly adopted, if not sanctioned, by the authority. which I have mentioned; but Johnson himself assured me, that there was not the least foun- dation for it. He told me, that there never was any particular inci- dent which produced a quarrel between Lord Chesterfield and him ; but that his lordship's continued neglect was the reason why he re- solved to have no connection with him. When the Dictionary^as upon the eve of pubUcation, Lord Ches- terfield, who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that Johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted, in a courtly manner, to soothe and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as it would seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated its learned author ; and further attempted to conciliate him, by writing two papers in " The World," in recommendation of the work ; and it must be confessed, that they contain some studied compliments, so finely turned, that if there had been no previous offence, it is pro- bable that Johnson would have been highly delighted. Praise, in general, was pleasing to him ; but by praise from a man of rank and elegant accomplishments, he was peculiarly gratified. His Lordship says : " I think the public in general, und the republic of letters in particular, are greatly obliged to Mr. Johnson for having undertaken and executed so great and desirable a work. Perfection is not to be expected from man ; but if we are to judge by the yarious works of Johnson already pubhshed, we have good reason to believe, that he will bring this as near to perfection as any man could do. The Plan of it, which he published some years ago, seems to me to be a S14 LIFE OF JOHNSON. . '^ proof of it. Xothing can be more rationally imagined, ov more accuraiel? and elegantly expressed. I therefore recommend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend to buy the Dictionary, and who, I suppose, are all those who can afford it." " It must be owned, that our language is, at pres-^ut, in a state of anarchy, and hitherto, perhaps, it may not have been the worse for it. During our free and open trade, many words and expressions have been imported, adopted, and naturalised from other languages, which have greatly enriched our own. Let it still preserve what real strength and beauty it may have borrowed from others ; but let it not, like the Tarpeian maid, be overwhelmed and crushed by unnecessary ornaments. The time for discrimination seems to be now come. Toleration, adoption, and naturalisation have r'.in their lengths. Good order and authority are now necessary. But where ohall we find th»>m, and, at the earae time, the obedience due to them? We must have reconrse to the old Roman expedient in times of confusion, and choose a dictator. Upon this principle, I give my vote for Mr. Johnson to fil\ that great and arduous post. And I hereby declare, that I make a total surrender of all my rijrhts and privi- leges in the English language, as a free-born British subject, to the said Mr. Johnson, during the term of his dictatorship. Nay, more : I will not only obey him like an old Roman, as my dictator, but, like a modern Roman, I will implicitly believe in him as my Pope, and hold hiru to be infallible while in the ohair, but no longer. More than this he cannot w^ require ; for, I presume that obedience can never be expected, when there is neither terror to enforce, nor interest to invite it." "But a Grammar, a Dictionary, and a History of our ]angu;ige through its several stages, were still wanting at home, and importunately called for from abroad. Mr. Johnson's labours will now, I dare s*y, very fully supply that want, and greatly contribute to the farther spreading of our language in other countries. Learners were discouraged, by finding no standard to resort to ; find, consequently, thought it incapable of any. They will now be undeceived and encouraged." This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson, who thought that " all was false and hollow," despised the honeyed words, and was even indignant that Lord Chesterfield should, for a moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an artifice. His ex- pression to me concerning Lord Chesterfield, upon this occasion, was, " Sir, after making great professions, he had, for many years, taken no notice of me ; but when my Dictionary was coming out, hts ell a scribbling in ' The World' about it. Upon which, I wrote him a letter expressed in civil terms, but such as might show him that I did not mind what he said or wrote, and that I had done with Kim " '*^}'*'- ■^- TEE mCTlOXARY. . 215 This is that celebrated letter of which so much has been said, and about wliich curiosity has been so long excited, without being gra- tified. I for many years solicited Johnson to favour me with u copy of it, that so excellent a composition might not be lost to posterity. He delayed from time to time to give it me ;' till at last, in 1781, when we were on a visit at Mr. Billy's, at Southhill, in Bedfordshire, he was pleased to dictate it to me from memory. He afterwards found among his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to Mr. Baretti, with its title and corrections, in his own hand-writing. This he gave to Mr. Langton ; adding, that if it were to come into print, he wished it to be from that copy. By Mr. Langton's kind- ness, I am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect transcript of what the woi'ld has so eagerly desired to see. Lettkr 25. TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. February 7, 1755. " My Lord, — I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of ' The "World,' that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were written by your lordship. To be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. " When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your addresg, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqneur da vain- queur de la terre — that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending ; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it.'' When I had once ad-' ' Dr. Johnson appeared to have a remarkable delicacy with respect to the circulation of this letter ; for Dr. Douglas, bishop of Salisbury, informs me, that having many years ago pressed him to be allowed to read it to the second Lord Hardwicke, who was very desirous to hear it (promising at the same time that no copy of it should be taken), Johnson seemed much pleased that it had attracted the attention of a nobleman of such a respectable character; but after pausing some time, declined to comply with the request, saying, with a smile, " No, Sir ; I have hurt the dog too much already ;" or words to that purpose. — Boswell. 2 Johnson's personal manners and habits, even at a later and more polished period of his life, would probably not have been much to Lord Chesterfield's taste ; but it must be remem- bered, that Johnson's introduction to Lord Chesterfield did not take place till his lordship was fAsl Jiffy, and he was soon after attacked bj' a disease which estranged him from society. The neglect lasted, it is charged, from 174S to 1755 : his private letters to his most intimj.to friends will prove that during that period Lord Chesterfield may be excused for not cultivating Johnson's society : — e. y. 20th Jan. 1749. " My old disorder in my head hindered me from acknowledging your former letters." SOth June, 1752. "lam here in my hermitage, ver> oeaf, and consequently alone ; but I am les^ dejected than most people in my situotiou 216 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^'^^ dressed your lordship in puolic, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing whicK a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could ; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. " Seven years, m} lord, have now past, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door ; during which time I have been push- ing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of pubhcation, without one act of assist- ance,* one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. " The shepherd in Virgil grew at least acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. " Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumber.s him with help ? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; ' till would be." 10th Oct. 1753. " 1 belong 7io more to social life.'''' 16th Nov. 175-3. " I know my place, and form my plan accordingly, for / strike society out of it " 10th July, 175.5. " My deafness is extremely increased, and daily increasing, and cuts me wholly off from th<) society of others, and my other complaints deny me the society of myself," &c., &c. John- Bon, perhaps, knew nothing of all this, and imagined that Lord Chesterfield declined his acquaintance on some opinion derogatory to his personal pretensions. Mr. Tyers, however, suggests a more precise and probahle ground for Johnson's animosity than Boswell gives, by iiintlng that Johnson expected some pecuniary assistance from Lord Chesterfield. He Bays, "It does not appear that Lord Chesterfield showed any siibstmitial proofs of approbation to our philologer. A small present Johnson would have disdained, and he was not of a temper to put up with the affront of a ili^appointment. lie revenged himself in a letter to his lord- ship, written with great acrimony. Lord Chesterfield, indeed, commends and recommends Mr. Johnson's Dictionary in two or three numbers of ' The World ;' but ' not icords alone please him.' " — Biog. Sketch. — C. 1 The following note is subjoined by Mr. Langton : — " Dr. Johnson, when he gave me this 'copy of his letter, desired that I would anne.x to it his information to me, that whereas it is said in the letter that 'no assistance has been received,' he did once receive from Lord Ches- terfield the sum of ten pounds ; but as that was so inconsiderable a sum, he thought the men- tion of it could not properly find a place in a letter of the kind that this was." — B. This surely is an unsatisfactory e.xcuse ; for the sum, though now so inconsiderable, was one which, many years before, Johnson tells us, that Paul 'Whitehead, then a fashionable poet, received for a new work : it was as much as Johnson himself had received for the copyright of his best poetical production ; and when Dr. Madden, some years after, gave liim the same sum for revising a work of his, Johnson said that the Doctor " was very generous ; for ten guineas was to me, at that time, a great sum, " — (see po.ft, 1756). When Johnson alleged against Lord Chesterfield such a trifle as the waiting in his anteroom he ought not to have omitted a pecuniary obligation, however inconsiderable. — C. s In ihis passage Dr. Johnson evidently alludes to the loss of his wife. We find the sam« tender recollection recurring to his mind upon innumerable occasions ; and, perhaps, no man ever more forcibly felt the truth of the sentiment so elegantly expressed by my friend Mi, Malone, in his prologue to Mr. Jephson's tragedy of " Julia :" "Vain — wealth, and fame, and fortune's fostering care, If no fond breast the splendid blessings share ; ■^TAT. 45. THE DICTIONARY. 21T I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confe.'s obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. " Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less ; for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once boasted myself with so much exultation. " My Lord, ■ " Your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, " Sam. Johnson." * " While this was the talk of the town (says Dr. Adams in a let- ter to me), I happened to visit Dr. Warburton, who, finding thai I was acquainted with Johnson, desired me earnestly to carry his compliments to him, and to tell him, that he honoured him for his manly behaviour in rejecting these condescensions of Lord Chester- field, and for resenting the treatment he had received from him with a proper spirit. Johnsoii was visibly pleased with this compliment, for he had always a high opinion of Warburton." ^ Indeed, the force of mind which appeared in this letter, was congenial with that which Warburton himself amply possessed. There is a curious minute circumstance which struck me. in com- paring the various editions of Johnson's Imitations of Juvenal. In the tenth Satire one of the couplets upon the Canity of wishes even for literary distinction stood thus : — " Yet think what ills the-scholar's Hfe assail, Toil, envy, want, the garret^ and the jail." And, each day's bustling pageantry once past, There, only there, our bliss is found at last." — B. ' Upon comparing this copy with that which Dr. Johnson dictated to me from recollection, the Tariations are found to be so slight, that this must be added to the many other proofs which he gave of the wonderful extent and accuracy of his memory. To gratify the curioua In composition, I have deposited both the copies in the British Museum — B. ' Soon after Edwards's " Canons of Criticism " came out, Johnson was dining at Tonson the bookseller's, with Hayman the painter, and some more company. Hayman related to Sii Joshua Reynolds, that the conversation having turned upon Edwards's book, the gentlemen praised it much, and Johnson allowed its merit. But when they went farther, and appeared to put that author upon a level with Warburton, " Nay (said Johnson), he has given him some Bmart hits, to be sure; but there is no proportion between the two men ; they must not be uamed together. A fly, sir, may sting a stately horse and make him wince ; but one is bu» an i.isect, and the other is a horse still." — B. VOL. I. 10 218 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1T34. But after experiencing the uneasiness which Lord Chesterfield's fal- lacious patronage made him feel, he dismissed the word garret from the sad group, and in all the subsequent editions the line stands " Toil envy, want, the Patron, and the jail." That Lord Chesterfield must have been mortified by the lofty con- tempt, and polite, yet keen, satire with which Johnson exhibited him to himself in this letter, it is impossible to doubt. He, how- ever, with that glossy duplicity which was his constant study, affected to be quite unconcerned. Dr. Adams mentioned to Mr. Robert Dodsley, that he was sorry Johnson had written his letter to Lord Chesterfield. Dodsley, with the true feelings of trade, said " he was very sorry too; for that he had a property in the Diction- ary, to which his lordship's patronage might have been of conse- quence." He then told Dr. Adams, that Lord Chesterfield had shown him the letter. " I should have imagined (replied Dr. Adams) that Lord Chesterfield would have concealed it." " Poh ! said Dodsley) do you think a letter from Johnson could hurt Lord . Chesterfield ? Not at all, sir. It lay upon his table, where any body might see it. He read it to me; said, ' This man has great powers,' pointed out the severest passages, and observed how well they were expressed." This air of indifference, which imposed upon the worthy Dodsley, was certainly nothing but a specimen of that dissimulation which Lord Chesterfield inculcated as one of the most essential lessons for the conduct of life.^ His lordship endeavoured to justify himself to Dodsley from the charges brought against him by Johnson ; but we may judge of the flirasiness of his defence, from his having excused his neglect of Johnson, by saying, that " he had heard he had changed his lodgings, and did not know where he lived;" as if there could have been the smallest difficulty to inform himself of that circumstance, by inquiring in the literary circle with ' Why? If, as may have been the case, Lord Chesterfield felt that Johnson was unjust towards him, he would not have been mortified^/Z n^y a que la verite qui ilesse. By Mr. Boswell's own confession, it appears that Johnson did not give copies of this letter ; that for many years Boswell had in vain solicited him to do so, and' that he, after the lapse of twenty years, did so reluctantly. AVith all these admissions, how can Mr. Boswell attribute to any thing but conscious rectitude Lord Chesterfield's exposure of a letter which the author was so willing to bury in oblivion ? - ^'^-^I'-^S. LORD CHESTERFIELD. 219 which his lordship was well acquainted, and was, indeed, himself one of its ornaments. Dr. Adams expostulated with Johnson, and suggested, that his not being admitted when he called on him, was probably not to be imputed to Lord Chesterfield; for his lordship had declared to Dods- ley, that " he would have turned off the best servant he ever had, if he had known that he denied him to a man who would have been always more than welcome;" and in confirmation of this, he insisted on Lord Chesterfield's general affability and easiness of access,, especially to literary men. " Sir, (said Johnson) that is not Lord Chesterfield ; he is the proudest man this day existing." " No, (said Dr. Adams) there is one person, at least, as proud ; I think, by your own account, you are the prouder man of the two." " But mine, (replied Johnson instantly; was defensive pride." This, as Dr. Adams well observed, was one of those happy turns ' for which he was so remarkably ready. Johnson having now explicitly avowed his opinion of Lord Ches- terfield, did not refrain from expressing himself concerning that nobleman with pointed freedom : " This man, (said he) I thought had been a lord among wits : but I find he is only a wit among lords !" And when his Letters to his natural son were published, he observed, that " they teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing-master." " ' This, like all the rest of the affair, seems discoloured by prejudice. Lord Chesterfield made no attack on Johnson, who certainly acted on the offensive, and not the defensive. — C. ^ That collection of Letters cannot be vindicated from the serious charge of encouraging, in some passages, one of the vices most destructive to the good order and comfort of society, which his lordship represents as mere fashionable gallantry ; and, in others, of inculcatang the base practice of dissimulation, and recommending, with disproportionate anxiety, a perpetual attention to external elegance of manners. But it must, at the same time, be allowed, that they contain many good precepts of conduct, and much genuine information upon life and manners, very happily expressed ; and that there was considerable merit in paying so much attention to the improvement of one who was dependent upon his lordship's protection : it has, probably, been exceeded in no instance by the most exemplary parent : and though I can by no means approve of confounding the distinction between lawful and illicit offspring, which is, in effect, insulting the civil establishment of our country, to look no higher; I cannot help thinking it laudable to be kindly attentive to those, of whose existence we have, in any way been the cause. Mr. Stanhope's character has been unjustly represented as diametrically opposite to what Lord Chesterfield wished him to be. He has been called dull, gross, and awk ward : but I knew him at Dresde., when he was envoy to that court ; and though he could not boast otihe graces, he was, in truth, a sensible, civil, well-behaved man. — B. Cord Chesterfield died in 1TT3. The " Letters " were published the year following, by hi« •jn'g widow ; but the author appears to have given no authority for such a step. 220 LIFE OP JOHNSON * ^^''*- The character of a " respectable Hottentot," iu Lord Chester- field's Letters, has been generally understood to be meant for John- son, and I have no doubt that it was. But I remember when the Literary Property of those letters was contested in the court of ses- sion in Scotland, and Mr. Henry Duudas,' one of the counsel for the proprietors, read this character as an exhibition of Johnson, Sir David Dalrymple, Lord Hailes, one of the judges, maintained, with some warmth, that it was not intended as a portrait of Johnson, but of a late noble lord distioguished for abstruse science. I have heard Johnson himself talk of the character, and say that it was meant for George Lord Lyttelton, in which I could by no means agree ; for his Lordship had nothing of that violence which is a conspicuous feature in the composition. Finding that my illustrious friend could bear to have it supposed that it might be meant for him, I said, laughingly, that there was one trait which unquestionably did not belong to him; "he. throws his meat anywhere but down his throat." " Sir," said he, " Lord Chesterfield never saw me eat in his life." " On the 6th of March came out Lord Bolingbroke's works, pub- lished by Mr. David Mallet. The wild and pernicious ravings under the name of " Philosophy," which were thus ushered into the world, gave great offence to all well-principled men. Johnson, hearing of their tendency, which nobody disputed, was roused with a just in- dignation, and pronounced this memorable sentence upon the noble author and his editor : " Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward : a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality ; a coward, because he had no resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman, to draw the trigger after his death !" Garrick, who I can attest from my own knowledge, had his mind seasoned with pious reverence, and sincerely disapproved of the infidel writings of several, whom in the course of his almost universal gay intercourse with men of eminence he treated with external civility, distinguished himself upon this occasion. Mr. Pel- > Afterwards Viscount Melville. He died in 1811. ' Lord Chesterfield's picture, if meant for Johnson, was not overcharged ; for what betweec his blindness, his nervousness, and his eagerness, all his frisnds describe his mode of eating t< have been sometliing worse than awkward. — C. ^^"^ ^- VISIT TO OXFORD. 221 ham having died on the very day ou which Lord Bolingbroke's works came out, he wrote an elegaut Ode on his death, beginning, "Let others bail the rising sun, I bow to that whose course is run •" in which is the following stanza : "The same sad morn, to Church and State (So for our sins 'twas fix'd by fate) A double stroke was given ; Black as the whirlwinds of the North, St. John's fell genius issued forth, And Pelham's fled to heaven." Johnson this year found an interval of leisure to make an excur Bion to Oxford, for the purpose of consulting the libraries there. Oi this, and of many interesting circumstances concerning him, during a part of his life when he conversed but little with the world, I am enabled to give a particular account, by the liberal communications of the Reverend Mr. Thomas Warton, who obligingly furnished me with several of our common friend's letters, which he illustrated with notes. These I shall insert in their proper places. LitTTKR 26. TO THE REV. THOMAS WARTON. " [London] July 16, 1T54. " Sir : — It is but an ill return for the book with which you were pleased to favour me,' to have delayed my thanks for it till now. I am too apt to be negligent ; but I can never deliberately show my disrespect to a man of your character : and I now pay you a very honest acknowledgment, for the advance- ment of the literature of our native country. You have shown to all, who shall hereafter attempt the study of our ancient authors, the way to success ; by directing them to the perusal of the books which those authors had read. Of this method, Hughes," and men much greater than Hughes, seem never to have thought. The reason why the authors, which are yet read, of the six- > Observations on Spenser's Fairy Queen, the first edition of which was now published.— Warto5. 2 John Hughes, the poet, was born at Marlborough in 1677. In 1715, he published an edi- tion of Spenser, " a work," says Johnson, " for which he was well qualified, as a judge of the beauties of writing, but perhaps wanted an antiquary's knowledge of the obsolete words." His tragedy of the " Siege of Damascus " was first represented February 17, 1720 ; and on th« »ame day he died. Pope describes him as " a good humble-spirited man, a great admirer of Addison, and but a poor writer, except his play ; that is very well." 322 LIFE OP JOHNSON. 1^54. lecnth century, are so little understood, is, that tbey are read alone ; and no help is borrowed from those who lived with them, or before them. Some part of this ignorance I hope to remove by my book, [the Dictionary,] which now draws towards its end ; but which I cannot finish to my mind, without visiting the libraries of Oxford, which I therefore hope to see in a fortnight. I _know not how long I shall stay, or where I shall lodge : but shall be sure to look for . you at my arrival, and we shall easily settle the rest. I am, dear sir, your most obedient, &c., "Sam. Johnson." Of bis conversation while at Oxford at this time, Mr. Warton preserved and communicated to me the following memorial, which, though not written with all the care and attention which that learned and elegant writer bestowed on those compositions which he intended for the public eye, is so happily expressed in an easy style, that I should injure it by any alteration. " When Johnson came to Oxford in 1*754, the long vacation was beginning, and most people were leaving the place. This was the first time of his being there, after quitting the University. The next morning after his arrival, he wished to see his old college, Pembroke. I went with him. He was highly pleased to find all the college -servants which he had left there still remaining, particularly a very old butler ; and expressed great satisfiiction at being recog- nised by them, and conversed with them familiarly. He waited on the mas- ter. Dr. Radcliffe, who received him very coldly. Johnson at least expected that the master would order a copy of his Dictionary, now near publication ; but the master did not choose to talk on the subject, never asked Johnson to dine, nor even to visit him, while he staid at Oxford. After wo had left the lodgings, Johnson said to me, ' There lives a man, who lives by the revenues of literature, and will not move a finger to support it.* If I come to live at Oxford, I shall take up my abode at Trinity.' We then called on the Reverend Mr. Meeke, one of the fellows, and of Johnson's standing. Here was a most cordial greeting on both sides. On leaving him, Johnson said, ' I used to 1 There is some excuse for Dr. Ratcliff (so he spelt his name) not ordering a copy of the book, for this visit occurred seven or eight months before the Dictionary was publislied. His personal ne-gXeci of Johnson is less easily to be accounted for, unless it be by the fact, that be was a great invalid ; but the imputation of his living by the revenues of literature, and doing nothing for it, cannot, as Dr. Hall informs me, be justly made against Dr. Ratcliff, for he bequeathed to his college £1000 4 per cents, for the establishment of an exhibition for the son of a Gloucestershire clergyman— £1000 for the improvement of the college buildings— £100 worth of books — and £100 for contingent expenses. The residue of his property (except £600 left for the repair of the prebendal house at Gloucestershire) he left to the old butler men- tioned in the text, who had long been his servant : a bequest which Johnson himself imitated In favour of his own servant. Barber. — 0. ^T^-r-'i^ VISIT TO OXFORD. 223 think Meeke had excellent parts, when we were boys together at the college : Dut, alas! ' Lost in a convent's solitary gloom !' " ' I remember, at the classical lecture in the Hall, I could ncit boar Mcoke's superiority, and I tried to sit as far from him as I could, that I might not hear aim construe.' " As we were leaving the college, he said, ' Here I translated Pope's Mes- siah. Which do you think is the best line in it? — My own favourite is, ' Vallis aromaticas fundit Saronica nuhes.'' I told him, I thought it a very sonorous hexameter. I did not tell him, it was not in the Virgilian style. He much regretted that his_^?'si tutor was dead; for whom he seemed to retain the greatest regard. He said, ' I once had been a whole morning sliding in Christ-Church meadows, and missed his lecture in logic. After dinner he sent for me to his room. I expected a sharp rebuke for my idleness, and went with a beating heart.' When we were seated, he told me he had sent for me to drink a glass of wine with him, and to tell me, he was not angry with me for missing his lecture. This was, in fact, a most severe reprimand. Some more of the boys were then sent for, and we spent a very pleasant afternoon.' Besides Mr. Meeke, there was only one other fellow of Pembroke now resident : from both of whom Johnson received the greatest civilities during this visit, and they pressed him very much to have a room in the college. " In the course of this visit Johnson and I walked three or four times to Ellsfield, a village beautifully situated about three miles from O.xford, to see Mr. [Francis] Wise, Radclivian librarian, with whom Johnson was much pleased. At this place, Mr. Wise had fitted up a house and gardens, in a Ringular manner, but with great taste. Here was an excellent library, par- ticularly a valuable collection of books in Northern literature, with which Johnson was often very busy. One day Mr. Wise read to us a dissertation which he was preparing for the press, intitled " A History and Chronology of the fabulous Ages." Some old divinities of Thrace, related to the Titans, and called the Cabiri, made a very important part of the theory of this piece ; and in conversation afterwards, Mr. Wise talked much of his Cabiri. As we returned to Oxford in the evening, I outwalked Johnson, and he cried out Suffmiiina, a Latin word which came from his mouth with peculiar grace, and 1 This was Johnson's earliest account of this little event, and probably the most accurate; jiany years after this he old the story to Boswell and Mrs. Piozzi, and made a parade of his having waited on his tutor, not with a "heating heart" but with '■^nonchalance and even insolence." It would seem as if Johnson had been induced, by the too obsequious deference of Ills later admirers, to assign to his character in youth a little more of sturfly dig- liiiy than, when his recollection was fresher and his ear unspoiled by flattery, he assumed '.c Mi. "Wivrton.— C. 224 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^^ was as much as to say, Ptit on your drag-chain. Before we got home, I again walked too fust for him ; and he now cried out, ' Why, you walk as if you were pursued by all the Cabiii in a body.' In an evening we frequently took long walks from Oxford into the country, returning to supper. Once, in our way home, we viewed the ruins of the abbeys of Oseney and Rewley, near Oxford. After at least half an hour's silence, Johnson said, ' I viewed them with indignation !' We had then a long conversation on Gothic buildings; and in talking of the form of old halls, he said, ' In these halls, the fire-place was anciently always in the middle of fce room, till the Whigs removed it on one side.' About this time there had been an execution of two or three criminals at Oxford on a Monday. Soon afterwards, one day at dinner, I was saying that Mr. Swinton,* the chaplain of the gaol, and also a frequent preacher before the university, a learned man, but often thoughtless and absent, preached the condemnation-sermon on repentance, before the convicts, on the preceding day, Sunday ; and that in the close he told his audience, that he should give them the remainder of what he had to say on the subject, the next Lord's Day. Upon which, one of our company, a doctor of divinity, and a plain matter-of- fact man, by way of offering an apology for Mr. Swinton, gravely remarked, that he had probably preached the same sermon before the university : ' Yes, Sir (says Johnson), but the university were not to be hanged the next morning.' " I forgot to observe before, that when he left Mr. Meeke (as I have told above), he added, ' About the same time of life, Meeke was left behind at Oxford to feed on a fellowship, and I went to London, to get my living : now. Sir, see the diflerence of our literary characters!" " The followiug letter was written by Dr. Johnson to Mr. Cham- bers, of Lhicohi College, afterwards Sir Robert Chambers, one of the judges in India :' - The Rev. John Swinton, B. D. of Ch. Ch., one of the chief writers of the Universal His- tory, died in 1777, aged 79. ^ Curia avuens morialia corda. Poverty was the stimulus which made Johnson exert a genius naturally, it may be supposed, more vigorous than Meeke's, and he was now beginning to enjoy the fame, of which so many painful years of distress and penury had laid the foun- dation. Meeke had lived an easy life of decent competence ; and on the whole, perhaps, as little envied Johnson, as Johnson him : the goodness and justice of Providence equalise, to a degree not always visible at first sight, the happiness of mankind — nee 'Dixit male qui natus ^norie/nsquefefellit. — C. ' Sir Robert Chambers was born in 1737, at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and educated at the same school with Lord Stowell and his brother the Earl of Eldon, and afterwards (like them) a mem- ber of University College. It was by visiting Chambers, when a fellow of University, that Johnson became acquainted with Lord Stowell : and when Chambers went to India, Lord Stowell, as he expressed it to me, " seemed to succeed to Ms place in Johnson's frieni rhip."— 0. *="''• ^- DEGREE OF M. A. 225 Lkhkr 27. TO MR. CHAMBERS. " [London,] Nov. 21, 1754. " Dear Sir, — The commission which I delayed to trouble you with at your departure, I am now obHged to send you ; and beg that you will be so kind as lo carry it to Mr. Warton, of Trinity, to whom I should have written Inime- liately, but that I know not if he be yet come back to Oxford. " In the catalogue of MSS. of Gr. Brit., see vol. i. page 18, MSS Bodl. Mar- TRIUM XV. martyrwn fsicb Juliano, auctore Theophylacto. " It is desired that Mr. Warton w ill inquire, and send word, what will be the jost of transcribing this manuscript. "Vol. ii. p. 32, Num. 1022. 58. Coll. Nov. — Commentaria in Acta Apostol. — Comment, in Septeia Epistolas Catkolicas. " He is desired to tell what is the age of each of these manuscripts ; and what it will cost to have a transcript of the two first pages of each. " If Mr. Warton be not in Oxford, you may try if you can get it done by anybody else; or stay till he comes, according to your own convenience. It ie for an Italian literato. " The answer is to be directed to his Excellency Mr. Zon, Venetian Resi- dsnt, Soho Square. v " I hope, dear Sir, that you do not regret the change of London for Oxford. Mr. Baretti is well, and Miss Williams ; and we shall all be glad to hear from you, whenever you shall be so kind as to write to, Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." The degree of Master of Arts, which, it has been observed, could not be obtained for liini at an early period of his life, was now con- sidered as an honour of considerable importance, in order to grace the title-page of his Dictionary ; and his character in the literary worldbeing by this time deservedly high, his friends thought that, if proper exertions were made, the University of Oxford would pay him the compliment. Lktter 28. TO THE REV. T. WARTON. " [London,] Not. 28, 1754. " Dear Sir, — I am extremely obliged to you and to Mr. Wise, for the un common care which you have taken of my interest: if you tan accomplish your kind design, I shall certainly take me a little habitation among you. " The books which I promised to Mr. Wise I have not been able to procure ' but I shall send him a Finnick Dictionary, the only copy, perhaps, in England, »vhich was presented me by a learned Swede : but I keep it back, that it may make a set of my own books ' of the new edition, with which I shall accom> pany it, more welcome. You will assure him of my gratitude. ' The Rambler.— C. 10* lS^6 ' LtFE OF JOHNSON. 1?&1. "Poor dear Collins! ' — Would a letter give him any pleasure? I have a jnind to write. " I am glad of your hindrance in your Spenserian design,* yet I would not have it delayed. Three hours a day stolen from sleep and amusement will produce it. Let a Servitour " transcribe the quotations, and interleave them with references, to save time. This will shorten the work, and lessen the fatigue. " Can I do anything to promoting the diploma? I would not be wanting to co-operate with your kindness ; of which, whatever be the effect, I shall oe, dear Sir, your most obli|;ed, &c., " Sam. Johnson." Letter 29. TO THE SAME. "[London,] Dec. 21, 1754. " Dear Sir, — T am extremely sensible of the fiivour done me, both by Mr. Wise and yourself. The book* cannot, I think, be printed in less than six •weeks, nor probably so soon ; and I will keep back the title-page for such au insertion as you seem to promise me. Be pleased to let me know what money I shall send you, for bearing the expense of the affair ; and I will take care that you may have it ready at your hand. *' I had lately the favour of a letter from your brother, with some account of poor Collins, for whom I am much concerned. I have a notion, that by very great temperance, or more properly abstinence, he may yet recover. " There is an old Enghsh and Latin book of poems by Barclay, called " The Ship of Fools ;" at the end of which are a number of Eglogues — so he writes it, from Egloga — which are probably the first in our language. If you cannot find the book, I will get Mr. Dodsley to send it you. " I shall be extremely glad to hear from you again, to know if the affair proceeds. I have mentioned it to none of my friends, for fear of being laughed at for my disappointment. " You know poor Mr. Dodsley has lost his wife ; I believe he is much affected I hope he will not suffer so much as I yet suffer for the loss of mine. OljioL' Ti 6' 01/J.ni ; Qvr/ra yap TrenovOa/xsv. ' I have ever since seemed to myself broken off from mankind ; a kind of h»?li- 1 Collins (the poet) was at this time at Oxford, on a visit to Mr. Warton ; but labouring under the most deplorable languor of body, and dejection of mind. — Wartok. [Fie died at his native city, Chichester, in 1756. See Johnson's Life of him.] ^ Of publishing a volume of observations on Spenser. — AVarton. ' Young students of the lowest rank are so called. — Warton. * His Dictionary. — Warton. s This verse is from the long lost Bellerophon, a tragedy by Euripides. It is preserved by Suidas. — Burnet. The meaning is, "Alas! but why should I say alas f wJ have only 3u/ fered the common lot of mortality !" — 0. ^■^-^■'- 46 i^ETTERS TO WARTON, 221 tary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or fixed point ofvifw, a gloomy gazer on the world, to which I have little relation. Yet I would endeavour, by the help of you and your brother, to supply the want of closer union by friendship ; and hope to have long the pleasure of being, dear Sir, most aS'ectionately yours, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 30. TO THE SAME. " [London,] Dec. 24, 1754. *' Dear Sir, — I am sa,t down to answer your kind letter, though I know not whether I shall direct it so as that it may reach you ; the miscarriage of it will be no great matter, as I have nothing to send but thanks, of which I owe you many, yet if a few should be lost, I shall amply find them in my own mind ; and professions of respect, of which the profession will easily be renewed while the respect continues ; and the same causes which first produced can hardly fail to preserve it. Pray let me know, however, whether my letter finds its way to you. Poor dear Collins! — Let me know whether you think it would give him plea- sure if I should write to him. I have often been near his state, and therefore have it in great commiseration. " I sincerely wish you the usual pleasures of this ^o,vou.o season, and more than the usual pleasures, those of corteraplation on the gre» Johnsok." CHAPTER XII. 1755—1758. paid]." * ' The commissioners of excise being offended by this severe reflection, consulted Mr. Mur- ray, then Attorney-General, to know whether redress could be legally obtained. I wished to have procured for my readers a copy of the opinion which he gave, and which may now be justly considered as history : but the mysterious secrecy of office, it seems, would not permit it. I am, however, informed, by very good authority, that its import was, that tlie passajju might be considered as actionable; but that it would be more prudent in the board not to prosecute. Johnson never made the smallest alteration in this passage. We find he still retained his early prejudice against excise; for in " The Idler," No. 65, theie is the following very extraordinary paragraph : " The authenticity of Clarendon's History, though printed with the sanction of one of the first universities of the world, had not an une.xpected manu- Bcript been happily discovered, would, with the help of factious credulity, have been brought into question, by the two lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, and a commis- eioner of excise." The persons to whom he alludes were Mr. John Oldmixou, and George Ducket, Esq. — BoswELL. I am more fortunate than M'. Boawell, in being able (through the favour jf Sir F. H. Doyip, VOL. \. ■ U 242 LIFE OF JOHNSOX. ''^*" And a few more cannot be fully defended, and must be placed to tbo account of capricious and humorous indulgence. Talking to me upon this subject when we were at Ashbourne, in 1117, he mentioned a still stronger instance of the predominance of his private feelings in the composition of this work, than any now to be found in it. " You know, sir, Lord Gower forsook the old Jaco- bite interest. When I came to the word Renegado, after telling that it meant ' one who deserts to the enemy, a revolter,' I added, Sometimes we say a Gower. Thus it went to the press : but the printer had more wit than I, and struck it out." Let it, however, be remembered, that this indulgence does not display itself only in sarcasm towards others, but sometimes in play- ful allusion to the notions commonly entertained of his own labo- rious task. Thus, " G-ruh Street, the name of a street in London, much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and tem- porary poems ; whence any mean production is called Grub Street.''^ " Lexicographer, a writer of dictionaries, a harmless drudge." At the time when he was concluding his very eloquent Preface, Johnson's mind appears to have been in such a state of depression, that we cannot contemplate without wonder the vigorous and splen- did thoughts which so highly distinguish that performance. " I," says he, " may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which if I could obtain in this gloona of solitude, what would it avail me ? I now deputy chairman of the excise board) to present the reader with the case submitted tc Lord Mansfield, and his opinion : " Case for the opinion of Mr. Attorney-General. "Mr. Samuel Johnson has lately published 'A Dictionary of the English Language,' in which are the following words : " ' Excise, n. s. A hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.' " The 'author's definition being observed by the commissioners of excise, they desire the favour of your opinion. ' Qu. Whether it will not be considered as a libel, and if so, whether it is not proper to proceed against the author, printers, and publishers thereof, or any and which of them, by information, or how otherwise ?' " I am of opinion that it is a libel. But under all the circumstances, I should think, it bet- ter to give him an opportunity of altering his definition ; and, in case he do not, to threaten him with an information. " 29th Nov. 1755. " W. Mi-rr.\t." Whether any such step was taken. Sir Francis Doyle has not been able to discover: proba- biy not; but Johnson, in his own octavo abridgment of the Dictionary, had the good sense to omit the more offensive parts of the definitions of both Excise and Pension. We have already fiKiu the probable motive of the attack on the Excise. — Croker. ^■f^''-^- FOREfG>r HONOURS. 243 have protracted ruy work till most of those whom I wished to pleasie have sunk into the grave ; and success and miscarriage are empty sounds. I therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from censure or from praise." That this indifference was rather a temporary tlian an habitual feeling, appears, I think, from his letters to Mr. Warton ; and how- ever he may have been affected for the moment, certain it is that the honours which his great work procured him, both at home and abroad, were very grateful to him. His friend, the Earl of Corke* and Orrery, being at Florence, presented it to the Academia della Crusca. That Academy sent Johnson their Vocabulario, and the French Academy sent him their Didionnaire, which Mr. Langton had the pleasure to convey to him. It must undoubtedly seem strange, that the conclusiou of his Pre- face should be expressed in terms so desponding, when it is con- sidered that the author was then only in his forty-sixth year. But we must ascribe its gloom to that miserable dejection of spirits to which he was constitutionally subject, and which was aggravated by the death of his wife two years before. I have heard it ingeni- ously observed by a lady of rank and elegance, that " his melan- choly was then at its meridian." It pleased God to grant him almost thirty years of life after this time; and once when he was in a placid frame of mind, he was obliged to own to me that he had enjoyed happier days, and had many more friends, since that gloomy hour, than before. It is a sad saying, that ""most of those whom he wished to please had sunk into the grave;" and his case at forty-five was singularly uuhappy, unless the circle of his friends was very narrow. I have often thought, that as longevity is generally desired, and, I believe, generally expected, it would be wise to be continually adding to the number of our friends, that the loss of some may be supplied by others. Friendship, " the wine of life," should, like a well stocked cellar, be thus continually renewed ; and it is consolatory to think, that although we can seldom add what will equal the generous ^rs/- growths of our youth, yet friendship becomes insensibly old in much less time than is commonly imagined, and not many years are re- quired to make it very mellow and pleasant. Warmth will, no 244 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '^'"'•• doubt, make a considerable differeace. Men of affectionate temper and bright fancy will coalesce a great deal sooner than those who are cold and dull. The proposition which I have now endeavoured to illustrate was, at a subsequent period of his life, the opinion of Johnson himself He said to Sir Joshua Reynolds, " If a man does not mal^e new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, sir, should keep his friendship in constant re- pair." The celebrated Mr. Wilkes, whose notions and habits of life were very opposite to his, but who was ever eminent for literature and vivacity, sallied forth with a little Jeii d^Esprit upon the following passage in his Grammar of the English Tongue, prefixed to the Dictionary: " H seldom, perhaps never, begins any but the first syllable." In an essay printed in " The Public Advertiser," this lively writer enumerated many instances in opposition to this re- mark; for example, " The author of this observation must be a man of a quick appre-hension, and of a most compre-hensive genius." The proposition is undoubtedly expressed with too much latitude. This light sally, we may suppose, made no great impression on our Lexicographer ; for we find that he did not alter the passage till many years afterwards.* He had the pleasure of being treated in a very different manner by his old pupil Mr. Garrick, in the following complimentary Epigram : " On Johnson's Dictionarv. " Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance, That one English soldier will beat ten of France ; Would we alter the boast from the sword to the pen, Our odds are still greater, still greater our men : In the deep mines of science though Frenchmen may toil, Can their strength be compared to Locke, Newton, and Boyle? Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their powers, Their verse-men and prose-men, then match them with ours I • In the third edition, published in 1778, he left out the words perhapt never, and added the following paragraph :— " It sometimes begins middle or final syllables in words conv pounded, as hlock-heud ; or derived from the Latin, as compre-hended." -*"''• ^- ' ZACHARiAH WILLIAMS. '245 First Shakspeare and Miltou, like Gods in the fight, Have put their whole drama and epic to flight; In satires, epistles, and odes would they cope, Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope ; And Johnson, well arm'd like a hero of yore, Has beat forty French,' and will beat forty more I" Johnson this year gave at once a proof of his benevolence quick- ness of apprehension, and admu'able art of composition, in the assistance which he gave to Mr. Zachariah Williams, father of the blind lady whom he had humanely received under his roof. Mr. Williams had followed the profession of physic in Wales ; but having a very strong propensity to the study of natural philosophy, had made many ingenious advances towards a discovery of the longitude, and repaired to London in hopes of obtaining the great parliamentary reward. He failed of success : but Johnson having made himself master of his principles and experiments, wrote for him a pamphlet, published in quarto, with the following title : " An Account of an attempt to ascertain the Longitude at Sea, by an exact Theory of the Variation of the Magnetical Needle ; with a Table of the Variations at the most remarkable Cities in Europe, from the year 1660 to 1680."f To diffuse it more extensively, it was accompanied with an Italian translation on the opposite page, which it is supposed was the work of Signor Baretti,* an Italian of considerable literature, who having come to England a few years before, had been employed in the capacity both of a language master and as author, and formed an intimacy with Dr. Johnson. This pamphlet Johnson presented to the Bodleian Library. On a blank leaf of it is pasted a paragraph cut out of a newspaper, con- taining an account of the death and character of Williams, plainly written by Johnson.' ' The number of the French Academy employed in settling their language. ' This ingenious foreigner, who was a native of Piedmont, came to England about the year 1753, and died in London, May 5, V!S9. A very candid and judicious account of him and his worlis, written, it is believed, by a distinguished dignitary in the church, [Dr. Vincent, Dean of Westminster,] Aay be found in the Gentleman's Magazine for that yeai. — M. ^ " On Saturday the 12th, [July, 1755] about twelve at night, died Mr. Zachariah Williams, .n his eighty-third year, after an illness of eight months, in full possession of his mental facul- ties He has been long known to philosophers and seamen for his skill in magnetism, and his proposal to ascertain the longitude by a peculiar system of the variation of the compass. H9 a4^ LIFE OF JOHNSON. itlJ*- In July this year he had formed some scheme of mental improve- ment, the particular purpose of which does not appear. But we find in his " Prayers and Meditations," p. 25, a prayer entitled, " On the Study of Philosophy, as an instrument of living ;" and after it follows a note, " This study was not pursued." On the 13th of the same month he wrote in his Journal the fol- lowing scheme of Hfe, for Sunday : " Having lived " (as he with tenderness of conscience expresses himself) "not without an habit- ual reverence for the Sabbath, yet without that attention to its "eligious duties which Christianity requires ;" "1. To rise early, and in order to it, to go to sleep early on Saturday. " 2. To use some extraordinary devotion in the morning. " 3. To examine the tenor of my hfe, and particularly the last week ; and to mark my advances in religion, or recession from it. " 4. To read the Scripture methodically with such helps as are at hand. " 6. To go to church twice. " 6. To read books of divinity, either speculative or practical. '"7. To instruct my family. " 8. To wear off by meditation any worldly soil contracted in the week." In lT56"Johnson found that the great fame of his Dictionary had not set him above the necessity of " making provision for the day that was passing over him." ' No royal or noble patron extended a was a man of industry indefatigable, of conversation inoffensive, patient of adversity and dis- ease, eminently sober, temperate, and pious ; and worthy to have ended life with better fortune." 1 He was so far from being " set above the necessity of making provision for the day that was passing over him," that he appears to have been in this year in great pecuniary distress, having been arrested for debt ; on which occasion his friend Samuel Kichirdson became his surety. — See Uichardson's Correspondence, vol. v. p. 285. Letter 43. Dr. Johnson to Mr. Richardson. " Tuesday, 19th Feb. 1766 " Dear Sir, — I return you my sincerest thanks for the favour which you were pleased to do me two nights ago. Be pleased to accept of this little book, which is all that I have pub- lished this winter. The inflammation has come again into my eye, so that I can write very little. I am. Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson.' Letter 49. To Mr. Richardson. • " Gongh Square, 16th March, 1756. " Sir, — I am obliged to entreat your assistance ; I am now under an arrest for five pounds eighteen shillings. Mr. Strahan, from whom I should have received the necessary help in this case, is not at lome, and I am afraid of not finding Mr. Millar. If you will le so good .n«(it-play, that produced her two hundred pounds. — Hawkins, 248 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ^'^^ surely unburthcned with any great crime, and for the positive duties ot religion I have yet no right to condemn him for neglect. " I am, with respect, which I neither owe nor pay to any other, madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." On the first day of this year we find, from his private devotions, that he had then recovered from sickness, and in February that hia eye was restored to its use. The pious gratitude with which ho acknowledges mercies upon every occasion is very edifying ; as is the humble submission which he breathes, when it is the will of his heavenly Father to try him with afflictions. As such dispositions become the state of man here, and are the true effects of religious discipline, we cannot but venerate in Johnson one of the most exer- cised minds that our holy religion hath ever formed. If there be any thoughtless enough to suppose such exercise the weakness of a great understanding, let them look up to Johnson, and be con- vinced that what he so earnestly practised must have a rational foundation. Letter 51. TO THE REV. JOSEPH WAKTON. " 15th April, 1T66. "Dear Sir, — Though, when you and your brother were in town, you did not' think my humble habitation worth a visit, yet I will not so far give way to sul- lenness as not to tell you that I have lately seen an octavo book ^ which I suspect to be yours, though I have not yet read above ten pages. That way of pubhshing, without acquainting your friends, is a wicked trick. However, I will not so far depend upon a mere conjecture as to charge you with a fraud which I cannot prove you to have committed. " I should be glad to hear that you are pleased with your new situation.' You have now a kind of royalty, and are to be answerable for your conduct to posterity. I suppose you care not now to answer a letter, except there be a lucky concurrence of a post-day with a holiday. These restraints are trouble- some for a time, but custom makes them easy, with the help of some honour, and a great deal of profit, and I doubt not but your abilities will obtain both. " For my part, I have not lately done much. I have been ill in the winter, and my eye has been inflamed; but I please myself with the hopes of doing' many things with which I have long pleased and deceived myself " What becomes of poor dear Collins ? I wrote him a letter which he never > The first volume of the Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope appeared anony- mously, in 1756. 9 His appointment of second-master of Winchester School took place in 1T55 ^'^^'^■■^^- THE LITERARY MAGAZINE 249 answered. I suppose writing is very troublesome to him. That man is no common loss. The moralists all talk of the uncertainty of fortune, and the transitoriness of beauty ; but it is yet more dreadful to consider that the powers of the mind are equally liable to change, that understanding may make its appearance and depart, that it may blaze and expire. " Let me not be long without a letter, and I will forgive you the omission of the visit ; and if you can tell me that you are now more happy than before, you will give great pleasure to, dear Sir, your most aflectionate and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." His works this year, were an abstract or epitome, in octavo, of his folio Dictionary, and a few essays in a monthly publication, entitled " The Universal Visiter." Christopher Smart, with whose unhappy vacillation of mind he sincerely sympathised, was one of the stated undertakers of this miscellany; and it was to assist him that Johnson sometimes employed his pen. All the essays marked with two asterisls have been ascribed to him ; but I am confident, from internal evidence, that of these, neither " The Life of Chaucer," " Keflections on the State of Portugal," nor an " Essay on Archi- tecture," were written by him. I am equally confident, upon the same evidence, that he wrote " Further Thoughts on Agriculture;"! being the sequel of a very inferior essay on the same subject, and ivhich, though carried on as if by the same hand, is both in thinking ind expression so far above it, and so strikingly peculiar, as to leave no doubt of its true parent ; and that he also wrote " A Disserta- tion on the State of Literature and Authors," f and "A Disserta- tion on the Epitaphs written by Pope." * The last of these, indeed, he afterwards added to his " Idler." Why the essays truly written by him are marked in the same manner with some which he did not write, I cannot explain ; but, with deference to those who have ascribed to him the three essays which I have rejected, they want all the characteristical marks of Johnsonian composition. He engaged also to superintend and contribute largely to another monthly publication, entitled " The Literary Magazine, or Uni- versal Review ;" * the first number of which came out in May this year, ' What were his emoluments from this undertaking, and what other writers were employed in it, I have not discovered. He con finued to write in it, with intermissions, till the fifteenth number , 11* 250 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 178* and I think that he never gave better proofs of the force, acuteness, and vivacity of .his mind, than in this miscellany, whether we con- sider his original essays, or his reviews of the works of others. The " Prehrainary Address "f to the public, is a proof how this great man could embellish with the graces of superior composition, evea so trite a thing as the plan of a magazine. His original essays are, " An Introduction to the Political State of Great-Britain ;"f " Remarks on the Militia Bill ;"f " Observations on his Britannic Majesty's Treaties with the Emperor of Russia and the Landgrave of Ilesse Cassel ;"f " Observations on the Present State of Affairs j""^ and, " Memoirs of Frederick III. King of Prussia."f In all these he displays extensive political knowledge and saga- city, expressed with uncommon energy and perspicuity, with- out any of those words which he sometimes took a pleasure in adopting, in imitation of Sir Thomas Browne ; of whose " Christian Morals " he this year gave an edition, with his " Life"* prefixed to it, which is one of Johnson's best biographical perform- ances. In one instance only in these essays has he indulged his Brownism. Dr. Robertson, the historian, mentioned it to me, as having at once convinced him that Johnson was the author of the " Memoirs of the King of Prussia." Speaking of the pride which the old King, the father of his hero, took in being master of the tallest regiment in Europe, he says " To review this towering regi- ment was his daily pleasure ; and to perpetuate it was so much his care, that when he met a tall woman, he immediately commanded one of his Titanian retinue to marry her, that they might propagate froctriiyP For this Anglo-Latian word proccrily, Johnson had, how- ever, the authority of Addison. His reviews are of the following books : — " Birch's History of the Royal Society ;"f " Murphy's Gray's-Inn Journal ;"f " Wartou's Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope, vol. i. ;"f " Hampton's Translations of Polybius ;"f " Blackwell's Memoirs of the Court of Augustus ;"f " Russell's Natural History of Aleppo ;"f " Sir Isaac Newton's Arguments in Proof of a Deity ;"f " Bonase's His- tory of the Isles of Sciily ;""}" " Holme's Experiments on Sleacli- ing ;"-|- "Browne's Christian Morals ;"f "Hales on distilling Sea- Water, Ventilators in Ships, and curing an ill Taste in Milk •"! •*TiT. 47. THE LITERARY MAGAZINE. 251 " Lucas's Essay ou Waters f1[ " Keith's Catalogue of the Scottish Bishops ;"f " Browne's History of Jamaica ;"f " Philosophical Transactions, vol. xlix. ;"f " Mrs. Lenox's Translation of Sully's Memoirs ;"* " Miscellanies, by Elizabeth Harrison ;"f " Evans's Map and Account of the Middle Colonies in America ;"f " Letters on the Case of Admu'al Byng ;"* " Appeal to the People concern- ing Admiral Byng ;"* " Hanvvay's Eight Days' Journey, and Essay on Tea ;" * " The Cadet, a Military Treatise ;"f " Some further Particulars in Relation to the Case of Admiral Byng, by a Gentle- man of Oxford •"* " The Conduct of the Ministry relating to the present War impartially examined ;"f " A Free Inquiry into the Nature and Origin of Evil."* All these, from internal evidence, were written by Johnson : some of them I know he avowed, and have. marked them with an asterisk accordingly. Mr. Thomas Davies, indeed, ascribed to him the Review of Mr. Burke's " Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful ;" and Sir John Hawkins, with equal discernment, has inserted it in his collection of Johnson's works : whereas it has no resemblance to Johnson's composition, and is well known to have been written by Mr. Murphy, who has acknowledged it to me and many others. It is worthy of remark, in justice to Johnson's political character, which has been misrepresented as abjectly submissive to power,' that his " Observations on the present State of Affairs," glow with as animated a spirit of constitutional liberty as can be found any- where. Thus he begins : — " The time is now come, in which every Englishman expects to be informed of the national affairs; and in which he has a right to have that expectation gratified. For, whatever may be urged by ministers, or those whom vanity or interest make the followers of ministers, concerning the necessity of con- fidence in our goverlTors, and the presumption of prying with profane eyes into the recesses of policy, it is evident that this reverence can be claimed • Dr. Johnson's political bias is nowhere, that I know, represented as having been, at this ■ia<«, " objectly submissive to power." On the contrary, hs was supposed, and with some ■ustice, to be adverse to the reigning house and its successive ministers. The charge (which Mr. Boswell thus ingeniously evades) was, that aftet'' the grant of his pension, he became loo "submissive to power;" but the truth is, that in spite of his party bias, Johnson waa always a friend to discipline in the political, as in the social world ; and although he joined in the clamour against Walpole, and hated George the Second, his general disposition was alwayi to support the monarchical part of the constitution — 0. 262 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^56. onlj by counsels yet unexecuted, and projects suspended in deliberation. But when a design has ended in miscarriage or success, when every eye and every ear is witness to general discontent, or general satisfaction, it is then a pro- per time to disentangle confusion and illustrate obscurity ; to shew by what causes every event was produced, and in what effects it is likely to terminate ; to lay down with distinct particularity what rumour always huddles in general exclamation, or perplexes by indigested narratives ; to shew whence happiness •r calamity is derived, and whence it may be expected ; and honestly to lay be- fore the people what inquiry can gather of the past, and conjecture can est' mate of the future." Here we have it assumed as an iucontroyertible principle, that in this country the people are the superintendents of the conduct and measures of those by whom government is administered ; of the beneficial effect of which the present reign afforded an illustrious example, when addresses from all parts of the kingdom controuled an audacious attempt to introduce a new power subversive of the crown.' • A still stronger proof of his patriotic spirit appears in his review of an " Essay on Waters, by Dr. Lucas," ^ of whom, after describ- ing him as a man well known to the world for his daring defiance of power, when he thought it exerted on the side of wrong, he thus speaks : — " The Irish ministers drove him from his native country by a proclamation, in which they charge him with crimes of which they never intended to be called to the proof, and oppressed him by methods equally irresistible by guilt and innocence. Let the man thus driven into exile, for having been the friend of his country, be received in every other place as a confessor of liberty ; and let the tools of power be taught in time, that they may rob, but cannot impoverish." Some of his reviews in this Magazine are very short accounts of the pieces noticed, and I mention them only^that Dr, Johnson's opinion of the works may be known ; but many of them are exam- ples of elaborate criticism, in the most masterly style. In his review of the " Memoirs of the Court of Augustus," he has the resolution to • Mr. Boswell means Mr. Fox's celebrated India Bill, as an adversary of which he distin guished himself as much as a man in a private station could do. — C. * Dr. Lucas was an apothecary in Dublin, who brought himself into public notice and a high degree of popularity by his writings and speeches against the government. He was elected representative of the city of Dublin in 1761 ; and a marble statue to ."»is honour is ereoieiJ ibe Roval Exchange of that city. He died in Nov. 1771. — C. ^■r^-r-'iT. DEFENCE OF TEA-DRINKING. ::^5o think aud speak from his own mind, regardless of the cant trans- mitted from age to age, in praise of the ancient Romans. Thus : " I know not why any one but a schoolboy in his declamation should whine over the Commonwealth of Rome, which grew great only by the misery of the rest of mankind. The Romans, like others, as soon as they grew rich, grew corrupt ; and in their corruption sold the lives and freedoms of themselves, and of one another." Again : " A people, who while they were poor robbed mankind ; aud as soon as they became rich robbed one another." — In his review of the Miscellanies in prose and verse, published by Elizabeth Harrison, but written by many hands, he gives an eminent proof at once of his orthodoxy and candour. " The authors of the essays in prose seem generally to have imitated, or tried to imitate, the copiousness and luxuriance of Mrs. Rowe. This, however, is not all their praise ; they have laboured to add to her brightness of imagery, her purity of sentiments. The poets have had Dr. Watts before their eyes; a writer who, if he stood not in the first class of genius, compensated that defect by a ready application of his powers to the promotion of piety. The attempt to employ the ornaments of romance in the decoration of religion was, I think, first made by Mr. Boyle's ' Martyrdom of Theodora ;' but Boyle's philosophical studies did not allow him time for the cultivation of style : and the completion of the great design was reserved for Mrs. Rowe. Dr. Watts was one of the first who taught the Dissenters to write and speak like other men, by showing them that elegance might consist with piety. They would have both done honour to a better society, for they had that charity which might well make their failings be forgotten, and with which the whole Christian world wish for communion. They were pure from all the heresies of an age, to which every opinion is become a favourite that the universal church has hitherto detested ! This praise the general interest of mankind requires to be given to writers who please and do not corrupt, who instruct and do not weary. But to them all human eulogies are vain, whom I beheve applauded by angels, and numbered with the just." His defence of tea against Mr. Jonas Hanway's violent attack upon that elegant and popular beverage,' shows how very well a ' Hauway 's " Essay on Tea and its Pernicious Consequences " was appended to his " Jour* nal of Eight Days' Journey from Portsmouth to Kingston upon Thames. In his review of this production, Johnson candidly describes himself as " a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has, for many years, diluted bis meals with only the infusion of this fascinating plant; 254 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^56. man of genius can write upon the slightest subject, when he writes, as the Italians say, con amore : I suppose no person ever enjoyed with more relish the infusion of that fragrant leaf than Johnson. The quantities which he drank of it at. all hours were so great., that his nerves must have been uncommonly strong, not to have been extremely relaxed by such an intemperate use of it.* He assured me, that he never felt the least inconvenience from it ; which is a proof that the fault of his constitution was rather a too great tension of fibres, than the contrary. Mr. Hanway wrote an angry answer to Johnson's review of his Essay on Tea, and Johnson, after a full and deliberate pause, made a reply to it ; the only instance, I be- lieve in the whole course of his life, when he condescended to oppose any thing that was written against him. I suppose, when he thought of any of his little antagonists, he was ever justly aware of the high sentiment of Ajax in Ovid : " Iste tulit pretium jam nunc certarainis hujus, Qui, cum victus erit, mecum certasse feretur." ' But, indeed, the good Mr. Hanway laid himself so open to ridi- cule, that Johnson's animadversions upon his attack were chiefly to make sport. The generosity with which he pleads the cause of Admiral Byng is highly to the honour of his heart and spirit. Though Voltaire affects to be witty upon the fate of that unfortunate officer, observ- ing that he was shot ^^ pour encourager les autres" the nation has long since been satisfied that his life was sacrificed to the political fervour of the times.' In the vault belonging to the Torrington family, in the church in Southill, in Bedfordshire, there is the fol- lowing epitaph upon his monument, which I have transcribed : whose kettle has scarcely time to cool; who with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnights, and with tea welcomes the morning." ' Sir John Hawkins calls his addiction to it unmanly, and almost gives it the colour of a crime. The Rev. Mr. Parker, of Henley, is in possession of a tea-pot which belonged to Di Johnson, and which contains above two quarts. — C. * " Losing, he wins, because his name will be Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me." — Drtden. ' Nothing can be more unfounded than the assertion that Byng fell a martyr to poUticoi parU/. See this subject treated at large in the Quarterly Review for April, 1832.— C, ***'• *^ CASE OF ADMIRAL BYNG. 255 " TO THE PERPETUAL DISGRACK OF PUBLIC JUSTICE, THE HONOURABLE JOHN BYNG, ESQ. ADMIRAL OF THE BLUE, FELL A MARTYR TO POLITICAL PERSECUTION, MARCH 14. IN THE YEAR 1 7 5 •? * WHEN BRAVERY AND LOYALTY WERE INSUFFICIENT SECURITIES FOR THE LIFE AND HONOUR OF A NATAL OFFICER." Johnson's most exquisite critical essay in the Literary Magazine, and indeed anywhere, is his review of Soame Jenyns's " Inquiry into the Origin of Evil." Jenyns was possessed of lively talents, and a style eminently pure and easy, and could very happily play with a light subject, either in prose or verse : but when he speculated on that most difficult and excruciating question, the Origin of Evil, he " ventured far beyond his depth," and, accordingly, was exposed by Johnson, both with acute argument and brilUant wit. I remem- ber when the late Mr. Bicknell's humourous performance, entitled " The Musical Travels of Joel Collyer," in which a slight attempt is made to ridicule Johnson, was ascribed to Soame Jenyns, " Ha ! (said Johnson) I thought I had given him enough of it." His triumph over Jenyns is thus described by my friend Mr. Courtenay, in his " Poetical Eeview of the literary and moral cha- racter of Dr. Johnson ;" a performance of such merit, that had I not been honoured with a very kind and partial notice in it, I should echo the sentiments of men of the first taste loudly in its praise : — " When specious sophists with presumption scan The source of evil hidden still from man ; Revive Arabian tales, and mainly hope, To rival St. John and his scholar Pope : Though metaphysics spread the gloom of night, By reason's star he guides our acking sight ; The bounds of knowledge marks, and points the way, To pathless wastes, where wilder'd sages stray ; Where, like a farthing link-boy, Jenyns stands, And the dim torch drops from his feeble hands."' ' Some time after Dr. Johnson's death, there appeared in ths newspapers and magazines [the following] illiberal and petulant attack upon him, in the form of an Epitaph, under tie 256 LIFE OF JOHNSOif. ItM. This year Mr. William Payne, brother of the respectable book- seller of that name, published " An Introduction to the Game of Draughts," to which Johnson contributed a Dedication to the Earl of Rochford,* and a. Preface,* both of which are admirably adapted to the treatise to which they are prefixed. Johnson, I believe, did not play at draughts after leaving College, by which he suffered ; for it would have afforded him an innocent soothing relief from the melancholy which distressed him so often. I have name of Mr. Soame Jenyns, very unworthy of that gentleman, who had quietly submitted to the critical lash while Johnson lived. It assumeil, as charactenstics of him, all the vuJgat circumstances of abuse which had circulated amongst the ignorant — [" Here lies poor Johnson. Reader, have a care, Tread lightly, lest you rouse a sleeping bear; Religious, moral, generous, and humane He was — but self-sufficient, rude, and vain : Ill-bred and overbearing in dispute, A scholar and a Christian — yet a brute. Would you know all his wisdom and his folly, His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy, Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, Will tell you how he wrote, and talk'd, and cough'd, and spit." Gent. Mag. 1786] This was an unbecoming indulgence of puny resentment, at a time when he himself was at a very advanced age, and had a near prospect of descending to the grave. I was truly sorry for it ; for he was then become an avowed and (as my Lord Bishop of London, who had a serious conversation with him on the subject, assures me) a sincere Christian. He could not expect that Johnson's numerous friends would patiently bear to have the memory of their master stigmatized by no mean pen, but that, at least, one would be found to retort. Accord- ingly, this unjust and sarcastic epitaph was met in the same public field by an answer, in terms by no means soft, and such as wanton provocation only could justify : — " EPITAPH "Prepared /or a creature not quite dead yet. " Here lies a little ugly nauseous elf, ' W^ho, judging only from its wretched self, Feebly attempted, petulant and vain, The ' Origin of Evil ' to explain. A mighty Genius, at this elf displeased. With a strong critic grasp the urchin Squeezed. For thirty years its coward spleen it kept. Till iij the dust the miglity Genius slept ; Then stunk and fretted in expiring snuff, And blink'd at Johnson with its last poor puff." — Boswell The answer was, no doubt, by Mr. Boswell himself, and does more credit to his zeal th»n bis poetical talents. — C— [Soame Jenyns died in 17ST.] *TAT. 4T MISCELLANIES. 257 lieard liiin regret that he bad not learot to plar at cards ; aud the game of draughts we know is peculiarly calculated to fix the at« tention without straining it. There is a composure and gravity iu draughts which insensibly tranquillises the mind ; and, accordingly, the Dutch are fond of it, as they are of smoking, of the sedative influence of which, though he himself never smoked, he had a high opinion * Besides, there is in draughts some exercise of the facul- ties ; aud accordingly, Johnson, wishing to dignify the suljject in his Dedication with what is most estimable in it, observes, " Triflers may find or make anything a trifle : but since it is the great cha- racteristic of a wise man to see events in their causes, to obviate consequences, and ascertain contingencies, your lordship will think nothing a trifle by which the mind is inured to caution, foresight, and circumspection." As one of the little occasional advantages which he did not dis- dain to take by his pen, as a man whose profession was literature, he this year accepted of a guinea from Mr. Robert Dodsley, for writing the Introduction to " The London Chronicle," an evening newspaper ; and even in so slight a performance exhibited peculiar talents. This Chronicle still subsists,^ and from what I observed, when I was abroad, has a more extensive circulation upon the Con- tinent than any of the English newspapers. It was constantly read by Johnson himself ; aud it is but just to observe, that it has all along been distinguished for good sense, accuracy, moderation, and delicacy. Another instance of the same nature has been communicated to me by the Reverend Dr. Thomas Campbell, who has done himself considerable credit by his own writings. " Sitting with Dr. John- son one morning alone, he asked me if I had known Dr. Madden, who was author of the premium-scheme in Ireland. On my answer- ing in the affirmative, and also that I had for some years lived in his neighbourhood, &c., he begged of me that when I returned to Ireland, I would endeavour to procure for him a poem of Dr. Mad- 1 See post, August 19, 1778. I have heard Johnson say, that insanity had grown mor« frequent since smoking iiad gone out of fashion. — Hawkins. ' The London Chronicle, or Universal Evening Post, was published three times a week The first number, containing Johnson's Introduction, appeared Jan 1, 1757. Mr. Boswell often wrote in this journal. 258 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1?S6. den's called ' Boulter's Monumeut.' ' ' The reason,' said he, ' why I wish for it, is this : when Dr. Madden came to London, he submit- ted that work to my castigation ; and I remember I blotted a great many lines, and might have blotted many more without making the poem worse. However, the Doctor was very thankful, and very generous, for he. gave me ten guineas, which loas to me at that time a great sum.^ " ^ He this year resumed his scheme of giving an edition of Shak speare with notes. He issued Proposals of considerable length," in which he shewed that he perfectly well kne^r what a variety of re- search such an undertaking required ; but his indolence prevented him from pursuing it with that diligence which alone can collect those scattered facts, that genius, however acute, penetrating, and luminous, cannot discover by its own force. It is remarkable, that at this time his fancied activity was for the moment so vigorous, that he promised his work should be published before Christmas, 115*1. Yet nine years elapsed before it saw the light. His throes in bringing it forth had been severe and remittent ; and at last we may almost conclude that the Caesarian operation was performed by the knife of Churchill, whose upbraiding satire, I dare say, made Johnson's friends urge him to dispatch. " He for subscribers baits his hook, And talces your cash ; but where's the book ? No matter where ; wise fear, you know, Forbids the robbing of a foe ; - Dr. Hugh Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh, and Primate of Ireland. He died Sept. 27, .742, at which time he was, for the thirteenth time, one of the Lords Justices of tliat kingdom. Jojinson speaks of him in high terms of commendation, in his Life of Ambrose Philips. — • J. BOSWELL, Jun. ^ Such casual emoluments as these, Johnson frequently derived from his profession of ac author. For the dedication to his present Majesty, of Adams's book on the use of the globes, he was, as himself informed me, gratified with a present of a very curious meteorological in- Btrument, of a new and ingenious construction. About this time, as it is supposed, for sun- dry beneficed clergymen that requested him, he composed pulpit discourses, and for these, he made no scruple of confessing, he was paid : his price, I am informed, was a moderate one — a guinea ; and such was his notion of justice, that having been paid, he considered them so absolutely the property of the purchaser, as to renounce all claim to them. He reckoned that he had written about forty sermons ; but, except as to some, knew not in what hands they were ; " I have," said he, " been paid for them, and have no right to inquire about them."— Hawkins. ' They have been reprinted by Mr. Malone, in the Preface to his edition of Shaksneare. *^*'^- IS. LETTEPv TO MU. o'oONNOR. 259 But what, to serve our private ends, Forbids the cheating of our friends?" About this period he was offered a living of considerable value in Lincolnshire, if he were inclined to enter into holy orders. It was a rectory in the gift of Mr. Langton, the father of his much valued friend. But he did not accept of it; partly, I believe, from a consci- entious motive, being persuaded that his temper and habits rendered him unfit for that assiduous and familiar instruction of the vulgar and ignorant, which he held to be an essential duty in a clergyman ; and partly because' his love of a London Ufe was so strong, that he would have thought himself an exile in any other place, particularly if residing in the country. Whoever would wish to see his thoughts upon that subject displayed iu their full force, may peruse the Ad- venturer, No. 12G. In n51 it dffes not appear that he published anything, except some of those articles in the Literary Magazine, which have been mentioned. That Magazine, after Johnson ceased to write in it, gradually declined, though the popular epithet of Antigallican was added to it, and in July, 1758, it expired. He probably prepared a part of his Shakspeare this year, and he dictated a speech on the subject of an address to the Throne, after the expedition to Roch- fort, which was delivered by one of his friends, I know not in what public meeting. It is printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for October, 1185, as his, and bears sufficient marks of authenticity. By the favour of Mr. Joseph Cooper Walker, of the Treasury, Dub- lin, I have obtained a copy of the following letter from Johnson to the venerable author of " Dissertations on the History of Ireland." Letter 52. TO CHARLES O'CONNOR, ESQ. " London, April 9, 1T57. " Sir, — I have lately, by the favour of Mr. Faulkner, seen your account of Ireland, and cannot forbear to solicit a prosecution of your design. Sir Wil« liani Temple complains that Ireland is less known than any other country, as to its ancient state. The natives have had little leisure, and httle encourage- ment for inquiry ; and strangers, not knowing the language, have had no ability. " I have long wished that the Irish literature were cultivated. Ireland us kuown by tradition to have been once the seat of piety and learning ; acd 2^0 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ surely it would be very acceptable to all those who are curious either m the original of nations, or the affinities of languages, to be further informed of the revolution of a people so ancient, and once so illustrious. " What relation there is between the Welsh and Irish language, or between the language of Ireland and that of Biscay, deserves inquiry. Of these provin- cial and unextended tongues, it seldom happens that more than one are understood by any one man ; and, therefore, it seldom happens that a fair comparison can be made. I hope you will continue to cultivate this kind of learning, which has too long lain neglected, and which, if it be suffered to remain in oblivion for another century, may, perhaps, never be retrieved. As I wish well to all useful undertakings, I would not forbear to let you know how much you deserve, in my opinion, from all lovers of study, and how much pleasure your work has given to, Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, "Sam, Johnson." Letter 53. TO THE REV. THOMAS WARTON. " [London,] June 21, 175T. " Dear Sir, — Dr. Marsili, of Padua, a learned gentleman, and good Latin poet, has a mind to see Oxford. I have given him a letter to Dr. Huddesford, and shall be glad if you will introduce him, and show him anything in Oxford. " I am printing my new edition of Shakspeare. " I long to see you all, but cannot conveniently come yet. You might write to me now and then, if you were good for anything. But honores miUant mores. Professors forget their friends. I shall certainly complain to Miss Jones.' I am, your, &c., "Sam. Johnson." " Please to make my compliments to Mr. Wise." Mr. Barney having enclosed to him an extract from the review ot his Dictionary in the Bibliotheque des Savans [t. iii. p. 482.] and a list of subscribers to his Shakspeare, which Mr. Burney had jirocured in Norfolk, he wrote the following answer : — Letter 54. TO MR. BURNEY. In Lynne, Nwfolk. " Gough Square, December 24, 1757. " Sir, — That I may show myself sensible of your favours, and not commit the same fault a second time, I make haste to answer the letter which I received this morning. The truth is, the other likewise was received, and I wrote an answer ; but being desirous to transmit you some proposals and re- ' Miss Jones lived at Oxford, was often of our parties. She was a very ingenious poetess, and published a volume of poems ; and on the whole was a most sensible, agreeable, and amiable woman. She was sister to the Rev. River Jones, Chanter of Christ Church Cathe- ^'-^^-^ LETTER TO LANGTON 261 ceipts, I waited till I could find a convenient conveyance, and daj was p^-ssed after day, till other things drove it from my thoughts ; yet not so, but that I remember with great pleasure your commendation of my Dictionary. Your praise was welcome, not only because I believe it was sincere, but because praise has been very scarce. A man of your candour will be surprised when I tell you, that among all my acquaintance there were only two, who upon tho publication of my book did not endeavour to depress me with threats of censuro from the public, or with objections learned from those who had learned them from my own preface. Yours is the only letter of good-will that I have re- ceived ; though, indeed, I am promised something of that sort from Sweden. "How my new edition' will be received I know not; the subscription has not been very successful. I shall publish about March. " If you can direct me how to send proposals, I should wish that they were in such hands. " I remember. Sir, in some of the first letters with which you favoured me, you mentioned your lady. May I inquire after her ? In return for the favoura which you have shown me, it is not much to tell you, that I wish you and her all that can conduce to your happiness. I am, Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." In 1158 we find Mm, it should seem, in as easy and pleasant a state of existence, as constitutional unhappiness ever permitted him to enjoy. Letter 55. TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. At Langton. " Jan. 9, 1758." * Dearest Sir, — I must have indeed slept very fast, not to have been awakened by your letter. None of your suspicions are true ; I am not much richer than when you left me ; and what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter will prove that I am not much wiser. But I go on as I formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise ; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. Do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of delay. When I was as you are now, towering in [the] con- fidence of twenty-one, little did I suspect that I should be, at forty-nine, what I now am.^ dral at Oxford, and Johnson used to call her the Chantreas. I have heard him often address her In this passage from "II Penseroso:" — " Thee, Chantress, oft the woods among I woo," Ac. She died unmarried. — ^Wakton. 1 Of Shakspeare. ' If the reader will look back to Johnson's deplorable situation when he was about the agn 262 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "**• "But you do not seem to need my admonition. You are busy in acquiring and in communicating knowledge, and while you are studying, enjoy the end of study, by making others wiser and happier. I was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutor to your sisters. I, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with sonve degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends ; ' and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native union is afterwards regarded. It sometimes, indeed, happens, that some supervenient cause of discord may overpower this original amity ; but-it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. We tell the ladies that good wives make good husbands ; I believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters. "I am satisfied with your stay at home, as Juvenal with his friend's retire- ment to Cunue : I know tiiat your absence is best, though it be not best for me. ' Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, Laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis Dcstinet, atque unum civemdonarc Sibylla3.'* " Langton is a good Cumae, but who must be Sibylla ? Mrs. Langtou is as wise as Sibyl, and as good ; and will live, if my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. But she differs in this, that she has not scattered her precepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed upon you. " The two Warton's just looked into town, and were taken to see Clcone, where, David [Garrick] says, they were starved for want of company to keep them warm. David and Doddy' have had a new quarrel, and, I tliink, cannot of twenty-one, he will be inclined to think that he might rather have prided himself at having attained to the station which he now held in society — Croker. Was not Johnson alluding not to his comparative "station in society," but to his not being " much richer?" for in this letter he says, "I have left off housekeeping." — M.\rkland. - Gibbon, in his Memoirs, alludes to this subject with good taste and feeling : — " F"-om my childhood to the present hour, I have deeply and sincerely regretted my sister, whose life was somewhat prolonged, and whom I remember to have seen an amiable infant. The roiatiou of a brother and a sister, particularly if they do not marry, appears to me of a very singular nature. It is a familiar and tender friendship with a female much about our own age ; an affection perhaps softened by the secret influence of the sex, but pure from any mbctuie of sensual desire— the sole specie.s of Platonic love that can be indulged with truth and without ilanger."^Mem , p. 25. — Croker. * [" Grieved though I am to see the man depart, Who long has shared, and still must share my heart. Yet (when I call my better judgment home) 1 praise his purpose ; to retire from Rome And give on Cumse's solitary coast, The Sibyl — one inhabitant to boast 1" — Qiffobd.] • Hr. Dodsley, the author of Cleone. *^^''- 4^- OR. CflARLES BURNEY. 263 conveniently quarrel any more. ' Cleqne ' was well acted by all the charac- ters, but Bellamy * left nothing to be desired. I went the first night, and sup- ported it as well as I might ; for Doddy, you know, is my patron, and I would not desert him. The play was very well received. Doddy, after the danger was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at the distress of poor Cleone. " I have left off housekeeping, and therefore made presents of the game which you were pleased to send me. The pheasant I gave to Mr. Richardson,* the bustard to Dr. Lawrence, and the pot I placed with Miss Williams, to be eaten by myself. She desires that her compliments and good wishes may be accepted by the family ; and I make the same request for myself. " Mr. Reynolds has within these few days raised his price to twenty guineas a head,^ and Miss ^ is much employed in miniatures. I know not anybody [else] whose prosperity has increased since you left them. " Murphy is to have his ' Orphan of China' acted next month ; and is there- fore, I suppose, happy. I wish I could tell you of any great good to which I was approaching, but at present my prospects do not much delight me ; how- ever, I am always pleased when I find that you, dear sir, remember your affec- tionate, humble servant, " Sam. Johnson " Lbttek 56. TOMR. BURNEY. At Lynne, Norfolk. * " London, March 1, 1758. "Sir, — Your kindness is so great, and my claim to any particular regard from you so little, that I am at a loss how to express my sense of your favours ;' but I am, indeed, much pleased to be thus distinguished by you. " I am ashamed to tell you that my Shakspeare will not be out so soon as I promised my subscribers ; but I did not promise them more than I promised myself. It will, however, be pubUshed before summer. " I have sent you a bundle of proposals, which, I think, do not profess more than I have hitherto performed. I have printed many of the plays, and have 1 The well-known Miss George Ann Bellamy, who played the heroine. — C. [An Apology for her very irregular Life, written bo Herself, in six volumes, was published in 1785] * The authoress of Clarissa. ^ Sir Joshua afterwards greatly advanced his price. I have been informed by Sir Thomas iawrence, his admirer and rival, that in 1787 his prices were, two hundred guineas for tha vjhole length , one hundred for the half-length, seventy for the kit-cat, and fifty for (what a called) the three-quarters. But even on these prices some increase must have been made, as Horace Walpole said, " Sir Joshua, in his old age, becomes avaricious. He had one thousand guineas for my picture of the three ladies Waldegrave." — 'WalpoUana. This picture are half-lengths of the three ladies on one canvas. — C. * Miss Reynolds, the sister of Sir Joshua— C. ^ This letter was written in answer to one, in which was enclosed a draft for the payment of •ome subscriptions to his Shakspeare. 264 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1'^** hitherto left very icw passages unexplained ; where I am quite at loss, 1 confess my ignorance, which is seldom done by commentators. " I have, likewise, encIo3ed twelve receipts ; not that I mean to impose upon you the trouble of pushing them with more importunity than may seem proper, but that you may rather have more than fewer than you shall want. The pro- posals you will disseminate as there shall be an opportunity. I once printed them at length in the Chronicle, and some of my friends (I believe Mr. Mur- phy, who formerly wrote the Gray's-Inn Journal) introduced them with a splendid encomium. " Since the Life of Browne, I have been a little engaged, from time to time, in the Literary Magazine, but not very lately. I have not the collection by me, and therefore cannot draw out a catalogue of my own parts, but will do it, and send it. Do not buy them, for I will gather all those that have anything of mine in them, and send them to Mrs. Burney, as a small token of gratitude for the regard which she is pleased to bestow upon me. " I am. Sir, your most obliged, and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Dr. Burney has kindly favoured me with the following memoran- dum, wnich I take the liberty to insert in his own genuine easy style. I love to exhibit sketches of my illustrious friend by various eminent hands. " Soon after this, Mr. Burney, during a visit to the capital, had an interview with him in Gough Square, where he dined and drank tea with him, and was introduced to the acquaintance of Mrs. Willianis. After dinner, Mr. Johnson proposed to Mr. Burney to go up with him into his garret, which being ac- cepted, he there found about five or six Greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half Johnson giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered him- self on one with only ttiree legs and one arm. Here he gave Mr. Burney Mrs. Williams's history, and showed him some volumes of his ^lakspeare already printed, to prove that he was in earnest. Upon Mr. Burney's opening the first volume, at 'the Merchant of Venice, he observed to him that he seemed to be more severe on Warburton than Theobald. ' poor Tib. ! (said Johnson) he was ready knocked down to my hands; Warburton stands between me and him.' ' But, Sir, (said Mr. Burney,) you'll have Warburton upon your bones, won't you ?' ' No, Sir ; he'll not come out : he'll only growl in his den.' ' But you think. Sir, that Warburton is a superior critic to Theobald ?' ' 0, Sir, he'd made two-and-fifty Theobalds, cut into slices ! The worst of Warburton is, that he has a rage for saying something, when there's nothing to be said.' Mr Burney then asked him whether he had seen the letter which Warburton had written in answer to a pamphlet, addressed ' To the most impudent man alive.' He answered in the negative. Mr. Burney told him it was supposed to be ^■^^■^■•^9. l^HE IDLER. 265 written by Mallet. The controversy now raged between the friends of Pope and Bohngbroke ; and Warburton and Mallet were the leaders of the several parties. Mr. Burney asked him then if he had seen Warburton's book against Bolingbroke's Philosophy ? 'No, sir; I have never read Bolingbroke's impi- ety, and therefore am not interested about its confutation.' " On the fifteenth of April he began a new periodical paper, en- titled " The Idler,"* which came out every Saturday in a weekly newspaper, called " The Universal Chronicle, or weekly Gazette," published by Newbery.' These essays were continued till April 5, 1*160. Of one hundred and three, their total number, twelve were contributed by his friends ; of which, Nos. 33, 93, and 96, were written by Mr. Thomas Warton ; No. 67, by Mr. Langton ; and Nos. 16, 79, and 82, by Sir Joshua Eeynolds ; the concluding words of No. 82, — "and pollute his canvas with deformity," — being added by Johnson, as Sir Joshua informed me." 1 This is a sHght mistake. The first number of " The Idler" appeared on the 15th of April, 1758, in No. 2 of the Universal Chronicle, &c., which was published by J. Payne, for whom also the Rambler had been printed. On the 29th of April this newspaper assumed the title of " Payne's Universal Chronicle," &c. — M. ^ About the year 1756, time had produced a change in the situation of many of Johnson's friends, who were used to meet him in Ivy Lane. Death had taken from them M'Ghie ; Barker went to settle as a practising physician in Trowbridge ; Dyer went abroad ; Hawkea- worth was busied in forming new connections : and I liad lately made one that removed from me all temptations to pass my evenings from home. The consequence was, that our sympo- sium at the King's Head broke up, and he who had first formed it into a society was left with fewer around him than were able to support it. All this while, the booksellers, who, by hi» own confession, were his best friends, had their eyes upon Johnson, and reflected with some concern on what seemed to them a misapplication of his talents. The furnishing magazines, reviews, and even newspapers, with literary intelligence, and the authors of books, who could not write them for themselves, with dedications and prefaces, they looked on as employmenta beneath him, who had attained to such eminence as a writer; they, therefore, in the year 175G, found out for him such a one as seemed to afford a prospect both of amusement and pro- fit : this was an edition of Shakspeare's dramatic works, which, by a concurrence of circum- stances, was now become necessary, to answer the increasing demand of the public. A stranger to Johnson's character and temper would have thought, that the study of an author, whose skill in the science of human life was so deep, and whose perfections were so many and various as to be above the reach of all praise, must have been the most pleasing employ- ment that his imagination could suggest, but it was not so : in a visit that he one morning made to me, I congi-atulated him on his being now engaged in a work that suited his genius, and that, requiring none of that severe application which his Dictionary had condemned him to, would, no doubt, be executed con amove. His answer was, " I look upon this as I did upon the Dictionary : it is all work, and my inducement to it is not love or desire of fame, but the want of money, which is the only motive to writing that I know of." — And the event was evidence to me, that in this speech he declared his genuine sentiments ; for neither did he set himself to collect early editions of his author, old plays, translations of histories, and of the classics, and other materials necessary for his purpose, nor could he be prevailed on to ente* VOL. I. 12 266 tlFE OP JOHKSON. • I'W' Into that course of reading, without which it seemed impossible to cotne at the senee of his auther. It was provoking to all his friends to see him waste his days, his weeks, and hia months so long, that they feared a mental lethargy had seized him, out of which he would never recover. In this, however, they were happily deceived, for, after two years' inactivity, they find him roused to action^and engaged, not in the prosecution of the work, for the completion whereof he stood doubly bound, but — in a new one, the furnishing a series of periodical essays, entitled, and it may be thought not improperly, " The Idlbr," as bif motive to the employment was aversion to a labour he had undertaken, though in the exeov Uoo, It n^ust be owned, it merited a better name. — Uawkuis CHAPTER XIII. 1758—1^59. The Idler — Letters to ^Yarton — ^Letters to Bennet Langton — Illness of Johnson's Mother^ Letters to her, and to Miss Porter — His Mother's Death—" Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia " — Miscellanies— Excursion to Oxford — Francis Barber — John Wilkes— -Smollett — Letter to Mrs. Montagu — Mrs. Ogle — Jlylne the Architect. The Idler is evideutly tlie work of the same mind which produced the Rambler, but has less body and more spirit. It has more vari- ety of real Hfe, and greater facility of language. He describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively sensations of one who has felt them ; and in his private memorandums while engaged in it, we find "This year I hope to learn diligence."' Many of these excel- lent essays were written as hastily as an ordinary letter. Mr. Langton remembers Johnson, when on a visit at Oxford, asking him one evening, how long it was till the post went out ; and on being told about half an hour, he exclaimed, " then we shall do very well." He upon this instantly sat down and finished an Idler, which it was necessary should be in London the next day. Mr. Langton having signified a wish to read it, " Sir, (said he) you shall not do more than I have done myself." He then folded it up, and sent it oflf. Yet there are in the Idler several papers which show as much profundity of thought, and labor of language, as any of this great man's writings. No. 14, "Robbery of Time ;" No. 24, "Think- ing ;" No. 41, " Death of a Friend ;" No. 43, "Flight of Time ;" No. 51, " Domestic greatness unattainable ;" No. 52, " Self-denial ;" No. 58, " Actual, how short of fancied, excellence ;" No. 89, "Physical evil moral good ;" and his concluding paper on "The bv>rror of the last," will prove this assertion, I know not why a * See Prayers and Meditation?. 268 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^'^^• motto, the usual trapping of periodical papers, is prefixed to very few of the Idlers, as I have heard Johnson commend the custom : and he never could be at a loss for one, his memory being stored with innumerable passages of the classics. In this series of essays he exhibits admirable instances of grave humour, of which he had an uncommon share, ^or on some occasions has he repressed that power of sophistry which he possessed in so eminent a degree. In No. II, he treats with the utmost contempt the opinion that our mental faculties depend, in some degree, upon the weather ; an opinion, which they who have never experienced its truth are not to be envied, and of which he himself could not but be sensible, as the effects of weather upon him were very visible. Yet thus he declaims : — " Surely, nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, thau to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence on the weather and the wind for the only blessings which nature has put in our power, tranquillity and benevolence. This distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on luxury. To temperance, every day is bright ; and every hour is propitious to diligence. He that shall resolutely excite his facul- ties or exert his virtues, will soon make himself superior to the seasons ; and may set at defiance the morning mist and the evening damp, the blasts of the east, and the clouds of the south." Alas ! it is too certain, that where the frame has delicate fibres, and there is a fine sensibility^ such influences of the air are irresist- ible. He might as well have bid defiance to the ague, palsy, and all other bodily disorders. Such boasting of the mind is false ele- vation. " I think the Romans call it Stoicism." But in this number of his Idler his spirits seem to run riot ; ' for in the wantonness of his disquisition he forgets, for a moment, even the reverence for that which he held in high respect ; and describes " the attendant on a Court," ' as one " whose business is to watch the looks of a being, weak and foolish as himself." 1 This doctrine of the little influence of the weather, however, seems to have been his fixed opinion : he often repeated it in conversation. See post, July 9, 1763.— C. « Mr. Boswell seems resolved to forget that Johnson's reverence for the court had not yet commenced. George II. was still alive, whom Johnson always abused, and sometimes ver» n decently. '^TA''-^^- THE iDtEM. 2(;0 His unqualified ridicule of rhetorical gesture or action is not, Burely, a test of truth ; yet we cannot help admiring how well it ia adapted to produce the effect which he wished : — " Neither the judges of our laws, uor the representatives of our people, would be much affected by laboured gesticulations, or belia^e any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puifed his cheeks, or spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast, or turned his eyes some- times to the ceiling, and sometimes to the floor." A casual coincidence with other writers, or an adoption of a sen- timent or image which has been found in the writings of another, and afterwards appears in the mind as one's own, is not unfrequent. The richness of Johnson's fancy, which could supply his page abund- antly on all occasions, and the strength of his memory, which at once detected the real owner of any thought, made him less liable to the imputation of plagiarism than, perhaps, any of our writers. In the Idler, however, there is a paper, in which conversation ia assimilated to a bowl of punch, where there is the same train of comparison as in a poem by Blacklock, in his collection published in 1756 ; in which a parallel is ingeniously drawn between human life and that liquor. It ends, " Say, then, physicians of each kind. Who cure the body or the mind. What harjm in drinking can there be, Since punch and Ufe so well agree ?" To the Idler,' when collected in volumes, he added, beside the > The profits accruing from the sale of this paper, and the subscriptions which, fiom the year 1756, he was receiving for the edition of Shakspeare by him proposed, were the only known means of his subsistence for a period of near four years, and we may suppose them hardly adequate to his wants, for, upon finding the balance of the account for the Dictionary against him, he quitted his house in Gough Square, and took chambers in Gray's Inn; and Mrs. Williams, upon this removal, fixed herself in lodgings at a boarding-school, in the neighbourhood of their former dwelling. — Hawkins. He retired to Gray's Inn, and soon removed to chambers in the Inner Temple Lane, where he lived in poverty, total idleness, and the pride of literature. Mr. Fitzherbert (the father of Lord St. Helen's), a man distinguished through life for his benevolence and other amiable qualities, used to say, that he paid a morning visit to Johnson, intendii.g from his chambers to send a letter into the city ; but, to his great surprise, he found an author by profession without pen, ink, or paper. The present Bishop of Salisbury was also among those whs endeavoured, by constant attention, to sootha the cares of a mind which he knew to be afflicted with gloomy apprehensions. — Mdkphy. 270 LIFE OF JOHNSON. • '^^'''• Essay on Epitaphs, and the Dissertation on those of Pope, an Essay on the Bravery of the English common Soldiers. He, however, omitted one of the original papers, which in the folio copy is No. 22.' Letter 57. TO THE REV, THOMAS WARTON. • " London, April 14, 1758. " Dear Sir, — Your notes upon my poet were very acceptable. I beg that you will be so kind as to continue your searclies. It will be reputable to my work, and suitable to your professorship, to have something of yours in the notes. Aa you have given no directions about your name, I shall therefore put it. I wish your brother would take the same trouble. A commentary must arise from the fortuitous discoveries of many men in devious walks of literature. Some of your remarks are on plays already printed : but I purpose to add an Appendix of Notes, so that nothing comes too late. "You give yourself too much uneasiness, dear Sir, about the loss of the papers.' The loss is nothing, if nobody has found them ; nor even then, per- haps, if the numbers be known. You are not the only friend that has had the same mischance. You may repair your want out of a stock which is deposited with Mr. Allen, of Magdalen Hall; or out of a parcel which I have just sent to Mr. Chambers, for the use of any body that will be so kind as to want them. Mr Langtons are well ; and Miss Roberts, whom I have at last brought to speak, upon the information which you gave me, that she had something to say. I am, &c., " Sam. Johnson." Letter 58. TO THE SAME. " London, June 1, 1753. " Dear Sir, — You will receive this by Mr. Baretti, a gentleman particularly entitled to the notice and kindness of the professor of poesy. He has time but for a short stay, and will be glad to Have it filled up with as much as he can hear and see. " In recommending another to your favour, I ought not to omit thanks for the kindness which you have shown to myself Have you any more notes on Shakspeare ? I shall be glad of them. " I see your pupil sometimes ; ^ his mind is as exalted as his stature. I am half afraid of him ; but he is no less amiable than formidable. He will, if the forwardness of his spring be not blasted, be a credit to you, and to the TJni- versity. He brings some of my plays * with him, which he has my permission to show you, on condition you will hide them from every body else. I am, dear sir, kc, " Sam. Johnson." 1 This paper may be found in StockdaIe"s supplemental volume of Johnson's Miscellaneous Pieces. ^ Receipts for Shakspeare. — Warton. ^ Mr. Langton. — Warton. * Part of the impression of the Shakspeare, which Dr. Johnson conducted alone, and pub- lished by subscription. This edition came out in 1705 — Warton. ^^■*'- *^- LETTERS TO LAXGTON. 211 Letter 59. TO BENNET LAXGTOX, ESQ. Of Trinity College, Oxford. June 2S, 1T58. "Dear Sir: — Though I might have expected to hear from /ou, upon youi entrance into a new state of hfe at a new place, yet recollectirg, (not without Bome degree of shame,) that I owe you a letter upon an old account, I think it my part to write first. This, indeed, I do not only from complaisance but from interest ; for living on in the old way, I am very glad of a correspondent so capable as yourself to diversify the hours. You have, at present, too many novelties about you to need any help from me to drive along your time. "I know not anything more pleasant, or more instructive, than to compare experience with expectation, or to register from time to time the difference between idea and reality. It is by this kind of observation that we grow daily less liable to be disappointed. You, who are very capable of anticipating futurity, and raising phantoms before your own eyes, must often have imagined to yourself an academical life, and have conceived what would be the manners, the views, and the conversation, of men devoted to letters ; how they would choose their companions, how they would direct their studies, and how they would regulate their lives. Let me know what you expected, and what you have found. At least record it to yourself, before custom has reconciled you to the scenes before you, and the disparity of your discoveries to your hopea has vanished from your mind. It is a rule never to be forgotten, that what- ever strikes strongly, should be described while the first impression remains fresh upon the mind. " I love, dear Sir, to think on you, and therefore, should willingly write more to you, but that the post will not now give me leave to do more than to send my compUments to Mr. Warton, and tell you that I am, dear Sir, most affectionately, your very humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 60. TO BEXNET LAXGTON, ESQ. At Lang ton. "Sept. 21, 175S. " Dear Sir, — I should be sorry to think that what engrosses the attention of my friend, should have no part of mine. Your mind is now full of the fate of Dury ;' but his fate is past, and nothing remains but to try what reflection will suggest to mitigate the terrors of a violent death, which is more formida- ble at the first glance, than on a nearer ar-d more steady view. A violent death is never very painful ; the only danger is, lest it should be unprovided. But if a man can be supposed to make no provision for death in war, what can be the state that would have awakened him to the care of futurity ? When » Major-General Alexander Dury, of the First Regiment of Foot Guards, who fell in th# gallant discharge of his duty, near St. Cas, in the well-known unfortunate expedition against FrftBce, in 175S, SI 2 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1T59 would that man have prepared himself to die, who went to seek death witnout preparaiion? What then can be the reason why we lament more him that dies of a wound, than fiim that dies of a fever ? A man that languishes with disease, ends his life with more pain, but with less virtue : he leaves no example to his friends, nor bequeaths any honour to his descendants. Tho only reason why we lament a soldier's death, is, that we think he might have lived longer; yet this cause of grief is common to many other kinds of death, which are not so passionately bewailed. The truth is, that every death is violent, which is the effect of accident ; every death which is not gradually brought on by the miseries of age, or when life is e'xtinguished for any other reason than that it is burnt out. He that dies before sixty, of a cold or con- sumption, dies, in reality, by a violent death ; yet his death is borne with patience, only because the cause of his untimely end is mlcnt and invisible. Let us endeavour to see things as they are, and then inquire whether we ought to complain. Whether to see life as it is, will give us much consolation, I know not; but the consolation which is drawn from truth, if any there be, is solid and durable : that which may be derived from error, must be, like its original, fallacious and fugitive. I am, dear, dear Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." In 1*159, in the montli of January, his mother died, at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply nifected him ; not that " his mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality ;' but that his reverential affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he retained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his life. I have been told, that he regretted much his not having gone to visit his mother, for several years previous to her death. But he was constantly engaged in literary labours, which confined him to London; and though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contributed liberally to her support. Letter 61. TO MRS. JOHNSON. In Lichfield? " Jan. 13, 1758.» " Honoured Madam, — The account which Miss [Porter] gives me of your > Mr. Boswell contradicts Hawkins, for the mere pleasure, as it would seem, of doing so. The reader must observe that Mr. Boswell's work is full of anecdotes of Johnson's want of firmness in contemplating mortality. — C. • 2 Since the publication of the third edition of this work, the following letters of Dr. John- son, occasioned by the last illness of his mother, were obligingly communicated to Mr. Malone by the Rev. Dr. Vyse. They are placed here agreeably to the chronological order almost uni- formly observed by the author; and so strongly evince Dr. Johnson's piety and tenderness of heart, tliat every reader must be gratified by their insertion — M., 1S04. ' Written hy mistake for 1759, as the subsetjuent letters show. Jn the next letter, he Ij^J ^^■^■'•^ ILLNESS OF HIS MOTHER. 218 lealth, pierces my heart. God comfort, and preserve you, and save you, lot the sake of Jesus Christ. "I would have Miss read to you from time to time the Passion of our Sa- viour, and sometimes the sentences in the Communion Service, beginning — ' Come unto 7ne, all ye that travel and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'' " I have just now read a physical book, which inclines me to think that a strong infusion of the bark would do you good. Do, dear mother, try it. "Pray, send me your blessing, and forgive all that I have done amiss to you. And whatever you would have done, and what debts you would have paid first, or anything else that you would direct, let Miss put it down; I shall endeavour to obey you. " I have got twelve guineas' to send you, but unliappily am at a loss how lQ send it to-night. If I cannot send it to-night, it will come by tlic next post. " Pray do not omit anything mentioned in this letter. God bless you for ever and ever. I am, your dutiful son, " Sam Jounson." Lkxter 62. TO MISS PORTER. At Mrs. Johnson'' s, in Lichjield. " Jan. 16, 1759 "My Dear Miss, — I think myself obliged to you beyond all expres>ion of gratitude for your care of my dear mother. God grant it may not be without success. Tell Kitty, ■■' that I shall never forget her tenderness- for her mistress. Whatever you can do, continue to do. My heart is very full. " I hope you received twelve guineas on Monday. I found a way of sending them by means of the postmaster, after I had written my letter, and hope they came safe. I will send you more in a few days. God bless you all. I am, my dear, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." " Over the leaf is a letter to my mother." Letter 63. TO MRS. JOHNSON. " Jan. 16, 1759. Dear Honoured Mother, — Your weakness afflicts me beyond what I am willing to communicate to you. I do not think you unfit to face death, but I Inadvertently fallen into the same error, but corrected it. On the outside of the letter of the 18th was written by another hand, — "Pray acknowledge the receipt of this by return of post, without fail." — M. • I find in Johnson's diary a note of the payment to Mr. Allen, the printer, of six guineas, which he had borrowed of him, and sent to his dying mother. — H.\wkins, p. 366. * Catherine Chambers, Mrs. Johnson's maid-servant. She died in October, 1767. Se« Prayers and Meditations, p. 71 : " Sunday, Oct. 18, 1767. Yesterd.iy, Oct 17, I took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, Catherine Chambers, who came to live with my mother about 1724, and has been but little parted from us since. She buried ray father, my brothe-, and «.y mither. She is now fifty-eight years old." — M. 13* 574 LIFE OF JOHNSON. tT59 know noL liow to bear the thought of losing you. Endeavour to do all you [can] for yourself. Eat as much as you can. "I pray often for you; do you pray for me? I have nothing to add t(?' my last letter. I am, dear, dear mother, your dutiful son, Sam. Johnson." Lettek 64. TO MRS. JOHNSON, In Liclijield. " Jan. 18, 1769. " Dear Honoured Mother, — I fear you are too ill for long letters ; there- fore I will only tell you, you have from me all the regard that can possibly subsist in the heart. I pray God to bless you for evermore, for Jesus Christ's Bake. Amen. " Let Miss write to me every post, however short. I am, dear mother, your dutiful son, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 65. TO MISS PORTER, At Mrs. Johnsoji's in Lichfield. " Jan. 20, 1769. " Dear Miss, — I will, if it be possible, come down to you. God grant I may yet [find] my dear mother breathing and sensible. Do not tell her, lest I disappoint her. If I miss to write next post, I am on the road. I am, my dearest Miss, your most humble servant, "Sam. Johnson. " On the other side." Letter 66. TO MRS. JOHNSON. "Jan. 20, 1759.- "Dear Honoured Mother, — Neither your condition nor your cnaracter make it fit for me to say much. You have been the best mother, and i be* lieve the best woman in the woi*ld. I thank you for your indulgence to me and beg forgiveness of all that I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to do well." God grant you His Holy Spirit, and receive you to everlasting happiness, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. Lord Jesus receive yotir spirit. Amen. I am, dear, dear mother, your dutiful son, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 67, TO MISS PORTER. In Lichfield. "Jan. 2.3,1759.3 " You will conceive my sorrow for the loss of ray mother, of the best • This letter was written on the second leaf of the preceding, addressed to Miss Porter. ^ So, in the prayer which he composed on this occasion : — " Almighty God, merciful Father, In whose hands are life and death, sanctify unto me the sorrow which I now feel. Forgive me whatever I have done unkindly to my mother, and whatever I have omitted to do kindly. Make me to remember her good precepts and good example, and to reform my lifa according to thy holy word," &c. Prayers, kc, p. 31. — M. s Mrs. Johnson probably died on the 20th or 21st of January, and was buried on the daj this letter was written — W. ^'^'^'^-oO- DEATH OF HIS MOTHER. . '275 mother. 1/ she were to live again, surely I should behave better to her. But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her ; and for me, since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her my sincerest thanks, and pray God to repay you all with infinite advantage. Write to me, and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad likewise, if Kitty will write to me. I shall send a bill of twenty pounds in a few days, which 1 thought to have brought to my mother, but God suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much more. God bless you, and bless us all. I am, dear Miss, your affectionate hunil e servant, "Sam. Johnson." Letter G8. TO MISS LUCY PORTER.' [The beginning of the writing torn and lost.] ' Jan. 25, 1759. " You will forgive me if I am not yet so composed as to give any directions about any thing. But you are wiser and better than I, and I shall be pleased with all that you shall do. It is not of any use for me now to come down ; ' nor can I bear the place. If you want any directions, Mr. Howard ^ will ad- Tise you. The twenty pounds I could not get a bill for to-night, but will send it on Saturday. I am, my dear, your affectionate servant, " Sam. Johnson. Letter 69, TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. " Feb. 6, 1759. " Dear Miss, — I have no reason to forbear writing, but that it makes my heart heavy, and I had nothing particular to say which might not be delayed to the next post ; but had no thoughts of ceasing to correspond with my dear Lucy, the only person now left in the world with whom I think myself con- nected. There needed not my dear mother's desire, for every heart must lean to somebody, and I have nobody but you ; in whom I put all my little affairs with too much confidence to desire you to keep receipts, as you prudently pro- posed. "If you and Kitty will keep the house, I think I shall like it best. Kitty may carry on the trade for herself, keeping her own stock apart, and laying aside any money that she receives for any of the goods which her good mis- ' No. 41 of the Idler (Jan. 27), though it takes the character of a letter to the author, was written by Johnson himself on his mother's death, and may be supposed to describe as truly as pathetically his sentiments on the separation of friends and relations. — Hawkins. '^ Mr. Murphy states : — " AVith this supply (the price of Rasselas) Johnson set out for Lich- field ; but did not arrive in time to close the eyes of a parent whom he loved. He attended the funeral." It is clear, from all these letters, that he did not attend on that occasion. Rai* jelas was not written, nor of course, it may be presumed, sold, till two months later — C, ' Mr. Howard was in the law, and resided in the close. — Harwood ■ ^76 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ^^^ tress has left behind her. I do not see, if this scheme be followed, any need of appraising the books. My mother's debts, dear mother, I suppose 1 may pay with little difficulty; and the little trade may go silently forward. I fancj Kitty can do nothing better ; and I shall not want to put her out of a house, where she has lived so long, and with so much virtue. I am very sorry that she is ill, and earnestly hope that she will soon recover; let her know that I have the highest value for her, and would do anything for her advantage. Let her think of this proposal. I do not see any likelier method by which she may pass the remaining part of her life in quietness and competence. " You must have what part of the house you please, while you are incUned to stay in it ; but I flatter myself with the hope that you and I shall some time pass our days together. I am very solitary and comfortless, but will not Invite you to come hither till I can have hope of making you live here so as not to dislike your situation. " Pray, my dearest, write to me as often as you can. I am, dear madam, your affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 70. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. " March 1, 1T59. " Dear Madam, — I thought your last letter long .in coming, and did not require or expect such an inventory of little things as you have sent me. I could have taken your word for a matter of much greater value. I am glad that Kitty is better ; let her be paid first, as my dear, dear mother ordered, and then let me know at once the sum necessary to discharge her other debts, and I will find it you very soon. " I beg, my dear, that you would act for me without the least scruple ; for I can repose myself very confidently upon your prudence, and hope we shall never have reason to love each other less. I shall take it very kindly if you make it a rule to write to me once at least every week ; for I am now ver^ desolate, and am loth to be universally forgotten. I am, dear sweet, youi affectionate servant, "Sam. Johnson." Soon after this event, lie wrote bis " Easselas, Prince of Abys- sinia ;" * concerning the publication of which Sir John Hawkins ' Rasselas was published in April 1759. Does not Johnson express his own feelings, when he so beautifully describes the dejection of the Princess at the loss of Pekuah ?— " She sunk into silent pensiveness and gloomy tranquillity. She sat from morning to evening, recolhict- ing all that had been done or said by her Pekuah, treasured up, with care, every trifle ou which Pekifeh had set an accidental value, and which might recall to mind any little incident or careless conversation. The sentiments of her, whom she now expected to see no more, were treasured in her memory as rules of life, and she deliberated to no other end, than to conjecture, on any occasion, what would have been the opinion and counsel of Pekuah." Chap. 35. Again, in chap 45, Johnson pathetically remarks, in the character of the sage, '• I have neither mother to be delighted with the reputation of her son, nor wife to partake the honours of her husband." — Markland ^TAT. 50. RASSELAS AND CAXDIDE. 2t1 guesses vaguely aud idly, instead of having taken the trouble to inform himself with authentic precision. Not to trouble my readers with a repetition of the knight's reveries, I have to mention, that the late Mr Strahan, the printer, told me that Johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray the expense of his mother's funeral, aud pay some little debts which she had left. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that he composed it in the evenings of one week ; sent it to the press in portions as it was written, and had never since read it orer.' Mr. Strahan, Mr. Johnston, and Mr. Dodsley, pur-« chased it for a hundred pounds ; but afterwards paid him twenty- five pounds more, when it came to a second edition. Considering the large sums which have been received for compi- lations, and works requiring not much more genius than compila- tions, we cannot but wonder at the very low price which he was content to receive for this admirable performance ; which, though he had written nothing else, would have rendered his name immortal in the world o*f literature. None of his writings has been so exten- sively diffused over Europe ; for it has been translated into most, if not all, of the modern languages. This tale, with all the charms of Oriental imagery, and all the force and beauty of which the Eng- lish language is capable, leads us through the most important scenes of human life, and shows us that this stage of our being is full of " vanity and vexation of spirit." To those who look no further than the present life, or who maintain that human nature has not fallen from the state in which it was created, the instruction of this sublime story will be of no avail. But they who think justly, and feel with strong sensibility, will listen with eagerness and admiration to its truth and wisdom. Voltaire's Caxdide, w^ritten to refute the system of Optimism, which it has accomplished with brilliant success, is wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to Johnson's Rasselas ; insomuch, that I have heard Johnson say, that if they had not been published so closely one after the other that there was not time for imitation, it would have been in vain to deny that the scheme of that which came latest was taken from the other. Though the propo- sition illustrated by both these works was the same, namely, that in 1 See under June 2, 1781. Findinf; it then accidentally in a chaise with Mr. B< swell, h« ead it eagerly. Thi3 was, doubtless long after bis declaration to Sir Joshu* Reynolds. — M. 278 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '^^'* our present state there is more evil than good, the intention of the writers was very diiferent. Voltaire, I am afraid, meant only by wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive victory over religion, and to discredit the belief of a superintending Providence : Johnson meant, by showing the unsatisfactory nature of things temporal, to direct the hopes of man to things eternal. " Rasselas," as was observed to me by a very accomplished lady, may be considered as a more enlarged and more deeply philosophical discourse in prose, upon the interesting truth, which in his " Vanity of Human Wishes " he had so successfully enforced in verse. The fund of thinking which this work contains is such, thai almost every sentence of it may furnish a subject of long meditation. I am not satisfied if a year passes without my liaving read it through ; and at every perusal, ray admiration of the mind which produced it is so highly raised, that I can scarcely believe that I had the honour of enjoying the intimacy of such a man. I restrain myself from quoting passages from this excellent work, or even referring to them ; because I should not know what to select, or, rather, what to omit. I shall, however, transcribe one, as it shows how well he could state the arguments of those who be- lieve in the appearance of departed spirits ; a doctrine which it is a mistake to suppose that he himself ever positively held : "If all your fear be of apparitions (said the Prince), I will promise you safety: there is no danger from the dead ; he that is once buried will be seen no more. " That the dead are seen no more (said Imlac), I will not undertake to main- tain, against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages, and of all nations. There is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth ; those that never heard of one another, would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is doubted by single cavillers, can very little weaken the general evidence ; and some who deny it with their tongues, confess it by their fears." Notwithstanding my high admiration of Rasselas, I will not main- tain that the " morbid melancholy " in Johnson's constitution may not, perhaps, have made life appear to him more insipid and un ^■^■^^■^- KASSELAS. 21S) happy than it g-cnorally is ; for I am sure that he had U'ss eiijoy- nieut fi-ODi it than I liave. Yet wliatever additional shade his own particular sensations may have tlirown on his representation of life, attentive observation and close inquiry have convinced me, that there is too much reality in the gloomy picture. The truth, how- ever, is, that we judge of the happiness and misery of life difterenily at different times, according to the state of our changeable frame. I always remember a remark made to me by a Turkish lady, edu cated in France : " Mafoi, Monsieior, notre bonheur dejKhd de la fagon que notre sang circule." Tliis have I learnt from a precty hard course of experience ; and would, from sincere benevolence, impress upon all wdio honour tiiis book with a perusal, that until a steady conviction is obtained, that the present life is an imperfect state, and only a passage to a better, if we comply with the divine scheme of progressive improvemeut ; and also that it is a part or the mys- terious plan of Providence, that intellectual beings must " be made perfect through suffering ;" there will be a continual recurrence of disappointment and uneasiness. But if we walk with hope in " thf^ mid-day sun " of revelation, our temper and disposition will be such, that the comforts and enjoyments in our way will be relished, while we patiently support the inconveniences and pains. After much speculation and various reasonings, I acknowledge myself convinced of the truth of Voltaire's canclusion, " Apres tout chst un mond passable^ But we must not think too deeply : " where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise," "iS, in many respects, more than poetically just. Let us cultivate ander the command of good principles, "Za theorie des sensatioTts agreables ;" and, as Mr. Burke once admirably counselled a gra,ve and anxious gentleman, " live pleasant." The effect of Rasselas, and of Johnson's other moral talcs, is thus beautifully illustrated by Mr. Courtenay : — ■ " Impressive truth, in splendid fiction dress'd, Checks the vain wish, and calms the troubled breast ; O'er the dark mind a light celestial throws, And soothes the angry passions to repose; 2S0 ■ LI^E OF JOHNSON. *'"•' As oil effused illumes and smooths the deep, When round the bark the swelling surges sweep." It ,\'ill be recollected that clurii.g all this year he carried on hia Idler/ and, no doubt, was proceeding, though slowly, in his edition of Slmkspeare. He, however, from that libei'ality which never failed when called upon to assist other labourers in literature, found time to translate for Mrs. Lenox's English version of Brumoy, " A Dissertation on the Greek Comedy,'' f and " The General Con- clusion of the Book." f An inquiry into the state of foreign countries was an object that seems at all times to have interested Johnson. Hence Mr. Newbery found no great difficulty in persuading him to write the Introduc- tion* to a collection of voyages and travels published by him under the title of " The World Displayed :" the first volume of which appeared this year, and the remaining volumes in subsequent years. I would ascribe to this year the following letter to a son of one of his early friends at Lichfield, Mr. Joseph Simpson, Barrister, and author of a tract entitled " Eeflections on the Study of the Law." Letter 71. TO JOSEPH SIMPSON, ESQ. "Dear Sir, — Your father's inexorability not only grieves but amazes me: ne is your father ; he was always accounted a wise man ; nor do I remember ' This paper was in such high estimation beforB it was collected into volumes, that it waa seized on with avidity bj' various publishers of newspapers and magazines, to enrich their publications Johnson, to put a stop to this unfair proceeding, wrote for the Universal Chronicle the following advertisement ; in which there is, perhaps, more pomp of words thau the occasion demanded : — " London, Jan. 5, 1759. Advertisement. The proprietors of the paper entitled ' The Idler,' having found that those essays are inserted in the newspapers and magazines with so little regard to justice or decency, that the Universal Chronicle, in which they first appear, is not always mentioned, think it necessary to declare to the publishers of those collections, that however patiently they have hitherto endured these injuries, made yet more injurious by contempt, they have now determined to endure them no longer. They have already seen essays, for which a very large price is paid, transferred, with the most shameless rapacity, into the weekly or monthly compilations, and their right, at least for the present, alienated from them, before they could themselves be said to enjoy it. But they would not willingly be thought to want tenderness, even for men by wliom no tenderness hath been shown The past is without remedy, and shall be without resentment But those who have been thus busy with their sickles in the fields of their neighbors, are henceforward to take notice that the time of impunity is at an end Whoever shall, without our leave, lay the hand of rapine upon our papers, is to e.xpect that we shall vindicate our due, by the means which justice pre?.'ribes, and which are warranted by the immemorial prescriptions of honourable trade We shall lay hold, in our turn, on their copies, degrade them from the pomp of wide mar^n and dilTuse typography, contract them intso a narrow space, and sell them at an humble price ; yet not with a view of growing rich by confiscations, for we think not much better of money got by punishment than by crimes. We shall therefore, when our losses are repaid, give what profit shall remain to the Magdalens ; for we know not who can be more properly taxed for the support of penitent prostitutes, than prostitutes in whom there yet appears neither penitengo nor shame," ^'t'^'r-50. OXFORD FRANCIS BAKBFB. 281 aDvthing to the disadvantage of his good-ualure ; but ia lis refusal to assist you there is neither good-nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. It is the practice of good-nature to overlook faults which have already, by the consequences, punished the delinquent. It is natural for a father to think more favourably than others of his children ; and it is always wise to give assistance, while a little help will prevent the necessity of greater. "If you married imprudently, you miscarried at your own hazard, at an age when you had a right of choice. It would be hard if the man might not choose his own wife, who has a riglit to plead before the judges of his country. "If your imprudence has ended in difficulties and inconveniencies, you are yourself to support them ; and, with the help of a little better healtli, you would support tliem and conquer them. Surely, that want which accident and sickness produces, is to be supported in every region of humanity, thougli there were neither friends nor fathers in the world. You have certainly from your father tlie highest claim of charity, though none of right ; and thereibre I would counsel you to omit no decent nor manly degree of importunity. Your debts in the whole are not large, and of the whole but a small part is trouble- some. Small debts are like small shot ; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be escaped without a wound : great debts are like cannon ; of loud noise, but little danger. You must, therefore, be enabled to discharge petty debts, that you may have leisure, with security, to struggle with the rest. Neither the great nor little debts disgrace you. I am sure you have my esteem for the courage with which you contracted them, and the spirit with which you endure them. I wish my esteem could be of more use. I have been invited, or have invited myself, to several parts of the kingdom ; and will not incom mode my dear Lucy by coming to Lichfield, while her present lodging is of anv use to her. I hope, in a few days, to be at leisure, and to make visits. Whither I shall fly is matter of no importance.' A man unconnected is at homo every where ; unless he may be said to be at home no where. I am sorry, dear Sir, that where you have parents, a man of your merits should not have a home. I wish I could give it you. I am, my dear Sir, affectionately yours, " Sam. Johnson." He uo'v refreshed himself by an excursion to Oxford, of which the following short characteristical notice, in his own words, is pre- served ' : — " is now making tea for me. I hive been in ray gown ever since I came here." It was, at my first coining, quite new aid handsome. I have 8wum thrice, which I had disused for many years. I have proposed to » Gent. Mag 1785, p. 28S. * Lord Stowell informs me that he prided himself in being, during his visits to Oxford, »ceur»telj' acac'emic in all points ; and be wore his gown almost oHentaUousli/. — C- 282 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^59. Vansittart ' climbing over the wall, but be has refused me. And 1 have clapped my hands till they are sore, at Dr. King's speech." * His negro servant, Francis Barber, having left liim, and been some time at sea, not pressed as has been supposed, but with his own consent, it appears from a letter to John Wilkes, Esq., from Dr. Smollett, that his master kindly interested himself in procuring his release from a state of life of which Johnson always expressed the utmost abhorrence. He said, " No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into jail ; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned." (Aug. 31, IITS.) And at another time, " A man in a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company." (Sept. 23, 1*173.) The letter was as follows : — Letter 12. TO JOHN WILKES, ESQ. " Chelsea, March 16, 1759. " Dear Sir, — I am again your petitioner, in behalf of that great Cham^ of literature, Samuel Johnson. His black servant, whose name is Francis Barber, has been pressed on board the Stag frigate. Captain Angel, and our lexico- grapher is in great distress. He says the boy is a sickly lad, of a delicate frame, and particularly subject to a malady in his throat, which renders him very unfit for his Majesty's service. You know what matter of a,nimosity the said Johnson has against you ; and I dare say you desire no other opportunity of resenting it, than that of laying him under an obligation. He was humble enough to desire my assistance on this occasion, though he and I were never co.ter-cousins ; and I gave him to understand that I would make application to 1 Dr. Robert Vansittart, of the ancient and respectable family of that name in Berksljire. He was eminent for learning and worth, and much esteemed by Dr. Johnson. 2 At the installation of John, Earl of Westmoreland, as Chancellor of the University, July 7, 1759. 3 In ray first edition, this word was printed Chum-, as it appears in one of Mr. Wilkes's Mis- cellanies, and I animadverted on Dr. Smollett's ignorance ; for which let me propitiate the manes of that ingenious and benevolent gentleman. Chum was cerl.iinly a mistaken reading for Cham, the title of the sovereign of Tartary, which is well applied to Johnson, the monarch of literature ; and was an epithet familiar to Smollett. See " Roderick Random," chap. 66, For this correction, I am indebted to Lord Palmerston, whose talents and literary acquire- ments accord well with liis respectable pedigree of Temple — B. After the publication of the second edition of this work, the author was furnished by Mi. Abercrombie of Philadelphia, with the copy of a letter written by Dr. John Armstrong, the poet, to Dr. Smollett, at Leghorn, containing the following paragraph : — " As to the K. Bench patriot, it is hard to say from what motive he published a letter of yours asking some trifling favour of him in behalf of somebody for whom the great Cham of literature, Mr. Johnson, had interested himself."— M. ^'AT. 60. FRANCIS BARBER. - 283 II _,• friend, Mr. Wilkes, who, perhaps, by his interest with Dr. Flay and Mr. Elliot, might be able to procure the discharge of his lacquey. It would be superfluous to say more on this subject, which I leave to your own considera- tion ; but I cannot let slip this opportunity of declaring that I am, with the most inviolable esteem and attachment, dear Sir, your affectionate, obliged humble servant, " T. Smollett." ' Mr. Wilkes, who upon all occasions has acted, as a private gentleman, with most polite liberality, applied to his friend Sir George Hay, then one of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty ; and Francis Barber was discharged, as he has told me, without any wish of his own. He found his old master in Chambers in the Inner Temple, and returned to his service. What particular new scheme of life Johnson had in view this year, I have not discovered ; but that he meditated one of some sort, is clear from his private devotions, in which we find [24th March], " the change of outward things which I am now to make," and, " Grant me the grace of thy Holy Spirit, that the course Avhich I am now beginning may proceed according to thy laws, and end in the enjoyment of thy favour." But he did not, in fact, make any external or visible change.* 1 Dr. Johnsou's acquaintance with Mrs. Montagu probably began about this period. We finu lu this year, tlie first of the many applications whicli he made to the extensive and unwearied Oi.anty of that excellent woman : — To Mrs. Montagu. June 9, 1T50. " Madam, — I am desired by Mrs. Williams to sign receipts with her name for the subscri bers which you have been pleased to procure, and to return her humble thanlis for youi favour, which was conferred with all the grace that elegance can add to beneficence. I am, madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, Sam. Johnson." It is necessary to request the attention of the reader to the warm terms in which Johnson 50 frequently expresses his admiration and esteem for Mrs. Montagu, as we shall see that he afterwards took another tone. — C. '' " The change of life," says Mr. Croker, " was probably the breaking up his establishment in Gough Square, where he had resided for ten years, and retiring to chambers in Staple Inn , wliile Mrs. Williams went into lodgings " This economical arrangement, as we learn from the following note, communicated by Mrs. Pearson through Dr. Ilarwood, took place just at this period : — To Mrs, Lucy Porter. " March 23, 1759. "Dear Madam, — I beg your pardon for having so long omitted to write. One thing or other has put me off. I have this day moved my things, and you are now to direct to me at Staple Inn, London. I hope, my dear, you are well, and Kitty mends. I wish her success in her trade, I am going to publish a little story book [Kasselas], which I will send you when it is 284 LIFE OF JOHNSON. -^^'• Letter IS. TO MISS LUCY PORTER. " May IC, 1759. "Dear Madam, — I am almost ashamed to tell you that all your letters came safe, and that I have been always very well, but hindered, I hardly know how, from writing. I sent, last week, some of my works, one for you, one for your aunt Hunter, who was with my poor dear mother when she died, one for Mr. Howard, and one for Kitty. " I beg you my dear, to write often to me, and tell me how you Hke my httle book. I am, dear love, your affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Lktter 74. TO MRS. MONTAGU. »' Gray's Inn, Dec. 17, 1759. " Madam, — Goodness so conspicuous as yours will be often solicited, and perhaps sometimes solicited by those who have little pretension to your favour. It is now my turn to introduce a petitioner, but such as I have reason to believe you will think worthy of your notice. Mrs. Ogle, who kept (he music-room in Soho Square, a woman who struggles with great industry for the support of eight children, hopes by a benefit concert to set herself free from a few debts, which she cannot otherwise discharge. She ha?, J know not why, so high an opinion of me as to believe that you will pay less regard to her application than to mine. You know, madam, I am sure you know, how hard it is to deny, and therefore would not wonder at my compliance, though I were to suppress a motive which you know not, the vanity of being supposed to be of any importance to Mrs. Montagu. But though I may be willing to see the world deceived for my advantage, I am not deceived myself, for I know that Mrs. Ogle will owe whatever favours she shall receive from the patronage which we humbly entreat on this occasion, much more to your compassion for honesty in distress, than to tlie request of, Madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." At this time there being a competition among the architects of London to be employed in the building of Blackfriars' Bridge, a question was very warmly agitated whether semicircular or ellipti- cal arches were preferable. In the design oifered by Mr. Mylne the elliptical form was adopted, and therefore it was the great object of his rivals to attack it. Johnson's regard for his friend Mr. Gwyn induced him to engage in this controversy against Mr. Mylne ; and out. Write to me, my dearest girl, for I am always glad to hear from you. I am, my dear, your humble servant, Sam. Johnson " ^'^^'^- W. MYLNE THE ARCHITECT. 285 after bciug at considerable pains to study the subject, he wrote three several letters in the Gazetteer, in opposition to his plan. If it should be remarked that this was a controversy which lay quite out of Johnson's way, let it be remembered, that after all, his employing his powers of reasoning and eloquence upon a subject which he had studied on the moment, is not more strange than what we often observe in lawyers, who, as Quicquia agunt homines is the matter of lawsuits, are sometimes obliged to pick up a temporary knowledge of an art or science, of which they understood nothing till their brief was delivered, and appear to be much masters of it. In like manner, members of the legislature frequently introduce and expatiate upon subjects of which they have informed themselves for the occasion. CHAPTER XIV. 1^60—1763. lUsceUaneou^ Essays — Origin of Johnson's Acquaintance with Murphy — Akenside and Rolt— Maclienzie and Eccles — Letters to Baretti — Painting and Music— Sir George Staunton— Letter to a Lady soliciting Church Prefecment for her Son — The King confers on Johnson a Pension of £300 a Year — Letters to Lord Bute — Visit to Devonshire, with Sir Joshua Key* nolds — Character of Collins — Dedication of KooU's Tasso. In 1760 he wrote "An Address of the Painters to George III. on his Accession to the Throne of these Kingdoras/'f which no mon- arch ever ascended with more sincere congratulations from his people. Two generations of foreign princes had prepared their minds to rejoice in having again a King, who gloried in being " born a Briton." ^ He also wrote for Mr. Baretti the Dedication^ of his Italian and English Dictionary, to the Marquis of Abreu, then En- voy-Extraordinary from Spain at the Court of Great Britain. Johnson was now either very idle, or very busy with his Shak- speare ; for I can find no other public composition by hiiu except an Introduction to the Proceedings of the Committee for Clothing the French Prisoners ;* one of the many proofs that he was ever awake to the calls of humanity ; and an account which ho gave in the Gentleman's Magazine of Mr. Tytler's acute and able vindication of Mary Queen of Scots.* The generosity of Johnson's feelings shines forth in the following sentence : — " It has now been fashionable, for near, half a century, to de/ame and vilify the house of Stuart, and to exalt and magnify the reign of Elizabeth. The Stuarts have found few apologists, for the dead cannot pay for praise ; and who will, without reward, oppose the tide of popularity? Yet there remain? still among us, not wholly extinguished, a zeal for truth, a desire of estabhshing right in ojiposition to fashion." > " Born and educated In this country, I glory In the name of Briton." — Georqb III.'s flirl. <;peecb to Wa i>arliainent. S8» '*'*^- si- MISCELLANIES. 287 In this year I hav6 not discovered a single private tetter written by him to any of liis friends. It sliould seem, however, that he had at this period a floating intention of writing a history of the recent and wonderful successes of the British arms in all quarters of the globe ; for among his resolutions or memorandums, September 18, there is, " Send for books for Hist, of War." * How much is it to be regretted that this intention was not fulfilled. His majestic expression would have carried down to the latest posterity the glorious achievements of his country, with the same fervent glow which they produced on the mind at the time. He would have been under no temptation to deviate in any degree from truth, which he held very sacred, or to take a licence, which a learned divine told me he once seemed, in a conversation, jocularly to allow to histo- rians. " There are (said he) inexcusable lies, and consecrated lies. For instance, we are told that on the arrival of the news of the unfortunate battle of Foutenoy, every heart beat, and every eye was in tears. Now, we know that no man eat his dinner the worse, but there should have been all this concern ; and to say there was (smiling), may be reckoned a consecrated lie." This year Mr. Murphy, having thought himself ill-treated by the Rev. Dr. Francklin," who was one of the writers of " The Critical Review," published an indignant vindication in " A Poetical Epistle to Samuel Johnson, A.M.," in which he compliments Johnson in a just and elegant manner : — 1 The following memorandum, made on his birthday in this year, may be quoted as an example of the rules and resolutions which he was in the habit of making, 'or the guidanoe of his moral conduct and literary studies : — " Sept. IS. Resolved, D {eo) j {uvante), To combat notions of obligation : To apply to study : To reclaim imaginations To consult the resolves on Tetty's cofl^ : To rise early : To study religion : To go to church : To drink less strong liquors : To keep a journal : , To oppose laziness, by doing what is to be done to-morrow : Rise early as I can : Send for books for Hist, of War: Put books in order : Scheme of life." • Dr. Thomas Francklin, the translator of Sophocles and Lucian. He died In 1784. §88 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^* "Transcendent Genius! whose prolific vein Ne'er knew the frigid poet's toil and pain ; To whom Apollo opens all his store, * And every muse presents her sacred lore ; Say. powerful Johnson, whence thy verse is fraught With so much grace, such energy of thought ; Whether thy Juvenal instructs the age In chaster numbers, and new-points his rage ; Or fair Irene sees, alas! too late, Her innocence exchanged for guilty state ; Whate'er you write, in every golden line Sublimity and elegance combine ; Thy nervous phrase impresses every soul, While harmony gives rapture to the whole." Again, towards the conclusion : "Thou then, my friend, who see'st the dang'rous strife In which some demon bids me plunge my life, To the Aonian fount direct my feet. Say, where the Nine thy lonely musings meet ? Where warbles to thy ear the sacred throng, Thy moral sense, thy dignity of song? Tell, for you can, by what unerring art You wake to finer feelings every heart; In each bright page some truth important give, And bid to future times thy Rambler live." I take tbis opportunity to relate the manner in which an acquaint ance first commenced between Dr. Johnson and Mr. Murphy. During the publication of " The Gray's Inn Journal," a periodical paper which was successfully carried on by Mr. Murphy alone, when a very young man, he happened to be in the country with Mr. Foote, and having mentioned that he was obliged to go to London in order to get ready for the press one of the numbers of that journal, Foote said to him, "You need not go on that account. Here is a French magazine, in which you will find a very pretty oriental tale ; translate thtit, and send it to your printer." Mr. Murphy having read the tale, was highly pleased with it, and fol- lowed Foote's advice. When he returned to town, this tale was pointed out to him in " The Rambler," from whence it had been ^^^■t>- LETTER TO LANGTON. 289 translated into the French magazine.' Mr. Murphy then waited upon Johnson, to explain this curious incident. His talents, litera- ture, and gentleman-like manners, were soon perceived by Johnson, and a friendship was formed which was never broken. Letter 75. TO BEXXET LANGTOX, ESQ. At Lanrjton. " October 18, 1760. "Dear Sir, — You that travel about the world, have more materials for let- ters, than I who stay at home ; and should, therefore, write with frequency equal to your opportunities. I should be glad to have all England surveyed by you, if you would impart your observations in narratives as agreeable as your last. Knowledge is always to be wished to those who can communicate it well. While you have been riding and running, and seeing the tombs of the learned, and the camps of the valiant, I have only staid at home, and intended to do great things, which I have not done. Beau'' went away to Cheshire, and has not yet found his way 1)ack. Chambers passed the vacation at Oxford. "I am very sincerely solicitous for the preservation or curing of Mr. Lang- ton's sight, and am glad that the chirurgeon at Coventry gives him so much hope. Mr. Sharp is of opinion that the tedious maturation of the cataract is a vulgar error, and that it may be removed as soon as it is formed. This notion deserves to be considered ; I doubt whether it be universally true ; but if it be true in some cases, and those cases can be distinguished, it may save a long and uncomfortable delay. " Of dear Mrs. Langton you give me no account ; which is the less friendly, as you know how highly I think of her, and how much I interest myself in her health. I suppose you told her of my opinion, and likewise suppose it was not followed ; however I still believe it to be right. " Let me hear from you again, wherever you are, or whatever you are doing ; whether you wander or sit still, plant trees or make Rudia,^ play with your sisters or muse alone ; and in return I will tell you the success of Sheridan, who at this instant is playing Cato, and has already played Richard twice.. He had more company the second than the first night, and will make I belie /e a good figure in the whole, though his faults seem to be very many ; some of natural deficience, and some of laborious affectation. He has, I think, no power of 1 When Mr. Murphy first became acquainted with Dr. Johnson, he was about thirty-one yeiirs old. He died at Knightsbridge, June IS, 1S05, in his eighty-second year. The extra- ordinary paper mentioned in the text is Xo. 38 of the second series [of the Gray's Inn Jour- Dai], published on June 15, 1754 ; which Is a retranslation from the French version of th» Rambler, No. 190.— M. - Tophara Beauclerlf, Esq. ' Essays with that title, written about this time by Mr. Lington, but not published. VOL. I. 13 20O I.JFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^'^ assuming either that dignity or elegance which some men, 7\hc liave little of either in common life, can exhibit on the stage. His voice when strained is unpleasing, and when low is not always heard. He seems to think too much on the audience, and turns his face too often to the galleries. "However, I wisli him well; and among other reasons, because I like h\3 wife.' Make haste to write to, dear Sir, your most affectionate servant, " Sam. Johnson."' In 1*161 Johnson appears to have done little. He was still, no doubt, proceeding in his edition of Shakspeare ; but w'aat advances he made in it cannot be ascertained. He certainly was at this time not active ; for in his scrupulous examination of himself on Easter eve, he laments, in his too rigorous mode of censuring his own con- duct, that his life, since the communion of the preceding Easter, had been "dissipated and useless."' He, however, contJbuted this year the Preface* to " Eolt's Dictionary of Trade aad Commerce," in which he displays such a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the subject, as might lead the reader to think that its author had devoted all his Hfe to it. I asked him, whether he knew much of Rolt, and of his work. " Sir (said he), I never saw the man, and never read the book. The booksellers wanted a Preface to a Dic- tionary of Trade and Commerce. I knew very well what such a Dic- tionary should be, and I wrote a preface accordingly." Rolt, who wrote a great deal for the booksellers, was, as Johnson told me, a singular character. Though not in the least acquainted with him, • Mrs. Sheridan was author of " Memoirs of Jliss Sydney Biddulph," a novel of great merit, and of some other pieces. — Boswkll. Her last work is, perhaps, her best — Nourjahad, an eastern tale : in which a pure morality is inculcated, with a great deal of fancy and consider- able force. No wonder that Dr. Johnson should have liJced her ! Dr. Parr, in a letter to Mr. Moore, published in his Life of 11. B. Sheridan (vol. i. p. 11), thus mentions her : — "I once or twice met his mother— she was gwi^e celestial! both her virtues and her genius were highly esteemed." This amiable and accomplished woman died at Blois, in September, 1766, as Mr. Moore states, and as is proved by a letter of Mr. Sheridan's, deploring that event, dated in October, 1766 ; though the Biographical Dictionary, and other authorities, placed her death in 1767— C. 2 Sir Frederick Madden has favoured me with the following interesting extract from a letter of Birch to Lord Royston, dated London, October 25, 1760 : — " Sam. Johnson is in treaty with certain booksellers to supply three papers a week, in the nature ot Essays, like the Rambler, at the unusual rate (if the fact be true), it is said, of three guineas a paper. But I question- whether the temptation of even so liberal a reward will awaken him ft om his natural indo- lence ; for while his Rambler was publishing, which came out but twice » week, the proprietor of it. Cave, told me that copy was .seldom sent to the press till late in thf light before the day of publication." — M.^rkland. Prayers and Meditations. ^■'■'^''•^l- AKENSIDE AND ROLT. 291 he used to sa}', " I am just come from Sam. Johnson." This was a sufficient specimen of his vanity and impudence. But he gave a more eminent proof of it in our sister kingdom, as Dr. Johnson informed me. When Akenside's " Pleasures of the Imagination " first came out, he did not put his name to the poem. Kolt went over to Dubhn, published an edition of it, and put his own name to it. Upon the fame of this he lived for several months, being enter- tained at the best tables as " the ingenious Mr. Rolt." * His con- versation, indeed, did not discover much of the fire of a poet ; but it was recollected, that both Addison and Thomson were equally dull till excited by wine. Akenside having been informed of this imposition, vindicated his right by publishing the poem with its real author's name. Several instances of such literary fraud have been detected. The Rev. Dr. Campbell, of St. Andrew's, wrote " Au Enquiry into the original of Moral Virtue," the manuscript of which he sent to Mr. Innes, a clergyman in England, who was his country- man and acquaintance. Innes published it with his own name tc "jt ; and before the imposition was discovered, obtained considerable promotion, as a reward of his merit. ^ The celebrated Dr. Hugh Blair, and his cousin Mr. George Bannatine, when students in divinity, wrote a poem, entitled " The Resurrection," copies of which were handed about in manuscript. They were, at length, very much surprised to see a pompous edition of it in folio, dedi- cated to the Princess Dowager of Wales, by a Dr. Douglas, as hjs own. Some years ago a little novel, entitled " Tire Man of Feel- ing," was assumed by Mr. Eccles, a young Irish clergyman, who was afterwards drowned near Bath. He had been at the pains to tran-' scribe the whole book, with blottings, interlineations, and correc- tions, that it might be shown to several people as an original. It was, in truth, the production of Mr. Henry Mackenzie, an attorney • I have had enquhy made in Ireland as to this story, but do not find it recollected there. I give it on the authority of Dr. Johnson, to which may be added that of the " Biographical Dictionary," and " Biographia Dramatica ;" in botli of which it has stood many years. Mr. Malone observes, that the truth probably is, not that an edition was pubUshed with Rolfs name in the title-page, but, that the poem being then anonymous, Rolt acquiesced in its being attribute] to him in conversation. — Borwell. In the late edition of Chalmers's Biographical Dictionary, the foregoing story is indeed noticed, but with an observation that it lias been completely refuted. Richard Rolt died in March, 1770. — 0. * I have both the books. Innes was the clergyman who brought Psalmanazar to England, And was an accomplice in his extraordinary fiction. 292 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "•l- iu the Exchequer at Edinburgh, who is the author ot several other ingenious pieces ; but the belief with regard to Mr. Eccles became so general, that it was thought necessary for Messieurs Strahan and Cadell to publish an advertisement in the newspapers, contradicting the report, and mentioning that they purchased the copy-right of Mr. Mackenzie. I can conceive this kind of fraud to be very easily practised with successful effrontery. IhQ filiation of a literary per- formance is difficult of proof ; seldom is there any witness present at its birth. A man, either in confidence or by improper means, obtains possession of a copy of it in manuscript, and boldly pub- lishes it as his own. The true author, in many cases, may not be able to make his title clear. Johnson, indeed, from the peculiar features of his literary offspring, might bid defiance to any attempt to appropriate them to others : "But Shakspeare's magic could not copied be ; Within that circle none durst walk but he!" Letter 76. TO MISS LUCY PORTER. "Inner Temple Lane, Jan. 18, 1'lbL " Dearest Madam, — I ought to have begim the new year with repairing the omissions of the last, and to have told you sooner, what I can always tell you with truth, that I wish you long life and happiness, always increasing till it shall end at last iu the happiness of heaven. " I hope, my dear, you are well ; I am at present pretty mucli disordered by n cold and cougl^; I have just been blooded, and hope I shall be better. " Pray give my love to Kitty. I sliould be glad to hear that she goes on well. I am, my dearest dear, your most aflectionate servant, " Sam. Johnson." He this year lent his friendly assistance to correct and improve a pamphlet written by Mr. Gwyn, the architect, entitled, " Thoughts on the Coronation of George III."* Johnson had now for some years admitted Mr. Baretti to his inti- macy ; nor did their friendship cease upon their being separated by Baretti's revisiting his native country, as appears from Johnson's .etters to him. •^''''''- f* LETTER TO liAUETTI. 293 LETTEft n. TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, At Milan} "London, June 10, 176L " You reproach me very often with parsimony of writing ; but you may discover, by the extent of my paper, that I design to recompense rarity by length. A short letter to a distant friend is, in ray opinion, an insult Ulie that of a slight bow or cursory salutation ; — a proof of unwillingness to do much, even where there is a necessity of doing something. Yet it must be remem- bered, that he who continues the same course of life in the same place, will have little to tell. One week and one year are very like one another. The silent changes made by him are not always perceived ; and if they are not perceived, cannot be recounted. I have risen and lain down, talked and mused, while you have roved over a considerable part of Europe ; yet I have not envied my Baretti any of his pleasures, though, perhaps, I have envied others his company : and I am glad to have other nations made acquainted with the character of the English, by a traveller who has so nicely inspected our manners, and so successfully studied our literature. I received your kind letter from Falmouth, in which you gave me notice of your departure for Lisbon ; and another from Lisbon, in which you told me that you were to leave Portugal in a few days. To either of these how could any answer be returned ? I have had a third from Turin, complaining that I have not answered the former. Your English style still continues in its purity and vigour. With vigour your genius will supply it ; but its purity must be continued by close attention. To use two languages fainiharly, and without contaminating one b; the other, is very difficult ; and to use more than two, is hardly to be hoped The praises which some have received for their multiplicity of languages, maj be sufficient to excite industry, but can hardly generate confidence. " I know not whether I can heartily rejoice at the kind reception which you have found, or at the popularity to which you are exalted. I am wiUing that your merit should be distinguished ; but cannot wish that your affections may be gained. 1 would have you happy wherever yoU are : yet I would have you wish to return to England. If ever you visit us again, you will find the kindness of your friends undiminished. To tell you how many inquiries are made after you, would be tedious, or if not tedious, would be vain ; because you may be told in a very few words, that all who knew you wish you well and that all that you embraced at your departure, will caress you at you return : therefore do not let Italian academicians nor Italian ladies drive ui from your thoughts. You may find among us what you will leave behind, soft tmiles and easy sonnets. Yet I shall not wonder if all our invitations should b< J The originals of Dr. Johnson's three letters to Mr. Baretti, which are among the very bet he ever wrote, were communicated to the proprietors of that instructive and ejegant montht Siiscellany, " The European Magazine," in which they first appeared. 894 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*^ rejected : for there is a pleasure in being considerable at home, which is not easily resisted. "By conducting Mr. Southwell to Venice, you fulfilled, I know, tha original contract; yet I would wish you not wholly to lose him from your notice, but to recommend him to such acquaintance as may best secure him from suffering by his own follies, and to take such general care both of his safety and his interest as may come within your power. His relations will thank you for any such gratuitous attention : at least, they will not blame you for any evil that may happen, whether they thank you or not for any good. " You know that we have a new king and a new parliament. Of the new parliament Fitzherbert is a member. We were so weary of our old king, that we are much pleased with his successor; of whom we are so much inclined to hope great things, that most of us begin already to believe them. The young man is hitherto blameless ; but it would be unreasonable to expect much from the immaturity of juvenile years, and the ignorance of princely education. Uo has been long in the hands of the Scots, and has already favoured them more than the English will contentedly endure. But, perhaps, he scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he has disgusted. - " The artists have instituted a yearly Exhibition of pictures and statues, in imitation, as I am told, of foreign academies. This year was the second Ex- hibition. They please themselves much with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the English school will rise in reputation. Reynolds is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to thousands, which he deserves among other excellencies, by retaining his kindness for Baretti. This Exhibition has filled the heads of the artists and lovers of art. Surely life, if it be not long, is tedious, since we are forced to call in the assistance of so many trifles to rid us of our time, — of that time which never can return.^ ' Of the beauties of painting, notwithstanding the many eulogiums on that art wliich, after the commencement of his friendshiij witli Su- Joshua Reynolds, he inserted in his writings, Johnson had not the least conception ; and the notice of this defect led me to mention the following fact. One evening, at the club, I came in with a small roll of prints, which, in the afternoon, I had picked up : 1 thinlc they were landscapes of Perelle, and laying it down with my hat, Jolinson's curiosity prompted him to take it up and unroll it : he viewed the prints severally with great attention, and asked me what sort of pleasure such things could afford me ? I replied that, as representations of nature, containing an assemblage of such particu- lars as render rural scenes delightful, they presented to my mind the objects themselves, and that my imagination realised the prospect before me. He said, that was more than his wouIq ■ do, for that in his whole life he was never capable of discerning the least resemblance of ani kind between a picture and the subject it was intended to represent. To the delights of music, he was equally insensible : neither voice nor instrument, nor the harmony of concordant Bounds, had power over his affections, or even to engage his attention. Of music in general, he has been heard to say, " It excites in my mind no ideas, and hinders me from contem- plating my own ;" and of a fine singer, or instrumental performer, that " he had the'nierit of a Canary-bird." Not that his hearing was so defective as to account for this insensibility, but he laboured under the misfortune which he has noted in the Life of Barretier, and is common to more persons than, in this musical age, are willing to confess it — of wanting that acjilitional eense or faculty, which renders music grateful to the human ear. — Hawkins. *''-^T-S2. LETTER TO BARETTI. 295 " 1 know my Baretti will not be satisfied with a letter in wliicb I give liim no account of myself: yec what account shall I give him? I have not, since •he day of our separation, suffered or done anything considerable. The only shange in my way of life is, that I have frequented the theatre more than in former seasons. But I have gone thither only to escape from myself. We have had many new farces, and the comedy called 'The Jealous Wife,' ' which, though not written with much genius, was yet so well adapted to the stage, and so well exhibited by the actors, that it was crowded for near twenty nights. I am digressing from myself to the playhouse ; but a barren plant must be filled with episodes. Of myself I have nothing to say, but that I have hitherto lived without the concurrence of my own judgment ; yet I continue to flatter myself, that, when you return, you will find me mended. I do not wonder that, where the monastic life is permitted, every order findy votaries, and every monastery inhabitants. Men will submit to any rule, by which they may be exempted from the tyranny of caprice and of chance. They are glad to supply by external authority their own want of constancy and resolution, and court the government of others, when long experience has convinced them of their own inability to govern themselves. If I were to visit Italy, my curiosity would be more attracted by convents than by palaces ; though I am afraid that I should find expectation in both places equally disappointed, and life in both places supported with impatience and quitted with reluctance. That it must be so soon quitted, is a powerful remedy against impatience ; but what shall free us from reluctance ? Those who have endeavoured to teach us to die well, have taught few to die willingly : yet I cannot but hope that a good life might end at last in a contented death. " You see to what a train of thought I am drawn by the mention of myself. Let me now turn my attention upon you. I hope you take care to keep an exact journal, and to register all occurrences and observations ; for your friends here expect such a book of travels as has not been often seen. You have given us good specimens in your letters from Lisbon. I wish you had staid longer in Spain, for no country is less known to the rest of Europe ; but the quickness of your discernment must make amends for the celerity of your motions. He that knows which way to direct his view, sees much in a little tjme. " Write to me very often, and I will not neglect to write to you ; and I may, perhaps, in time, get something to write: at least you will know by my letters, (whatever else they may have or want, that I continue to be, your most affec- •jonate friend, " Sam. Johnson." In 1162, he wrote for the Rev. Dr. Keunedy, rector of Bradley 1 Colman's comedy of the Jealous Wife, came out in January, 1761. The v-baractei'S of Major and Mrs. Oakley were performed by Garrick and Mrs Pritchard, and Mrs. Clive Was th« ( George Leonard Staunton was born in Qalway, in Ireland, in 1737, and having adopted the profession of medicine, which he studied in France, he came to London in 1760, where ha «rrote for the periodical publications of the day, and formed an acquaintance with Dr, Johnson. A^TAT. '.i. LETTER TO A t.VDV. 297 respect but hy resigning it in another ; yet I suppose vre arc by this dispensa- tion not less happy m the whole, than if the spontaneous bounty of Nature poured all that we want into our hands. A few, if they were left thus to them- selves, would, perhaps, spend their time in laudable pursuits ; but the greater part would prey upon the quiet of each other, or, in the want of other objects, would prey upon themselves. " This, however, is our condition, which we must improve and solace as we can : and though we cannot choose always oin- place of residence, Ave may in every place find rational amusements, and possess in every place the comforts of piety and a pure conscience. "In America there is little to be observed except natural curiosities. The new world must have many vegetables and animals with which philosopher? are but little acquainted. I hope you will furnish yourself with some boolvs ot natural history, and some glasses and other instruments of observation. Trust as little as you can to report ; examine all you can by your own senses. I do not doubt but you will be able to add much to knowledge, and, perhaps, to medicine. Wild nations trust to simples, and, perhaps, the Peruvian bark is not the only specific which those extensive regions may afford us. " Wherever you are, and whatever be your fortune, be certain, dear Sir, that you carry with you my kind wishes ; and that whether you return hither, or stay in the other hemisphere, to hear thart you are happy will give pleasure to, Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, " Sam. JonxsoN." A lady having at this time solicited him to obtain the Archbishop of Canterbury's patronage to have lier son sent to the University — • one of those solicitations which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a particular object, do not consider propriety, or the opportunity which the persons whom they solicit have to assist them — he wrote to her the following answer, with a copy of which I am favoured by the Rev. Dr. Farmer, Master of Emanuel College, Cam- bridge. Letter 79. TO. MRS. . " June 8, 1762. " Madam, — I hope you will believe that my delay in answering your letter co'i^d proceed only from my unwillingness to destroy any hope that you had foi.ned. Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, tlie chief happi- ness which this world affords : but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain ; and expectations im- properly indulged, must end in disappointment. If it be asked, what is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to indulge, experience will quickly unswer, that it is such expectation as is dictated, not by reason, but by desire; 13* 258 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^''^^■ expectation raised, not by the conj/non occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant ; an expectation that requires the common course of things to be changed, and the general rules of action to be broken. " When you made your request to me, you should have considered. Madam, what you were asking. You ask me to solicit a great man, to whom I never spoke, for a young person whom I had never seen, upon a supposition which I bad no means of knowing to be true. There is no reason why, amongst all the great, I should choose to supplicate the Archbishop, nor why, among all the possible objects of his bounty, the Archbishop should choose your son. I know, madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when interest opposes H ; but surely, madam, you must allow, that there is no reason why that should be done by me, which every other man may do with equal reason, and which, indeed, no man can do properly, without some very particular relation both to the Archbishop and to you. If I could help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would give me pleasure ; but this proposal is so very remote from UBual methods, that I cannot comply with it but at the risk of such answer and S'lspicions as I believe you do not wish me to undergo. " I have seen your son this morning ; he seems a pretty youth, and will, per- haps, find some better friend than I can procure him ; but though he should at last miss the university, he may still be wise, useful, and happy. I am, Madam, your most humble servanv, "Sam. Johnson-" Letter 80. TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, At Milan. " London, July 20, 1762. "Sir, — However justly you may accuse me for want of punctuality in cor- respondence, I am not so far lost in negligence as to omit the opportunity of writing to you, which Mr. Beauclerk's passage through Milan affords me. " I suppose you received the Idlers, and I intend that you shall soon receive Shakspeare, that you may explain his works to the ladies of Italy, and tell them the story of the editor, among the other strange narratives with whica your long residence in this unknown region has supplied you. " As you have now been long away, I suppose your curiosity may pant for some news of your old friends. Miss Williams and I live much as we did. Miss Cotterel still continues to cling to Mrs. Porter, and Charlotte is now big of the fourth child. Mr. Reynolds gets six thousands a year. Levet is lately married, not without much suspicion that he has been wretchedly cheated iu his match.* Mr. Chambers is gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with ' " Levet married, when he was near sixty, a woman of the town, who had persuaded him (notwithstanding their place of congress was a small coal-shed in Fetter Lane) that she was nearly related to a man of fortune, but was kept by him out of large possessions. Johnson ased to say that, compared with the marvels of tliis transaction, the Arabian Nights seemea familiar occurrences. Never was hero more completely duped. He had not been married fom ^■^'^■^■^- LETTER TO BARETTI. 299 the Judges. Mr. Richardson, is dead of an apoplexy, and his second daugh ter has married a merchant. " My vanity, or my kindness, makes me flatter myself, that you would rather hoar of me than of those whom I have mentioned ; but of myself I have very little which I care to tell. Last winter I went down to my native town, where I found the streets much narrower and shorter than I thought I had left them, inliabited by a new race of people, to whom I was very little known. My play-fellows were grown old, and forced me to suspect that I was no longer young. My only remaining friend has changed his principles, and was become the tool of the predominant faction. My daugliter-in-law, from whom I e> pected most, and whom I met with sincere benevolence, has lost the beaut} and gaiety of youth, without having gained much of the wisdom of age. I wandered about for five days, and took tlie first convenient opportunity oi returning to a place, where, if there is not much happiness, there is, at least, tiuch a diversity of good and evil, that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart. "I think in a few weeks to try another excursion; though to what end? Let me know, my Baretti, what has been the result of your return to your own country : whether time has made any alteration for the better, and whe- ther, when the first raptures of salutation were over, you did not find your thoughts confessed their disappointment. " Moral sentences appear ostentatious and tumid, wlien they have no greater occasions than the journey of a wit to his own town : yet such pleasures and such pains make up the general mass of life ; and as nothing is little to him that feels it with great sensibility, a mind able to see common incidents in their real state, is dispo.sed by very common incidents to very serious contem- plations. Let us trust that a time will come, when the present moment shall be no longer irksome ; when we shall not borrow all our happiness from hope, w^iich at last is to end in disappointment. " I beg that you will show Mr. Beauclerk all the civilities which you have in your power ; for he has always been kind to me. " I have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me of your quarrel witji an Abbot of the Celestine order; but had not the particulars very ready in his memory. When you write to Mr. Marsili, let him know that I remember him with kindness. '' May you, my Baretti, be very happy at Milan, or some other place neare- tc^ Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson. months before a writ was taken out against him for debts contracted by his wife. He wai secreted, and his friend then procured him a protection from a foreign minister. In a short time after\vi«-ds, she ran away from him, and was tried for piclcing pocliets at the Old Bailey Slie pleaded her own cause, and was aoiiuitted n, sep.-vratiou took place ; and Johnson took Levet home, where he continued till his death."— SrEi!VENs. 1. Samuel Richardson, the autlior o' Clarii^sa, iS:e., died July i, 17iU, aged 7a.— M. 300 LIFE OF JOHNSON. *'^ The accession of George the Thu'd to the throne of these king- doms, opened a new and brighter prospect to men of litevarj merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal favour in the preceding reign. His present ivlajesty's education in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, prompted him to be the patron of science and the arts ; and early this year Johnson having been represented to him as a very learned and good man, without any certain provision, his Majesty was pleased to grant him a pen- sion of three hundred pounds a year. The Earl of Bute, who was then Prime Minister, had the honour to announce this instance of his Sovereign's bounty, concerning which, many and various stories, all equally erroneous, have been propagated ; maliciously represent' ing it as a political bribe to Johnson, to desert his avowed princi- ples, and become the tool of a government which he held to be founded in usurpation. I have taken care to have it in my power to refute them from the most authentic information. Lord Bute told me, that Mr. Wedderburne, now Lord Loughborough, was the per- son who first mentioned this subject to him. Lord Loughborough told me, that the pension was granted to Johnson solely as the reward of his literary merit, without any stipulation whatever, or even tacit understanding that he should write for administration. His Lordship added, that he was confident the political tracts which Johnson afterwards did write, as they were entirely consonant with his own opinions, would have been written by him, though no pen sion had been granted to him. Mr. Thomas Sheridan and Mr. Murphy, who then lived a good deal both with him and Mr. Wedderburne, told me, that they previously talked with Johnson upon this matter, a*id that it was perfectly understood by all parties that the pension was merely honorary. Sir Joshua Reynolds told me, that Johnson called on him after his Majesty's intention had been notified to him, and said he wished to consult his friends as to the propriety of accepting this mark of the royal favour, after the definitions which he had given in his Dictionary o? pension and pensioners. He said he should not have Sir Joshua's answer till next day, when he would call agam, and desired he might think of it. Sir Joshua answered that he was clear to give his opinion then, that there could be no objection to hia ^^r.SS. HI3 PENSIOlJ. §01 receiving from the King a reward for literary merit ; and that cer. tainly the definitions in his Dictionary M'ere not applicable to hira. Johnson, it shonld seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he had accepted the pension, and had waited on Lord Bute to thank him. He then told Sir Joshua that Lord Bute said to him expressly, " It is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done." * His Lordship, he said, behaved in the haudsouiest nanner. He repeated the words twice, that he might be sure Johnson heard them, and thus set his mind perfectly at ease. This nobleman, who has been so virulently abused, acted with great honour in this instance, and displayed a mind truly liberal. A minister of a more narrow and selfish disposition would have availed himself of such an opportunity to fix an implied obligation on a man of Johnson's powerful talents to give him his support." Mr, Murphy ' and the late Mr. Sheridan severally contended for the distinction of having been the first who mentioned to Mr. AVedderburne that Johnson ought to have a pension. When 1 spoke of this to Lord Loughborough, wishing to know if he recol- lected the prime mover in the business, he said, " All his friends assisted :" and when I told him that Mr. Sheridau strenuously asserted his claim to it, his Lordship said, " He rang the bell." And > This was said by Lord Bute, as l)r. Burney was informed by Johnson himself, in answer to a question which he put, previously to his acceptance of the intended bounty : " Pray, my lord, what am'I expected to do for this pension ?"^ — M. ^ Such favours are never conferred under express conditions of future servility- — tlie phrases used on this occasion have been employed in all similar cases, and they are heie insisted on by Mr. Boswell, in order to reconcile Johnson's conduct on this occasion, with his definitions of pension vlx\(\ pensioner.- — C. ' This is not correct. Mr. Murphy did not "contest tJiis distinction " with ^[r. Sheridau. He claimeiij we see, not the first suggestion to Lord Lougliborough, but the first notice from his lordship to Johnson. Mr. Murphy's words are : — " Lord Loughborough, who, perliaps, was originally a mover in the business, had authority to mention it. He was well acquainted with Johnson ; but having heard much of his independent spirit, and of the downfall of Osborne, the bookseller, he did not know but his benevolence might be rewarded with a folio on his head He desired the author of these memoirs to undertake the task. This writer thought the opportunity of doing so much good, the most happy incident in his life. He went, without delay, to the chambers in the Inner Temple Lane, which, in fact, were the abode of wretchedness. By slow and studied approaches the message was disclosed. Johnson made a long pause ; he asked if it was seriously intended? He fell into a profound meditation, and his own definition of a pensioner occurred to hira. He was told, ' that he, at least, did not eome within the definition.' He desired to meet next day, and dine at the Mitre Tavern. At that meeting he gave up all hie scruples. On the following day, Lo'd Loughborougt- f di> ducted him to the Earl of Bute." §0^ LIFE OP JOHNSON. '^^^ it is but just to add, that Mr. Sheridan told me, that when he com- municated to Dr. Johnson that a pension was to be granted him, he replied in a fervour of gratitude, " The English language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. I must have recourse to the French. I am penetre with his Majesty's goodness. When I repeated this to Dr. Johnson, he did not contra- dict it. His definitions of pension and pensioner, partly founded on the satirical verses of Pope," which he quotes, may be generally true; and yet everybody must allow, that there may be, and have been, in stances of pensions given and received upon liberal and honourable terms. Thus, then, it is clear, that there was nothing inconsistent or humiliating in Johnson's accepting of a pension so unconditionally md so honourably offered to him. But I shall not detain my readers longer by any words of my )wn, on a subject on which I am happily enabled, by the favour of the Earl of Bute, to present them with what Johnson himself wrote ; his Lordship having been pleased to communicate to mc a copy of the following letter to his late father, which does great honour both to the writer, and to the noble person to whom it is addressed : — Letter 81. TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF BUTE. " July 20, 1763. " My Lord, — When the bills were }'estcrday delivered to nie by Mr. Wed- derburne, I was informed by him of the future favours which his Majesty has, by your Lordship's recommendation, been induced to intend for me. " Bounty always receives part of ilB value from the manner in which it is bestowed : your Lordship's kindness includes every circumstance that can gratify delicacy, or enforce obligation. You have conferred your favours on a man who has neither alliance nor interest, who has not merited them by ser- vices, nor courted them by ofBciousness ; you have spared him the shame of solicitation, and the anxiety of suspense. " What has been thus elegantly given, will, I hope, not be reproachfully enjoyed ; I shall endeavor to give your Lordship the only recompense which generosity desires — the gratification of finding that your benefits are not improperly bestowed. I am, my Lord, your Lordship's most obliged, most obedient, and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." * - " The hero William, and the martyr Charles, One knighted Blackmore, and one pension' d Quarles." ' The addition of three hundred pounds a year, to vUat Johnson was able to earn by tb« ^'^^''- ^- VISIT TO DEVONSHIRE. 303 This year his frieud, Sir Joshua Reynolds, paid a visit of some weeks to his native country, Devonshire, in which he was accom- panied by Johnson, who was much pleased with this jaunt, and declared he had derived from it a great accession of new ideas. He was entertained at the seats of several noblemen and gentlemen in the west of England ; ' but the greatest part of this time was passed at Plymouth, where the magnificence of the navy, the ship- building and all its circumstances, afforded him a grand subject of contemplation. The Commissioner of the Dock-yard [Captain Fran- cis Rogers] paid him the compliment of ordering the yacht to con- vey him and his friend to the Eddystone, to which they accordingly sailed. But the weather was so tempestuous that they could not land. Reynolds and he were at this time the guests of Dr. Mudge, the celebrated surgeon, and now physician of that place, not more dis- tinguished for quickness of parts and variety of knowledge, than loved and esteemed for his amiable manners ;' and here Johnson >rdinary exercise of his talents, raised him to a state of comparative affluence, and afforded iim the means of assisting many whose real or pretended wants had formerly excited his com- passion. He now practised a rule which he often recommended to his friends, always to go Abroad with some loose money to give to beggars, imitating therein, though certainly without intending it, that good but weak man, old Mr. Whiston, whom I have seen distributing, in the streets, money to beggars on each hand of him, till his pocket was nearly exhausted. — Haw- kins. He loved the poor as I never yet saw any one else do, with an earnest desire to make them happy. What signifies, says some one, giving halfpence to common beggars ? they only lay it out in gin or tobacco. " And why (says Johnson) should they be denied such sweeteners of their existence? it is surely very savage to refuse them every possible avenue to pleasure, reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow with- out gilding ; yet for the poor we delight in stripping it still barer, and are not ashamed to show even visible displeasure, if ever the bitter taste is taken from their mouths." In pursuance of these principles he nursed whole nests of people in his house, where the lame, the blind, the sick, and the sorrowful found a sure retreat from all the evils whence his little income could secure them. — Piozzi. When visiting Lichfield, towa-ds the latter paVt of his life, he was accustomed, on his arrival, to deposit with Miss Porter as much cash as would pay his expenses back to London. He could not trust himself with his own money, as he felt him- self unable to resist the importunity of the numerous claimants on his benevolence. — Harwood. - At one of these seats, Dr. Amyat, physician in London, told me he happened to meet him. In order to amuse him till dinner should be ready, he was taken out to walk in the garden. The master of the house, thinking it proper to introduce something scientific into the conver- Ration, addressed him thus : " Are you a botanist, Dr. Johnson ?" — " No, Sir (answered John- ion), I am not a botanist; and, (alluding, no doubt, to his near-sightedness,) should I wish to become a botanist, I must first turn myself into a reptile." ■^ Dr. John Mudge died in 1791. He was the father of Colonel William Mudge, distin- guisbed oy ais crieonometrical survey of England and Wales, carried on by order of the Ord- tanct. .30l LIFE OF JOHNSON. ITO foimed an acquaiutance with Dr. Mudge's father/ that very emi- nent divine, the Rev. Zachariah Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, who was idolised in the west, both for his excellence as a preacher and the uniform perfect propriety of his private conduct. He preached a sermon purposely that Johnson might hear him ; and we shall' see afterwards that Johnson honoured his memory by drawing his character." While Johnson was at Plymouth, he saw a great many of its inhabitants, and was not sparing of his very entertaining con- versation. It was here that he made that frank and truly original confession, that " ignorance, pure ignorance," was the cause of a wrong clefiuition in his Dictionary of the word pastern, to the no small surprise of the lady who put the question to him ; who, having the most profound reverence for his character, so as almost to sup- pose him endowed with infallibility, expected to hear an explana- tion (of what, to be sure, seemed strange to a common reader), drawn from some deep-learned source with which she was unac- quainted. Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom I was obliged for my information concerning this excursion, mentions a very characteristical anec- dote of Johnson while at Plymouth. Having observed, that in con- sequence of the Dock-yard a new town had arisen about two miles off as a rival to the old ; and knowing from his sagacity, and just observation of human nature, that it is certain, if a man hates at all, he will hate his next neighbour : he concluded that this new and rising town could not but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in \Thich conjecture he was very soon confirmed ; he, therefore, set himself resolutely on the side of the old town, the established town, in which his lot was cast, considering it as a kind of duty to stand by it. He accordingly entered warmly into its interests, and upou every occasion talked of the Dockers, as the inhabitants of the new town were called, as upstarts and aliens. Plymouth is very plenti- fully supplied with water by a river brought into it from a great * Thomas Mudge, the celebrated watch-maker in Fleet Street, who made considerable Improvements in time-keepers, and wrote several pamphlets on that subject, was another sou of Mr. Zachariah Mudge.— Hall. [He died in 1791. - ^ee poii, March, ITSl. " I have heard Sir Joshua declare, that Mr. Z. Mudge was, in his opinion, the wisest man he ever met with, and that he had intended to have republisbedJiU Fermonri, and written a sketch of his life and character." — Nobthcotb. ^'^^'^•^- PLYMOUTH THE DOCKERS. 305 distance, wbicli is so abundaut that it runs to waste in tlie town The Dock, or New-town, being totally destitute of water, petitioned Plymouth that a small portion of the conduit might be permitted to go to them, and this was now under consideration. Johnson, aifect- ing to entertain the passions of the place, was violent in opposition ; and half-laughing at himself for his pretended zeal, where he had no concern, exclaimed, " No, no ! I am against the Doders ; I am a Plymouth-man. Eogues ! let them die of thirst. They shall not have a drop !" Lord Macartney obligingly favoured me with a copy of the fol- lowing letter, in his own hand-writing, from the original, which was found by the present Earl of ]>ute, among his father's papers. Letter 82. TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF BUTE. " Temple Lane, Nov. 3, X762. " My Lord, — That generosity, by which 1 was recommended to the favour of his Majesty, will not be offended at a solicitation necessary to make that favour permanent and effectual. " The pension appointed to be paid nie at Michaelmas I have not received, ind know not where or from whom I am to ask it. I beg, therefore, that your Lordship will be pleased to supply Mr. Wedderburne with such directions as may be necessary, which, I believe, his friendsliip will make him think it no trouble to convey to me. " To interrupt your Lordship, at a time like this, with such petty difficulties, is improper and unseasonable ; but your knowledge of the world has long fimce taught you, that every man's affairs, however little, are important to him- self. Every man hopes that he shall escape neglect; and, with reason, may every man, whose vices do not preclude his claim, expect favour from that beneficence which has been extended to, my Lord, your Lordship's most obliged, and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 83. TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, Ac Milan, " London, Dec. 21, 1T62. -- " Sir, — You are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, .hat I have passed all this time without writing to my Baretti. I gave a let- ter to Mr. Beauclerk, who, in my opinion, and in his own, was hastening to Naples for the recovery of his health ; but he has stopped at Paris, and . know not when he will proceed. Langton is with him. 305 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^'^ " I will not troubla jou with speculations about peace and war. The good or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small part o' domestic life : we all have good and evil, which we feel more sensibly than our petty part of public miscarriage or prosperity. I am sorry for your disap- pointment, with which you seem more touched than I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did I not know that general truths arc seldom applied to particular occasions ; and that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide as our interest or affections. Every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful, and patrons capricious ; but he excepts his own mistress, and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous, and that in courts life is often languished away in ungratified expectation ; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot. "Do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered, and thou- sands have surmounted ; but turn your thoughts with vigour to some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind, that, with due submission to Pro- vidence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but by himself. Your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. Of your love I know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power ; but in love, as in every other passion of which hope is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events. There is, indeed, nothing that so much seduces reason from vigilance, as the thought of passing life with an amiable woman ; and if all would happen that a lover fancies, I know not what other terrestrial happiness would deserve pursuit. But love and marriage are different states. Those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sake of one another, soon lose that ten- derness of look, and that benevolence of mind, which arose from the partici- pation of unmingled pleasure and successive amusement. A woman, we are sure, will not be always fair ; we are not sure she will always be virtuous : and man cannot retain through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day or for a month. I do not, however, pretend to have discovei-ed that life has anything more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage ; therefore know not what counsel to give you. " If you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune of lite- rature and industry, the way through France is now open. We flatter our- selves that w^e shall cultivate, with- great diligence, the arts of peace ; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach us anything we do not know. For your part, you will find all your old friends willing to receive fou. " Reynolds still continues to increase in reputation .ind in riches. Miss Williams, who very much loves you, goes on in the old way. Mi?s Cotterel is still with Mrs. Porter. Miss Charlotte is married to Dean Lewis, and has three children. Mr. Levct has married a street-walker. But the gazette of mv ^'^^ ^ COtLlN^S 301 narration must now arrive to tell you, thai Batliurst wont physician to the army, and died at the Havanah. "I know not whether I have not sent you word that Iluggins ' and Richard- son are both dead. When we see our enemies and friends gliding away before us, let us not forget that we are subject to the general law of mortality, and shall soon be where our doom will be fixed forever. I pray God to bless you, and am, Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Jonx.sox. " Write soon." Lktter 81. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. i In Lichfield. " April 12, 1T63. " My Dkar, — The newspaper has informed me of the death of Captain Tor- ter. I know not what to say to you, coudoleut or consolatory, beyond the common considerations which I suppose you have proposed to others, and know how to apply to yourself. In all afflictions the first relief is to be asked of God. " I wish to be informed in what condition your brother's death has left your fortune ; if he has bequeathed you competence or plenty, 1 shall sincerely rejoice ; if you are in any distress or difficulty, I will endeavour to make what I have, or what I can get, sufficient for us both. I am, Madam, yours affec- tiouateiy, " Sam. Johnson," In nC3, he furnished to "The Poetical Calendar," pu1)lished by Fawkes and Woty, a character of Collins,* which he afterwards in- grafted into his entire Life of that admirable poet, in the collection of Lives which he wrote for the body of English poetry, formed and published by the booksellers of London. His account of the tnelancholy depression with which Collins was severely afflicted, and which brought him to his grave, is, I think, one of the most tender and interesting passages in the whole series of his writings. He also favoured Mr. Hoole with the Dedication of his translation of 1 Huggins, the translator of Ariosto. His enmity to Baretti and Johnson will be explained by the following extract from a MS. letter of Dr. Warton to his brother, dated Wiiislade, April'2S, 1T55 :— " He (Huggins) abuses Baretti infernally, and says that he one day lent Baretti a gold watch and cmild never get it afterwards ; that after many excuses Baretti skulked, and then got Joliviion to write to Mr. Huggins a supiiliant letter ; that this letter stopped Huggins awhile, while Baretti got a. protection from tjie Sardinian ambassador; and that, at last, with great dilhculty, the watch was got from a pawnbroker's, to whom Baretti had sold it. What a strange story, and how dillicult to be believed ! Iluggins wanted to get an approbation of hi-< transhition from .Johnson: but Johnson wouldnot, though Huggins says 'twas only to get money from him. To crown all, he says that Baretti wanted to poison Crokur. By some (Deans or other, John^^on must know this story of JIuggins." — C. 308 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^'^^ Tasso to the Queen,* which is so happily conceived and elegantly expressed, that I cannot but point it out to the peculiar notice of my readers TO THE QUEEN. "Madam, — To approach the high and illustrious has been in all ages the privilege of poets ; and though translators cannot justly claim the same honour, yet they naturally follow their authors as attendants ; and I hope that in return for having enabled Tasso to diffuse his fame through the British do- minions, I may be introduced by him to the presence of your Majesty. " Tasso has a peculiar claim to your Majesty's favour, as follower and panegyrist of the house of Este, which has one common ancestor with the house of Hanover; and in reviewing his life, it is not easy to forbear a wish that he had lived in a happier time, when he might among the descendants of that illustrious family have found a more liberal and potent patronage. "I cannot but observe. Madam, how unequally reward is proportioned to merit, when I reflect that the happiness which was withheld from Tiisso is re- served for me ; and that the poem which once hardly procured to its author the countenance of the princes of Ferrara, has attracted to its translator the favourable notice of a British queen. " Had this been the fate of Tasso, he would have been able to have cele- brated the condescension of your Majesty in nobler language, but cotild not have felt it with more ardent gratitude than. Madam, your Majesty's iDoat faithful and devoted servant." CHAPTER XV. 1^163. BoswaH becomes acquainted with Johnson— Derrick— Mr. Thomas Sheridan— Mrs. Sheridan— At-. Thomas Davies— Mrs. Davies— First Interview— His Dress— Johnson's Chambers In Temple Lane— Dr. Blair— Dr. James Fordyce—Ossian— Christopher Smart— Thomas John, son, the Equestrian— Clifton's Eating House— The Mitre— CoUey Gibber's Odes— Gray— . Belief in the Appearance of departed Spirits— Churchill— Cock-Lane Ghost— Goldsmith— Mallet's " Elvira " — Scotch Landlords — Plan of Study. This is to me a memorable year ; for in it I had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whose meraoira I am now writing ; an acquaintance which I shall ever esteem as one of the most fortunate circumstances in my life. Though then but two and twenty, I had for several years read his works with delight and instruction, and had the highest reverence for their author, which had grown up in my fancy into a kind of mysterious veneration, by figuring to myself a state of solemn elevated abstrac- tion, in which I supposed him to live in the immense metropolis of London. Mr, Gentleman, a native of Ireland, who passed some years in Scotland as a player, and as an instructor in the English language, a man whose talents and worth were depressed by mis- fortunes, had given me a representation of the figure and manner of Dictionary Johnson 1 as he was then generally called ;' and during my first visit to London, which was for three months in It GO, Mr. Derrick the poet, who was Gentleman's friend and countryman, flattered me with hopes that he would introduce me to Johnson — an honour of which I was very ambitious. But he never found an opportunity ; which made me doubt that he had promised to do ' As great men of antiquity, such as Scipio Afiicanus, had an epithet added to their names, in consequence of some celebrated action, so my illustrious friend was often called DiCTiON.iRT JonNSON, from that wonderful achievement of genius and labour, his " Dictionary tf the English Language ;" the merit of which I contemplate with more and more adm'. t'atioD. — B. 809 8i(> LIFE OF JOHNSON. '•'*^- what was not iu his power ; till Johnson some years afterwards told me, " Derrick, Sir, might very well have introduced you. I had a kindness for Derrick, and am sorry he is dead." In the summer of 1*161 Mr. Thomas Sheridan '■ was at Edinburgh, and delivered lectures upon the English Language and Public Speaking to large and respectable audiences. I was often in his company, and heard him frequently expatiate upon Johnson's extraordinary knowledge, talents, and virtues, repeat his pointed sayings, describe his particularities, and boast of his being his guest sometimes till two or three in the morning. At his house I hoped to have many opportunities of seeing the sage, as Mr. Sheridan oblig- ingly assured me I should not be disappointed. When I returned to London in the end of 1162, to my surprise and regret I found an irreconcileable difference had taken place between Johnson and Sheridan. A pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan. Johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of Sheridan's art, upon hear- ing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed, " What ! have they given hi?n a pension ? Then it is time for me to give up mine." Whether this proceeded from a momentary indignation, as if it were an affront to his exalted merit that a player should be rewarded in the same manner with him, or was the sudden effect of a fit of peevishness, it was nnluckily said, and, indeed, cannot be justified. Mr. Sheridan's pension was granted to him, not as a player, but as a sufferer in the cause of government, when he was manager of tb" Theati'e Royal in L'eland, when parties ran high in 1753.* And it 1 Thomas Sheridan, son of the friend of Swift, and father of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, ^/a3 born at Quiica, in Ireland, in 1T'21, and died in 17SS. ■■^ Boswell^in his tenderness to the amour propre of Dr. Johnson, cannot bear to admit that Sheridan's literary character had anything to do with the pension, and no doubt he endea- voured to soften Johnson's resentment by giving, as he does in the above passage, this favour Si political colour ; but there seems no reason to believe that Sheridan's pension was given to him as a sufferer by a playhouse riot. It was probably granted {et hina illoR lacrymm) on the same motive as Johnson's own, namely, the desire of the King and Lord Bute to distin- guish the commencement of the new reign by the patronage of literature. Indeed, this is ren- dered almost certain by various passages of the letters of Mrs. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte : e. g. " London, Nov. 29, 17C2. — Mr. Sheridan is now, as I mentioned to you formerly, busied in the English Dictionary, which he is encouraged to pursue with the more alacrity as his Majesty has vouchsafed him such a mark of royal favour. I suppose you have heard that he has granted him a pension of £200 a year, merely as an encouragement to his undertaking, and this without solicitation, which makes it the more viluable." — White's Misc. Nova, page t04, 107, 111.— Crokkr. ^'^TAT M. WKDUKllBURHfi. oJ i must also be allowed that Le was a man of literature, and had con- siderably improved the arts of reading and spr'aking- with distinctness and propriety. Besides, Johnson should have recollected that i\[r. Slieridan taught pronunciation to Mr. Alexander Wedderburne, whose sister was married to Sir Harry Erskine, an intimate friend of Lord Bute, who w^as the favourite of the king ; and surely the most outrageous Whig will not maintain, that, whatever ought to be the principle in the disposal of oj/ices, a pension ought never to be granted from any bias of court connection. Mr. Macklin, indeed, shared with Mr. Sheridan the honour of instructing Mr. Wedderburne ; and thougli it was too late in life for a Caledonian to acquire the genuine English cadence, yet so successful were Mr. Weddcrburne's instructors, and bis ownunabating endeavours, that he got rid of the coarse part of his Scotch accent, retaining only as much of the " native wood-note wild," as to mark his country ; which, if any Scotchman should affect to forget, I should heartily despise him. Notwithstanding tne difficulties which are to be encountered by those who have not had the advantage of an English education, he by degrees formed a mode of speaking, to which Englishmen do not deny the praise of elegance. Hence his distinguished oratory, which he exerted in his own country as an advocate in the Court of Session, and a ruling elder of the Kirk, has had its fame and ample reward, in much higher spheres. When I look back on this noble person at Edin- burgh, in situations so unworthy of his brilliant powers, and behold Lord Loughborough at London, the change seems almost like one of the metamorphoses in Ovid ; and as his two preceptors, by refin- ing his utterance, gave currency to his talents, we may say in the words of that poet, " A^am vos mutastis." I have dwelt the longer upon this remarkable instance of success- ful parts and assiduity : because it affords animating encourage- ment to other gentlemen of North Britain to try their fortunes in the southern part of the island, where they may hope to gratify their utmost ambition ; and now that we are one people by the Union, it would surely be illiberal to maintain, that they have not an equal title with the natives of any other part of his Majesty's dominions. 312 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 176S. Jonnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was, that after a pause he added, " However, I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man." Sheridan could never forgive this hasty contemptuous expression. It rankled in his mind ; and though I informed him of all that Johnson said, and that he would be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated oifers which I made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and I were engaged to dine, because he was told that Dr. Johnson was to be there. I have uo sympathetic feeling with such persevering resentment. It is painful when there is a breach between those who have lived together socially and cor- dially ; and I wonder that there is not, in all such cases, a mptual wish that it should be healed. I could perceive that Mr. Sheridan was by no means satisfied with Johnson's acknowledging him to be a good man That could not soothe his injured vanity. I could not but smile, at the same time that I was offended, to observe Sheridan, in the Life of Swift, which he afterwards published, attempting in the writhings of his resentment to depreciate Johnson, by character- ising him as " A writer of gigantic fame, in these days of little men ;" that very Johnson whom he once so highly admired and venerated.* This rupture with Sheridan deprived Johnson of one of his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely evenings ; for Sheridan's well-informed, animated, and bustling mind never suffered conversation to stagnate ; and Mrs. Sheridan was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual man. She was sensible, ingenious, unassuming, yet communicative. I recollect, with satisfaction, many pleasing hours which I passed with her under the hospitable roof of her husband, who was to me a very kind friend. Her novel, entitled " Memoirs of Miss Sydney Biddulph," contains an excellent moral, while it inculcates a future state of retribution ; and what it teaches is impressed upon the mind by a series of as deep distress ' Dr. Johnson had depreciated the talents and character of Dr. Swift, not merely in conver- lation, but in his "Lives of the Poets." Sheridan, in his " Life of Swift," advocated the cause of the dean, for whom he had a natural and hereditary veneration ; and though he observed on Johnson's criticisms and censures with a severity shaipened probably by hi» personal feelings, he treated him on all other points with moderation and respect. — C. Stat. 54. BOSWELl's INTUODUCnON. 313 aj can affect humanity, in the amiable and pious heroine who goe? to her grave unrelieved, but resigned, and full of hope of " heaven's mercy." Johnson paid her this high compliment upon it : "I know not, Madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much." Mr. Thomas Davies the actor, wlio then kept a bookseller's shop in Russell Street, Covent Garden,' told me that Johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him ; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us. Mr. Thomas Davies, was a man of good understanaiug and tal- ents, with ,the advantage of a liberal education. Though somewhat polypous, he was an entertaining companion ; and his literary per- formances have no inconsiderable share of merit. He was a friendly and very hospitable man. Both he and his wife (who has been celebrated for her personal beauty), though upon the stage for many years, maintained an uniform decent character ; and Johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with them as with any family which he used to visit. Mr. Davies recollected several of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while relating them. He in- creased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works I highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly excellent. At last, on Monday, the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop ; ^ • and Mr Davies having perceived him through the glass-door in the room in ' No. 8. — The very place where I was fortunate enough to be introduced to the illustrious Bubject of this work, deserves to be particularly marked. I never pass by it without feeling reverence and regret. ^ Mr. Murphy, in his " Essay on the Life and Genius of Dr. Johnson," [first published in 1T93,] has given an account of this meeting considerably different from mine, I am persuaded without any consciousness of error. His memory, at the end of near thirty years, has undoubtedly deceived him, and he supposes himself to have been present at a scene, which he has probably heard inaccurately described by others. In my note taken onthe loery day, in which I am confident I marked everything material that passed, no mention is made ofthis gentleman ; and I am sure, that I should not have omitted one so well-known in the literary world. It may easily be imagined that this my first interview with Dr. Johnson, with all its elrcumstances, made a strong impression on my mind, and would be registered with peculiar ittention. VOL. I. 14 314 Lli'E OF JOUNSON. 1T68* which we were sittiug, advanchig towards us, — he anuouuced his aw- ful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, " Look, my lord, it comes." I found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation ; which was the first picture his friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated ; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from." — "From Scotland," ftied Davies roguishly. " Mr. Johnson," said I, " I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky ; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression " come from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country : and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, " That, Sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a good deal ; and when we had sat down, I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies : " What do you think of Gar- rick ? He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would \ e worth three shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into con versation with him, I ventured to say, " Sir, I cannot think Mr, Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you." " Sir," said he, with a stern look, " I have known David Garrick longer than you have done : and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject." Perhaps I deserved this check ; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his ani- madversion jpon his old acquaintance and pupil.' I now felt myself ' That tliis was a momentary sally against Garridi there can be no doubt ; for at Johnson's *■■**■ 54- boswell's introduction, 315 much mortified, and began to think that the hope which I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uu- commonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. Fortunately, how- ever, I remained upon the field not wholly discomfited ; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his conversation, of which I pre- servec the following short minute, without marking the questions and observations by which it was produced. " People," he remarked, " may be taken iu once, who imagine that an author is greater in private life than other men. Uu common parts require uncommon opportunities for their exer tion, " In barbarous society, superiority of parts is of real consequence. Great strength or great wisdom is of much value to an individual. But iu more polished times there are people to do everything for mone\' ; and then there are a number of other superiorities, such as those of birth and fortune, and rank, that dissipate men's attention, and leave no extraordinary share of respect for persoual and intel- lectual superiority. This is wisely ordered by Providence, to pre- serve some equality among mankind." "Sir, this book ('The Elements of Criticism,' which he had taken up) is a pretty essay, and deserves to be held in some estima- tion, though much of it is chimerical." Speaking of one, who with more than ordinary boldness attacked public measures and the royal family, he said, " I think he is safe from the law, but he is an abusive scoundrel ; and instead of ap- plying to my Lord Chief Justice to punish him, I would send half a dozen footmen and have him well ducked." " The notion of liberty amuses the people of England, and helps to keep off the tcecUmii vitce. When a butcher tells you that his //curt b/ceds for kis country, he has, in fact, no uneasy feeling." " Sheridan will not succeed at Bath with his oratory. Ridi- desire he had, some years before, given a benefit-night at his theatre to this very person-, by which slie had got two hundred pounds. Johnson, indeed, upon all other occasions, when ( uas in his company, praised the very liberal charity of Garrick. I once mentioned to him, "It is observed, Sir, tliat you attacic (iarricli yourself, but will suffer nobody else to do 't.* Johnson (smiling) : " Why, Sir, that is true." — B. 316 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*^ cule has gone down before him, and, I doubt, Derrick is his enemy.* " Derrick may do very well, as long as he can outrun his charac- ter ; but the moment his character gets up with him, it is all over." It is, however, but just to record, that some years afterwards, when I reminded him of this sarcasm, he said, " Well, but Derrick has now got a character that he need not run away from." I was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his conver- sation, and regretted that I was drawn away from it by an engage ment at another place. I had, for a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had ventured to make an observation now and hen, wliich he received very civilly ; so that I was satisfied that though there was a roughness in his manner, there was no ill-nature in his disposition. Davies followed me to the door, and when I com- plained to him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, " Don't be uneasy. I can see he likes you very well." A few days afterwards I called on Davies, and asked him if he thought I might take the liberty of waiting on Mr. Johnson at his chambers in the Temple. He said I certainly might, and that Mr. Johnson would take it as a compliment. So upon Tuesday, the 24th of May, after having been enlivened by the witty sallies of Messieurs Thornton, Wilkes, Churchill, and Lloyd, with whom I had passed the morning, I boldly repaired to Johnson. His chambers were on the first floor of No. 1, Inner Temple Lane, and I entered them with an impression given me by the Rev. Dr. Blair, of Edin- burgh, who had been introduced to me not long before, and described his having " found the Giant in his den ;" an expression which, when I came to be pretty well acquainted with Johnson, I repeated to him, and he was diverted at this picturesque account of himself. Dr. Blair had been presented to him by Dr. James For- dyce. At this time the controversy concerning the pieces published by Mr. James ]\Iacpherson, as translations of Ossian, was at its lieight. Johnson had all along denied their authenticity, and, what was still more provoking to their admirers, maintained that they Afr. Sheridan was then reading lectures upon Oratory at Bath, where Derrick was Maatef of the Ceremoni'js ; or, as tlic phrase is, King. *'*''• ^ boswell's first visit. 317 had DO merit. The subject having been introduced by Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Blair, relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, asked Dr. Johnson whether he thought any man of a modern age could have written such poems ? Johnson replied, " Yes, Sir, many men, many women, and many children." Johnson, at this time, did not know that Dr. Blair had just published a Dissertation, not only defending their authenticity, but seriously ranking them with the poems of Homer and Virgil ; and when he was afterwards informed of this circumstance, he expressed spme displeasure at Dr. Fordyce's having suggested the topic, and said, " I am not sorry that they got thus much for their pains, "feir, it was like leading one to talk of a book, when the author is concealed behind the door." He received me very courteously ; but, it must be confessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty ; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head ; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose ; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up ; and he had a pair of un- buckled shoes by way of slippers. But all these slovenly particu- larities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk. Some gentlemen, whom I do not recollect, were sitting with him ; and when they went away, I also rose ; but he said to me, " Nay, don't go." " Sir," said I, " I am afraid that I intrude upon you. It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you." He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely paid him, and answered, " Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits me." I have preserved the following short minute of what passed this day. " Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary devia- tion from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now, although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question." Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, who was lonfiued in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the following con- Zlb LIFi- OF JOHNSON. ^^^' versation with Dr. Burney. Bckney. " How does poor Smart do, Sir ? is he likely to recover V Johnson. " It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease ; for he grows fat upon it." Burney. " Perhaps, Sir, that may be from want of exercise." Johnson. " No, Sir ; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house ; but he was carried back again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His iufirmi ties were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him ; and I'd as lief pray with. Kit Smart as any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love clean hnea : and I have no passion for it." Johnson continued. " Mankind have a great aversion to intellec- tual labor ; but even supposing knowledge to be easily attainable, more people would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little trouble to acquire it." " The morality of an action depends on the motive from which we act. If I fling half a crown to a beggar with intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys victuals with it, the physical effect is good ; but, with respect to me, the action is very wrong. So, religious exercises, if not performed with an intention to please God, avail us nothing. As our Saviour says of those who perform them from other motives, ' Verily they have their reward.' " The Christian religion has very strong evidences. It, indeed, appears in some degree strange to reason ; but in History we have undoubted facts, against which, in reasoning a priori, we have more arguments than we have for them : but then, testimony has great weiglit, and casts the balance. I would recommend to every man whose faith is yet unsettled, Grotius, Dr. Pearson, and Dr. Clarke." Talking of Garrick, he said, " He is the first man in the world for sprightly conversation." Wlieu I rose a second time, he again pressed me to stay, which I did. He told me that he generally went abroad at four in the after- noon, and seldom came home till two in the morning. I took the liberty to ask if he did not tliiuk it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of his great talents. He owned it was a bad habit. Ob ^TAT. 54. Johnson the equestrian. 319 reviewing, at the distance of many years, my journal of this period, I wonder bow, at my first visit, I ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it with so much indulgence. Before we parted, he was so good as to promise to favour. me with his company one evening at my lodgings ; and, as I took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. It is almost needless to add that I felt no little elation at having now so happily established an acquaintance of which I had been so long ambitious. My readers will, I trust, excuse me for being thus minutely cir- cumstantial, when it is considered that the acquaintance of Dr. John- son was to me a most valuable acquisition, and laid the foundation of whatever instruction and entertainment they may receive from my collections concerning the great subject of the work which they are now perusing. I did not visit him again till Monday, June 13, at which time I recollect no part of his conversation, except that when I told him 1 had been to see Johnson ride upon three horses, he said, " Such a man, Sir, should be encouraged ; for his performances shew the extent of human powers in one instance, and thus tend to raise our opinion of the faculties of man. He shews what may be attained by persevering application ; so that every man may hope, that by giving as much application, although perhaps he may never ride three horses at a time, or dance upon a wire, yet he may be equally expert in whatever profession he has chosen to pursue." He again shook me by the hand at parting, and asked me why I did not come oftener to him. Trusting that I was now in his good graces, I answered, that he had not given me much encouragement, and reminded him of the check I had received from him at our first interview. " Poh, poh !" said he, with a complacent smile, " never mind these things. Come to me as often as you can. I shall be glad to see you." I had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the Mitre Tavern in Fleet Street, where he loved to sit up late, and I begged I might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he i)romised I should. A few days afterwards I met him near Temple Bar, about one o'clock in the morning, and asked if he wouid then go to the Mitre. " Sir," said he, " it is too late ; they 520 LIFE OF JOHNSOJf. ^'^* won't let us in. But I'll go with you another night with all my heart." A revolution of some importance in my plan of life had just taken place ; for instead of procuring a commission in the foot-guards, which was my own inclination, I had, ,in compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the law, and was soon to set out for Utrecht, to hear the lectures of an excellent civilian in that Uuiver* sity, and then to proceed on my travels. Though very desirous of obtaining Dr. Johnson's advice and instructions on the mode of pur- suing my studies, I was at this time so occupied, shall I call it ? or so dissipated, by the amusements of London, that our next meeting was not till Saturday, June 25, when, happening to dine at Clifton's eating-house, in Butcher Row, I was surprised to perceive Johnson come in and take his seat at another table. The mode of dining, or rather being fed, at such houses in London, is well known to many to be particularly unsocial, as there is no Ordinary, or united com- pany, but each person has his own mess, and is under no obligation to hold any intercourse with any one. A liberal and full-minded man, however, who loves to talk, will break through this churlish and unsocial restraint. Johnson and an Irish gentleman got into a dispute concerning the cause of some part of mankind being black. '•'Why, Sir," said Johnson, "it has been accounted for in three ways : either by supposing that they are the posterity of Ham, who was cursed ; or that God at first created two kinds of men, one black and another white ; or that by the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. This matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, but has never been brought to any certain issue." What the Irishman said is totally obliterated from my miud ; but I remember that he became very warm and intem- perate in his expressions ; upon which Johnson rose, and quietly R'alked away. When he had retired, his antagonist took hia Tevenge, as he thought, by saying, " He has a most ungainly figure, and an aifectation of pomposity unworthy of a man of genius," Johnson had not observed that I was in the room. I followed him, however, and he agreed to meet me in the evening at the Mitre. I called on him, and we went thither at nine. We had a good supper, and port wine, of which he then sometimes drank a ^-f^-r-^- COLLEY CIBfiER— GRAV. 821 bottle. Tlie orthodox bigli-chureh sound of The Mitre — the figure and Hianiicr of the celebrated Samuel Johxson — the extraordinary power and precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what I had ever before experienced. I find in my Journal the following minute of our conversation, which, though it will give but a very faint notion of what passed, is, in spme degree, a valuable record ; and it will be curious in this view, as shewing how habitual to his mind were some opinions which appear in his works. " CoUey Gibber,' Sir, was by no means a blockhead; but Ly arrogating to himself too much, he was in danger of losing that degree of estimation to which he was entitled. His friends gave out that he intended his birth-day Odes should be bad ; but that was Qot the case, Sir ; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died, he shewed me one of them, with great solici* tude to render it as perfect as might be, and I made some correc- tions, to which he was not very willing to submit. I remember the following couplet in allusion to the King and himself : — " 'Perch'd on the eagle's soaring wing, The lowly linnet loves to sing.' Sir, he had heard something of the fabulous tale of the wren sitting upon the eagle's wing, and he had applied it to a linnet. Gibber's familiar style, however, was better than that which Whitehead has assumed. Grand nonsense is insupportable. "Whitehead is but a little man to inscribe verses to players." I did not presume to controvert this censure, which was tinctured with his prejudice against players ; but I could not help thinking that a dramatic poet might with propriety pay a compliment to aa eminent performer, as Whitehead has very happily done in his verses to Mr. Gari'ick. ' Collej- Gibber was born in 1671, bore arms in favour of the revolution, and soon after went on the stage as an actor. In 1695 he appeared as a writer of comedies with great and deserved success. He quitted the stage in 1730, on being appointed poet laureate, and died in 1757. His Memoirs of his own Life, under the modest title of an "Apology," is not only a very amusing collection of theatrical anecdotes, but shows considerable r>ow«r '(f oUserviUop Had delineation of character. — C. 322 LIFE OF JOHNSOJJ. ^^^ " Sir, I do not thiuk Gray a first-rate poet. He has not a bold imagination, nor much coraraand of words, Tlie obscurity in which ne has involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime. His Elegy in a Churchyard has a happy selection of images \ but I don't like what are called his great things. His ode which begins — ' Ruin seize thee, ruthless King, Confusion on thy banners wait ! has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging hito the subject all at once. But such arts as these have no merit, unless when they are original. We admire them only once ; and this abruptness has nothing new in it. We have had it often before. Nay, we have it in the old song of Johnny Armstrong : — • ' Is there ever a man in all Scotland From the highest estate to the lowest degree, &c.' And then, Sir, ' Yes, there is a man in Westmoreland, And Johnny Armstrong they do him call.' There, now, you plunge at once into the subject. You have no pre- vious narration to lead you to it. — The two next lines in that Ode are, I think, very good : — ' Though fann'd by conquest's crimson'd wing, They mock the air with idle state.' " ^ Here let it be observed, that although his opinion of Gray's poetry was widely different from mine, and, I believe, from that of most men of taste, by whom it is with justice highly admired, there is certainly much absurdity in the clamour which has been raised, as if he had been culpably injurious to the merit of that bard, and had been actuated by envy. Alas 1 ye little short-sighted critics, could John- ' And surely a happy selection of expressions. What does it then want ? Aa to the criti- cism and quotations which follow, they might be pardonable in loose conversation ; but John- son, unluckily for his own reputation, has preserved them in his criticism on Gray, iu the Lives of the Poets. — C. 2 My friend Mr. Malone, in his valuable comments on Shakspeare, has traced in that great poet the disjecM inerribra of these lines. *^^T- ^ GRAY— BOSWELL. 323 Boa be euvious of the talents of any of his contemporaries ? That his opinion on this subject was what in private and in pubhc he uni- formly expressed, regardless of what others might think, we may wonder, and perhaps regret ; but it is shallow and unjust to charge him with expressing what he did not think. Finding him in a placid humour, and wishing to avail myself of the opportunity which I fortunately had of consulting a sage, to hetr whose wisdom, I conceived, iu the ardour of youthful imagina- tion, that men filled with a noble enthusiasm for intellectual improvement would gladly have resorted from distant lands ; — I opened my mind to him ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, to which he was pleased to listen with great atten- tion. [ acknowledged, that though educated very strictly in the princi- ples of religion, I had for some time been misled into a certain djgrce of infidelity ; but that I was come now to a better way of tiinking, and was fully satisfied of the truth of the Christian revela- t;on, though I was not clear as to every point considered to be orthodox. Being at all times a curious examiner of the human mind, and pleased with an undisguised display of what had passed iu it, he called to me with warmth, " Give me your hand: I have taken a liking to you." He then began to descant upon the force of tes- timony, and the little we could know of final causes ; so that the objections of. Why was it so ? or. Why was it not so ? ought not to disturb us : adding, that he himself had at one period been guilty of a temporary neglect of religion ; but that it was not the result of argument, but mere absence of thought. After having given credit to reports of his bigotry, I was agree- ably surprised when he expressed the following very liberal senti- ment, which has the additional value of obviating an objection to our holy religion, founded upon the discordant tenets of (JLristiuus themselves : — " For my part. Sir, I think all Christians, whether Papists or Protestants, agree in the essential articles, and that their diflerences are trivial, and rather political than religious." AVe talked of belief iu ghosts. lie said, " Sir, I make a distinc- tion between what a man may experience by the mere strength of * his imagination, and what imagination cannot possibly produce. 824 . LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^*^ Tt US, suppose I should think that I saw a form, and heard a voice cry ' Johnson, you are a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will certainly be punished:' my own unworthiness is so deeply impressed upon my mind, that I might imagine I thus saw and heard, and therefore I should not believe that an external communi- cation had been made to me. But if a. form should appear, and a voice should tell me that a particular man had died at a particular place, and a particular hour, a fact which I had no appre- hension of, nor any means of knowing, and this fact, with ali its circumstances, should afterwards be unquestionably proved, I should in that case be persuaded that I had supernatural intelligence imparted to me." Here it is proper, once for all, to give a true and fair statement of Johnson's way of thinking upon the question, whether departed spirits are ever permitted to appear in this world, or in any way to operate upon human life. He has been ignorantly misrepresented as weakly credulous upon that subject ; and, therefore, though I fiel an inclination to disdain, and treat with silent contempt, so foolish a notion concerning my illustrious friend, yet, as I find it has gainei ground, it is necessary to refute it. The real fact then is, that Johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such a rational respec\ for testimony, as to make him submit his understanding to what was authentically proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so. Being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages. But so far was he from being the dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jea- lous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it. Churchill, in his poem entitled " The Ghost," availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to Johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of " Pomposo," representing him as one of the believers of the story of a ghost in Cock-lane, which, in the year 1162, had gained very general credit in London. Many of my readers, I am convinced, are to this hour und«r an impression that Johnson was thus foolishly deceived. It will therefore surprise them a good deal when they are informed upon uadoubted autnority, tnat Johnson was one of those by whom *'AT. W. THF COCK-LANE GHOST. 325 the imposture was detected.' The story had become so popular, that he thought it should be iuvestigated ; and in this research he was assisted by the Rev. Dr, Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, the great detecter of impostures ; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, Johnson wrote in -their presence an account of it, which was published in the newspapers and Gentleman's Magazine, and unde- ceived the world.' ■ No rational man doubted that inquiry would lead to detection ; men only wondered that Dr. Johnson should so far give countenance to this flimsy imposition as to think a solemn Inquiry necessary — C. * '^ The account was as follows : " On the night of the 1st of February, many gentlemen, emi- nent for their rank and character, were, by the invitation of the Rev. Mr. Aldrich, of Clerken- well, assembled at his house, for the examination of the noises supposed to be made by a departed spirit, for the detection of some enormous crime. — About ten at niglit the gen- tlemen met in the chamber in which the girl, supposed to be disturbed by a spirit, had, with proper caution, been put to bed by several ladies. They sat rather more than an hour, and hearing nothing, went down stairs, when they interrogated the father of the girl, who denied, in the strongest terms, any knowledge or belief of fraud. — The supposed spirit had before pub- licly promised, by an affirmative knock, that it would attend one of the gentlemen into the •7ault under the church of St. John, Clerkenwell, where the body is deposited, and give a token of her presence there, by a knock upon her coffin ; it was therefore determined to make this trial of the existence or veracity of the supposed spirit.^ — While they were inquiring and deliberating, they were summoned into the girl's chamber by some ladies who were near her bed, and who had heard knocks and scratches. When the gentlemen entered, the girl declared that she felt the spirit like a mouse upon her back, and was required to hold her hands out of bed. From that time, though the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, by scratches, knocks, or any other agency, no evidence of any preternatural power was exhibited. — " The spirit was then very seriously advertised, that the person to whom the promise was made of striking the coffin was then about to visit the vault, and that the performance of the promise was then claimed. The company at one o'clock went into the church, and the gentleman to whom the promise was made went with another into the vault. The spirit was solemnly required to perform its promise, but nothing more than silence ensued : the person supposed to be accused by the spirit then went down with several others, but no effect was perceived. Upon their return they examined the girl, but could draw no confession from her. Between two and tliree she desired and was permitted to go home with her father. — It is, therefore, the opinion of the whole assembly, that the child has some art of making or counterfeiting a par ticular noise, and that there is no agency of any higher cause." — Boiswell. Mr. Saunders Welch, Johnson's intimate friend, would have dissuaded him from his pur- pose of visiting the place, urging that it would expose him to ridicule ; but all his arguments nad no effect. What Mr. Welch foretold, was verified ; he was censured for his credulity, his wisdom was arraigned, and his religious opinions resolved into superstition. — Nor was this all: that facetious gentleman, Foote, who had assumed the name of the modern Aristophanes, and at his theatre had long entertained the town with caricatures of living persons, thought that at this time a drama, in which himself should represent Johnson, and in his mien, his garb, and his speech, should display all his comic powers, would yield him a golden harvest. Johnson was apprised of his intention; and gave Mr. Foote to understand that the Ucenee under which he was permitted to entertain the town would not justify the liberties he wa» 326 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ Our conversation proceeded. " Sir," said he, " I am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society. There is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed." "Dr. Goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an author, and he is a very worthy man too. He has been loose in his princi- ples, but he is coming right." I mentioned Mallet's tragedy of " Elvira," which had been acted the preceding winter at Drury-lane, and that the Hon. Andrew Erskine, Mr. Dempster," and myself, had joined in writing a pam- phlet, entitled " Critical Strictures," against it.^ That the mildness of Dempster's disposition had, however, relented ; and he had can didly said, "We have hardly a right to abuse this tragedy ; foi, bad as it is, how vain should either of us be to write one not near accustomed to take with private characters, and that if he persisted in his design, he would, by a severe chastisement of his representative on tho stage, and in the face of the whole audience, convince the world, that whatever were his .nfirraities, or even his foibles, they should not be made the sport of the public, or the means of gain to any one of his profession. Foote, upon this intimation, had discretion enough to desist from his purpose. Johnsop enter- tained no resentment against him, and they were ever after friends. — Hawkins. ' George Dempster, of Uunnichen, secretary to the Order of the Thistle, and long M.P. for Fife, &c. He was a man of talents and very agreeable manners. Burns mentions him more than once with eulogj-. As Mr. Dempster lived a good deal in Johnson's society, the reader may be glad to see the following slip-shod but characteristic epitaph (communicated to me by Bir Vi' alter Scott), which he made on himself: — " Pray for the soul of deceased George Dempster, In liis youth a great fool, in his old age a gamester.* What j'ou're curious to know on this tomb you shall see : — Life's thread he let go, when just ninety-three. So sound was his bottom, his acquaintance all wondered How old Nick had got him, till he lived out the hundred. To his money concerns, he paid little attention, First selling his land, then pawning his pension. But his precious time, he much better did manage ; — To the end of his line, from his earliest nonage, He divided his hours into two equal parts, And spent one half in sleeping, the other at cartes."i [In 1790, Mr. Dempster retired from parliament, and devoted himself to tlie impro rement of agi-iculture and tlie fisheries, lie died in 1818, aged 82.] — B. ■■^ The Critical Review, in which Mallet himself sometimes wrote, characterised this pamph- let as " the crude efforts of envy, petulance, and self-conceit " There being thus three epi- thets, we, the three authors, had a humorous contention how each should be appro- priated. — B. • Gamester, Scottice, may rhyme with Dempster. He, however, only played for ti'jfies: Indeed, the whole thing is a mere badinage. — W. Scott. t The Scotch, in familiar life, retain many French words tokens of their early intercours* with France), and among others cartca for cards. — U ^■■f^''-^" SUPPER AT THE MITRa. 32t SO good !" Johnson — " Why no, Sir ; this is not just reasonmg. You may abuse a tragedy, though you cannot write one. You may scold a carpenter who has made you a bad table, though you cannot make a table. It is not your trade to make tables." When I talked to him of the paternal estate to which I was heir, he said, " Sir, let me tell you, that to be a Scotch landlord, where you have a number of families dependent upon you, and attached to you, is, perha.ps, as high a situation as humanity can arrive at. A merchant upon the 'Change of London, with a hundred thousand pounds, is nothing ; an English Duke, with an immense fortune, is nothing : he has no tenants who consider themselves as under his patriarchal care, and who will follow him to the field upon an emergency." His notion of the dignity of a Scotch landlord had been formed upon what he had heard of the Highland chiefs ; for it is long since a lowland landlord has been so curtailed in his feudal authority, that he has little more influence over his tenants than an English land- lord ; and of late years most of the Highland chiefs have destroyed, by means too well known, the princely power which they once enjoyed. He proceeded : — " Your going abroad. Sir, and breaking off idle habits, may be of great importance to you. I would go where there are courts and learned men. There is a good deal of Spain that has not been perambulated. I would have you go thither. A man of inferior talents to yours may furnish us with useful observa- tions upon that country." His supposing me, at that period of life, capable of writing an account of my travels that would deserve to be read, elated me not a httle. I appeal to every impartial reader whether this faithful detail of his frankness, complacency, and kindness to a young mau, a stranger, and a Scotchman, does not refute the unjust opinion of the harshness of his general demeanour. His occasional reproofs of folly, impudence, or impiety, and even the sudden sallies of his constitutional irritability of temper, which have been preserved for the poignancy of their wit, have produced that opinion among those who have not considered that such instances, though collected by Mrs. Piozzi into a small volume, and read over in a few hours^ 328 LIFE OF JOHNSOK. i^**- were, in fact, scattered through a long series of years : years, in which his time was chiefly spent in instructing and delighting man- kind by his writings and conversation, in acts of piety to God, and good-will to men. I complained to him that I had not yet acquired much knowledge, and asked his adyice as to my studies. He said, " Don't talk of study now. I will give you a plan ; but it will require some time to consider of it." " It is very good in you," I replied, " to allow me to be with you thus. . Had it been foretold to me some years ago that I should pass an evening with the author of the Rambler, how should I have exulted." What I then expressed, was sincerely fi-om the heart. He was satisfied that it was, and cordially an- swered, " Sir, I am glad we have met, I hope we shall pass many evenings, and mornings too, together." We finished a couple of bottles of port^ and sat till between one and two in the morning. CHAPTER XVI 1763. •rtham's " Telemachus, a Mask "—Dr. Oliver Goldsmith — Dr. John Campbell — " Hormlppui Redivivus "—Churchill's Poetry— Bonnell Thornton—" Ode on St. Cecilia's Day"— The Con- noisseur — The World— Miss AVilliams's Tea Parties — Anecdotes of Goldsmith. He wrote this year in the Critical Review the account of "Telemachus, a Mask," by the Rev. George Graham, of Eaton College. The subject of this beautiful poem was particularly inte- resting to Johnson, who had much experience of " the conflict of opposite principles," which he describes as " The contention be- tween pleasure and virtue ; a struggle which will always be con- tinued while the present system of nature shall subsist ; nor can history or poetry exhibit more than pleasure triumphing over virtue, and virtue subjugating pleasure." As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, I shall endeavour to make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character. He was a native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke, at Trinity College, Dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity.* He, however, ob- served to Mr. Malone, that " though he made no great figure in mathematics, which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an ode of Horace into English better than any of them." He after wards studied physic at Edinburgh, and upon the Continent ; and, I have been informed, was enabled to pursue his travels on foot, partly by demanding at universities to enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted ; so that, as I once observed to Dr. Johnson, he dis- puted his passage through Europe. He then came to England, and ^ Goldsmith got a premium at a Christmas examination in Trinity College, Dublin, wliicb I tave seen. — Kearnet. 829 ^^30 LtFE OF JOHNSON. ♦ ^^68, was employed successively iu the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, aud a writer for a newspaper. He had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduoulsy the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. At this time I think he had published nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally known that otic Dr. Goldsmith was the author of " An Inquiry into the present State of Polite Learn- ing in Europe," and of " The Citizen of the World," a series of letters supposed to be written from London by a Chinese.' No man had the art of displaying with more advantage as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he made. " JVihil q^wd tetigit non or- navitP * Ills mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil. There was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not grow there ; but the elegant shrubbery and the fra- grant parterre appeared in gay succession. It has been generally circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conversation ; ' but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. He had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes produces a laughable con- fusion in expressing them. He was very much what the French call un etourdi ; and from vanity and an eager desire of being conspicu* ous wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly without know- 1 He had also published in 1750, " The Bee ; being, Essays on the most interesting Sub- jects." — M. - Seehis Epitaph in Westminster Abbey, written by Dr. Johnson. ^ In allusion to this, Mr. Horace Walpole, who admired his writings, said he was " an inspired idiot ;" and Garrick described him as one " for shortness call'd Noll, Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll." Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned to me, that he frequently heard Goldsmith talk warmly of the pleasure of being liked, and observed how hard it would be if literary excellence should pre- clude a man from that satisfaction, which he perceived it often did, from the envy which attended it ; and therefore Sir Joshua was convinced that he was intentionally more absurd, In order to lessen himself in social intercourse, trusting that his character would be sufficiently supported by his works. If it indeed was his intention to appear absurd in company, he was often very successful. But, with due deference to Sir Joshua's ingenuity, I think the coaje and being filled with hving names, and that it would sink into oblivion." I ventured to hint that he was not quite a fair judge, as Churchill had attacked him violently, Johnson. " Nay, Sir, I am a very fair judge. He did not attack me violently till he found I did not like his poetry ; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from continuing to say what I think of him, from an apprehension that it m IV be ascribed to resentment. No, Sir, I called the fellow a block- head at first, and I will call him a blockhead still. However, I will acknowledge that I have a better opinion of him now than 1 once had ; for he has shown more fertility than I expected. To be sure, he is a tree that cannot produce good fruit : he only bears crabs. But, Sir, a tree that produces a great many crabs is better tlian a tree which producesonly a few." In this depreciation of Churchill's poetry I could not agree with him. It is very true that the greatest part of it is upon the topics of the day, on which account, as it brought him great fame and pro- fit at The time, it must proportionably slide out of the public atten- tion as other occasional objects succeed. But Churchill had extra- ordinary vigour both of thought and expression. His portraits of tlie players will ever be va;luable to the true lovers of the drama ; and his strong caricatures of several eminent men of his age, will not be forgotten by the curious. Let me add, that there are in his works many passages which are of a general nature ; and his " Pro- phecy of Famine " is a poem of no ordinary merit. It is, indeed, falsely injurTous to Scotland ; but, therefore, may be allowed a greater share of invention. informed his lordsliip was his constant practice. The quantity of Dr. Campbell's compositiou is almost incredible, and his laboura brought Iiim large profits. Dr. Joseph Warton told me that Johnson said of him, " He is the richest autlior that ever grazed the common of Iit& rature."- - B. ^^AT. 64. CHURCUILl's fOETUY. 3o5 Bonnell Thorutou bad just published a burlesque " Ode ou St. Cecilia's Day," adapted to the ancient British music, viz. : the salt- box, the Jew's-harp, the marrow-bones and cleaver, the hnm-strum or hurdy-gurdy, &c. Johnson praised its humour, and seemed much diverted with it. He repeated the following passage : " In strains more exalted the salt-box shall join, And clattering and battering and clapping corabiue ; With a rap and a tap, while the hollow side sounds, Up and down leaps the flap, and with rattling rebounds." ' I mentioned the periodical paper called " The Connoisseur." He said it wanted matter. No doubt it had not the deep thinking of Johnson's writings ; but surely it has just views of the surface of life, and a very sprightly manner. His opinion of the " The World " was not much higher than of the Connoisseur. Let me here apologise for the imperfect manner in which I am obliged to exhibit Johnson's conversation at this period. In the early part of my acquaintance with him, I was so wrapt in admira- tion of his extraordinary colloquial talents, and so httle accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, that I found it extremely diffi- cult to recollect and record his conversation with its genuine vigour and vivacity. In progress of time, when my mind was, as it were, strongly impregnated with the Johnsonian aether, I could, with much more facility and exactness, carry in my memory and commit to paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom aud wit. At this time Miss Williams, as she was then called, though she did not reside with him in the Temple under his roof, but had lodg- ings in Bolt-court, Fleet-street, had so much of his attention, that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, however late it might be, and she always sat up for him. This, it may be fairly conjectured, was not alone a proof of his regard for her ; but In 1769 I set for Smart and Newbery, Thornton's burlesque Ode on St. Cecilia's day. It was performed at Kanelagh in masks, to a very crowded audience, as I was told ; for I then resided in Norfolk. Beard sang the salt-box song, which was admirably accompanied on that instrument by Brent, the fencing-master and father of Miss Brent, the celebrated sineer; Skeggs on the broomstick, as bassoon ; and a remarkable performer on the Jew's harp." — "Buzzing twangs the iron lyre." Cleavers were cast in bell metal for this entertainment. All the performers of the old woman's Oratory, employed by Foote, were, I believe, employed »1 Ranelagh, on this occasion. — Burnet. 336 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^^ of his own unwilliugness to go into solitude, before that unseasona- ble hour at which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of repose. Dr. Goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of supe- riority, like that of an esoteric over an exoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, "I go to Miss Williams." I confess, I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud ; but it was not long before I obtained the same mark of distinction.' ' Goldsmith affected Johnston's style and manner of lonversation; and, when he had uttered, as he often would, a laboured sentence, so tumid as to be scarce intelligible, would ask, if that was not truly Johnsonian ; yet he loved not Johnson, but rather envied him for hii parts ; and once entreated a friend to desist from praising him ; " for in doing so," said hfl, " you harrow up my very soul." He had some wit, but no humour, and never told a storj Hut be spoiled U. CHAPTER XVII. It63 London — ^Miss Porter's Legacy — Boswell and his Landlord — Suppers at the Mitre — " The KlDf can do no Wrong" — Historical Composition — Bayle — Arbuthnot — The noblest Prospect to Scotland — Jacibitism — Lord Hailes — Keeping a Journal — The King of Prussia's Poetry- Johnson's Library — "Not at Home " — Pity — Style of Hume — Inetiuality of Mankind-- Constitutional Goodness — Miracles — Acquaintance of Young People — Hard Heading — Mel- ancholy — Mrs. Macaulay — Warton's Essay o.i Pope — Sir James Macdonald — Projected Tour to the Hebrides — School-boy Happiness. On Tuesday the 5th of July, I again visited Johnson. He told nie he had looked into the poems of a pretty voluminous writer, Mr. (now Dr.) John Ogilvie, one of the Presbyterian ministers of Scotland, which had lately come out, but could find nothing in them. Bos WELL. " Is there not imagination in them. Sir ?" Johnson. " AVhy, Sir, there is in them, what was imagination, but it is no more imagi- nation in him, than sound is sound in the echo. And his diction, too, is not his own. We have long ago seen white-robed innocence, and Jlower-bespangled meads." Talking of London, he observed, " Sir, if you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. It is not in the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habitations which are crowded to- gether, that the wonderful immensity of London consists." I have of- ten amused myself with thinking how diifereut a place London is to different people. Tliey, whose narrow minds are contracted to the consideration of some one particular pursuit, view it only through that medium. A politician thinks of it merely as the seat of government in its different departments ; a grazier, as a vast market for cattle , a mercantile man, as a place where a prodigious deal of business is done upon 'Change ; a dramatic enthusiast, as the grand scene of theatrical entertainments ; a man of pleasure, as an assemblage ol YOU L 15 9Si1 338 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^^ taverns, and the great emporium for ladies of easy virtue, But the in tellectual man is struck with it, as comprehending the whole of human life in all its variety, the contemplation of which is inexhaustible. Letter 85. TO MISS LUCY PORTER. '• July 5, 1763. " My Dearest Dear, — I am extremely glad that so much prudence and vir- tue as yours is at last awarded with so la^ge a ibrtune,' and doubt not but thai me excellence which you have shown in circumstances of difficulty will con- tinue the same in the convenience of wealth. " I have not written to you sooner, having nothing to say, which you would not easily suppose — nothing but that I love you and wish you happy, of which you may be always assured, whether I write or not. " I have had an inflammation in my eyes ; but it is much better, and will be, I hope, soon quite well. '' Be so good as to let me know whether you design to stay at Lichfield this summer ; if you do, I purpose to come down. I shall bring Frank with me ; 80 that Kitty must contrive to make two beds, or get a servant's bed at the Three Crowns, which may be as well. As I suppose she may want sheets and table-lineu, and such things, I have sent ten pounds, which she may lay out in conveniences. 1 will pay her for her board what you think proper; .1 think a guinea, a week for me and the boy. " Be pleased to give my love to Kitty. I am, my dearest love, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." On Wednesday, July 6, he was engaged to sup with me at my lodgings in Downing-street, V/estminster. But on the preceding •night ray landlord having behaved very rudely to me and some com- pany who were with me, I had resolved not to remain another night in his house. I was exceedingly uneasy at the awkward appearance I supposed I should make to Johnson and the other gentlemen whom I had invited, not being able to receive them at home, and being obliged to order supper at the Mitre. I went to Johnson in the morning, and talked of it as of a serious distress. He laughed, and said, " Consider, Sir, how insignificant this will appear a twelve- •v'Uth hence." Were this consideration to be applied to most of uiC little vexatious incidents of life, by which our quiet is too often # Porter had .just received a legacy of ten thousand poi"wls, by the death of Iier br«» ♦ucr. -C. ^'^^'^'- ^- " THE KING CAN DO NO VYRCNG." '6)i'i disturbed, it would prevent many painful sensations. I have tried it frequently with good effect. " There is nothing," continued lie, " in this mighty misfortune ; nay, we shall be better at the Mitre." I told him that I had been at Sir John Fielding's ofSce, complaining of my landlord, and had been informed that, though I had taken my lodgings for a year, I might, upon proof of his bad behaviour quit them when I pleased, without being under an obligation to pay rent for any longer time than while I possessed them. The fertility of Johnson's mind could show itself even upon so small a matter as this. " Why, Sir," said he, " I suppose this must be the law, since you have been told so in Bow-street. But, if your landlord could hold you to your bargain, and the lodgings should be yours for a year, you may certainly use them as you think fit. So, Sir, you may quarter two life-guardmen upon him ; or you may send the greatest scoundrel you can find into your apartments ; or you may say that you want to make some experiments in natural philosophy, and may burn a large quantity of assafcetida in his house." I had as my guests this evening at the Mitre tavern, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Thomas Davies, Mr. Eccles, an Irish gentleman, for whose agreeal)le company I was obliged to Mr. Davies, and the Rev. Mr. John Ogilvie,' who was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, while I, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of showing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms Johnson permitted me to live with him. (Joldsmith, as usual, endeavoured with too much eagerness to slimr, and disputed very warmly with Johnson against the well- known maxim of the British Constitution, " the king can do no wrong ;" affirming, that " what was morally false could not be politi- cally true ; and as the king might, in the exercise of his regal power, command and cause the doing of what was wrong, it cer- tainly might be said, in sense and in reason, that he could do wrong." Johnson. "Sir, you are to consider, that in our constitu > The northern bard mentioned page 337. When I asked Dr. Johnson's permission to intro- duce him, be ohlij-'ingly agreed; adding, however, with a sly pleasantry, "but he must give us none of his poetry." It is rcDiarlcahle that .lohnson and Churchill, however nuicli they f'ilVered in otlier points, agreed on this subject. See Churcliill's " Journey." It is, however >)iit justice tol)r. Ogilvie to observe, that his " Day of Judgment" has no inconsi(ieraHe share ff mer;t.— B. IttI 340 LIfE OF JOHNSON. ' tion, according to its true principles, the king is the head, he is eupreme ; he is above everything, and there is no power by which he can be tried. Therefore it is, Sir, that we hold the king can do no wrong ; that whatever may happen to be wrong in government may not be above our reach, by being ascribed to Majesty. Redress is always to be had against oppression, by punishing the immediate agents. The king, though he should command, cannot force a judge to condemn a man unjustly ; therefore it is the judge whom we pro- secute and punish. Political institutions are formed upon the con- sideration of what will most frequently teud to the good of the whole, although now and then exceptions may occur. Thus it is better in general that a nation should have a supreme legislative power, although it may at times be abused. And then. Sir, there is this consideration, that if the abuse he enormous, Nature will rise up ; and, claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt political system.^'' I mark this animated sentence with peculiar pleasure, as a noble in- stance of that truly dignified spirit of freedom which ever glowed in his heart, though he was charged with slavish tenets by super- ficial observers ; because he was at all times indignant against that false patriotism, that pretended love of freedom, that unruly rest- lessness, which is inconsistent with the stable authority of any good government. This generous sentiment, which he uttered with great fervour, struck me exceedingly, and stirred my blood to that pitch of fancied resistance, the possibility of which I am glad to keep in mind, but to which I trust I never shall be forced. " Great abilities," said he, "are not requisite for an historian ; for in historical composition all the greatest powers of the human mind are quiescent. He has facts ready to his hand ; so there is no exercise of invention. Imagination is not required in any high degree ; only about as much as is used in the lower kinds of poetry. Some penetration, accuracy, and colouring, will fit a man for the task, if he can give the application which is necessary." " Bayle's Dictionary is a very useful work for those to consult who love the biographical part of literature, which is what I loye most." Talking of the eminent writers in Queen Anne's reign, he ob- Mixt.SL THE lilTRfi. oi\ served, " I think Dr. Arbuthnot the first man among them. He was the most universal genius, being an excellent physician, a man of deep learning, and a man of much humour. Mr. Addison was, to be sure, a great man : his learning was not profound ; but his morality, his humour, and his elegance of writing, set him very high." Mr. Ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topic of his conversation the praises of his native country. He begau with say- ing that there was very rich laud around Edinburgh. Goldsmith, who had studied physic there, contradicted this, very untruly, with a Bueering laugh. Disconcerted a little by this, Mr. Ogilvie then took new ground, where, I suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe ; for he observed that Scotland had a great many noble wild pros- pects. Johnson. " I believe, Sir, you have a great many. Nor- way, too, has noble wild prospects ; and Lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. But, Sir, let me tell you the noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high road that leads him to England !" ' This unexpected and pointed sally pro- duced a roar of applause. After all, however, those who admire the rude grandeur of Nature cannot deny it to Caledonia. On Saturday, July 9, I found Johnson surrounded with a numer- ous levee, but have not preserved any part of his conversation. Letter 86. TO MISS LUCY PORTER. " June 12, 1763. " My Dearest Love, — I had forgot my debt to poor Kitty ; pray let her have the note, and do what yon can for her, for she has been always very good, ' Mrs. Brooke* received an answer not unlike tliis, when expatiating on the accumulation of sublime and beautiful objects, which form the fine prospect up tlie Kiver St. Lawrence in North America : " Come, madam (says Dr. Johnson), confess that nothing ever equalled your pleasure in seeing that sight reversed ; and finding yourself looking at the happy prospect DOWN tlie river St. Lawrence." The truth is, he hated to hear about prospects and views, and laying out ground, and taste in gardening : — " That was the best garden (he said), which pi-o- duced most roots and fruits ; and that wat The justice of this assertion may be doubted. Johnson was comparing men of such a rank tnd station as he now met, with the narrow, provincial, and inferior society in which his own jrouta was spent. — 0. ■856 LIFE OF JOH-VSON. -W one, that I knew almost as much at eighteen as I do now.' My judgment, to be sure, was not so good ; but, I had all the facts I remember very well, when I was at Oxford, an old gentleman said to me, ' Young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of knowledge ; for when years come unto you, you will fine* that poring upon books will be but an irksome task.' " This account of his reading, given by himself in plain words, suffi- ciently confirms what I have already advanced upon the disputed question as to his application. It reconciles any seeming inconsis- tency in his way of talking upon it at different times ; and shows that idleness and reading hard were with him relative terms, the import of which, as used by him, must be gathered from a compari- son with what scholars of different degrees of ardour and assiduity have been known to do. And let it be remembered, that he was now talking spontaneously, and expressing his genuine sentiments ; whereas at other times he might be induced from his spirit of contra- diction, or more properly from his love of argumentative contest, to speak lightly of his own application to study. It is pleasing to con- sider that the old gentleman's gloomy prophecy as to the irksome- ness of books to men of an advanced age, which is too often fulfilled, was so far from being verified in Jolinson, that his ardour for litera* ture never failed, and his last writings had more ease and vivacity than any of his earlier productions. He mentioned it to me now, for the first time, that he had been distressed by melancholy, and for that reason had been obliged to fly from study and meditation, to the dissipating variety of life. Against melancholy he recommended constant occupation of mind, a great deal of exercise, moderation in eating and drinking, and especially to shun drinking at night. He said melancholy people were apt to fly to intemperance for relief, but that it sunk them much deeper in misery. He observed, that labouring men, who work hard, and live sparingly, are seldom or never troubled with low spirits. He again insisted on the duty of maintaining subordination of rank. " Sir, I would no more deprive a nobleman of his respect, 1 His great period of study was from the age of twelve to that of eighteen; as he told Mr. Langton, who gave me this information.— M. He went to Oxford in his nineteenth year, and seems to have translated the Messiah when he had been there not quite thre« luontns. — 0. *^*''- ^ LEVELI.KRS. 357 than of his money. I consider myself as acting a part in the great system of society, and I do to others as I would have them to do tcf me. I would behave to a nobleman as I should expect he would behave to me, were I a nobleman and he Sara. Johnson. Sir, there Is one Mrs. Macaulay,' in this town, a great republican. One day when I was at her house, I put on a very grave countenance, and said to her, ' Madam, I am now become a convert to your way of thinking. I am convinced that all mankind are upon an equal foot- ing ; and to give you an unquestionable proof. Madam, that I am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, well-behaved fellow citizen, your footman ; I desire that ^e may be allowed to sit down and dine with us.' I thus, Sir, shewed her the absurdity of the levelling doc- trine. She has never liked me since. Sir, your levellers wish to level down as far as themselves ; but they cannot bear levelling up to themselves. They would all have some people under them ; why not then have some people above them ?" I mentioned a certain author " who disgusted me by his forwardness, and'by shewing no deference to noblemen into whose company he was admitted. Johnson. " Suppose a shoemaker should claim an equality witli him, as he does with a lord : how he would stare. ' Why, Sir, do you stare ? (says the shoemaker,) I do great service to society. 'Tis true, I am paid for doing it ; but so are you. Sir : and I am sorry to say it, better paid than I am, for doing something not so necessary. For mankind could do better without your books, than without my shoes.' Thus, Sir, there would be a perpetual struggle for prece- dence, were there no fixed invariable rules for the distinction of rank, which creates no jealousy, as it is allowed to be accidental." He said. Dr. Joseph Wartou was a very agreeable man, and his " Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope," a very pleasing book. I wondered that he delayed so long to give us the continuation of it. Johnson. " Why, Sir, I suppose he finds himself a little disap- pointed, in not having been able to persuade the world to be of his opinion as to Pope." We have now been favoured with the concluding volume, in 1 This " one Mrs. Macaulay " was the same personage, who afterwards made herself 8« Biuch known as " the celebrated female historian." — C. * Something of this land l;a* been imputed to Goldsmith. — C. 858 LIFE OF JOHNSOJf. 1768. which, to use a parliamentary expression, he has explained, so as not to appear quite so adverse to the opinion of the world, concerning Pope, as was at first thought -^ and we must all agree, that his work Ls a most valuable accession to English literature. A writer of deserved eminence ' being mentioned, Johnson said, "Why, Sir, he is a man of good parts, but being originally poor, he has got a love of mean company, and low jocularity ; a very bad thing. Sir. To laugh is good, as to talk is good. But you ought no .more to think it enough if you laugh, than you are to think it enough if you talk. You may laugh in as many ways as you talk ; and surely cver3/ way of talking that is j)ractised cannot be esteemed." I spoke of a Sir James Macdonald ' as a young man of most distinguished merit, who united the highest reputation at Eaton and Oxford, with the patriarchal spirit of a great Highland chief- tain. I mentioned that Sir James had said to me, that he had never seen Mr. Johnson, but he had a great respect for him* though at the same tilne it was mixed vv^ith some degree of terror. John- son. " Sir, if he were acquainted with me, it might lessen both." The mention of this gentleman led us to talk of the Western Islands of Scotland, to visit which he expressed a wish that then appeared to me a very romantic fancy, which I little thought would be afterwards realised. He told me, that his father had put Martin's account of those islands into his hands when he was very young, and tliat he was highly pleased with it ; that he was particularly struck with the St. Kilda man's notion that tlie high church of Glas- gow had been hollowed out of a rock ; ' a circumstance to which old Mr. Johnson had directed his attention. He said, he would go 1 It is not easy to say who was here meant. Murphy, who was born poor, was distinguishej for elegance of manners and conversation ; acd Fielding, who could not have been spoken of as alive in 1T63, was born to better ijrosjiects, though he kept low comi)any ; and had it been Goldsmith, Boswell would probably have had no scruple in naming him. — C. 1830. The nfeighboiing mention of the name of Warton, and the allusion to "a fondness for ow com- pany," with which he has been often reproached (though Dr. Mant says unjustly), in«. ines me to suspect that he is the person meant. — C. 1835. Will the editor allow us to suggest the name of Smollett; who had left London for Italy, the month before this conversation occurs, and might naturally be talked of. — Quart. Rev. 1881. ^ Hee post, March 27, 1772, and September 5, 1773. — 0. [See also Mrs. Carter's Letters to Mrs. Montague, for a notice of this gentleman's premiiture death, vol. i 310, 320.] ' Addison in the Spectator, No. 50, makes the Indian king suj^pose that St. Paul's WM carved out of a rock. — C ^Gtat. 64 SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. 359 to tlie Hebrides with me, m'Iicu I returned from mj travels, unless some very good oomjranion should offer when I was absent, which he did not think probable ; adding, " There are few people to whom I take so much to as to you." And when I talked of my leaving England, he said with a very affectionate air, " My dear Boswell, I should^ be very unhappy at parting, did I think we were not to meet agaui." I cannot too often remind my readers, that although such instances of his kindness are doubtless very flattering to me yet I hope my recording them will be ascribed to a better motive than to vanity ; for they afford unquestionable evidence of his tenderness and complacency, which some, while they were forced to acknow- ledge his great powers, have been so strenuous to deny. He maintained, that a boy at school was the happiest of human beings. I supported a different opinion, from which I have never yet varied, that a man is happier : and I enlarged upon the anxiety and sufferings which are endured at school. Johnson. "Ah ! Sir a boy's being flogged is not so severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him. Men have a solicitude about fame • and the greater share they have of it, the more afraid they are of losing It." I silently asked myself, " Is it possible that the great Samuel Johnson really entertains any such apprehension, and is not confi- dent that his exalted fame is established upon a foundation never to be shaken ?" He this evening drank a bumper to Sir David Dalrymple "as a man of worth, a scholar, and a wit." "I have," said he ' "never heard of him, except from you ; but let him know my opinion of him : for, as he dDes aot shew himself much in the world, he should have the praise of the few who hear of him." CHAPTEE XVill. 1163. Table-Talk — Inauence of the Weather— Swift— Thomson — Burke — Sheridan — Evidences of ChiTstianity — Derrick — Daj' at Greenwich — The Methodists— Johnson's "Walk "—The Con- Tocation — Blacklock — Johnson accompanies Boswell to Harwich — The Journey — " Good Eating " — " Abstinence and Temperance " — Johnson's favourite Dishes — Bishop Berkeley " refuted " — Burke — Boswell sails for Holland. On Tuesday, July 26, I found Mr. Johnson alone. It was a very wet day, aud I again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather. Johnson. "Sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage ; for man lives in air, as a fish lives in water ; so that, if the atmosphere press heavy from above, there is on equal resistance from below. To be sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad ; and men cannot labor so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good : but, Sir, a smith or a tailor, whose work is within doors, will surely do as much in itihiy weather as in fair. Some very delicate frames indeed may be affected by wet weather ; but not common constitutions." We talked of the education of children ; and I asked him what he thought was best to teach them first. Johnson. " Sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are considering which of the two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both. On Thursday, July 28, we again supped in private at the Turk's Head coffee-house. Johnson. " Swift has a higher reputation than he deserves. His excellence is strong sense ; for his humour, though very well, is not remarkably good. I doubt whether the ' Tale of a Tub ' be his ; for he never owned it, and it is much above his usual manner.' ' This opinion was given by him more at large at a subsequent period. See post, Aug. 16, 860 ^TAT. 54. THOMSON — BtJRKE — SHERIDAN. 361 " Thomson, I think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers. Everything appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit. He could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical eye." " Has not * a great deal of wit, Sir ?" Johnson. " I do not think so. Sir. He is, indeed, continually attempting wit, but he fails. And I have no more pleasure in hearing a man attempt- ing wit and failing, than in seeing a man trying to leap over a ditch and tumbling into it." He laughed heartily when I mentioned to him a saying of his concerning Mr. Thomas Sheridan, which Foote took a wicked plea- sure to circulate. " Why, Sir, Sherry is dull, naturally dull ; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become wha t ^we now see him. Such an access of stupidity, Sir, is not in Nature." " So," said he, " I allowed him all his own -merit." He now added, " Sheridan cannot bear me. I bring his declama- tion to a point. I ask him a plain question, ' What do you mean to teach ?' Besides, Sir, what influence can Mr. Sheridan have upon the language of this great country, by his narrow exertions ? Sir, it is burning a farthing candle at Dover to show light at Calais." Talking of a young man ^ who was uneasy from thinking that he was very deficient in learning and knov/ledge, he said, "A man has no reason to complain who holds a middle place, and has many Delow hun ; and perhaps he has not six of his years above him ; per- haps not one. Though he may -know anything perfectly, the gene- ral mass of knowledge that he has acquired is inconsiderable. Time will do for him all that is wanting." The conversation then took a philosophical turn. Johnson. " Human experience, which is constantly contradicting theory, is the great test of truth. A system, built upon the discoveries of great many minds, is always of more strength, than what is pro- 1773 — B. How could Johnson doubt that Swift was the author of the Tale of a Tub, when, as he himself relates in his Life of Swift, " No other claimants can be produced ; and when Archbishop Sharpe and the Duchess of Somerset, by showing it to Queen Anne, debarred Swift of a bishopric, he did not deny it t" We have, moreover. Swift's own ackao\rledgment o/ It, in his letter to Ben. Tooke the printer, June 29, 1710.— C. 1 There is no doubt that this blank must be filled with the name of Mr. Burk*. * No doubt Boswell himself. VOL. I. 16 362 tIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^® duced by the mere workings of any one mind, wbicli of itself can do little. There is not so poor a book in the world that Tvonld not be a prodigious effort were it wrought out entirely by a single mind, without the aid of prior investigators. The French writers are superficial, because they are not scholars, and so proceed upon the mere power of their own minds ; and we see how very little power they have." "As to the Christian religion, Sir, besides the strong evidence which we have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the num- ber of great men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration of the question. Grotius was ar. acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to examine evidence, and he was con- vinced. Grotius was not a recluse, but a man of the woiid, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion. Sir Isaac Newton set out an infidel, and came to be a very firm believer." He this evening again recommended me to perambulate Spain.' I said it would amuse him to get a letter from me dated at Sala- manca. Johnson. " I love the university of Salamanca ; for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their conquering America, the university of Salamanca gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful." He spoke this with great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in his " London," against Spanish encroachment.* I expressed my opinion of my friend Derrick as put a poor writer. Johnson. " To be sure, Sir, he is : but you are to consider that his being a literary man has got for him all that he has. It has made him King of Bath. Sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer. Had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in the streets, and asking halfpence from everybody that passed." In justice, however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who was my 1 1 fully intended to have followed advice of such weight ; but having staid much longer both in Germany and Italy than 1 proposed to do, and having also visited Corsica, I found that I had exceeded the time allowed me by my father, and hastened to France in my way home- wards.— B. 2 " Has Heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore ! No secret island in the boundless main f No peaceful desert yet unclaiui'd by Spain 1" ''^'^^ *^ DERRICK. 363 first tutor in the ways of London, and shewed me the town m ull its variety of departments, both Hterary and sportive, the particulars of which Dr. Johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an editor : " Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's let- ters had been written by one of a more established uame, they would have been thought very pretty letters." And, " I sent Der- rick to Dryden's relations to gather materials for his life ; and I believe he got all that I myself shotlld have got." Poor Derrick ! I remember him with kindness. Yet I cannot withhold from my readers a pleasant hum'ourous sally which could not have hurt him had he been alive, and now is perfectly harmless. In his collection of poems, there is one upon entering the harbour of Dublin, his native city, after a long absence. It begins thus : " Eblana ! much loved city, hail ! Where first I saw the light of day !" And after a solemn reflection on his being " numbered with forgot- ten dead," there is the following stanza : " Unless ray Hues protract ray fame, And those, who chance to read them, cry, I knew him ! Derrick was his name, In yonder tomb his ashes lie :" — which was thus happily parodied by Mr. John Home, to whom w« owe the beautiful and pathetic tragedy of "Douglas :" ■ " Unless my deeds protract my fame And he who passes sadly sings, I knew him ! Derrick was his name, On yonder tree his carcase swings .'" I doubt much whether the amiable and ingenious author of these burlesque lines will recollect them ; for they were produced extem- pore one evening while he and I were walking together in the dining room at Eglintoune Castle, in 1160. and I have never men- tioned them to him since Johnson said once to me, " Sir, I honour Derrick for his presenca 364 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^' of luind. Oue night, when Flojd,' another poor author, was wan- dering about the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk : upon being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, ' My dear Floyd, I am sorry to see you in this destitute state : will you go home with me to my lodgings V " I again begged his advice as to my method of study at Utrecht. * Come," said he, " let us make a day of it. Let us go down to Greenwich and dine, and talk of it there." The following Saturday was fixed for this excursion. ' As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in-- arm, a woman of the town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. " No, no, my girl," said Johnson, " it won't do." He, however, did not treat her with harshness ; and we talked of the wretched life of such women, and agreed, that much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit commerce between the sexes. On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential requisite to a good education. Johnson. " Most certainly, Sir ; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay, Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it." " And yet," said I, " people go through the worid very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning. Johnson. " Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use ; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Ai'gonauts, who were the first sailors." He then called to the boy, " What would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts ?" " Sir," said the boy, " I would give what I have." Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave hira a double fare Dr. Johnson then turning to me, " Sir," said he, " a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind ; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has, to get knowledge." ' Thomas Floyd published, in 1760, " Bibliotheca Biographica ; a Synopsis of Universal Biogiaphy, in three voUimes, 8vo., an4 in 176Q, a Translation of Du Fresnay's Chronologic4 I'ab'es of Universal History. *'^''-^- EXCUBSION TO GREENWrCH. 365 We landed at the Old Swan, and walked to Billingsgate, where we took oars and moved smoothly along the silver Thames. It was a very fine day. We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the river. I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called Methodists * have. Johnson. " Sir, it is owing to their expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their congregations ; a practice for which they will be praised by men of sense. To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common people : but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and show them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression. Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion will soon decay in that country." Let this observation, as Johnson meant it, be ever remembered. ' All who are acquainted with the history of religion, (the most important, surely, that con cerns the human mind,) know tliat the appellation of Methodists was first given to a societj of students in the University of Oxford, who, about the year 1780, were distinguished by ai> earnest and methodical attention to devout exercises. This disposition of mind is not a novelty, or peculiar to any sect, but has been, and still may be, found in many Christians of every denomination. Johnson himself was, in a dignified manner, a niethodist. In his Ram- bler, No. 110, he mentions with respect " the whole discipline of regulated piety" and in his " Prayers and Meditations," many instances occur of his anxious examination into his spirit- ual state. That this religious earnestness, and in particular an observation of the influence of the Holy Spirit, has sometimes degenerated into folly, and sometimes been counterfeited for base purposes, cannot be denied. But it is not, therefore, fair to decry it when genuine. The principal argument, in reason and good sense, against methodism is, that it tends to debase human nature, and prevent the generous exertions of goodness, by an unwortliy sup- position that God will pay no regard to them ; although it is positively said in the Scriptures that he " will regard every man according to his works." But I am happy to have it in my power to do justice to those whom it is the fashion to ridicule, without any knowledge of their tenets ; and this T can do by quoting a passage from one of their best apologists, Mr. Milner who thus expresse'; their doctrine upon this subject: — "Justified by faith, renewed in his faculties, and constrained by the love of Christ, the believer moves in the sphere of love and gratitude, anc' all his diiiies flow more or less from this principle. And though iliey an accumulating for ?iim, in heaven a treasure ofhlissxiroportioned to his faithfulness and activity^ and it is by no means inconsistent with his principles to feel the force of thi» conoid e^ration, yet love itself sweetens every duty to his mind ; and he thinks there is no ab- mrdity in his feeling the iDve of God as the grand commanding principle of his life." — Essays on religious Sutjects, Ac, by Joseph Milner, A.M., Master of the Grammar School of Kingston »P9U-Hull, 17S9,p. 11.— B. B66 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ir«8. I was much pleased to find myself with Johuson at Greenwich, which he celebrates ia his " Loudon " as a favourite scene, I had the poem in my pocket, and read the hues aloud with enthusiasm : "^Ou Thames's banks in silent thought we stood, Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood : Pleased with the seat which gave Eliza birth, We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth." He remarked that the structure of Greenwich Hospital was loo magnificent for a place of charity, and that its parts were too much detached to make one great whole. Buchanan, he said, was a very fine poet ; ' and observed, that he was the first who complimented a lady, by ascribing to her the dif- ferent perfections of the heathen goddesses ;''' but that Johnstone * improved upon this, by making his lady, at the same time, free from their defects. He dwelt upon Buchanan's elegant verses to Mary Queen of Scots, Nympha Caledonia, &c., and spoke with enthusiasm of the beauty of Latin verse. " All the modern languages," said he, " cannot fur- uish so melodious a line as — ' Formosam resonare doces Amarillida silvas.'' " Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me his advice as to a course of study. And here I am to men- tion, with much regret, that my record of what he said is miserably scanty. I recollect with admiration an animating blaze of eloquence, which roused every intellectual power in me to the highest pitch, but must have dazzled me so much, that my memory could not pre- serve the substance of his discourse ; for the note which I find of it is no more than this : " He ran over the grand scale of human knowledge ; advised me to select some particular branch to excel in, but to acquire a little of every kind." The defect of my minutes will be fully supplied by a long letter upon the subject, which he^ ■ Epigram, Lib. II. " In Elizabeth, Anglias Reg." — I suspect that the author's memory here deceived him, and that Johnson said, "the first modern poet;" for there is a well-linown Epigram in the " Anthologia," containing this kind of eulogy.— M. ^ Arthur Johnstone, born near Aberdeen in 1587, an elegant Latin poet. His principaJ works are a volume of epigrams (in wliich is to be found that to which Dr. Johnson alludes^ and a Latin par,ai)hruse of the Tsalms. He died at Oxford in 1641.— C. aiTAT. 54. GREENWICH PARK. 361 favoured me with, after I had been some time at Utrecht, aud which my readers will have the pleasure to peruse in its proper place. We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park. He asked me, I suppose by way of trying my disposition, " Is not this very fine ?" Having no exquisite relish of the beauties of nature, and being more delighted with the " busy hum of men," I answered, " Yes, Sir ; but not equal to Fleet-street.'? Johnson. " You are right, Sir ?" I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. Let me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fash- ionable Baronet ^ in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a May evening in the country, observed, " This may be very well ; but for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the playhouse." We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return to London, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning ; for the night air was so cold that it made me shiver. I was the more sensible of it from having sat up all the night before recollect- ing aud writing in my Journal what I thought worthy of preserva- tion ; an exertion which, during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently made. I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being much incommoded in the day- time. Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold, scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying, " Why do you shiver ?" Sir William Scott,^ of the Com- mons, told me, that when he complained of a headach in the post- chaise, as they were travelling together to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner : " At your age. Sir, I had no hoadach." It is not easy to make allowance for sensations in others, which we ourselves have not at the tima We must all have experienced how very differently we are affected by the complaints of our neighbours ' My friend Sir Michael Le Fleming. This gentleman, with all his experience of sprightly and elegant life, inherits, with the beautiful family domain, no inconsiderable share of that l3V(, of literature, which distinguished his venerable grandfather the Bishop of Carlisle. He one day observed to me, of Dr. Johnson, in a felicity of phrase, "There is a blunt dignity about him on every occasion." — B. ^ Now Lord Stowell, who accompanied Dr. Johnson from Newcastle to Kdinburgb 19 IT78.— C. 368 LIFE OF JOHNSON. 17« when we are well and whea we are ill. In full health, we can scarcely believe that they suffer much ; so faint is the image of pain upon our imagination : when softened by sickness, we readily sym- pathise with the sufferings of others. We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house very socially. He was pleased to listen to a particular account which I gave him of my family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population of which he asked questions, and made calculations ; recommending, at the same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom the proprietor was placed by Providence. He took delight in hearing my description of the romantic seat of ray ancestors. " I must be there. Sir," said he, " and we will live in the old castle ; and if there is not a room in it remaining, we will build one," I was highly flattered, but could scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be honoured by his presence, and cele- brated by a description, as it afterwards was, in his " Journey to the Western Islands." After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, he said, " I must see thee out of England ; I will accompany you to Harwich." I could not find words to express what I felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affectionate regard.' Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that morning at a meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach. Johnson. " Sir, a woman preaching is like a dog's walking on his hind legs. It is not done well ; but you are sur- prised to find it done at all." On Tuesday, August 2, (the day of my departure from London having been fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me the honour to pass a part of the morning with me at my chambers. He said, that " lie always felt an inclination to do nothing." I observed, that it was strange to think that the most indolent mas in Britain had written the most laborious work. The English Dictionary. I mentioned an imprudent publication, by a certain friend of his, at an early period of life, and asked him if he thought it would hurt ' Boswell had first met Johnson only ten weeks before this time, viz. on the 16th of %ns,m Markland. ^^-^^^ ^ HIS " WALK " THE CONVOCATION. 369 him. Johnson. " No, Sir ; not much. It may, perhaps, be men- tioned at an election." ' I had now made good my title to be a privileged man, and was carried by him in the evening to drink tea with Miss Williams, whom, though under the misfortune of having lost her sight, I found to be agreeable in conversation ; for she had a variety of literature. and expressed herself well ; but her pecuUar value was the intimacy in which she had long lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk. After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed bj some trees. There we sauntered a considerable time ; and 1 com- plained to him that my love of London and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from the thought of going away even to travel, which is generally so much desired by young men. Ht roused me by manly and spirited conversation. He advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to Greek an hour every day ; and when I was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind. On Wednesday, August 3, we had our last social evening at the Turk's Head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts. I had the misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally. I mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings, John- son. " What do they make me say, Sir ?" Boswell. " Why, Sir, as an instance very strange indeed (laughing heartily as I spoke), David Hume told me, you said that you would stand before a bat- tery of cannon to restore the Convocation to its full powers." Little did I apprehend that he had actually said this : but I was soon convinced of my error ; for, with a determined look, he thun- 1 This probably alludes to Mr. Burke's " Vindication of Natural Society," a work published In 1756, in a happy imitation of Lord Bolingbroke"9 style, and in an ironical adoption of his principles: the whole was so well done, that it at first passed as a genuine work of Lord Bolingbroke's, and subsequently as a serious and (as in style and imagery it certainly is) splendid exposition of the principles of one of his disciples. Lord Chesterfield and Bishop Warburton are stated to have been so deceived ; and it would seem, from the passage ■•' the text, that Johnson and Boswell were in the same error. In 1765, Mr. Burke reprintaJ Uiis piece, with a preface, in which he throws off altogether the mask of irony. Mr. Bosweli calJi rjiD ) friend of Johnaon'a, for he himself had not yet met Mr. Burke. — C. J6* ilO LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ dered out, "Aud would I uot, Sir? Shall tlte Presbyterian kirk of Scotland have its General Assembly, and the Church of England be denied its Convocation ?" He was walking up and down the room, while I told him the anecdote ; but when he uttered this explosion of high-church zeal, he came close to my chair, and his eyes flashed with indignation. I bowed to the storm, and diverted the force of it, by leading him to expiate on the influence which religion derived from maintaining the church with great external respectability. I must not omit to mention that he this year wrote "The liife of Ascham,"f and the Dedication to the Earl of Shaftesbury,f prefixed to the edition of that writer's English works, published by Mr. Bennet.' On Friday, August 5, we set out early in the morning in the Har- wich stage-coach. A fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young Dutch- man, seemed the most inclined among us to conversation. At the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman said she had done her best to educate her children ; and particularly, that she had never suff'ered them to be a moment idle. Johnson. " I wish. Madam, you would educate me too : for I have been an idle fellow all my life." " I am sure. Sir," said she, " you have not been idle." Johnson. " Nay, Madam, it is very true ; and that gentleman there," pointing to me, " has been idle. He was idle at Edinburgh. His father sent him to Glasgow, where he continued to be idle. He then came to Lon- don,^ where he has been very idle ; and now he is going to Utrecht, where he will be as idle as ever." I asked him privately how he could expose me so. Johnson. " Poh, poh 1 " said he, " they knew nothing about you, and will think of it no more." In the afternoon the gentlewoman talked violently against the Roman Catholics, and of the horrors of the Inquisition. To the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself, who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the Inquisition, and maintained, that " false doctrine should be checked on its first appearance ; that the civil power should unite with the church in punishing those who dare to ■ Johnson was, in fact, the editor of this work, as appears from a letter of Mr. T. Davies to the Rev. Edm. Bettesworth : — " Reverend Sir,^ — I take the liberty to send you Roger Ascham's works in English. Though Mr. Eennet's name is in the title, the editor in reality was Mr, Johnson, the author of the Rambler, who wrote the life of the author, iind added several notes &Jr. Johnson gave it to Mr. Bennet, for his advantage," &c. — C. *■''*■' ^ JOURNEY TO HARWICH. 371 fittack the established religion, and that such only «ere punished by the Inquisition." He bad iu his pocket " Pompov,ius Mela de Situ Orbis," in which he read occasionally, and seemed very intent upon ancient geography. Though by no means niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having observed at one of the stages that I ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coach man, when the custom was for each passenger to give only sixpence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. This was a just reprimand ; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand. He talked of Mr. Blacklock's * poetry, so far as it was descriptive of visible objects ; and observed, that, " as its author had the mis- fortune to be blind, we may be absolutely sure that such passages are combinations of what he has remembered of the works of other waiters who could see. That foolish fellow, Spence, has laboured to explain philosophically bow Blacklock may have done, by means of his own faculties, what it is impossible he should do. The solution, as I have given it, is plain. Suppose, I know a man to be so lame that he is absolutely incapable to move himself, and I find him in a different room from that in which I left him ; shall I puzzle myself with idle conjectures, that, perhaps, his nerves have by some un- known change all at once become effective ? No, Sir, it is clear how he got into a different room ; he was airried." Having stopped a night at Colchester, Johnson talked of that town with veneration, for having stood a siege for Charles the First. The Dutchman alone now remained with us. He spoke English tole- rably well ; and, thinking to recommend himself to us by expatiating on the superiority of the criminal jurisprudence of this country over that of Holland, he inveighed against the barbarity of putting an accused person to the torture, in order to force a confession. But Johnson was as ready for this, as for the inquisition. "Why, Sir, you do not, I find, understand the law of your own country. To ' Doctor Thom.is Blacklock was born in 1721 : he totally lost his sight by the small pox at i,be age of six years, but was, nevertheless, a descriptive poet. He died iu 1791, 3t^ LIFE OF JOHNSOK. '^^ torture in Holland is considered as a favour to an accused person ; for no man is put to the torture there, unless there is as much evi- dence against him as would amount to conviction in England. An accused person among you, therefore, has one chance more to escape punishment, than those who are tried among us." At supper this night he talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction. " Some people," said he, " have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat. For my part, I mind 'my belly very studiously, and very carefully ; for I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind any- thing else." He now appeared to me Jmn Bull philosophe, and he was for the moment, not only serious but vehement. Yet I have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates ; and the 206th number of his Rambler is a masterly essay against gulosity. His practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this subject ; for I never knew any man who relished good eating more than he did. When at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment : his looks seemed riveted to his plate ; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite ; which was so fierce, and indulged with such intcnseness, that, while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. To those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting ; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be dis- tinguished by self-command. But it must be owned, that Johnson, though he could be rigidly abstemious, was not a temperate man either in eating or drinking. He could refrain, but he could not use mo- derately. He told me, that he had fasted two days without incon- venience, and that he had never been 'hungry but once. They who be- held with wonder how much he eat upon all occasions, when his din- ner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger ; and not only was he remarkable for the extraordi- nary quantity which he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery. He used to descani ^E'TA*. M. ASgfiJfENCfi AND TEMPERANCE, 3t^ critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had liked. I re- member when he was in Scotland, his praising GordovUs palates (a dish of palates at the Honourable Alexander Gordon's) with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to more im- portant subjects. " As for Maclaurin's imitation of a made dish, it was a wretched attempt." He about the same time was so much displeased with the performances of a nobleman's French cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, " I'd throw such a rascal into the river ;" and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was to sup, by the following manifesto of his skill ; " I, Madam, who live at a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery than any person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home ; for his palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook ; whereas, Madam, in trying by a wider range, I can more exquisitely judge." When invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not pre- pared for him. I have heard him say on such an occasion, " This was a good dinner enough, to be sure ; but it was not a dinner to ask a man to." On the other hand, he was wont to express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained quite to his mind. One day when he had dined with his neighbour and landlord in Bolt Court, Mr. Allen,' the printer, whose old housekeeper had studied his taste in everything, he pronounced this eulogy : " Sir, we could not have had a better dinner, had there been a Synod of Cooks" * ' Edward Allen was a very excellent printer in Bolt Court. His office united to Johnson's dwelling. He died in 17S0. — Nichols. ■■^ Johnson's notions about eating, however, were nothing less than delicate ; a leg of porlc boiled till it dropped from the hone, a veal pie with plums and sugar, or the outside cut of a Bait buttock of beef, were his favourite dainties ; with regard to drink, his liking was for the Btrongest, as it was not the flavour, but the effect he sought for, and professed to desire ; and when I first knew him, he used to pour capillaire into his port wine. For the last twelve years, however, he left off all fermented liquors. To make himself some amends, indeed, he took his chocolate liberally, pouring in large quantities of cream, or even melted butter ; and was so fond of fruit, that though he would eat seven or eight large peaches of a morning before breakfast began, and treated them with proportionate attention after dinner again, yet I have heard him protest, that he never had quite as much as he wished of wall fruit, except once in his life, and that was when we were all together at Ombersley, the seat of my Lord Sandy's ; and yet when his Irish friend Orierson, hearing him enumerate the qualities necessary to the Jormation of a poet, began a comical parody upon his ornamented harangue in praise of a cook, concluding with this observation, that he who dressed a good dinner was a more excel- lent and a more useful member o' soc'ety than he who wrote a good poem. 'And in thlj ^74 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ While we were left by ourselves, after the Dutchman had gone to bed, Dr. Johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and practised. He disapproved of it, and said, " 1 never consider whether I should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the time, have its course." He flattered me with some hopes that he would, in the course of the following summer, come over to Holland, and accompany me in a tour through the Netherlands. I teased him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. A moth having fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this little incident to admonish me ; saying, with a sly look, and in a eolemn but a quiet tone, " That creature was its own tormentor, and I believe its name was Boswell." Next day we got to Harwich to dinner ; and my passage in the packet boat to Helvoetsluys being secured, and my bs^ggoge pat tn board, we dined at our inn by ourselves, I happened to say, it would be terrible if he should not find a speedy oj^portunity of re- turning to London, and be confined in so dull a place. Johnson. " Don't, Sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters.' [t would not be terrible, though I were to be detained some time here." The practice of using words of disproportionate magnitude is, no doubt, too frequent every where ; but, I think, most remark- able among the French, of which, all who have travelled in France must have been struck with innumerable instances. We went and looked at the church, and having gone into it and opinion," said Mr. Johnson, in reply, "all the dogs in the town will join you." He loved hi» dinner exceedingly, and has often said in my hearing, perhaps for my edification, " that wherever the dinner is ill got up there is poverty or there is avarice, or there is stupidity ; in short, the family is somehow grossly wrong: for," continued he, "a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner ; and if he cannot get that well dressed, he should he suspected of inaccuracj- in other things." One day, when he was speak Ing upon the subject, I asked him if he ever huffed his wife about his dinner? "So often," replied he, "that at last she called to me, when about to say grace, and said, 'Nay, hold, Mr. Johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking God for a dinner which, in a few minutes, you will pronounce not eatable.' " — Piozzi. ' This advice comes droUy from the writer, who makes a young lady talk of "the cosmetic discipline,^'' " a regular hisiraiio7i with bean-flower water, and the use of a pommade to dis- ciiss pimples and cleur discoloration''' (Rambler, No. 180); while a young gentleman tells us of " the flaccid sides of a foot-ball having swelled out into stiffness and extension." (No. 117.) And it is equally amusing to find Mr. Boswell, after his various defences of Johnson's f/randiloquence, attacking the little inflations of French conversation ; straining at a grat after having swallowed a caraeL — C Etat. 54. BERKELEY " REFUTED " BURKE. 315 walked up to the altar, Johnson, whose piety was constant and fer- vent, sent me to my knees, saying, " Now that you are going to leave your native country, recommend yourself to the protection of your Creator and Redeemer." After we came out of the church, we stood talking for some time together of Bishop Berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non- existence of matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. I observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is impossible to refute it. I never shall forget the alacrity with which Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large stone, till he rebounded from it, " I refute it thus." ' This was a stout exemplification of the firsi truths of Pere Bouffkr, or the original principles of Reid and of Beattie ; without admitting- which, we can no more argue in metaphysics, than we can argue iu metaphysics without axioms. To me it is not conceivable how Berkeley can be answered by pure reasoning ; but I know that the nice and difficult task was to have been undertaken by one of the most luminous minds ^ of the present age, had not politics " turned him from calm philosophy aside." What an admirable displa,y of subtlety, united with briUiance, might his contending with Berkeley have afforded us ! How must we, when we reflect on the loss of such an intellectual feast, regret that he should be characterised as the man — " Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind ?" My reverend friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond 1 Dr. Johnson seems to have been imperfectly acquainted with Berkeley's doctrine ; as liia experiment only proves that we have the sensation of solidity, which Berkeley did not deny. He admitted that we had sensations or ideas that- are usually called sensible qualities, one of which is solidity ; he only denied the existence oi mutter, i. e., an inert senseless substance, in which they are supposed to subsist. Johnson's exemplification concurs with the vulgar notion, that sohdity is matter. — Kkarnky. [When Zeno argued, that there was no such thing as motion, Diogenes walked across the room. Johnson's argument is in the same style, but uot so satisfactory. — Fonnehbau.] •i Mr. Burke.— C. 3 In tlio latter years of his life, Mr. Burke reversed tho conduct which Goldsmith so ele- gantly reprehends and gave up parti/ for what he conceived to be the good of mijin- kind.—C. 376 LIFE OF JOHNSON. "^ by letters. I said, " I hope, Sir, you will not forget me in my ab- sence." Johnson. " Nay, Sir, it is more likely that you should forget me, than that I should forget you." As the vessel put out to sea, I kept my eye's upon him for a considerable time, w" ile he remained rolling his majestic frame in his usual manner ; and ;t last I perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeare CHAPTER XIX. 1163— lt65. Boswell at Utrecht -Letter from Johnson— The Frisick Language — Johnson's Visit to Lanf- ton— Institution of " The Club "—Reynolds— Garrick— Dr. Nugent— Granger's " Sugar Cane " — Hyjiochondriac Attack— Days of Abstraction — Odd Habits — Visit to Dr. Percy- Letter to Reynolds— Visit to Cambridge— Self-e.xaraination — Letter to, and from, Garrick — Johnson created LL.D. by Dublin University — Letter to Dr. Leland — Prayer on " Engaging in Politics " — William Gerard Hamilton. Utrecht seeming at first very dull to me, after the animated scenes of London, my spirits were grievously affected ; and I wrote to Johnson a plaintive and desponding letter, to which he paid no re- gard. Afterwards, when I had acquired a firmer tone of mind, I wrote him a second letter, expressing much anxiety to hear from him. At length I received the following epistle, which was of im- portant service to me, and, I trust, will be so to many others. Letter 87. A. M. M. BOSWELL, A la Cour de VEmpereur, Utrecht. " London, Dec. 8, 1763. " Dear Sir, — You are not to think yourself forgotten, or criminally neg- lected, that you have had yet no letter from me. I love to see my friends, to hear from them, to talk to them, and to talk of them ; but it is not without a considerable effort of resolution that I prevail upon myself to write. I would not, however, gratify my own indolence by the omission of any important duty, or any office of real kindness. " To tell you that I am or am not well, that I have or have not been in the country, that I drank your health in the room in which we last sat together, and that your acquaintance continue to speak of you with their former kind- ness, topics with which those letters are commonly filled which are written only for the sake of writing, I seldom shall think worth communicating ; but if I can have ii in my power to calm any harassing disquiet, to excite any vir- *uous desire, to rectif;, any important opinion, or fortify any generous resolu- 'Jon, you need not doubt but I shall \i least wish to prefer the pleasure of STS LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^®^* gratifying a fu'end much less esteemed than yourself, before the gloomy calm of idle vacancy. Whether I shall easily arrive at an exact punctuahty of corre- spondence, I cannot tell. I shall, at present, expect that you will receive this in return for two which I have had from you. The first, indeed, gave me an ac- count so hopeless of the state of your mind, that it hardly admitted or deserved an answer ; by the second I was much better pleased ; and the pleasure will still be increased by such a narri'.tjv« of the progress of your studies, as may evince the continuance of an equal and rational application of your mind to some useful inquiry. " You will, perhaps, wish to ask, what study I would recommend. I shall not speak of theology, because it ought not to be considered uS a question wQCthcr you shall endeavour to know the will of God. " I shall, therefore, consider only such studies as we are at liberty to pursue or to neglect; and of these I know not how you will make a better choice, than by studying the civil law as your father advises, and the ancient lan- guages as you had determined for yourself; at least resolve, while you remain in any settled residence, to spend a certain number of hours every day amongst your books. The dissipation of thought of which you complain, is nothing more than the vacillation of a mind suspended between different motives, and changing its direction as any motive gains or loses strength. If you can but kindle in your mind any strong desire, if you can but keep predominant any wish for some particular excellence or attainment, the gusts of imagination will break away, without any effect upon your conduct, and commonly without any traces left upon the memory. " There lurks,' perhaps, in every human heart a desire of distinction, which incHnes every man first to hope, and then to believe, that nature has given him something peculiar to himself. This vanity makes one mind nurse aver- sion, and another actuate desires, till they rise by art much above their original state of power ; and, as affectation in time improves to habit, they at .'ast tvrannise over him who at first encouraged them only for show. Every desire is a viper in the bosom, who, while he was chill, was harmless ; but when warmth gave him strength, exerted it in poison. You know a gentleman, who, when first he set his foot in the gay world as he prepared himself to whirl in the vortex of pleasure, imagined a total indifference and universal negligence to be the most agreeable concomitants of youth, and the strongest indication of an airy temper and a quick anprehension. Vacant to every object, and sensible of every impulse, he thoughc that all appearance of dih- grence would deduct something from the reputation of genius; and hoped that he should appear to attain, amidst all the ease of carelessness, and all the tumult of diversion, that knowledge and those accomplishments which mortal*' of the common fabric obtain only by mute abstraction and solitary drudgery. He tried this scheme of life awhile, was made weary of it by his sense and his virtue ; he then wished to return to his studies ; and finding long habits of idleness and pleasure harder to be cured than he " ipected, still willing to 'etaip Sl'Tir. 64 FR13ICK LAXGUAGE. 3*19 hsi claim to some extraordinary prerogative;), resolved the common consc- (jnences of irregularity into an mialterable decree of destiny, and concluded that Nature had originally formed him incapable of rational employment. " Let all such fancies, illusive and destructive, be banished henceforward from your thoughts for ever. Resolve, and keep your resolution ; choose and ;mrsue your choice. If you spend this day in study, you will find yourself stih n.ore able to study to-morrow ; not that you are to expect that you shall at once obtain a complete victory. Depravity is not very easily overcome. Eesolution will sometime^ relax, and diligence will sometimes be interrupted ; but let no accidental surprise or deviation, whether short or long, dispose you to despon- dency. Consider these failings as incident to all mankind. Begin again where you left off, and endeavour to avoid the seducements that prevailed over you before. " This, my dear Boswcll, is advice which, perhaps, has been often given you, and given you without effect. But this advice, if you will not take from others you must take from your own reflections, if you purpose to do the duties of the station to which the bounty of Providence has called you. *' Let me have a long letter from you as soon as you can. I hope you con- tinue your journal, and enrich it with many observations upon the country in which you reside. It will be a favour if you can get me any books in the Frisick language, and can inquire how the poor are maintained in the Seven Provinces. I am, dear Sir, your most affectionate servivnt, " Sam. Johnson." I am sorry to observe, that neither in my own minutes, nor in my letters to Johnson wliich have been preserved by him, can I find any information how the poor are maintained in the Seven Pro- vinces. But I shall extract from one of my letters what I learnt concerning the other subject of his curiosity. " I have made all possible inquiry with respect to the Frisick language, and find that it has been less cultivated than any other of the northern dialects ; a cer- tain proof of which is their deficiency of books. Of the old Frisick there are no remains, except some ancient laws preserved by Schotanus in his ' Beschry- vinge van die Hcerlykheid van Friesland ;^ and his ' Historia Frisica.^ I have not yet been able to find these books. Professor Trotz, who formerly was of the University of Vranyken in Friesland, and is at present preparing an edition of all the Frisick laws, gave me this information. Of the modern Frisick, or what is spoken by the boors of this day, I have procured a speci- men, It is ' Gishett Japix's Rymelerie,^ which is the only book that they have. It is amazing that they have no translation of the bible, no treatises of devotion, nor even any of the ballads and story-books which are so agreeable U> country people. You shall have Japix by the first convenient opportunity. 380 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '^^ I doubt not to pick up Schotanus. Mynheer Trotz has promised me his assist ance." Early in 1764, Johnson paid a visit to the Langton family, at their seat at Langton in Lincolnshire, where he passed some time much to his satisfaction. His friend Benuet Langton, it will not be doubted, did everything in his power to make the place agreeable to so illustrious a guest ; and the elder Mr. Langton and his lady being fully capable of understanding his value, were not wanting in atten- tion. He, however, told me, that old Mr. Langton, though a man of considerable learning, had so little allowance to make for his occasional " laxity of talk," that because in the course of discussion he sometimes mentioned what might be said in favour of the peculiar tenets of the Romish church, he went to his grave believing him to be of that communion. Johnson, during his stay at Langton, had the advantage of a good library, and saw several gentlemen of the neighbourhood. I have obtained from Mr. Langton the following particulars of this period. He was now fully convinced that he could not have been satisfied with a country living ; for talking of a respectable clergyman in Lincolnshire, he observed, " This man, Sir, fills up the duties of his life well. I approve of him, but could not imitate him." To a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from blame foi neglecting social attention to worthy neighbours, by saying, " I would go to them if it would do them any good ;" he said, " What good, Madam, do you expect to have in your power to do them ? It is shewing them respect, and that is doing them good." So socially accommodating was he, that once, when Mr. Langton and he were driving together in a coach, and Mr. Langton com- plained of being sick, he insisted that ho. should go out and sit on the back of it in the open air, which tfcy did. And being sensible how strange the appearance must be, observed that a countryman whom they saw in a field would probably be thinking, " If these two madmen should come down, what would become of me ?" Soon after his return to London, which was in February, was founded that Club which existed long without a name, but at Mr. Garrick's funeral became distinguished by the title of Thk Liter.^ry -^'A'-"- THE CLUB. 381 Club. Sir Joshua Reynolds bad the merit of being the first pro- poser of it,' to which Johnson acceded, and the original members were, Sir Joshua Rej^nolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burlie, Dr. Nugent, Mr. Beauclerli, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Chamier, and Sir John Hawkins. They met at the Turk's Head, in Gerrard Street, Soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour.^ This club ^as been gradually increased to its present [1791] number, thirty- five. After about ten years, instead of supping weekly,' it was re- solved to dine together once a fortnight during the meeting of Par- liament. Their original tavern having been converted into a pri- vate house, they moved first to Prince's in Sackville Street, then to Le Telier's in Dover Street, and now meet at Parsloe's, St. James's Street.* Between the time of its formation, and the time at which this work is passing through the press, (June, 1792) the ' Johnson called Sir Joshua their Jiomulus. — Piozzi. " It was Johnson's original Intention, that the number of tliis club should not exceed nine ; but Mr. Dyer, a member of that in Ivy Lane before spoken of, and who for some years had been abroad, made his appearance among them, and was cordially received. The hours which Johnson spent in this society seemed to be the happiest of his life. He would often applaud his own sagacity in the selection of it, and was so constant at its meetings as never to absent himself. It is true, he came late, but then he stayed late ; for, as has been already said of him, he little regarded hours. Our evening toast was the motto of Padre Paolo, "Esto perpetua." A lady [probably Mrs. Montagu], distinguished by her beauty and taste for literature, invited us, two successive years, to a dinner at her house. Curiosity was her motive, and possibly a desire of intermingling with our conversation the charms of her own. She affected to consider us as a set of literary men, and perhaps gave the first occasion for distinguishing the society by the name of the "Literary Club," an appellation which it never assumed to' itself. At these meetings, Johnson, as indeed he did everywhere, led the conver- sation, yet was he far from arrogating to himself that superiority, which, some years before, he was disposed to contend for. He had seen enough of the world to know, that respect was not to be extorted, and began now to be satisfied with that degree of eminence to which his writings had exalted him. This change in his behaviour was remarked by those who were best acquainted with his character, and it rendered him an easy and delightful companion. Our discourse was miscellaneous, but chiefly literary. Politics were alone excluded. — • Hawkins. ■ 3 It was a suppei'-meeting then, on a Friday night, and I fancy Dr. Nugent [who was a Roman Catholic] ordered an omelet ; and Johnson felt very painful sensations at the sight of that dish soon after his death, and cried, " Ah, my poor dear friend, I shall never eat omelet with thee again !" quite in an agony. The truth is, nobody suffered more from pungent sor- row at a friend's death than Johnson, though he would suffer no one to complain of their losses in the same way. " For," says he, "we must either outlive our friends, you know, or our friends must outlive us ; and I see no man that would hesitate about the choice." — Piozzi. * The club, some years after Mr. Boswell's death, removed (in 1799) from Parsloe's to the Thatched House in St. James's Street, where they still continue to meet.— M. [A full List of the Club down to the present time (March, 1825) will be found in the Appbhdix, No. III.] 382 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ following persons, now dead, were members of it : Mr. Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburton), Mr. Samuel Dyer, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph, Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas Warton, and Dr. Adam Smith. The present members are, Mr. Burke, Mr. Langton, Lord Charlemont, Sir Eobert Chambers, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Barnard Bishop, of Killaloe, Dr. Marlay Bishop of Cloufert, Mr. Fox, Dr. George Fordyce, Sir William Scott, Sii Joseph Banks, Sir Charles Bunbury, Mr. Windham of Norfolk, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colraan, Mr. Steevens, Dr. Burney, Dr. Joseph Warton, Mr. Malone, Lord Ossory, Lord Spencer, Loi;d Lucan, Lord Palmerston, Lord Eliot, Lord !Macart- ney, Mr. Richjird Burke Junior, Sir William Hamilton, Dr. Warren^ Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hiuchliffe Bishop of Peterborough, the Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas Bishop of Salisbury, and the writer of this account. Sir John Hawkins represents himself [Life, p. 425] as a "itceder " from this society, and assigns as the reason of his "withdrawing^^ himself from it, that its late hours were inconsistent with his domes- tic arrangements. In this he is not accurate ; for the fact was, that he one evening attacked Mr. Burke in so rude a manner, that all the company testified their displeasure ; and at their next meeting their reception was such, that he never came again.* He is equally inaccurate with respect to Mr. Garrick, of whom he says, " He trusted that the least intimation of a desire to come among us, would procure him a ready admission ;" but in this he was mistaken. Johnson consulted me upon it ; and when I could find no objection to receiving him, exclaimed, " He will disturb us by his buffoonery ;" — and afterwards so managed matters, that he was never formally proposed, and, by consequence, never admitted.^ In justice both to Mr. Garrick and Dr. Johnson, I think it neces- sary to rectify this mis-statement. The truth is, that not very Icng . after the institution of our club. Sir Joshua Reynolds was speaking 1 From Sir Joshua Reynolds. — Boswell. The knight having refused to pay his portlor. o! the reckoning for supper, because he usually eat no supper at home, Johnson observed, " Si John, Sir, is a very wndubable man." — Burney. Hawkins was not knighted till October, 1779 long after he had left the club. — C. ' Hawkins probably meant " never " MiAiZe he himself 'belonged to the Club, — C. [M> Garrick was elected in March, 1773.] *'*''• 56. GARRICK. 383 of it to Gairick, " I like it much," said he ; "I thiuk I shall be of you." When Sir Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson, he waa much displeased with the actor's conceit. " HeUl be of ws," said Johnson ; " how does he know we will ferjnit him ? the first duke in England has no riglit to hold such language." However, when Gar- rick was regularly proposed some time afterwards, Johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our meetings to the time of his death. Mrs. Piozzi * has also given a similar misrepresentation of John- son's treatment of Garrick in this particular, as if he had used these contemptuous expressions : "If Garrick does apply, I'll blackball him." — " Surely, one ought to sit in a society like ours, ' Uuelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " ' I am happy to be enabled by such unquestionable authority as that of Sir Josliua ReynQlds,' as well as from my own knowledge, to vin- dicate at once the heart of Johnson and the social merit of Garrick. In this year, except what he may have done in revising Shak- speare, we do not find that he laboured much in literature. He wrote a review of Grainger's " Sugar Cane," a poem, in the London Chronicle. He told me, that Dr. Percy wrote the greatest part of this review ; but, I imagine, he did not recollect it distinctly, for it appears to be mostly, if not altogether, his own. He also wrote, in the Critical Review, an account f of Goldsmith's excellent poem, '• The Traveller." " The ease and independence to which he had at last attained by royal munificence, increased his natural indolence. In his " Medita- tions" [p. 53], he thus accuses himself: 1 Letters to and from Dr. Johnson, vol. ii. p. 387. * "Is there a lord, who knows a cheerful noon Without a fiddler, flatt'rer, or buifoon ? Whose table, wit, or modest merit share, Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, orplay'r?" — Pope. • It does not appear how Sir Joshua Reynolds's authority can be made available in thl» caae The expression is stated to have been used to Mr. Thrale ; and the fact that Garricit was for near Un years excluded from the Club, seems to give but too much colour to thii <*orf.— C. «' The Traveller " was published in December, 1764. 384 LIFE OF JOHNSON. IIM. "Good Friday, April 20, 1764. — I have made no reformatiou ; I have lived totally useless, more sensual in thought, and more addicted to wine ami meat." And next morning he thus feelingly complains : / " My indolence, since my last reception of the sacrament, has sunk into grosser sluggishness, and my dissipation spread into wilder negligence. My thoughts have been clouded with sensuality ; and, except that from the begin- ning of this year I have, in some measure, forborne excess of strong drink, my appetites have predominated over my reason. A kind of strange oblivion has ovei spread me, so that I know not what has become of the last year; and perceive that incidents and intelligence pass over me without leaving any im- pression." He then solemnly says, " This is not the life to which heaven is promised ;" and he earnestly resolves an amendment : "Easter-DAT, April 22, 1764. — HaTing, before I went to bed, composed the foregoing meditation, and the following prayer; I tried to compose myself, but slept unquietly. I rose, took tea, and prayed for' resolution and perscver- tnce. Thought on Tetty, dear poor Tetty, with my eyes full. I went to church ; came in at the first of ti»e Psalms, and endeavoured to attend the service, which I went through without perturbation. After sermon, I recom- mended Tetty in a prayer by herself; and my father, mother, brother, and Bathurst, in another. I did it only once, so far as it might be lawful for me. " I then prayed for resolution and perseverance to amend my life. I re ceived soon : the communicants were many. At the altar, it occurred to me that I ought to form some resolutions. I resolved, in the presence of God, but without a vow, to repel sinful thoughts, to study eight hours daily, and, I think, to go to church every Sunday, and read the Scriptures. I gave a shil- ling ; and seeing a poor girl at the sacrament in a bedgown, gave her privately a crown, though I saw Hart's Hymns* in her hand. I prayed earnestly for amendment, and repeated my prayer at home. Dined with Miss W[illiam8] ; went to prayers at church ; went to ," spent the evening not pleasantly. Avoided wine, and tempered a very few glasses with sherbet. Came home and prayed. I saw at the sacrament a man meanly dressed, whom I have always seen there at Easter." » " Hymns composed on various Subjects, by the Rev. John Hart, of the Grey Friar** Church, Edinburgh ; with a Brief Account of the Author's Experience," 12mo., 1759. * In the original MS., instead of this blank, are the letters Davi, followed by some ow>*t letters which are illegible. They, no doubt, meant either Davies, the boolsseller, or Lavifl Garrick ; most likely the former.— Haix. ■**■*'• 55- ODD HABITS. 38" It was his custom to observe certain days with a pious abstrac- tion : viz. New-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, Good Friday, Easter-day, and his own birth-day. He this year [on his birtli-day], says, " I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving ; having, from the earliest tune almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. God, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolu- tions, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." Such a tenderness of conscience, such a fervent desire of improve- ment, will rarely be found. It is, surely, not decent in those who are hardened in iudiiference to spiritual improvement, to treat Ihis pious anxiety of Johnson with contempt. About this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the hypochondriac disorder, which was ever lurking about him. He was so ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely averse to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. Dr. Adams told me, that, as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that he found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, ■talking to himself, and restlessly walking from room to room. He ^hen used this emphatical expression of the misery which he felt : " I would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits." Talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since knew him. I was certain that he was frequently uttering pious ejaculations ; for fragments of the Lord's Prayer have been dis- tinctly overheard.* His friend Mr. Thomas Davies, of whom Churchill says, ' It used to be ima^ned at Mr. Thrale's, when Johnson retired to a window or corner ot the room, by perceiving his lips in motion, and hearing a murmur without audible articula- tion, that he was praying; but this was not altoays the case, for I was once, perhaps unper- ceived by him, writing at a table, so near the place of his retreat, that I heard him repeating jiome lines in an ode of Horace, over and over again, as if by iteration to exercise the organ* of speech, and fix the ode in his memory : — " Audiet cives accuisse ferrum Quo graves PerscB melius perirent, Audiet pugnas . . . ." * It was during the American war. — Burnet. * ["Our sons shall hear, shalMiear to latest times. Of Roman arms with civil gore imbued, Which better had the Persian foe subdued." — FRANCia,] VOL. I. 11 S86 LIFE OF JORNSON, ^^**- " That Davies hath v very pretty wife ;" when Dr. Jolinson muttered "lead us not into temptation" — used with waggish and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. Davies, "Y^u, my dear, are the cause of this." He had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever rentured to ask an explanation. It appeared to me some supersti- tious habit, which he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon his reason to disentangle him. This was his anxious care to go out or in at a door or passage, by a certain num- ber of steps from a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot (I am not certain which) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came close to the door or passage. Thus I conjecture : for I have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earnestness ; and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his com- panion. A strange instance of something of this nature, even when on horseback, happened when he was in the Isle of Sky [12th Octo- ber, 1773]. Sir Joshua Reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than cross a particular alley in Leicester Fields ; but this Sir Joshua imputed to his having had some disagreeable recollection associated with it.* That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and 1 " Mr. Sheridan at one time lived in Bedford Street, opposite Henrietta Street, which ' ranges with the south side of Covent Garden, so that the prospect lies open the whole way, free of interruption. We were standing together at the drawing-room, exjiecting Johnson, who was to dine there. Mr. Sheridan asked me, could I see the length of the Garden? 'No, Sir.' [Mr. Whyte was short-sighted.] ' Take out your opera-glass, Johnson is coming ; you- may know him hy his gait.' I perceived him at a good distanc >, working along with a pecu- liar solemnity of deportment, and an awkward sort of measured step. At that time the broad tagging at each side the streets was not universally adopted, and stone posts were in fashion, to prevent the annoyance of carriages. Upon every post, as he passed along, I could observe, he deliberately laid his hand ; but missing one of them when he had got at^ome distance, ha seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and immediately returning back, carefully performed the accustomed ceremony, and resumed his former course, not omitting one till he gained the crossing. This, Mr. Sheridan assured me, however odd it might appear, was hia constant practice ; but why or wherefore he could not inform me." — Whyte, Miscell. Nova, p. 49. See (ante, Vol I. p. 160) his conduct at Mr. Bankes's, which sesms something of the sam« kind. Dr. Fisher, Master of the Charter House, tells me, that in walking on the quadrangle *TAr. 86. ODD HABITS, 381 made very observable parts of bis appearance aim manner, may not be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that, while talking, or even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly held his head to one side towards his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards and forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. In the intervals of articulating he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, sometimes making his tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen, and sometimes pro- truding it against his upper gums in front, as if pronouncing quickly, under his breath, too, too, too : all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with a smile. Generally when he had concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vocifera- tion, he used to blow out his breath like a whale. This I suppose was a relief to his lungs ; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his oppo- nent fly like chaff before the wind. I am fully aware how very obvious an occasion I here give for the sneering jocularity of such as have no relish of an exact likeness ; which, to render complete, he who draws it must not disdain the slightest strokes. But if whitlings should be inclined to attack this account, let them have the candour to quote what I have offered in my defence. Letter 88. TO MISS LUCY PORTER. " London, Jem. 10, 1T64. " My Dkak, — I was in hopes that you would have written to nie before this time, to tell me that your house was finished, and that you were happy in it. I am sure I wish you happy. By the carrier of this week you will receive a box, iu which I have put some books, most of which were your poor dear mamma's, and a diamond ring,' which I hope you will wear as my new year's gift. If you receive it with as much kindness as I send it, you will not slight it ; you will be very fond of it. of University College, he would not step on the juncture if the stones, but carefully on th« centre : but this is a trick which many persons have when sauntering on any kind of tessella- tion. Dr. Fisher adds, that he would sometimes go to the college pump, and alternately fiU End empty it, without any object that Dr. Fisher could discern. — Croker. » This ring is now [1S80] in the possession of Mrs. Pearson. — Harwood. 388 LIFE OF JOHNSON, 17«0, " Piaj' give my service to Kitty, who, I hope, keeps pietty well. 1 know not now when I shall come down ; I believe it will not be very soon. But I ihall be glad to hear of you from time to time. " I wish you, my dearest, many happy years ; take what care you can of your health. I am, my dear, your affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." He was for some time in the summer at Easton Maudit, North- amptonshire, on a visit to the Rev. Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore.' Whatever dissatisfaction he felt at what he considered as a slow progress in intellectual improvement, we find that his heart was tender, and his affections warm, as appears from the following very kind letter : Letter 89. TO JOSHUA REYNOLDS, ESQ., In Leicester Fields. " Dear Sir, — I did not near of your sickness till I heard likewise of your recovery, and therefore escape that part of your pain, which every gian must feel, to whom you are known as you are known to me. " Having had no particular account of your disorder, I know not in what state it has left you. If the amusement of my company can exhilarate the languor of a slow recovery, I will not delay a day to come to you ; for I know not how I can so effectually promote my own pleasure as by pleasing you, or my own interest as by preserving you, in whom, if I should lose you, I should lose almost the only man whom I call a friend. " Pray, let me hear of you from yourself, or from dear Miss Reynolds.' Make my compliments to Mr. Mudge. I am, dear Sir, your most affectionate and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." " At the Rev. Mr. Percy's, at Easton Maudit, Northamptonshire, (by Castle Ashby,) Aug. 19, 1764." Early in the year 1615, he paid a short visit to the University of Cambridge, with his friend Mr. Beauclerk. There is a lively pic- ' He spent parts of the months of June, July, and August with me, accompanied by bis friend Mrs. Williams, whom Mrs. Percy found a very agreeable companion. — Percy. '^ Sir Joshua's sister, for whom Johnson had a particular affection, and to whom he wrote many letters which I have seen, and which I am sorry her too nice delicacy will not permit to be published. — Bos well. One will be found added by Mr. Malone, post, July 21, 1781, and several others communicated to me in the course of the work. Of Miss Reynolds, Johnson thought so highly, that he once said to Mrs. Piozzi, " I never knew but one mind which would bear a microscopical examination, and that is dear Miss Reynolds's, and hers is very near to purity itself." (Amecdoies, p. 68.)— Cbokek. ^TAT. 56. VISIT TO CAMBRIDGE. 389 turesque accouut of his behaviour on this visit, ia the Geutleman'a Magazine for March, 1185, being an extract of a letter from the late Dr. John Sharp. The two following sentences are very character- istical : — " He drank his large potations of tea with me, interrupted by many an indignant contradiction, and many a noble sentiment." " Several persons got into his company the last evening at Trinity, where, about twelve, he began to be very great ; stripped poor Mrs. Macaulay to the very skin, then gave herfor his toast and drank her in two bumpers." ^ The strictness of his self-examination, and scrupulous Christian humility, appear in his pious meditation on Easter-day this year. " I purpose again to partake of the blessed sacrament ; yet when I consider how vainly I have hitherto resolved, at this annual commemoration of my Sa- viour's death, to regulate my life by his laws, I am almost afraid to renew my resolutions." [p. 61.] The concluding words are very remarkable, and shew that he laboured under a severe depression of spirits. "Since the last Easter I have reformed no evil habit ; my time has been un- profitably spent, and seems as a dream that has left nothing behind. My 1 Mr. Sliari)'s letter, of which Boswell quotes only two fragments, is as follows : — " Cambridge, March 1, 17C5.^As to Johnson, you will be surprised to hear that I have had him in the chair in wliich I am now writing. He has ascended my aerial citadel, lie came down on a Saturday evening, with a Mr. Beauclerk, who has a friend at Trinity [Mr. Lister]. Caliban, you may be sure, was not roused from his lair before next day noon, and his breali- fast probably kejit him till night. I saw nothing of him, nor was he Iieard of by any one, till Monday afternoon, when I was sent for home to two gentlemen unknown. In conversa- tion I made a strange faux pas about Barnaby Greene's poem, in which Jolmson is drawn at full length. He drank his large potation of tea with me, interrupted by many an indignant contradiction, and many a noble sentiment. He had on a better wig than usual, but one whose curls were not, like Sir Cloudesley's, formed for ' eternal buckle.' Our conversation was chiefly on books, you may be sure. He was much pleased with a small Milton of mine, published in the author's lifetime, and with the Greek epigram on his own effigy, of its being the picture, not of him, but of a bad painter. There are many manuscript stanzas, for aught I know, in Milton's own handwriting, and several interlined hints and fragments. We were puzzled about one of the sonnets, which we thought was not to be found in Newton's edition, and differed from all the printed ones. But Johnson cried, ' No, no !' repeated the whole son- net instantly, memoriter, and showed it us in Newton's book. After which he learnedly harangued on sonnet-writing, and its different numbers. He tells me lie will come hithet again quickly, and is promised ' an habitation in Emanuel College.' [AVith Dr. Farmer.] He went back to town next morning ; but as it began to be known that he was in the university, several persons got into his company the last evening at Trinity, where, about twelve, ha tegan to be very grea* ; stripped poor Mrs. Macaulay to the very skin, then gave her for hij least. anO drank her in two bumpers." 390 LIFE OF JOHNSON "•*• memory grows confused, and I know not how the days pass over vie. Good Lord, deliver me !" He proceeds : — " I purpose to rise at eight, because, though I shall not yet rise early, it will be much earlier than I now rise, for I often lie till two, and will gain me much time, and tend to a conquest over idleness, and give time for other duties. I hope to rise yet earlier." " I invited home with me the man whose pious behaviour I had for several years observed on this day, and found him a kind of Methodist, full of texts, but ill-instructed. I talked to him with temper, and offered him twice wine, which he refused. I suffered him to go without the dinner which I liad pur- posed to give him. I thought this day that there was something irregular and particular in his look and gesture ; but having intended to invite him to ac- qaintance, and having a fit opportunity by finding him near my seat after T had missed him, I did what I at first designed, and am sorry to have been so much disappointed. Let me not be prejudiced hereafter against the appcararco of piety in mean persons, who, with indeterminate notions, and perverre or inelegant conversation, perhaps are doing all they can." [Letter 90. TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. " May 18, 1736. "Dear Sir, — I know that great regard will be had to your opinion of an Edition of Sliakspoarc. I desire, therefore, to secure an honest prejudice in my favour by securing your suffrage, and that 'this prejudice may really be liouest, 1 wish you would name such plays as you would see, and they shall be sent you by. Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 91. FROM MR. GARRICK. " May 31, 1766. "Dear Sir, — My brother greatly astonished me this morning, by asking me ' if I was a subscriber to your Shakspeare ?' I told him, yes, that I was one of the first, and as soon as I had heard of your intention ; and that I gave you, at the same time, some other names, among which were the Duke of Devonshire, Mr. Beighton, &c. I cannot immediately have recourse to my memorandum, though I remember to have seen it just before I left Englanrl I hope that you will recollect it, and not think me capable of neglecting to make you so trifling a compliment, which was doubly due from me, not only on account of the respect I have always had for your abilities, tut from the sincere regard I shall ever pay to your friendship. I am. Sir, .your most obedicit humble servant, "David Garejck."! ^rir. 56. (j^ STRAHAN — MR. SIMPSON 391 Letter 92, TO MR. G. STRAHAN, University College, Oxford. " May, 25, 1765. "Dear Sir, — That I have answered neither of your letters you must not impute to any declension of good will, but merely to the want of something to Bay. I suppose you pursue your studies diligently, and diligence will seldom fail of success. Do not tire yourself so much with Greek one day as to be afraid of looking on it the next ; but give it a certain portion of time, sup- pose four hours, and pass the rest of the day in Latin or English. I would have you learn French, and take in a literary journal once a month, which will accustom you to various subjects, and inform you what learning is going for- ward in the world. Do not omit to mingle some lighter books with those of more importance ; that whicli is read remisso anhtio is often of great use, and takes great hold of the remembrance. However, take what course you will, if you be diligent you will be a scholar. I am, dear Sir, yours affectionately, " Sam. Johnson." No man was more gratefully sensible of any kindness done to him than Johnson. There is a little circumstance in his diary this year, which shews him in a very amiable light. " July 2. I paid Mr. Simpson ten guineas, which he had formerly lent me in my necessity, and for which Tetty expressed her gratitude." " July 8. I lent Mr. Simpson ten guineas more." Here he had a pleasing opportunity of doing the same kindness to &n old friend, which he had formerly received from him. Indeed his liberality as to money was very remarkable. The next article in his diary is, "July 16th, I received seventy-five pounds. Lent Mr. Davies twenty-five." Trinity College, Dublin, at this time surprised Johnson with a spontaneous compliment of the highest academical honours, by creating him Doctor of Laws. The diploma, which is in my possession, is as follows : — " OMNIBUS ad quos prasentes literse pervenerint, salutem. Nos Prjppositua et SocH Beniores CoUegii sacrosanctje et individufe Trinitatis Reginae Elizabethte juxta Dublin, testa- mur, Samiieli Johnson, Armigero, ob egregiam scriptorum elegantiam et utilitatem, gratiam concessam fuisse pro gradu Doctoratiis in utroque Jure, octavo die Julii, Anno Domini mil- esiHiO septingentesimo sexagcsimo-quinto. In cujus rei testimonium singulorum manus et 1 This young man, son of his friend, the printer, was afterwards Prebendary of Rochester, and edited Johnson's " Prayers and Meditations." — C. S92 LIFE OP JOHNSOi^. 1^**> eigillura quo In hisce utimur apposuimus ; vicesimo tertio die Julii, Ann* Domini milluelml Beptingentesimo sexagesirao-quinto. GuL Clement. Fran. Andrews. R. Murray. Tno. Wilson. Praep*. Rob'us Law. Tho. Leland. Mich. Keabnbt." This unsolicited mark of distinction, conferred on so great a lite- rary character, did much honour to the judgment and liberal spirit of that learned body. Johnson acknowledged the favour in a letter to Dr. Leland, one of their number. Letter <3^. TO THE REV. DR. LELAND. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, London, " Oct. 17, 1765. " Sir, — Among the names subscribed to the degree which I have had the honour of receiving from the Univarsity of Dublin, I find none of which I have any personal knowledge but those of Dr. Andrews and yourself. " Men can be estimated by those who know them not, only as they are represented by those who know them; and therefore I flatter myself that I owe much of the pleasure which this distinction gives me, to your concurrence with Dr. Andrews in recommending me to the learned society. " Having desired tlie Provost to return my general thanks to the University, I bog that you, Sir, will accept my particular and immediate acknowledgments. I am. Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." * He appears this year to have been seized with a temporary fit of ambition, for he had thoughts both of studying law, and of engaging in politics. His " Prayer [p. 67] before the Study of Law " is truly admirable : — *' Sept. 26, 1765. Almighty God, the giver of wisdom, without whose help resolutions are vain, without whose blessings study is ineffectual ; enable me, if it be thy will, to attain such knowledge as may qualify me to direct the doubtful, and instruct the ignorant ; to prevent wrongs and terminate conten- tions ; and grant that I may use that knowledge which I shall attain, to thy lory and my own salvation, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." • His great affection for our own universities, and particularly his attachment to Oxford, prevented Johnson from receiving this lionour as it was intended, and he never assumed tha title which it conferred. He was as little pleased to be called Doctor in consequence of it, as he was with the title of Domine, which a friend of his once incautiously addressed him by. He thought it alluded to his having been a sclioolmaster ; and, though he has ably vindicated Milton from the reproach that Salmasius meant to fix on him, by saying that he was of that profession, he wished to have it forgotten, that himself had ever been driven to it as the means Of subsistence, and had failed in the attempt. — Hawkins. *''**• 56. WILLIAM GERARD HAMILTON. 393 His prayer in the view of becoming a politician is entitled "Engaging in Politics with H n," no doubt, his friend, the Right Hon. William Gerard Hamilton, for whom, during a long acquaintance, he had a great esteem, and to whose conversation he once paid this high compliment : " I am very unwilling to be left alone. Sir, and therefore I go with my company down the first pair of stairs, in some hopes that they may, perhaps, return again ; I go with you, Sir, as far as the street door." In wh&t particular department he intended to engage* does not appear, nor can Mr. Hamilton explain. His prayer is in general terms : " Enlighten my understanding with knowledge of right, and govern my will by thy laws, that no deceit may mislead me, nor temptation corrupt me ; that I may always endeavour to do good, and hinder evil." There is nothing upon the subject in his diary. ' In a preface to a late collection of Mr. Hamilton's Pieces, it has been observed that cur author was, by the generality of Johnson's words, "led to suppose that he was seized with a temporary fit of ambition, and that hence he was induced to apply his thoughts to law and politics. But Mr. Bosweil was certainly mistal£en in this respect : and these words merely allude to Johnson's having at that time entered into some engagement with Mr. HamiltoK occasionally to furnish hira with his sentiments on the great political topics which should be ©cisidered in parliament." In consequence of this engagement, Johnson, in November, 1766, wrote a very valuable tract, entitled " Considerations on Corn," which is printed as an appendix to the works of Mr. Hamilton, published by T. Payne in 1808. 11» CHAPTEK XX. 1765—1766. (Acquaintance with the Thrales — Publication of the Edition of Shalispeare^-Kenrlck— Lettc. to Boswell — Boswcll returns to England — A'oltaire on Pope and Dryden — Goldsmith's " Tra- veller," and " Deserted Village " — Suppers at the Mitre resumed — " Equal Happiness " — " Courting great Men " — Convents — Second Sight — Corsica— Rousseau — Subordination — " Maliing Verses " — Letters to Langton. This year was distinguished by his being introduced into the family of Mr. Tlirale, one of tlie most eminent brewers in England, and member of parliament for the borough of Southwark. Foreigners are not a little amazed when they hear of brewers, distillers, and men in similar departments of trade, held forth as persons of consi- derable consequence. In this great commercial country it is natural that a situation which produces much wealth should be considered as very respectable ; and, no doubt, honest industry is entitled to esteem. But, perhaps, the too rapid advances of men of low extrac- tion tends to lessen the value of that distinction by birth and genti- lity, which has ever been found beneficial to the gr?,nd scheme of subordination. Johnson used to give this account of the rise of Mr. Thrale's father : " He worked at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great brewery, which afterwards was his own. The proprietor of it' had an only daughter, who was married to a noble- man. It was not fit that a peer should continue the business. On the old man's death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. To find J The predecessor of old Thrale was Edmund Ilalsey, Esq. ; the nobleman who married hli daughter was Lord Cobham, gi-eat uncle to the Marquis of Buckingham. But I believe Dr. Johnson was mistaken in assigning so very low an origin to Mr Thrale. The clerk of St. Albans, a very aged man, told me, that he (the elder Thrale) married a sister of Mr. Halsey. It is at least certain that the family of Thrale was of some consideration in that town : in th« abbey church is a handsome monument to the memory of Mr. John Thrale, late of London, merchant, who died in 1704, aged 54, Margaret his wife, and three of their children who died young, between the years 1676 and 1690 : — Crest on a ducal coronet, a tree, vert, Blakewat. 394 •^^^■^•^ THE THRALE FAMILY, 395 1 purchaser for so large a property was a difficult matter ; and, after some time, it was suggested, that it would be advisable to treat with Thrale, a sensible, active, hoDest man, who had been employed in . the house, and to transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security being taken upon the property. This was accord ingly settled. In eleven years Thrale paid the purchase-money He acquired a large fortune, and lived to be a member of parlia- ment for Southwark. But what was most remarkable was the liberality with which he used his riches. He gave his son and daughters the best education. The esteem which his good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had married his master's daugh- ter, made him be treated with much attention ; and his son, both at Bchool and at the university of Oxford, associated with young men of the first rank. His allowance from his father, after he left col- lege, was splendid ; not less than a thousand a year. This, in a man who had risen as old Thrale did, was a very extraordinary instance of generosity. He used, to say, ' If this young dog does not find so much after I am gone as he expects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in my own time.' " The son, though in affluent circumstances, had good sense enough to carry on his father's trade, which was of such extent, that I remember he once told me, he would not quit it for an annuity of ten thousand a year : " Not," said he, " that I get ten thousand a year by it, but it is an estate to a family." Having left daughters only, the property was sold for the immense sum of one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds ; a magnificent proof of what may bo done by fair trade in a long period of time. There may be some who think that a new system of gentility' might be established, upon principles totally different from what have hitherto prevailed. Our present heraldry, it may be said, is suited to the barbarous times in which it had its origin. It is chiefly 1 Mrs. Burney informs me that she heard Dr. Jolmson say, " An English merchant is a new pecies of gentleman." He, perhaps, had in his mind the foUowingingenious passage in " The Donscious Lovers," Act iv. Scene 2, where Mr. Sealand thus addresses Sir John Bevil : — " Give me leave to say, that we merchants are a species of gentrj' that have grown into the world this last century, and are as hotourable, and almost as useful, as you landed-folks, that have always thought yourselves so much above us ; for your trading, forsooth, is extended no far- ther than a load of hay, or a fat ox. You are pleasant people indeed ! because you are gene- rally ored up to be lazy, therefore, I warrant you, industry is dishonourable." *. 396 LIFE OF JOHNSON. I'**' founded upon ferocious merit, upon military excellence. Why, in civilized times, we may be asked, should' there not be rank and .honours upon principles which, independent of long custom, are certainly not less worthy, and which, when once allowed to be con- nected with elevation and precedency, would obtain the same dignity in our imagination ? Why should not the knowledge, the skill, the expertness, the assiduity, and the spirited, hazards of trade and commerce, when crowned with success, be entitled to give those flattering distinctions by which ma.nkind are so universally cap- tivated ? Such are the specious, but false arguments for a proposition which always will find numerous advocates, in a nation where men are every day starting up from obscurity to wealth. To refute them is needless. The general sense of mankind cries out, with irresistible force, " Un geniilhonime est toujours gentilhommc." Mr. Thrale had married Miss Hesther Lynch Salusbury, of good Welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by education. That Johnson's introduction into Mr. Thrale's family, which contri- buted so much to the happiness of his life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is a very probable and the general supposition ; but it is not the truth. Mr. Murphy, who was intimate with Mr. Thrale, having spoken very highly of Dr. Johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted. This being mentioned to Johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner at Thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception, both by Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to the house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house at Southwark and in their villa at Strcatham.* 1 The first time I ever saw this extraordinary man was in the year 1764, when Mr. Murphy, who had long been the friend and confidential intimate of Mr. Thrale, persuaded him to wish for Jolinson's conversation, extolling it in terms which that of no other person could have deserved, till we were only in doubt how to obtain his company, and find an excuse for the invitation. The celebrity of Mr. Woodhouse, a shoemaker, whose verses were at that time the subject of common discourse, soon afforded a pretence, and Mr. Murphy brought Johnson to meet him, giving me general cautions not to be surprised at his figure, dress, or behaviour. What I recollect best of the day's talk was his earnestly recommending Addison's works to Mr. Woodhouse as a model for imitation. " Give nights and days, Sir," said he, " to the study of Addison, if you mean either to be a good writer, or, what is more worth, an honest man '* When I saw something like the same expression in his criticism on that author, lately pui^* ^T-iT. 66. jiRS, THRALE. B91 Johnson had a very sincere esteem for Mr. Thrale, as a man of excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in trade, of a sound inderstanding, and of manners such as presented the character of a plain independent English 'squire. As this family will frequently be mentioned in the course of the following pages, and as a false notion has prevailed that Mr. Thrale was inferior, and in some degree in- significant, compared with Mrs. Thrale, it may be proper to give a true state of the case from the authority of Johnson himself in his own words. " I know of no man," said he, " who is more master of his wife and family than Thrale. If he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. It is a great mistake to suppose that she is above him in literary at- tainments. She is more flippant ; but he has ten times her learning : he is a regular scholar ; but her learning is that of a schoolboy in one of the lower forms." My readers may naturally wish for some representation of the figures of this couple. Mr. Thrale was tall, well proportioned, and stately. As for Madam, or my Mistress, by which epithets Johnson used to mention Mrs. Thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk.* She has herself given us a lively view of the idea which Johnson had of her person, on her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown : "You little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however ; they are unsuitable in every way. What ! have not all insects gay colours ?" ' Mr. Thrale gave his wife a liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and in the mode of entertaining them. He understood and valued John- son, without remission, from their first acquaintance to the day of his death. Mrs. Thrale was enchanted with Johnson's conversation for its own sake, and had also a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with the attention of so celebrated a man. Nothing could be more fortunate for Johnson than this connection. He had at Mr. Thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life ; lished [in the Lives of the Poets], I put him in mind of his past injunctions to the young poet, to which he replied, " That he wished the shoemaker might have remembered them as weii." Mr. Johnson liked his new acquaintance so much, however, that from that time he dined with as every Thursday through the winter. — Piozzi. ' Mrs. Thr.-ile was about twenty-four or twenty -five yeai-s of age, when this acquaintanc* icmmenced ; It not being quite clear whether she was born in January, ■'740, or 1741.— G. ' Mrt!. Piczzi's Anecdotes, p. 279. S§8 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^"^^ his melancholy was diverted, aud his irregular habits lessened by asso- ciation.with an agreeable and well-ordered family. He was treated with the utmost respect, and even affection. The vivacity of Mrs, Thrale's literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even when they were alone. But this was not often the case ; for he found here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoy- ment, the society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way ; who were assembled in numerous companies, called forth his wonderful powers, and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible. In the October of this year he at length gave to the world hia edition of Shakspeare, which, if it had no other merit but that of producing his Preface, in which the excellences and defects of that immortal bard are displayed with a masterly hand, the nation would have had no reason to complain.' A blind indiscriminate admiration of Shakspeare had exposed the British nation to the ridicule of foreigners. Johnson, by candidly admitting the faults of his poet, had the more credit in bestowing on him deserved and indisputable praise ; and doubtless none of all his panegyrists have done him half so much honour. Their praise was like that of a counsel, upon his own side of the cause : Johnson's was like the grave, well-con- sidered, and impartial opinion of the judge, which falls from his lips with weight, and is received with reverence. What he did as a commentator has no small share of merit, though his researches were not so ample, and his investigations so acute, as they might have been ; which we now certainly know from the labours of other able and ingenious critics who have followed him. He has enriched his edition with a concise account of each play, and of its characteristic ' Johnson was insensible to Churchill's abuse, but the poem before mentioned had brought to remembrance that his edition of Shakspeare had long been due. His friends took the alarm, and by all the arts of reasoning and persuasion, laboured to convince him that, hav- ing taken subscriptions for a work in which he had made no progi'ess, his credit was at stake. He confessed he was culpable, and promised from time to time to begin a course of such read- ing as was necessary to qualify him for the work : this was no more than he had formerly done in an engagement with Coxeter, to whom he had bound himself to write the Life of Shakspeare, but he never could be prevailed on to begin it, so that even now it was ques- tioi.ed whether his promises were to be relied on. For this reason Sir Joshua Keynolds and gome other of his friends, who were more concerned for his reputation than himself seemed to be, contrived to entangle him by a wager, or some other pecuniary engagement, to perl ^rm his task by a certain time. — Hawkins. ^TAT. M. PREFACE TO SHAKSPEARE VOLTAIRE. 399 excellence. Many of his notes have illustrated obscurities in the text, and ploced passages eminent for beauty in a more conspicuous light ; and he has, in general, exhibited such a mode of annotation, as may be beneficial to all subsequent editors. His Shakspeare was virulently attacked by Mr. William Kenrick, who obtained the degree of LL.D. from a Scotch university, and wrote for the booksellers in a great variety of branches. Though he certainly was not without considerable merit, he wrote with sc little regard to decency, and principles, and decorum, and in so hasty a manner, that his reputation was neither extensive nor lasting. I remember one evening, when some of his works were mentioned. Dr. Goldsmith said, he had never heard of them ; upon which Dr. John- son observed, " Sir, he is one of the many who have made them- selves public, without making themselves known." ' - A young student of Oxford, of the name of Barclay, wrote an answer to Kenrick's review of Johnson's Shakspeare. Johnson was at first angry that Kenrick's attack should have the credit of an answer. But afterwards, considering the young man's good inten- tiou, he kindly noticed him, and probably would have done more, bad not the young man died. In his Preface to Shakspeare, Johnson treated Voltaire very con- temptuously, observing, upon some of his remarks, " These are the petty cavils of petty minds." Voltaire^ in revenge, made an attack upon Johnson, in one of his numerous literary sallies which I remem- ber to have read ; but there being no general index to his volumin- ous works, have searched in vain, and therefore cannot quote it.' Voltaire was an antagonist with whom I thought Johnson should 1 Kenrick was born at Watford, Herts, and was brought up to the business of a rule-maker, which he quitted for literature. He began his career with poetry, and next turned critic in the Monthly Review. Of this " attack," entitled " A Review of Dr. Johnson's new edition of Shakspeare ; in which the Ignorance or Inattention of that Editor is exposed, and the Poet aeiended from the Persecution of his Commentators," Dr. Johnson only said, " He did not think himself bound by Kenrick's rules." He wrote two plays without success, and in 1T72 was involved in a lawsuit with Garrick. In 1774 he delivered Lectures on Shakspeare, and the next year commenced the London Rtview, which he continued to his death, June 10, 1779. a " Je ne veux point soup?onner le sieur Jonson d'etre un mauvais plaisant, et d aimer trop le vln • mais je trouve un peu singulier qu'il compte la bouffonnerie et Tivrognerie parmi le» beautes du theatre tragique;" ic. &c.-Dictionnaire Philosopliique, art. "Art DramafoMe." Voltaire, edit. 17S1, toI. xxxviiL p. 10. 400 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ****• not disdain to contend. I pressed him to answer. He said, he perhaps might ; but he never did. Letter 94. TO DR. JOSEPH WARTON. " Oct. 9, 1766. "Dear Sir, — Mrs. Warton uses me hardly in supposing that I could forget so much kindness and civility as she shewed me at Winchester. I remember, likewise, our conversation about St. Cross.* The desire of seeing her again will be one of the motives that will bring me into Hampshire. " I have' taken care of your book; being so far from doubting your sub scription, that I think you have subscribed twice : you once paid your guinea into my own hand in the garret in Gough Square. When you light on your receipt, throw it on the fire ; if you find a second receipt, you may have a second book. " To tell the truth, as I felt no solicitude about this work, I receive no great, comfort from its conclusion ; but yet am well enough pleased that the pubhc has no farther claim upon me. I wish you would write more frequently to, dear Sir, your aifectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Mr. Burney having occasion to write to Johnson for some receipts for subscriptions to his Shakspeare, which Johnson had omitted to deliver when the money was paid, he availed himself of that oppor- tunity of thanking Johnson for the great pleasure which he had received from the perusal of his Preface to Shakspeare ; which, although it excited much clajjiour against him at first, is now justly ranked among the most excellent of his writings. To this lettei Johnson returned the following answer : — Letter 95. TO CHARLES BURNEY, ESQ. In Poland Street. " Oct. 16, 1766. " Sir, — I am sorry that your kindness to me has brought upon you so much trouble, though you have taken care to abate that sorrow, by the pleasure which I receive from your approbation. I defend my criticism in the same manner with you. We must confess the faults of our favourite, to gain credit to our praise of his excellencies. He that claims, either in himself or for an- other, the honours of perfection, will surely injure the reputation which he designs to assist. Be pleased to make my compliments to your family. lam. Sir, you most obliged and humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." From one of his Journals I transcribed what follows ; — •^'-^T- 5^ DEDICATIONS, 401 " At church, Oct. — 65. " To avoid all singularity : Bonavcntnra} " To come iu before service, and compose my mind by meditation, ^r by reading some portion of the scripture. Tetty. " If I can hear the sermon, to attend it, unless attention be mora troublesome than useful. " To consider the act of prayer as a reposal of myself upon God, and a resignation of all into his holy hand." In 11 Gl and 17G5 it should seem that Dr. Johnson was so busily employed with his edition of Shakspcare, as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or, indeed, even for private correspondence. He did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for which it will appear that he afterwards apolo- gised. He was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends, and others, in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly improving their Dedications. In that courtly species of composition no man excelled Dr. Johnson. Though the loftiness of his mind prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very great number. of Dedications for others. Some of these, the persons who were favoured with them, are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as I think, that they might be suspected of having received larger assistance ; and some, after all the diligence I have bestowed, have escaped my inquiries. He told me, a great many years ago, " he believed he had dedicated to all the Royal Family around :" and it was indiifer- ent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent. He once dedicated some music for the German Flute to Edward, Duke of York. In writing dedications for others, he considered himself as by no means speaking his own sentiments. Notwithstanding his long silence, I never omitted to write to him, when I had anything worthy of commuuicating. I generally kept copies of my letters to him, that I might have a full view of our correspondence, and never be at a loss to understand any reference in his letters. He kept the greater part of mine very carefully ; » He was probably proposing to himself the model of this excellent person, wtio foi kji piety waf named the Seraphic Doctor, 4.U2 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^*'*- and a short time before his death was attentive enough to seal them up in bundles, and ordered them to be delivered to me, which was accordingly done. Amongst them I found one, of which 1 had not made a copy, and which I own I read with pleasure at the dis tance of almost twenty years. It is dated November, 1765, at the palace of Pascal Paoli, in Corte, the capital of Corsica, and is full of generous enthusiasm. After giving a sketch of what I had seen and heard in that island, it proceeded thus : " I dare to call this a spirited tour, I dare to challenge your approbation." This letter produced the following answer, which I found on my arrival at Paris! Letter 96. A M. M. BOSWELL, Oliez Mr. Waters, Banquier, a Paris. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, Jan. 14, 1766. " Dear Sir, — Apologies are seldom of auy use. We will delay till your arrival the reasons, good or bad, which have made me such a sparing and ungrateful correspondent. Be assured, for the present, that nothing has lessened either the esteem or love with which I dismissed you at Harwich. Both have been increased by all that I have been told of you by yourself or others ; and when you return, you will return to an unaltered, and, I hope, unalterable friend. " All that you have to fear from me is the vexation of disappointing me. No man loves to frustrate expectations which have been formed in his favour ; and the pleasure which I promise myself from your journals and remarks is so great, that perhaps no degree of attention or discernment will be sufficient to afford it. " Come home, however, and take your chance. I long to see you, and to heai you ; and hope that we shall not be so long separated again. Como home, and expect such welcome as is due to him, whom a wise and noble" curiosity has led, where perhaps no native of this country ever was before. " I have no news to tell you that can deserve your notice ; nor would I willingly lessen the pleasure that any novelty may give you at your return. 1 am afraid we shall find it difficult to keep among us a mind which has beeu BO lOng feasted with variety. But let us try what esteem and kindness can Effef»t. "As your father's liberality has indulged you with so long a ramble, I doubt not but you will think his sickness, or even his desire to see you, a sufficient reason for hastening your return. The longer we live, and the more we think, the higher value we learn to put on the friendship and tenderness of parents and of friends. Parents we can have but once ; and he promises himself too ^TAT 57. BOSWEIX'S RETURJJ. 403 mucli, who enters life with the expectation of finding many fiiends. Upon some motive, I hope, that you will be here soon ; and am willing to think that It will be an inducement to your return, that it is sincerely desired by, dear Sir, your affectionate humble servant, "Sam. Johnson." Letter 97. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, Jan. 14, 1766. " Dear Madam, — The reason why I did not answer your letters was that t can please myself with no answer. I was loth that Kitty should leave th^ *• house till I had' seen it once more, and yet for some reasons I cannot well come during the session of parliament. I- am unwilling to sell it, yet hardly know why. If it can be let, it should be repaired, and I purpose to let Kitty have part of the rent while we both live ; and wish that you would get it surveyed, and lot me know how much money will be necessary to fit it for a tenant. I would not have you stay longer than is convenient, and I thank you for your care of Kitty. " Do not take my omission amiss. I am sorry for it, but know not what to nay. You must act by your own prudence, and I shall be pleased. Write to me again ; I do not design to neglect you any more. It is great pleasure for rae to hear from you ; but this whole affair is painful to me. I wish you, my dear, many happy years. Give my respects to Kitty. I am, dear madam, your most affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." * I returned to London in February, and found Dr. Johnson in a good hou>;e in Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, in which he had accommodated Miss Williams with an apartment on the ground floor, wliile Mr, Levet occupied his post in tlie garret : his faitliful Francis was still attending upon him. He received me with much kindness. The fragments of our first conversation, which I have preserved, are these : I told him that Voltaire, in a conversation with me, had distinguished Pope and Drydeu thus : — " Pope drives a handsome chariot, with a couple of neat trim nags ; Dryden a 1 In the Memoirs of Dr. Warton, p. 312, we find a letter (dated Jan. 22, 1766) from him to his brother, giving some account of Johnson and his society at this period : — " I only dined with Johnson, who seemed cold and indifferent, and scarce said anything to me ; perhaps he has heard what I said of his Shakspeare, or rather was offended at what I wrote to him — as he pleases. Of all solemn coxcombs, Goldsmith is the first; yet sensible — but affects to use Johnson's hard words in conversation. We had a Mr. Dyer, who is a scholar and a gentle- man. Gairick is entirely off from Johnson, and cannot, he says, forgive him his insinuating that ho withheld his (Id editions, which always were open to him, nor I suppose his neve» jnentloning him in .all his works " — C 404 ■ LIFE OF JOHNSON. 1^^^- coach, and six stately horses." ' Johnson. Why, Sir, the truth is they both drive coaches and six ; but Dryden's horses are either galloping or stumbling : Pope's go at a steady even trot." ' He said of Goldsmith's " Traveller," which had been published in my ibsence, " There has not been so fine a poem since Pope's time." And here it is proper to settle, with authentic precision, what has long floated in public report, as to Johnson's being himself the author of a considerable part of that poem. Much, no doubt, both of the sentiments and expression, were derived from conversation with him ; and it was certainly submitted to his friendly revisiim : but, in the year 1183, he, at my request, marked with a pencil the lines which he had furnished, which are only line 420th • — " To stop too fearful, and too faint to go ;" and the concluding ten lines, except the last couplet but one, which T distinguish by the Italic character : " How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which kings or laws can cause or cure ! Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, Our own felicity we make or find : With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke'H iron crown, and Damien''s bed of steel, To men remote from power, but rarely known, Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own." He added, " These are all of which I can be sure." They bear a small proportion to the whole, which consists of four hundred and thirty-eight verses. Goldsmith, m the couplet which he inserted, mentions Luke as a person well known, and superficial readers have 1 It is remarkable that Mr. Gray has employed somewhat the same image to charac- terise Dryden. He, indeed, furnishes his car wiih but two horses; but they are of "ethe" real race :" — " Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder clothed, and long resounding pace." 2 "The sty.e of l>ryden is capacious and varied ; that of Pope is cautious and uniform Dryden observes the motions of his own mind ; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of toniposltion," Ac. Ac. — Johnson, Life of Pope. ^'^^'^■^'^- THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 465 passed it over quite smoothly ; while those of more attention have ^een ai mucli perplexed by Luke, as by Lydiat, in " The Vanity -■jf Buman Wishes." The truth is, that Goldsmith himself was in a nfiistakc. In the " liespublica Ilnngarica" there is an account of a desperate rebellion in the year 1514, beaded by two brothers, of the name of Zeck, George and Luke. When it was quelled, George, not Luke, was punished, by his head being" encircled with a redhot iron crown ; "corona ccindescente ferrea coronatur." The same severity of torture was exercised on the Earl of Athol, one of the murderers of King James I. of Scotland. Dr. Johnson at the same time favoured me by marking the lines which he furnished to Goldsmith's " Deserted Village," which are only the last four : " That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labourd mole away : While self-dependent power can time defy. As rocks resist the billows and the sky." Talking of education, "People have now a-days," said he, "got a strange opinion that everything should be taught by lectures. Now, I cannot see that lectures can do so much good as reading the books from which the lectures arc taken. I know nothing that can be best taught by lectures, except where experiments are to be shewn. You may teach chemistry by lectures ; — you might teach making of shoes by lectures !" At night I supped with him at the Mitre tavern, that we might renew our social intimacy at the original place of meeting. But there was now a considerable difference in his way of living. Having had an illness, in which he was advised to leave off wine, he had, from that period, continued to abstain from it, and drank only water, or lemonade. I told him that a foreign friend of his, whom I had met with abroad, was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity, that he treated the hopes of immortality with brutal levity ; and said, " As man dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog." Johnson. " If he dies like a dog, ki him lie like a dog." I added, that this man said to me, " I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know 406 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^ Low bad I am." Johnson. " Sir, be must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks himself cue of the best of men ; for none of his frieuds think hira so." — He said, " No honest man could be a Deist ; for no man could be so after a fair examination of the proofs of Christianity." I named Hume. Johnson. " No, Sir ; Hume owned tcT a clergyman in the bishopric of Durham, that hie had never read the New Testament with attention." — I mentioned Hume's notion, that all who are happy are equally happy ; a little miss with a new gown at a dancing-school ball, a general at the head of a victorious army, and an orator after having made an elo- quent speech in a great assembly. Johnson. " Sir, that all who are happy, are equally happy, is not true. A peasant and a philosopher may be equally satisfied, but not equally happy. Happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness. A peasant has not capacity for having equal happiness with a philosopher." I remem- ber this very question very happily illustrated, in opposition to Hume, by the Kev. Mr. Robert Brown, at Utrecht. "A small drinking-glass and a large one," said he, " may be equally full ; but the large one holds more than the small." Dr. Johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me, " You have now lived five-and-twenty years, and you have employed them well." " Alas, Sir," said I, " I fear not. Do I know history ? Do I know mathematics ? Do I know law ?" Johnson. " Why, Sir, though you may know no science so well as to be able to teach it, and no profession so well as to be able to follow it, your general mass of knowledge of books and men renders you very capable to make yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for any profes- sion." I mentioned, that a gay friend had advised me against being a lawyer, because I should be excelled by plodding blockheads. Johnson. " Why, Sir, in the formulary and statutory part of law, a plodding blockhead may excel ; but in the ingenious and rational part of it, a plodding blockhead can never excel." I talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, by courting great men, and asked him whether he had ever submitted to it. Johnson. "Why, Sir, I never was near enough to great men, to court them. You may be prudently attached to great men, and yet independent. You are not to do what you think wrong , *"''-5'- CONVKNi'S SECOND SlOllT. 40T auU, Sir, you are to calcuhitc, and not pay too dear for what you get. You must not give a shilling's worth of court for sixpence worth of good. But if you can get a shilling's worth of good for sixpence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court." He said, " If convents should be allowed at all, they should only be retreats for persons unable to serve the public, or who have served it. It is our first duty to serve society, and, after we have done that, we may attend wholly to the salvation of our own souls. A youth- ful passion for abstracted devotion should not be encouraged." I iiitroiluced the subject of second sight, and other niysteriou'5 manifestations ; the fulfilment of which, I suggested, might happen by chance. Johnson. " Yes, Sir, but they have hapi)cned so ofteu that mankind have agreed to think them not fortuitous." I talked to him a great deal of what I had' seen in Corsica, and of my intention to publish an account of it. He encouraged me by saying, " You cannot go to the bottom of the subject ; but all that you tell us will be new to us. Give us as many anecdotes as you can." Our next meeting at the ^Mitre was on Saturday the 15th of February, when I presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the Eev. Mr. Temple,' then of Cambridge. I having mentioned that I had passed some time with Rousseau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark made by Mr. Wilkes, with whom I had spent many pleasant hours in Italy, Johnson said, sarcastically: " It seems. Sir, you have kept very good company abroad — Rous- seau and Wilkes !" Thinking it enough to defend one at a time, I said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, " My dear Sir, you don't call Rousseau bad company. Do you really think /lim a bad man ?" Johnsox. " Sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, I don't talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one of the worst of men ; a rascal, who ought to be huuted out of society, as he has been. Three or four nations have expelled him : and it is a shame that he is protected in this country. Bos- well. " I don't deny. Sir, but that his novel may, perhaps, do 1 BosweU had formed an intimacy with this gentleman at the University of Glasgow. Temple'o skftch of Gray's character, adopted both by Mason and Johnson, has transmitted bis name tt posterity. For some particulars of his preferment and works, see MitforJ'l " Gray)" p. liv. — Markland, 408 ■ LIFE OF JOHNSON. l^Wk barm ; but I caunot think his intention was bad." Johnson. *' Sir, that will not do. We cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him ; but the judge will order you to be hanged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the plantations." Boswell. "Sir, do you think him as bad a man as Voltaire ? Johnson. " Why, Sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them." This violence seemed very strange to me, who had read many of Rousseau's animated writings with great pleasure, and even edifica tion ; had been much pleased with his society, and was just come from the continent, where he was very generally admired. Nor can I yet allow that he deserves the very severe censure which Johnson pronounced upon him. His absurd preference of savage to civilized life, and other singularities, are proofs rather of a defect in his understanding, than of any depravity in his heart. And notwith- staudiug the unfavourable opinion which many worthy men have expressed of his " Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savoyard," I cannot help admiring it as the performance of a man full of sincere reveren- tial submission to Divine Mystery, though beset with perplexing doubts : a state of mind to be viewed with pity rather than with anger. On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, " So far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evi- dent superiority over the other." I mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console our- selves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves. This, I observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. " Why, to be sure, Sir, there are ; but they don't know it. There is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible."' As my stay in London at this time was very short, I had not stAt.n. iNiauKni'v. 409 manj opportunities of being with Dr. Jolnisou ; but I felt my vene- ration for him iu no degree lessened, by my having seen multorum hominmn mores tt urhes. On the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with many of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my admiration of his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed. The roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners, was more striking to me now, from my having been accustomed to the studied smooth, complying habits of the continent ; and I clearly recognised in him, not without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good principles. One evening, when a young gentleman teased him with an ac- count of the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would not believe the Scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not invented. " Why, foolish fellow," said Johnson, " has he any better authority for almost every- thing that he believes ?" Boswell. " Then the vulgar, Sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the iearned." Johnson. " To be sure, sir. The vulgar are the chil- dren of the State, and must be taught like children. Boswell. "Then, Sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just as a poor Englishman must be a Christian ?" Johnson. " Why, yes, Sir ; and what then ? This now is such stufi", as I used to talk to my mother, when I first began to think myself a clever fellow ; and she ought to have whipped me for it." Another evening, Dr. Goldsmith and I called on him, with the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the Mitre. We found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. " Come then," said Goldsmith, " we will not go to the Mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man ' with us." Johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which Goldsmith and I partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat by us. Goldsmith. " I think, Mr. Johnson, you don't go near the theatres now. You give yourself no more con- ' Tbese two little words may be observed as marks of Mr. Boswell's accuracy in reporting the expressions of his personages. It is a jocular Irish phrase, which, of all Johnson's •cquaintances, no one, probably, but Goldsmith, could have used. — C. Yol. I. ly •(10 LIFE OF JOUNSON. ^''^^• corn about a new play, than if you bad never had anything to do with the stage." Johnson. " AVhy, Sir, our tastes greatly alter. The lad does not care for the- child's rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man's whore." Goldsmith. " Nay, Sir ; but your Muse was not a whore." Johnson. " Sir, I do not think she was. But as we advance in the journey of life, we drop some of the things which Jiave pleased us ; whether it be that we are fatigued and don't choose to carry so many things any farther, or that we find other things which we like better." Boswell. "But, Sir, why don't you give us something in some other way ?" Goldsmith. " Ay, Sir, we have a claim upon you." Johnson. " No, Sir, I am not obliged to you any more. No man is obliged to do as much as he can do. A man is to have part of his life to himself. If a sol- dier has fought a good many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires to ease and tranquillity. A physician, who has practised long in a great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, and takes less practice. Now, Sir, the good I can do by my conversa- tion bears the same proportion to the good I can do by my writings, that the practice of a physician, retired to a small town, does to his practice in a great city." Boswell. "But I wonder. Sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing." Johnson. " Sir, you may wonder." ' He talked of making verses, and observed, " The great difficulty is, to know when you have made good ones. When composing, I have generally had them in my mind, perhaps fifty at a time, walk- ing up and down in my room ; and then I have written them down, and often from laziness, have written only half lines. I have written a hundred lines in a day. I remember I wrote a hundred lines of * The Vanity of Human Wishes ' in a day. Doctor," turning to Goldsmith, " I am not quite idle ; I made one line t'other day ; but 1 made no more." Goldsmith. " Let us hear it ; we'll put a bad one to it." Johnson. " No, Sir ; I have forgot it." ' This js another amusing trait of Mr. Boswell's accuracy and hoiine foi. Can anythini De more comic than Johnson's affectation of superiority, even to the degree of supposing thai Boswell would not dare to wonder without his special sanction, and the deference with whick Boswell receives and records such gracious condescension? — C. After all, Johnson was at this time the great established author of fifty-seven, and Boi •well the enthusiastic but humble aspirant of twenty-five. ^^■^^■^'- LETTERS To LANGTON 4ll Such specimeus of the easy aud playful couversatiou of the great Dr. Samuel Johuson are, I think, to be prized ; as exhibiting the little varieties of a mind so enlarged and so powerful when objects of consequence required its exertions, and as giving us a minute knowledge of his character and modes of thinking. Lettkr 98. TO BENNET LANGTON, Esq. At Langton. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, March 9, 1766. " Dear Sir, — What your friends have done, that from your departure till now nothing has been heard of you, none of us are able to inform the rest ; but as we are all neglected alike, no one thinks himself entitled to the privilege of conipluint. " I should have known nothing of you or of Langton, from the time that dear Miss Langton ' left us, had not I met Mr. Simpson, of Lincoln, one day in the street, by whom I was informed that Mr. Langton, your mamma, and your- self, had been all ill, but that you were all recovered. " That sickness should suspend your correspondence, I did not wonder; bnt hoped that it would be renewed at your recovery. " Since you will not inform us where you are, or how you live, I know not whether you desire to know anything of us. However, I will tell you that the Club subsists ; but we have the loss of Burke's company since he has been engaged in public business,' in which he has gained more reputation than per- liaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained before. He made two speeches in the House for repealing the Stamp Act, which were publicly com- mended by Mr. Pitt, and have filled the town with wonder. " Burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to attain civil great- ness. I am grown greater tod^ for I have maintained the newspapers these many weeks ; ^ and what is greater siill, I have risen every morning since New- year's day, at about eight : when I was up, I have, indeed, done but little ; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain, for so many hours more, the con- sciousness of being. " I wish you were in my new study ; I am now writing the first letter in it. I think it looks very pretty about me. "Dyer* is constant at the Club ; Hawkins is remiss; I am not over dili- 1 Mr. Langton's eldest sister. 2 Mr. Burke came Into Parliament under the auspices of the Marquess of Rockingham, la the year 1765. ' Probably with criticisms on his Shakspeare. — C. < Samuel Dyer, Esq., a most learned and ingenious member of the " Literary Club," for (vhosft understanding and attainments Dr. Johnson had great respect. He died Sept. 14, 1772. A more particular account of this gentleman may be found in a Note on the Life if Dryden, p. ISO, prefixed to the edition of that gi-eat writer's Prose 'Works, in four »oiumes,-8vo., ISOO : in which his character is vindicated, and the very unfavourable leprff 41 S LIFE OF JOHNSON ^"^^ gent; Lr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Reynolds are very constant. Mr I ye' is printing his Saxon and Gothic Dictionary ; all the Club subscribes. " You will pay my respects to all my Lincolnshire friends. I am, dear Sir, most affectionately yours, " Sam. Johnson." Letier 99. TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. At Langton. I " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, May 10, 1766. "Dear Sir, — In supposing that I should be more than commonly affected by the death of Peregrine Langton,'' you were not mistaken ; he was one of those whom I loved at once by instinct and by reason. I have seldom indulged aiore hope of anything than of being able to improve our acquaintance to friendship. Many a time have I placed myself again at Langton, and imagined the pleasure with which I should walk to Partney ' in a summer morning ; but this is no longer possible. We must now endeavour to preserve what is left us, — his example of piety and economy. I hope you make what inquiries you can, and write down what is told you. The 'little things which distinguish domestic characters are soon forgotten : if you delay to inquire, you will have no information ; if you neglect to write, information will be vain. " Ilis art of life certainly deserves to be known and studied. He lived in plenty and elegance upon an income which, to many, would appear indigent, and to most, scanty. How he lived, therefore, every man has an interest in knowing. His death, I hope, was peaceful; it was surely happy. " I wish I had written sooner, lest, writing now, I should renew your grief; but I' would not forbear saying what I have now said. " This loss is, I hope, the only misfortune of a family to whom no misfortune at all should happen, if my wishes could avert it. Let me know how you all go on. Has Mr. Langton got him the little horse that I recommended ? It would do him good to ride about his estate in fine weather. " Be pleased to make my compliments to Mrs. Langton, and to dear Miss Langton, and Miss Di, and Miss Juliet, and to e^verybody else. *' The Clur holds very well together. Monday is my night.* I continue to rise tolerably well, and read more than I did. I hope something will yet come ou it. I am. Sir, your most affectionate servant, " Sam. Johnson." lentation of it, given by Sir John Hawkins in his Life of Johnson, pp. 222, 282, is minutely examined — M. 1 Edward Lye was born in 1704. He published the Etymologicum Anglicanum of Junius, His great work is that referred to above, which he was printing ; but he did not live to see the publication. He died in 17C7, and the Dictionary was published, in 1772, by the Rev. Owen Manning, author of the History and Antiquities of Sun sy. — C. * Mr. Langton's uncle. ' The place of residence of Mr. Peregrine Langton. ' Of his being in the chair of the Literary Club, which at this time met once a week in the evening. CHAPTER XXI. 1165—1767. Boawell'B Thesis — Study of the Law — Kash Vows — Streatham —Oxford— London ImproT*> ments — Dedications — Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies — Mr. William Druramond — Translation of the Bible into the Gaelic— Case of Ileely — Dr. Robertson— Cuthbert Shaw— "Tom Hervey " ^Johnson's Interview with King George III. — Warburton and Lowtli — Lord Lyttleton'a History— Dr. Hill — Literary Journals — Visit to Lichfield— Death of Catherine Chambers^ Lexiphanes — Mrs. Aston. After I liad been some time in Scotland, I mentioned to him in a letter that "On my first return to my native country, after some years of absence, I was told of a vast number of my acquaintance who were all gone to the land of forgetful ness, and I found myself like a man stalking over a field of battle, who every moment per- ceives some one lying dead." I complained of irresolution, and mentioned my having made a vow as a security for good conduct. I wrote to him again without being able to move his indolence : nor did I hear from him till he had received a copy of my inaugural Exercise, or Thesis in Civil Law, which I published at my admission as an Advocate, as is the custom in Scotland. He then wrote to me as follows : Letter 100. TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. . " London, August 10, 1766. •'Dear Sir, — The reception of your Thesis put me in mind of my debt to you. Why did you . . . . ?' I will punish you for it, by telling you that your Latin wants correction.' In the beginning, Spei alterce, not to urge ihat • The passage omitted alluded to a private transaction. * This censure of my Latin relates to the dedication, which was as follows : — " Viro nobilis- Bimo, ornatissimo, Joanni, Vicecomitl Mountstuart, atavls edito regibus, excelsae familiae de Bute epei alterae, ; labente seculo, quum homines nulUus orlginis g&iius sequare opibus aggrediunter, sanguinis antiqui et illustris semper memori, natalium splendorem vlrtutibut augenti : ad publica popuU comitia jam legato ; in optiraatium vero Magnee Britanniae senatu, jure hasreditario, oUm 'onsessuro : vim insitam varia doctrina promovente, nee tamen ae vet* 418 414 LIFE OF JOHNSON. _ l'^66 it snould be prirmt;, is not grammatical ; alterte should be alteri. In the next line you seem to use genus absolutely, for what we call family, that is, for illustrious extractioji, I doubt without authority. Homines nullius originis^ for nullis orti majoribus, or nulla loco natiy is, as I am afraid, barbarous. — Rud' diman is dead. " I have now vexed you enough, and will try to please you. Your resolu- tion to obey your father I sincerely approve ; but do not accustom yourself to enchain your volatility by vows ; they will sometime leave a thorn in your mind, which you will, perhaps, never be able to extract or eject. Take thia warning ; it is of great importance. "The study of the law is what you very justly term it, copious and gene- rous ; ' and in adding your name to its professors, you have done exactly what I always wished, when I wished you best. I hope that you will continue to pursue it vigorously and constantly. You gain, at least, what is no small advantage, security from those troublesome and wearisome discontents, which are always obtruding themselves upon a mind vacant, unemployed, and undetermined. " You ought to think it no small inducement to diligence and perseverance, that they will please your father. We all live upon the hope of pleasing some- body, and the pleasure of pleasing ought to be greatest, and at last always will be greatest, when our endeavours are exerted in consequence of our duty. " Life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle deliberation how it shall be spent: deliberation which those who begin it by prudence, and con- tinue it with subtilty, must, after long expense of thought, conclude by chance. To prefer one future mode of life to another, upon just reasons, requires facul-« ties which it has not pleased our creator to give us. " If, therefore, the profession you have chosen has some unexpected incon- veniences, console yourself by reflecting that no profession is without them ; and that all the importunities and perplexities of business are softness and luxury, compared with the incessant ci'avings of vacancy, and the unsatisfac- tory expedients of idleness. • Haec sunt quae nostra potui te voce monere ; Vade, age.' " As to your History of Corsica, you have no materials which others havei not, or may not have. You have, somehow or other, warmed your imagina- tion. I wish there were some cure, like the lover's leap, for all heads of which Bome single idea has obtained an unreasonable and irregular possession. ditante, prajdito : prisca fide, animo liberrimo, et morum elegantiS, insigni : in Italiaj visi- tandse itinere socio suo honoratissitno : hasce juvisprudentiBE primitias, devinctissimas amicitise et observantiffi, monumentura, D. D. C. Q. Jacobus Boswell." ' This alludes to the first sentence of the Prooemium of my Thesis. " Juiisprudentiffi studio nullum uberius, nullum geuerosius : in legibus enim agitandis, populoru'u mores, variasque fortunae vices ex quibiis leges oriuntur, coutemplari simul solemus." '**"-*^- BdSWELL's THESIS. 41^ Mind your own affairs, and leave the Corsicans to theirs. — I am, dear Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter 101. TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. " Auchinl ech, Nov. 6, 1766. *' MuCtl ESTEEMED AND DEAR SiR, — I plead HOt guiltj tO . . . . " Having thus, I hope, cleared myself of the charge brought against me, I presume you will not be displeased if I escape the punishment which you havo decreed for me unheard. If you have discharged the arrows of criticism against an innocent man, you must rejoice to find they have missed him, or have not been pointed so as to wound him. " To talk no longer in allegory, I am, with all deference, going to offer a few observations in defence of my Latin, which you have found fault with. " You tliink I should have used spei primce instead of spei alferce. Spes is, indeed, often used to express something on which we have a future depend* ence, as in Virg. Eclog. i. 1. 14. — ■ modo namque gemellos Spem gi'egis, ah ! silice in nuda connixa reliqult :' and in Georg. iil. 1. 4*73. — ' Spemque gregemque simul,' for the lambs and the sheep. Yet it is also used to express anything on which wc have a present dependence, and is well applied to a man of distinguished influence, — our support, our refuge, our prwsidium, as Horace calls Maecenas. So, jEneid xii. 1. 57, Queen Aniata addresses her son-in-law, Turnus : — 'spea tu nunc icna ;' and he was tlieu no future hope, for she adds, — ♦ decus imperiumque Latin! Te penes ;' which might have been said of my Lord Bute some years ago. Now I con- eider the present Earl of Bute to be ' Excehce familice de Bute spes prima;' and my Lord Mountstuart, as his eldest son, to be ' spes altera^ So in .(Eneid xii. 1. 108, after having mentioned Pater .(Eneas, who was the present a^es, the reigning spes, as my German friends would say, the spes prima, the poet adds, — 'Et juxta Ascanius, magnaa spes altera Romse.' " You think alterce ungrammatical, and you tell me it should have been altert. ' The passage omitted explained the transaction to which the preceding letter had alluded. 416 LIFE OF JOHKSOiT. *^^*- You must recollect, that in old times alter was declined regularly; and when the ancient fragments preserved in the Juru Civilis Pontes were written, it was certainly declined in the way that I use it. This, I should think, may pro- tect a lawyer who writes altera in a dissertation upon part of his own science. But as I could hardly venture to quote fragments of old law to so classical a man as Mr. Johnson, I have not made an accurate search into these remains, to find examples of what I am able to produce in poetical composition. We find in Plant. Rudens, act iii. scene 4, — ' Nam huic altera patria quae sit profecto nescio.' Plautus is, to be sure, an old comic writer ; but in the days of Scipio anj Lelius, we find Terent. Heautontim. act ii. scene 3, — ' hoc ipsa in itinere alterm Dum narrat, forte audivi.' "You doubt my having authority for using genus absolutely, for what wo cs\\ family, that is. ior illustrious extraction. Now I take genus in Latin to have much the same signification with hirth in English ; both in their primary meaning expressing simply descent, but both made to stand /car, i^oxijv for noble descent. Genus is thus used in Ilor. lib. ii. Sat. v. 1. 8, — ' Et gemis et virtus, nisi cum re, vilior alga est.' And in lib. i. Epist. vi. 1. 37, ' Et genus et formam Regina Pecunia donat.' And in the celebrated contest between Ajax and Ulysses, Ovid's Metamorph. lib. xiii. 1. 140,— ' Nam genus et proavos, et quae non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voce ' " Homines nullius originis, for nullis orti majoribus or nulla loco nati, is, ' you are afraid, barbarous.' ^^Origo is used to signify extraction, as in Virg. Jilneid i. 286, — 'Nascetur pulclira Trojanus origine Ctesar:' and in ^neid x. 1. 618, — ' Ille tamen nostr& deducit origine nomen.' and as nullus is used for obscure, is it not in the genius of the Latin language to write nullius originis, for obscure extraction ? " I have defended myself as well as I could. " Might I venture to differ from you with regard to the utility <)f vowsf I 'P^^'^-^t- Mrs. WILLIAMS. 411 am scnsil)lc that it would be very dangerous to make vowg faslily, and ivithout a due consideration. But I cannot help thinking that they may often be of great advantage to one of a variable judgment and irregular inclination. I iilways remember a passage in one of your letters to our Italian friend Baretti ; where, talking of the monastic life, you say you do not wonder that serloua )ncn should put themselves under the protection of a religious order, when tliev have found how unable they are to take care of themselves. For my own part, without aflecting to be a Socrates, I am sure I have a more than or- dinary struggle to maintain with the Evil Principle; and all the methods I can devise are little enough to keep me tolerably steady iu the paths of rectitude. " I am ever, with the highest veucration, your affectionate humble servant, " James Boswell." It eppcars from Johnson's diary, that he was this year at Mr. Thrale's,' from before Midsummer till after Michaelmas, and that he afterwards passed a month at Oxford. He had then contracted a great intimacy with Mr. Chambers of that University, afterwards Sir Robert Chambers,- one of the Judges in India. He published nothing this year in his own name ; but the noble Dedication* to the King, of Gwyn's " London and Westminster Improved," was written by him ; and he furnished the Preface,f and several of the pieces, which composed a volume of Miscellanies by Mrs. Anna Williams, the blind lady who had an asylum in his house." Of these, there are his "Epitaph on Philips ;"* " Trans- 1 In the year 1T6G, Mr. Johnson's health grew so bad, that he could not stir out of his room, 5n the court he inhabited, for many weeks together — I think mmiths. Mr. Thrale's attentions and mj' own now became so acceptable to him, that he often lamented to us the horrible con- dition of his mind, which he said was nearly distracted ; and though he charged us to make him odd solemn promises of secrecy on so strange a subject, yet when we waited on him one morning, and heard him, in the most pathetic terms, beg the prayers of Dr. Delap [Hector of Lewes] who had left him as we came in, I felt excessively alTected with grief, and well remem- ber that nij* husband involuntarily lifted up one hand to shut his mouth, from provocation at hearing a man so wildly proclaim what he could at last persuade no one to believe, and what, if true, would have been so very unfit to reveaL Mr. Thrale went away soon after, leaving me with him, and bidding me prevail on him to quit his close habitation In the court and come with us to Streatham, where I undertook the care of his health, and had the honour and happiness of contributing to its restoration. — Piozzi. * As to her poems, she many years attempted to publish them : the half-crowns she had got towards the publication, she confessed to me, went for necessaries, and that the greatest pain she ever felt was from the appearance of defrauding her subscribers; "but what can I do? the Doctor [Johnson] always puts me off with 'Well, we'll think about it;' and Goldsmith eays. ' Leave it to me.' " However, two of her friends, under her directions, made a new sub« dcription at a crown, the whole price of the work, and in a very little time raised sixty pounds. Mrs. Carter was applied to by Mrs. Williams's desire, and she, with the utmost activity and V'jidness, procured a long list of names. At length the work was published, in which is a finfl 18* 118 LIFE OP JOHNSOK. 1^61 lation of a Tjatin Epitaph on Sir Thomas Hanmer ;"f " Friendship, an Ode ;"* and, " The Ant,"* a paraphrase from the Proverbs, of which I have a copy in his own liaud-writing ; and, from internal evidence, I ascribe to him, " To Miss , on her givhig the Author a gold and silk network Purse of her own weaving ;"f and " The happy Life."! — Most of the pieces in this volume have evidently received additions from his superior pen, particularly " Verses to Mr. Richardson, on his Sir Charles Grandison ;" " The Excursion ;" " Reflections on a Grave digging in Westminster Abbey." There is in this collection a poem, " On the death of Stephen Grey, the Electrician ;" * which, on reading it, appeared to me to be undoubt- edly Johnson's. I asked Mrs. Williams whether it was not his. " Sir," said she, with some warmth, " I wrote that poem before I had the honour of Dr. Johnson's acquaintance." I, however, was so much impressed with my first notion, that I mentioned it to John- son, repeating, at the same time, what Mrs. Williams had said. His answer was, "It is true. Sir, that she wrote it before she was ac- quainted with me ; but she has not told you that I wrote it all over again, except two lines." " The Fountains,"! a beautiful little Fairy tale in prose, written with exquisite simplicity, is one of Johnson's productions ; and I cannot withhold from Mrs. Thrale the praise of being the author of that admirable poem, "The Three Warn- ings." He wrote this year a letter, not intended for publication, which has, perhaps, as strong marks of his sentiment and style, as any of his compositions. The original is in my possession. It is addressed to the late Mr. William Drummond, bookseller in Edinburgh, a gen- tleman of good family, but small estate, who took arms for the house of Stuart in 1145 ; and during his concealment in London till the act of general pardon came out, obtained the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson, who justly esteemed him as a very worthy man. It seems some of the members of the Society in Scotland for propagating Christian knowledge had opposed the scheme of translating the Holy Scriptures into the Erse or Gaelic language, from political considerations of the disadvantage of keeping up the distinction written but gloomy tale of Dr. Johnson. The money (£150) Mrs. Williams had various uses for, and a part of it was funded. — Lady Kkioht. ^■"^^ W GAELIC BIBLE. 4l9 between the Highlanders and the other iuliabitants of North Britain Dr. Johnson being informed of this, I suppose by Mr. Drummond, wrote with a generous indignation as follows : Letter 102. TO MR. WILLIAM DRUMMOND. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, Aug. 13, 1766. "Sir, — I did not expect to hear that it could be, in an assembly convened for the propagation of Christian knowledge, a question whether any nation uninstructed in religion should receij'e instruction ; or whether that instruction should be imparted to them by a translation of the holy books into their own language. If obedience to the will of God t)e necessary to happiness, and knowledge of his will be necessary to obedience, I know not how he that with- holds this knowledge, or delays it, can be said to love his neighbour as himself. He that voluntarily continues ignorance is guilty of all the crimes which igno- rance produces ; as to him that should extinguish the tapers of a light-house, might justly be imputed the calamities of shipwrecks. Christianity is the high- est perfection of humanity ; and as no man is g09d but as he wishes the good of others, no man can be good in the highest degree, who wishes not to others the largest measures of the greatest good. To omit for a year, or for a day, the most efficacious method of advancing Christianity, in compliance with any pur- poses that terminate on this side of the grave, is a crime of which I know not that the world has yet had an example, except in the practice of the planters of America, — a race of mortals whom, I suppose, no other man wishes to resemble, " The Papists have, indeed, denied to the laity the use of the Bible ; but this prohibition, in few places now very rigorously enforced, is defended by arguments, which have for their foinidation the care of souls. To obscure, upon motives merely political, the light of revelation, is a practice reserved for the reformed ; and, surely, the blackest midnight of popery is meridian 'sun- Bhinc to such a reformation. I am not very willing that any language should be totally extinguished. The similitude and derivation of languages afford the most indubitable proof of the traduction of nations, and tlie genealogy of mankind. They add often physical certainty to historical evidence ; and often supply the only evidence of ancient migrations, and of the revolutions of agea which left no written monuments behind them. " Every man's opinions, at least his desires, are a little influenced by his favourite studies. My zeal for languages may seem, perhaps, rather over- heated, even to those by whom I desire to be well esteemed. To those who have nothing in their thoughts but trade or policy, present power, or present money, I should not think it necessary to defend my opinions ; but with men •'f letters I would not unwillingly compound, by wishing the continuance of every language, however narrow in its extent, or however incommodious foi common purposes, till it is reposited in some version of a known book, that it <20 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ^^67 may be always hereafter examined and compared with other languages, and then permitting its disuse. For this purpose, the translation of the Bible is most to be desired. It is not certain that the same method will not preserve the Highland language, for the purposes of learning, and abolish it from daily use. When the Highlanders read the Bible, they will naturally wish to have its obscurities cleared, and to know the history, collateral or appendant. Knowledge always desires increase ; it is like fire, which must first be kindled by some external agent, but which will afterwards propagate itself. When they once desire to learn, they will naturally have recourse to the nearest lan- guage by which that desire can be gratified ; and one will tell another, that if he would attain knowledge, he must leara English. " This speculation may, perhaps, be thought more subtle than the grossnesa of real life will easily admit. Let it, however, be remembered, that the effi- cacy of ignorance has long been tried, and has not produced the consequence expected. Let knowledge, therefore, take its turn ; and let the patrons of privation stand awhile aside, and admit the operation of positive principles. " You will be pleased. Sir, to assure the worthy man who is employed in the new translation,' that he has my wishes for his success; and if here or at Ox- ford I can be of any use, that I shall think it more than honour to promote his undertaking. " I am sorry that I delayed so long to write. I am. Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." The opponents of this pious scheme being made ashamed of their "onduct, the benevolent undertaking was allowed to go on. The following letters, though not written till the year after, being chiefly upon the same subject, are here inserted. Lettkr 103. TO MR. WILLIAM DRUMMOND. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, AprU 21, TioT. "Dear Sir, — That my letter should have had such effects as you mention, gives me great pleasure. I hope you do not flatter me by imputing to me more good than I have really done. Those whom my arguments have per- ' The Rev. Mr. John Campbell, minister of the parish of Kippen, near Stirling, who has lately favoured me with a long, intelligent, and very obliging letter upon this work, makes the following remark : — " Dr. Johnson has alluded to the worthy man employed in the translation of the New Testament. Might not this have afforded you an opportunity of paying a proper tribute of respect to the memory of the Rev. Mr. James Stuart, late minister of Killin, distin- gviished by his eminent piety, learning, and taste ? The amiable simplicity of his Hfa, hla warm benevolence, his indefatigable and successful exertions for civilising and improving the parish of which he was minister for upwards of fifty years, entitle him to the gratitude of his country, and the veneration of all good men. It certa n\y would be a pity, if s» ch a Siarao- tor should be permitted to sink Jiito oblivion." '*'''-^T- ^^- CASE OF MRS. HEELY. • i2\ eu.ided to cliange tbcir opinion, shew such modesty and candour as deserve great praise. " I hope the worthy translator goes diUgently forward. He has a higher reward in prospect than any honours this world can bestow. I wish I could be useful to hhn. " The publication of my letter, if it could be of use in a cause to which all other causes are nothing, I should not prohibit. But first, I would have you to consider whether the publication will really do any good ; next, whether by Drinting and distributing%very small number, you may not attain all that you propose ; and, what perhaps I should have said first, whether the letter which I do not now perfectly remember, be fit to be printed. If you can consult Dr. Robertson, to whom I am little known, I shall be satisfied acout the propriety of whatever he shall direct. If he thinks that it should be printed, I entreat him to revise it ; there may, perhaps, be some negligent lines written, and whatever is amiss, he knows very well how to rectify.' Be pleased to let me know, from time to time, how this excellent design goes forward. " Make my compliments to young Mr. Drummoad, whom I hope you will live to see such as you desire him. I have not lately seen Mr. Elphinston, but believe him to be prosperous. I shall be glad to hear the same of you, for I am Sir, your affectionate humble servant, " Sam. Jouxson." Letter 104. TO THE SAME. " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, Oct. 24, 1767. " Sir, — I returned this week from the country, after an absence of near six mouths, and found your letter with many other.s, which I should have answered sooner, if I had sooner seen them. " Dr. Robertson's opinion was surely right. Men should not be told of the faults which they have mended. I am glad the old language is taught, and honour the translator, as a man whom God has distinguished by the high office of propagating his word. " I must take the liberty of engaging you in an office of charity. Mrs. Heely, the wife of Mr. Heely, who had lately some office in your theatre, is my near re- lation, and now in great distress. They wrote me word of their situation some time ago, to which I returned them an answer which raised hopes of more than it is proper for me to give them. Their representation of their affairs I have discovered to be such as cannot be trusted ; and at this distance, though their case requires haste, I know not how to act. She, or her daughters, may be heard of at Canongate-head. I must beg, Sir, that you will inquire after them, and let me know what is to be done. I am willing to go to ten pounds, 1 This par.igraph shows Johnson's real estimation of the character and abilities of the ceie- orated Scottish Uislorian, however lightly, in a moment of caprice, he may have spolven of hi» «orkd. — B. 422 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^^^ and will transmit you such a sum, if upon examination you find it likely to be of use. If tliey are in immediate want, advance them what you think proper What I could do I would do for the woman, having no great reason to pay much regard to Heely himself.' " I believe you may receive some intelligence from Mrs. Baker of the theatre, whose letter I received at the same time with yours ; and to whom, if you see her, you will make my excuse for the seeming neglect of answering her. " Whatever you advance within ten pounds shall be immediately returned to you, or paid as you shall order. I trust wholl)#b your judgment. I am, Sir, &c., " Sam. Johnson." Mr. Cuthbert Shaw, alike distinguished by his geuius, misfor- tunes, and misconduct, published this year a poem, called " The Kace, by Mercurius Spur, Esq." in which he whimsically made the living poets of England contend for pre-eminence of fame by run- ning : " Prove by their heels the prowess of the head." In this poem there was the following portrait of Johnson : " Here Johnson comes, — unblest with outward grace, His rigid morals stamp'd upon his face ; While strong* conceptions struggle in his brain ; (For even wit is brought to bed with pain:) To view him, porters with their loads would rest, And babes cling frighted the nurses' breast. With looks convulsed he roars in pompous strain, And, like an angry lion, shakes his mane. Tlie Nine, with terror struck, who ne'er had seeu Aught human with so terrible a mien, Debating whether they should stay or run. Virtue steps forth, and claims him for her son. With gentle speech she warms him now to yield, Nor stain his glories in the doubtful field ; But wrapt in conscious worth, content sit down, 1 This is the person concerning whom Sir John Hawkins has thrown out very unwarraDlabn reflections both against Dr. Johnson and Mr. Francis Barber. — B. Hawkins wished to persuade the world that Dr. Johnson acted unjustifiably in preferring (in the disposal of his property) Barber to this man, whom Sir John and his daughter, in her Memoirs, call Johnson's rehition, but who, in fact, had only married his relation. She vas dead, and Heely had mariied another woman, at the ti~'e when Hawkins allotted to think that lie had claims to be Dr. Johnson's heir. — C. '*!"'■. 69 HON. T. HERTfiY. 423 Since Fame, resolved his various pleas to crown, Though forced his present claim to disavow, Had long reserved a chaplet for his brow. He bows, obeys ; for time shall first exprro, Ere Johnson stay, when Virtue bids retire." Tin^ Eon. Thomas Hervey ' and his lady having unhappily dis agreed and being about to sepai'ate, Johnson interfered as their ?riend, and wrote him a letter of expostulation, which I have not heen a' tie to find ; but the substance of it is ascertained by a letter to Job ison in answer to it, which Mr. Hervey printed. The occa- sion of this correspondence between Dr. Johnson and Mr. Hervey, was tl us related to me by Mr. Beauclerk. " Tom Hervey had a great "^kiug for Johnson, and in his will had left him a legacy of fifty p )unds. One day he said to me, ' Johnson may want this money now, more than afterwards. I have a mind to give it him directl '. Will you be so good as to carry a fifty pound note from me to him V This I positively refused to do, as he might, perhaps, have knocked me down for insulting him, and have afterwards put the note in his pocket. But I said, if Hervey would write him a letter, and enclose a fifty pound note, I should take care to deliver it. He ac- cordingly did write him a letter, mentioning that he was only paying a legacy a little sooner. To his letter he added, ' P.S. I am going to part with my wife.' Johnson then wrote to him, saying nothing of the note, but remonstrating with him against parting with hia wife." When I mentioned to Johnson this story, in as delicate terms aa I could, he told me that the fifty pound note was given to him by Mr. Hervey in consideration of his having written for him a pamph- let against Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, who, Mr. Hervey ima- gined, was the author of an attack upon him ; but it was afterwards discovered to be the work of a garreteer, who wrote " The Fool :" the pamphlet therefore against Sir Charles was not printed. In February, ll6t, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of Johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusi- ^ The Hon. Thomas Hervey, whose "Letter to Sir Thomas Hanmer" in 1742, was much read at that time. He was second son of John, first Earl of Bristol, and one of the brothers of Johnson's early fiiend, Henry Hervey. He [was born in 169S,] married, in 1741, Anoej iaugnter of Francis Coughlan, Esq , and died Jan. 20, 1775. — M. 424 LIFE OP JOHNSOll. 1^*^- asm, and which he loved to relate with all its circuliistances, whec requested by his friends. This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his Majesty, in the library at the Queen's house. He had frequently visited those splendid rooms and noble collection of books,' which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place ; so that • he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours. His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to the library. Accordingly, the next time that Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment where the King was, and in obedience to his Majesty's commands, mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the library. His Majesty said he was at leisure, and would go to him ; upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the candles that stood on the King's table, and lighted his Majesty through a suit of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his Ma- jesty had the key. Being entered, Mr. Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whis- pered him, " Sir, here is the King." Johnson started up and stood still. His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy.* 1 l)r. Johnson had the honour of contributing his assistance towards the formation of thia library; for I have read a long letter from him to Mr. Barnard, giving the most masterly instructions on the subject. I wished much to have gratified my readers with the perusal of this letter, and have reason to think that his Majesty would have been graciously pleased to periait its publication ; but Mr. Barnard, to whom I applied, declined it " on his own account " — B. '■' The particulars of this conversation I have been at great pains to collect with the utmost authenticity, from Dr. Johnson's own detail to myself; from Mr. Langton, who was present when he gave an account of it to Dr. Joseph Warton, and several other friends at Sir Joshua Reynolds's ; from Mr. Barnard ; from the copy of a letter written by the late Mr. Strahan the printer, to Bishop Warburton ; and from a minute, the original of which is among the papers of the late Sir James Caldwell, and a copy of which was most obligingly obtained for me from his son Sir John Caldwell, by Sir Francis Lumm. To all these gentlemen I beg leave to make my grateful acknowledgments, and particularly to Sir Francis Lumm, who was pleased to tak* a great deal of trouble, and even had the minute laid before the King by Lord Caermartheu ^»AT. 68. INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE III. 425 His Majesty began by observing, that he understood he came Bometinres to the library ; and then mentioning his having heard that the Doctor had been lately at Oxford, asked him if he was mt fond of going thither. To which Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to Oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. The King then asked him what they were doing at Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time print- ing Polybius. He was then asked whether there were better libra- ries at Oxford or Cambridge. He answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger than any they had at Cambridge ; at the same time adding, " I hope, whether we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, we shall make as good use of them as they do." Being asked whether All-Souls or Christ-Church library was the largest, he answered, "All-Souls library is the largest we have, except the Bodleian." " Ay," said the King, " that is the public library." His Majesty inquired if he was then writing anything. He an- swered, he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge. The King, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours, then said, " I do not think you borrow much from anybody." Johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a writer. " I should have thought so too," said the King, " if you had not written so well." Johnson observed to me, upon this, that " No man could have paid a handsomer compliment ; ' and it was fit for a King to pay. lo was decisive." When asked by another friend, at Sir Joshua Rey. nolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he an- now Duke of Leeds, then one of his Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State, who announced to Sir Francis the royal pleasure concerning it by a letter, in these words: — "I have the king's commands to assure you, Sir, how sensible his Majesty is of your attention in commu- nicating the minute of the conversation previous to its publication. As there appears no objection to your complying with Mr. Boswetl's wishes on the subject, you are at full hberty to deliver it to that gentleman, to make such use of in his Life of Dr. Johnson, as he may think proper." .., 1 Johnson himself imitated it to Paoli (see post, Oct, 10, 17G9) ; and it is indeed become ob« of the common-places of compliment. — C. 4^6 LIFE OF JOHNSOJf 176T, Bwered, " No, Sir. Wlieu the King had said it, it was to bo so. It was not for rae to bandy civilities with my Sovereign." Perhaps no man who had spent his whole life in courts could have shown a more nice and dignified sense of true politeness, than Johnson did in this instance. His Majesty having observed to him that he supposed he must have read a great deal ; Johnson answered, that he thought more than he read ; that he had read a great deal in the early part of his life, but having fallen into ill health, he had not been able to read much, compared with others : for instance, he said he had not read much, compared with Dr. Warburton, Upon which the King said, that he heard Dr. Warburton was a man of such general knowledge, that you could scarce talk with him on any subject on which he was not qualified to speak ; and that his learning resembled Garrick's acting, in its universality.* His Majesty then tailed of the contro- versy between Warburton and Lowth, which he seemed to have read, and asked Johnson what he thought of it. Johnson answered, " Warburton has most general, most scholastic learning ; Lowth is the more correct scholar. I do not know which of them calls names best." The King was pleased to say he was of the same opinion ; adding, " You do not think then, Dr. Johnson, that there was much argument in the case." Johnson said, he did not think there was. " Why truly," said the King, " when once it comes to calling names, argument is pretty well at an end." His Majesty then asked him what he thought of Lord Lyttelton's history, which was then just published. Johnson said, he thought his style pretty good, but that he had blamed Henry the Second rather too much. " Why," said the King, " they seldom do these things by halves." — " No, Sir," answered Johnson " not to Kings." But fearing to be misunderstood, he proceeded to explain himself ; and immediately subjoined, " That for those who spoke worse of Kings than they deserved, he could find no excuse ; but that he could more easily conceive how some might speak better of them than they deserved, without any ill intention ; for, as Kings had - The Rev Mr. Strahan clearly recollects having been told by Johnson, that the King observed that Pope made Warburton a bishop. "True, Sir," said Johnson, " out War>)iuton did more for Pope ; he made him a Christian :" alluding, no doubt, to his ingemous comments pn the " Essay on Man." — B. *^*'' ^' INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE III. 427 mncli in tlieir power to give, those who were favourea by tliem would frequently, from gratitude, exaggerate their praises : and as this proceeded from a good motive, it was certainly excusable, as far as error could be excusable." The King then asked him what he thought of Dr. Hill. John- son answered, that he was an ingenious man, but had no veracity ; and immediately mentioned, as an instance of it, an assertion of that writer, that he had seen objects magnified to a much greater degree by using three or four microscopes at a time than by using one. " Now," added Johnson, " every one acquainted with micro- scopes knows, that the more of them he looks through, the less the object will appear." — " Why," replied the King, " this is not only telling an untruth, but telling it clumsily ; for, if that be the case, every one who can look through a microscope will be able to detect him,"' " I now," said Johnson to his friends, when relating what had passed, " began to consider that I was depreciating this man in the estimation of his Sovereign, and thought that it was time for me to say something that might be more favourable." He added, therefore, that Dr. Hill was, notwithstamling, a very curious observer ; and if he would have been contented to tell the world no more than he knew, he might have been a very considerable man, and needed not to have recourse to such mean expedients to raise his reputation. The King then talked of literary journals, mentioned particularly the Journal des Savans, and asked Johnson if it was well done. Johnson said, it was formerly very well done, and gave some ac- count of the pel sons who began it, and carried it on for some years : enlarging, at the same time, on the nature and use of such works. The King asked him if it was well done now. Johnson answered, he had no reason to think that it was.'' The King then ' Hill does «o- Ing of aU his works, " The Lives of the Poets." — C, ^'''*-'^ ^^- INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE III. 429 made it my business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his Sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be iu a passion ." Here some question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of advantage, from being in a situation, where the powers of the mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion, and tempered by reverential awe. During all the time in which Dr. Johnson was emj^loyed in relat- ing to the circle at Sir Joshua Reynold's the particulars of what passed between the King and him, Dr. Goldsmith remained un- moved upon a sofa at some distance, affecting not to join in the least in the eager curiosity of the company. He assigned as a reason for his gloom and seeming inattention, that he apprehended Johnson had relinquished his purpose of furnishing him with a Pro- logue to his play, with the hopes of which he had been flattered ; but it was strongly suspected that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular honour Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed. At length, the frankness and simplicity of his natural character pre- vailed. He sprung from the sofa, advanced to Johnson, and in a kind of flutter, from imagining himself in the situation which he had just heard described, exclaimed, " Well, you acquitted yourself in this conversation better than I should have done ; for I should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it." ' I received no letter from Johnson this year; nor have I discovered any of the correspondence * he had, except the two letters to Mr. Drummond, which have been inserted, for the sake of connection ' It is singular that Johnson should have been in the presence of Queen Anne and of George the Fourth. George the First he probably never saw, but George the Second he must fre- quently have seen, and he once told Sir John Hawkins, that, in a visit to Sirs. Percy, who had the care of one of the young princes, at the Queen's house, the Prince of Wales, being then a child, came into the room, and began to play about; when Johnson, with his usual curiosity, took an opportunity of asking him what books he was reading, and, in particular, inquired as to his knowledge of the Scriptures; the Prince, in his answers, gave him gieat satisfaction, and, as to the last, said, that part of his daily exercises was to read Ostervald — no doubt the popular Catechism and " Abridgment of Sacred History " of J. F. Ostervald, an eminent Swiss divine, who died in 1747, in the S4th year of his age. — C. ^ It is proper here to mention, that when I speak of his correspondence, I consider it inde- pendent of the voluminous collection of letters which, in the course of many years, he wrote to Mrs. Thrale, — which forms a separate part of his works ; and, as a proof of the high estima !lon set on anything which came from his pen, was sold by that lady for the sum of five huo ired pounds. 4 So tlFE OF JOHNSON. ^^6^. with that to the same geutleman in lt66. His diary affords no light as to his employment at this time. He passed three months at Lichfield : ' and I cannot omit an affecting and solemn scene there, as related by himself : — "Sunday Oct. 18, 1*767. Yesterday, Oct. 17, at about ten in the morning, I took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, Catherine Chambers, who came to live with my mother about 1724, and has been but little parted from U8 S'nce. She buried my father, my brother, and my mother. She is now fifty- eight years old. " I desired all to withdraw, thon told her that we were to part for ever; that as Christians, we should part with prayer ; and that I would, if she was willing, say a short prayer beside her. She expressed great desire to hear me ; and held up her poor hands, as she lay in bed, with great fervour, while I prayed, kneeling by her, nearly in the following words : — "Almighty and most merciful Father, whose loving kindness is over all thy works, behold, visit, and relieve tliis thy servant, who is grieved with sickness. Grant that the sense of her weakness may add strength to her faith, and seri- ousness to her repentance. And grant that by the help of thy Holy Spirit, after the pains and labours of this short life, we may all obtain everlasting happiness, through Jesus Cuuist our Lord, for whose sake hear our prayers.'' Amen. Our Father, &c. " I then kissed her. She told me, that to part was the greatest pain that she had ever felt, and that she hoped we should meet again in a better place. I expressed, with swelled eyes, and great emotion of tenderness, the same hopes. We kissed, and parted. I humbly hope to meet again, and to part no more." ^ By those who have been taught to look upon Johnson as a man of liarsh and stern character, let this tender and affectionate scene be candidly read ; and let them then judge whether more warmth of heart, and grateful kindness, is often found in human nature. Lettkr 105. TO MRS. THRALE. " Lichfield, July 20, 1767. " Though I have been away So much longer than I purposed or expected, I have found nothing that withdraws my affections from the friends whom I left 1 In his letter to Mr. Drummond, dated Oct. 24, 1767, he mentions that he had ai-rived in London, after an absence of nearly six months in the country. Probably part of that time was spent at Oxford. — M. ^ The greater pai't of this prayer is in the Visitation of the Sick, in our Liturgy—. Elrington. ^ Catherine Chambers died in a few days after this interview, and was buried in St. Chads Lichfield, on the 7th of Nov. 1767.— Harwood. •*"''• f'S- LEXiniANES. 431 behind, or which makes me less desirous of reposing at thai pLice which youi' Kindness and Mr. Thrale's allows me to call my home. "Miss Lucy is more kind and civil than I expected, and has raised my esteem by many excellencies very noble and resplendent, though a little dis- coloured by hoary virginity. Everything else recalls to my remembrance years in which I proposed what, I am afraid I have not done, and promised plea- sure which I have not found." We bavc the following notice in his devotional record : " August 2, 176*7. I have been distui-bed and unsettled for a long time, and have been without resolution to apply to study or to business, being hindered by sudden snatches. " I have for some days forborne wine and suppers. Abstinence is not easily practised in another's house ; but I think it fit to try. " I was extremely perturbed in the night, but have had this day move ease than I expected. D[co] gr[atia]. Perhaps this may be such a sudden relief as I once had by a good night's rest in Fetter Lane. " From that time, by abstinence, I have had more ease. I have read five books of Homer, and hope to end the sixth to-night. I have given Mrs. a guinea. " By abstinence from wine and suppers, I obtained sudden and great relief, and had freedom of mind restored to me ; which I have wanted for all this year, without being able to find my means of obtaining it." He, liovvever, furnished Mr. Adams with a Dedication* to the King of that ingenious gentleman's " Treatise on the Globes," con- ceived and expressed in such a manner as could not fail to be very grateful to a monarch, distinguished for his love of the sciences. This year was published a ridicule of his style, under the title of " Lexiphanes." Sir John Hawkins ascribes it to Dr. Kenrick ; but its author was one Campbell, a Scotch purser in the navy. The ridicule consisted in applying Johnson's " words of large meaning,'' to insignificant matters, as if one should put the armour of Goliath upon a dwarf. The contrast might be laughable ; but the dignity of the armour must remain the same in all considerate minds. This malicious drollery,' therefore, it may easily be supposed, couid do no harm to its illustrious object. I This effusion of sportive malignity was the production of Archibald Campbell, the son of Professor Archibald Campbell, of St. Andrew's. He was also author of " The Sale uf Autliors" ft Dialogue, in Imitation of Lucian.": — Anderson. J 32 LIFE OF JOUNSON. ^'^^' Lkttse 106 TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. At Mr. RothwcWs, Perfumer, in New Bond Street. " Lichfield, Oct. 10, 1767. " Dear Sir, — That you have been all summer in London is one more reason lor which I regret my long stay in the countrj-. I hope that you will not leave the town before my return. We have here only the chance of vacancies in the passing carriages, and I have bespoken one that may, if it happens, bring me to town on the fourteenth of this month ; but this is not certain. It will be a favour if you communicate this to Mrs. Williams : I long to see all my friends. I am, dear Sir, your most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Letter lOY. TO MRS. ASTON. " Nov. 17, 1767. " Madam, — If you impute it to disrespect or inattention, that I took no leaTC when I left Lichfield, you will do me great injustice. I know you too well not to value your friendship. " When I came to Oxford I inquired after the product of our walnut-tree, but it had, like other trees this year, but very few nuts, and for tho.se few I came too late. The tree, as I told you, madam, we cannot find to be more than thirty years old, and upon measuring it, I found it, at about one foot from the ground, seven feet in circumference, and at the height of about seven feet the circumference is five feet and a half; it would have been, I believe, still bigger, but that it has been lopped. The nuts are small, such as they call smgle nuts ; wjiether this nut is of quicker growth than better I have not yet inquired ; such as they are, I hope to send thera next year. "You know, dear madam, the liberty I took of hinting, that I did not think your present mode of life very pregnant with happiness. Keflection has not yet changed my opinion. Solitude excludes pleasure, and does not always secure peace Some communication of sentiments is commonly necessary to give vent to the imagination, and discharge the mind of its own flatulencies. Some lady surely might be found, in whose conversation you might delight, and in whose fidelity you might repose. The world, says Locke, has people of all sorts. You will forgive me this obtrusion of my opinion ; I am sure I wish you well. " Poor Kitty has done what we have all to do, and Lucy has the world to oegin anew : I hope she will find some way to more content than I left her ' possessing. " Be pleased to make my compliments to Mrs. Hinckley and Miss Turton. I am, Madam, your most obliged and most humble servant, " Sam Johnson.'* CHAPTER XXII. 1168. ftate of Johnson's Mind — Visit to Town-mailing — Prologue to Go Ismith's " Good-matureJ Man " — Boswell publishes his " Account of Corsica " — Practice of the Law — Novels anri Comedies— The Douglas Cause— Reading MSS.— St. Kilda— Oxford— Guthrie— Hunie^ Robertson — Future Life of Brutes— Scorpions — Maupertuis — Woodcocks — Swallows— BeU'K Travels— Chastity— Choice of a Wife— Baretti's Italy— Libeitj—Kcnrick— Thou-.son— Monsey — Swift — Lord Eglingtoune— Letter on the Formation of a Library — Boswell at the Stratford Jubilee — Johnson's Opinion of the " Account of Corsica." It appears from his notes of the state of his mind, that he suf- fered great perturbation and distraction in 1T68. "Town-mailing, in Kent, 18th Sept., 1*768, at night. — I have now begun the sixtieth year of my hfe. How the last year has past, I am unwilling to terrify myself with thinking. This day has been past in great perturba- tion : I was distracted at church in an uncommon degree, and my distress has had very little intermission. I have found myself somewhat relieved by read- ing, which I therefore intend to practise when I am able. This day it came into my mind to write the history of my melancholy. On this I purpose to deliberate ; I know not whether it may not too much disturb me." Nothing of his writings was given to the public this year, except the Prologue* to his friend Goldsmith's comedy of " The Good- natured Man." The first lines of this Prologue are strongly charac- teristical of the dismal gloom of his mind ; which in his case, as in the case of all who are distressed with the same malady of imagina- tion, transfers to others its own feelings. Who could suppose it was to introduce a comedy, when Mr. Bensley solemnly began, " Press'd with the load of life, the weary mind Surveys the general toil of human kind." But this dark ground might make Goldsmith's humour shine the more ' ' In this prologue, after the line — " And social sorrow loses half its pain," the follow^g couplet was inserted :^ VOL.1. 19 . ^ 431 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^"*- In the spring of this year, having published my "Account of Cor- sica, with the Journal of a Tour to that Island," I returned to Lon- don, very desirous to see Dr. Johnson, and hear him upon the subject I found he was at Oxford, with his friend Mr. Chambers, who was now Vinerian Professor, and lived in New-Inn Hall. Having had no letter from him since that in which he criticised the Latinity of ray Thesis, and having been told by somebody that he was offended at my having put into my book an extract of his letter to me at Paris, I was impatient to be with him, and therefore followed him to Oxford, where I was entertained by Mr. Chanibers, with a civility which I shall ever gratefully remember. I found that Dr. Johnson had sent a letter to me to Scotland, and that I had nothing to com- plain of but his being more indifferent to my anxiety than I wished him to be. Instead of giving, with the circumstances of time and place, such fragments of his conversation as I preserved during this visit to Oxford, I shall throw them together in continuation, I asked him whether, as a moralist, he did not think that the practice of the law, in some degree, hurt the nice feeling of honesty. Johnson. " Why no. Sir, if you act properly. You are not to de- ceive your clients with false representations of your opinions : you are not to tell lies to a Judge." Boswell. " But what do you think of supporting a cause which you know to, be bad ?" Johnson. " Sir, you do not know it to be good or bad till the Judge determines it. I have said that you are to state facts fairly ; so that your think- ing, or what you call knowing, a cause to be bad, must be from reasoning, must be from your supposing your arguments to be weak and inconclusive. But, Sir, that is not enough. An argument which does not convince yourself, may convince the Judge to whom you urge it ; and if it does convince him, why, then. Sir, you are wrong, and he is right. It is his business to judge ; and you ai'e not to be confident in your own opinion that a cause is bad, but to say " Amidst the toils of this returning year, WhensenaiorA and nobles learn to fear, Our little bard without complaint may share The bustling season's epidemic care." So the prologue appeared in the Puhlio Ad've?'iiser. Goldsmith probably thougnt that the fines printed in Italic characters might give offence, and therefore prevailed on Johnson to omit them. The epithet little, which perhaps the author thought might diminish his dignity, ws^ hIso changed to anxious. — M. ^''^'•'*- NOVELS AND COMEDlK«. 4.'l> all you can for your client, and then hear the Judge's opniion.^ BoswELL. " But, Sir, does not affecting a warmth when you have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion when you are in reality of another opinion, does not such dissimulation impair one's lionesty ? Is there not some danger that a lawyer may put on the (same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his friends ?'- Johnson. " Why no. Sir. Everybody knows you are paid for affecting warmth for your client; and it is, therefore, properly no dissimulation : the moment you come from the bar you resume your usual behaviour Sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the com- mon intercourse of society, than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his l\ands will continue to tumble upon his hands when he should walk on his feet.' Talking of some of the modern plays, he said, " False Delicacy,"* was totally void of character. He praised Goldsmith's " Good- natured Man ;" said it was the best comedy that had appeared since " The Provoked Husband," and that there had not been of late any Buch character exhibited on the stage as that of Croaker. I ob- served it was the Suspirius of his Rambler [No. 59]. He said, Goldsmith had owned he had borrowed it from thence. " Sir," con- tinued he, " there is all the difference in the world between charac- ters of nature and characters of manners ; and there is the difference between the characters of Fielding and those of Richardson. Cha- racters of manners are very entertaining ; l)ut they are to be understood by a more superficial observer than characters of nature, where a man must dive into the recesses of the human heart." It always appeared to me, .that he estimated the compositions of Richardson too highly, and that he had an unreasonable prejudice against Fielding.' In comparing those two writers, he used this expression ; " that there was as great a difference between them, as between a man who knew how a watch was made, and a man who ' See pofit, Aug. 15, 1773, where Johnson has supported the same argument. — J. Bos- WEI.L, jun. " By Hugh Kelly. He died, an. astat 38, Feb. 3, 1777. 3 How charming, how wholesome, Fielding is ! To take him up after Richardson, Is like snierging from a sick-room heated by stoves, into an open lawn, on a breezy day in May. — COLKUiDGE, Table Talk. 4:16 tJFE OF JOHNSOJ^. ^''^^ could tell the hour by lookiug on the dial-plate." This was a short and figurative state-of his distinction between drawing characters of nature and characters only of manners. But I cannot help being of opinion, that the neat watches of Fielding are as well constructed as the large clocks of Eichardson, and that his dial-plates are brighter. Fielding's characters, though they do not expand them- selves so widely in dissertation, are as just pictures of human nature, and I will venture to say, have more striking features, and nicer touclies of the pencil ; and though Johnson used to quote with ap- probation a saying of Richardson's, " that the virtues of Fielding's heroes were the vices of a truly good man," I will venture to add, that the moral tendency of Fielding's writings, though it does not encourage a strained and rarely possible virtue, is ever favourable to honour and honesty, and cherishes the benevolent and generous affections. He who is as good as Fielding would make him, is an amiable member of society, and may be led on by more regulated instructors, to a higher state of ethical perfection.' Johnson proceeded; "Even Sir Francis Wronghead * is a cha- racter of manners, though drawn with great humour." He then repeated, very happily, all Sir Francis's credulous account to Manly of his being with " the great man," and securing a place. I asked him, if "The Suspicious Husband"^ did not furnish a well-drawn character, that of Ranger. Johnson. " No, Sir ; Ranger is just a rake, a mere rake, and a lively young fellow, but no character." The great Douglas Cause was at this time a very general subject of discussion. I found he had not studied it with much attention,* but had only heard parts of it occasionally. He, however, talked ' Johnson was inclined, as being personally acquainted with Richardson, to favour the opi- nion of his admirers that he was acquainted with the inmost recesses of the human heart, and bad an absolute command over the passions ; but he seemed not firm in it, and could at any- time be tallied into a disai)probation of all fictitious relations, of which he would frequently say, they took no hold of the mind. — Hawkins. 2 In the comedy of The Provol^ed Husband, begun by Sir John Vanbrugh and finished by CoUey Gibber. •* By Dr. Benjamin Hoadly. Garrick's inimitable performance of Ranger was the main sup- port of the piece during its first run. George II. was so well pleased with this comedy, that he Bent the author one hundred pounds. 4 Boswell, who was counsel on the side of Mr. Dougrlas, had published, in ITCG, a pamphlet entitled the " Essence of the Douglas Cause," but which, It will be seen, post, April S7, 1773, ho could not induce .lohnson over to read. ■*TAT. 69. READING M33. 431 of it, aud said, " I am of opinion that positive proof of fraud should not be required of tlie plaintiff, but that the Judges should decide according as probability shall appear to preponderate, granting to the defendant the presumption of filiation to be strong in his favour. And I think too, that a good deal of weight should be allowed to the dying declarations, becau^ they were spontaneous. There is a great difference between what is said without our being urged to it, and what is said from a kind of compulsion. If I praise a man's book without being asked my opinion of it, that is honest praise, to which one may trust. But if an author asks me if I like his book, and I give him something like praise, it must not be taken as my real opinion." " I have not been troubled for a long time with authors desiring my opinion of their works. I used once to be sadly plagued with a man who wrote verses, but who literally had no other notion of a verse, but that it consisted of ten syllables. Lay your knife and your fork across your plate, was to him a verse : " Lay your knife and your fork across your plate." As he wrote a great number of verses, ne sometimes by chance made good ones, though he did not know it.* He renewed his promise of coming to Scotland, and going with me to the Hebrides, but said he would now content himself with see- ing one or two of the most curious of them. He said, " Macaulay, who writes the account of St. Kilda, set out w^ith a prejudice against prejudice, and wanted to be a smart modern thinker ; a: id yet he affirms for a truth, that when a ship arrives there all the inhabitants are seized with a cold." ' Dr. Johnson did not like that his friends should bring their manuscripts for him to read, and he liked still less to read them when they were brought : sometimes, however, when he could not refuse, he would take the play or poem, or whatever it was, and give the people his opinion from some one page that he had peeped into. A gentleman carried him his tra- gedy, which, because he loved the author, Johnson took, and it lay about our rooms at Streatham some time. " What answer did you give your friend, Sir ?" asked I, after the book had been called for. " I told him," replied he, " that there was too much Tiff and Tirry in it." Seeing me laugh most violently, "Why, what wouldst have, child?" said he; "I looked at nothing but the dramatis, and there was Tigranes and Tirid&tes, or Teribazus, or uch stuff. A man can tell but what he knows, and I never got any farther than the first page." — Piozzi. i'^'i LIFE OF JOHNSON. . I7«i Dr. Jolin Campbell, the celebrated writer, took a great deal of pains to ascertain this fact, and attempted to account for it on phy- sical principles, from the effect of efiduvia from human bodies. John- son, at another time [March 21, 1172], praised Macaulay for his " magnanimity,^' in asserting this wonderful story, because it wan well attested. A lady of Norfolk, by a* letter [Oct. 2, 1713] to my friend Dr. Burncy, has favoured me with the following solution : — " Now for the explication of this seeming mystery, which is so very obvious as, for that reason, to have escaped the penetration of Dr. Johnson and his friend, as well as that oT the author. Heading the book with my ingenious friend, the late Rev. Mr. Christian of Docking — after ruminating a little, ' The cause,' says he, ' is a natural one. The situation of St. Kilda renders a north- east wind indispensably necessary before a stranger can land. The wind, not the stranger, occasions an epidemic cold.' If I am not mistaken, llr. Macaulay 18 dead ; if living, this solution might please him, as I hope it will Mr. Boswell, in return for the many agreeable hours his works have afforded us." Johnson expatiated on the advantages of Oxford for learning. •' There is here, Sir," said he, " such a progressive emulation. The students are anxious to appear well to their tutors ; the tutors are anxious to have their pupils appear well in the college ; the colleges • are anxious to have their students appear well in the university; and there are excellent rules of discipline in every college. That the rules are sometimes ill observed may be true, but is nothing against the system. The members of an university may, for a season, be unmindful of their duty. I am arguing for the excellency of the institution." Of Guthrie, he said, " Sir, he is a man of parts. He has no great regular fund of knowledge ; but by reading so long, and writing so long, he no doubt has picked up a good deal." He said he had lately been a long while at Lichfield, but had grown very weary before he left it. Boswell. " I wonder at that, Sir ; it is your native place." Johnson. " Why so is Scotland your native place," His prejudice against Scotland appeared remarkably strong at this time.* When I talked of our advancement in literature, " Sir," * Johnson's invectives against Scotland, in common conversation, were more in pleasantrj •ad Bport than real and malignant; for no man was more visited by natives of that couctty ■ *TAi rfi. HUME ROBERTSON'. 439 Baid he, "you have learnt a little from us, and you think yourselves very great men. Ilume would never have written history, had not Voltaire written it before him. lie is an echo of Voltaire." Bos- well. " But, Sir, we have lord Kamcs." Johxson. " You have lord Karnes. Keep him ; ha, ha, ha ! We don't envy you him. Do you ever see Dr. Kobertson ?" Boswell. " Yes, Sir." John- son. " Does the dog talk of me !" Boswell. " Indeed, Sir, he does, and loves you." Thinking that I now had him in a corner, and being solicitous for the literary fame of my country, I pressed him for his opinion on the merit of Dr. Robertson's History of Scotland, liut, to my surprise, he escaped. " Sir, I love Robertson, and I won't talk of his book." It is but justice both to him and Dr. Robertson to add, that though he indulged himself in this sally of wit, he had too good taste not to be fully sensible of the merits of that admirable work. An essay, written by Mr. Dean, a divine of the Church of Eng- land, maintaining the future life of brutes,' by an explication of certain parts of the Scriptures, was mentioned, and the doctrine insisted on by a gentleman who seemed fond of curious speculation ; Johnson, who did not like to hear of anything concerning a future state which was not authorised by the regular canons of orthodoxy, discouraged this talk ; and being offended at its continuation, he watched an opportunity to give the gentleman a blow of reprehen- sion. So, when the poor speculatist, with a serious metaphysical pen- sive face, addressed him, "But really. Sir, when we see a very sen- sible dog, we don't know what to think of him ;" Johnson, rolling with joy at the thought which beamed in his eye, turned quickly round, and replied, " True, Sir : and when we see a very foolish fellow, we don't know what to think of him." He then rose up, fitrided to the fire, and stood for some time laughing and exulting. I told him that I had several times, when in Italy, seen the expe- riment of placing a scorpion within a circle of burning coals ; that it ran round and round in extreme pain ; and finding no way to or were tliere any for whom he had a greater esteem It was to Dr. Grainger, a ScotUst physician, that I owed my first acquaintance with Johnson, in 1756. — Percy. I '• An Essay on tlie Future Life of Brute Creatures, by Richard Dean, curate of Middle- ton." This work is reviewed in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1T63, p. 177, in a stj-le very like Johnson's ; and a story of " a very seopible dog " is noticed with ceasure, — Ct 440 LIFE OF JOHNSON, * lT«k escape, retired to the centre, and, like a rue Stoic philosopher, darted its sting into its head, and thus at once freed itself from its woes. " This must end ^tmP I said, this was a curious fact, as it showed deliberate suicide in a reptile. Johnson would not admit the fact. He said, Maupertuis' was of opinion that it does not kill itself, but dies of the heat; that it gels to the centre of the circle, as the coolest place ; that its turning its tail in upon his head is merely a convulsion, and that it does not sting itself. He said he would be satisfied if the great anatomist Morgagni, after dissecting a scorpion on which the experiment had been tried, should certify that its sting had penetrated into its head. He seemed pleased to ialk of natural philosophy. " That wood- cocks," said he, "fly over the northern countries is proved, because they have been observed at sea. Swallows certainly sleep all the winter. A number of them conglobulate together, by flying round and round, and then all in a heap throw themselves under water, and lie in the bed of a river." ' He told us, one of his first essays was a Latin poem upon the glow-worm ; I am sorry I did not ask where it was to be found. Talking of the Russians and the Chinese, he advised me to read Bell's Travels. I asked him whether I should read Du Halde's Account of China. " Why yes," said he, " as one reads such a book ; that is to say, consult it." He talked of the heinousness of the crime of adultery, by which the peace of families was destroyed. He said, " Confusion of progeny con- stitutes the essence of the crime ; and therefore a woman who breaks her marriage vows is much more criminal than a man who does it. 1 I should think it impossible not to wonder at the variety of Johnson's reading, howevei desultory it might have been. Who could have imagined that the High Church of England- man would be so prompt in quoting Maupertuis, who, I am sorry to think, stands in the list of those unfortunate mistaken men, who call themselves esp fits /oris. I have, however, a liigh respect for that philosopher whom the great Frederic of Prussia loved and honoured, aal addressed pathetically in one of his poems, " Maupertuis, cher Maupertuis, Que noire vie estpeu de chose." There was in Maupertuis a vigour and yet a tenderness of sentiment, united with strong Intellectual powers, and uncommon ardour of soul. Would he had been a Christian ! I can- not help earnestly venturing to hope that he is one now. — B. Maupertuis died in ' 759 at the age of 62, in the arms of the Bernoullis, tres Chretieivnement. — Bukney. i TWs story has been entirely exploded, , «TiT.6t. CHASTITY. **l A man, to be sure, is criminal in the sight of God ; but he does not do his wife a very material injury, if he does not insult her ; if, for instance, from mere wantonness of appetite, he steals privately to her chambermaid. Sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. I would not receive home a daughter who had run away from hei* husband on that account. A wife should study to reclaim her hus- band by more attention to please him. Sir, a man will not, once in a hundred instances, leave his wife and go to a harlot, if his wife has not been negligent of pleasing." Here he discovered that acute discrimination, that solid judgment, and that knowledge of human nature, for which he was upon all occasions remarkable. Taking care to keep in view the moral and religious duty, as understood in our nation, he showed clearly, from reason and good sense, the greater degree of culpability in the one sex deviating from it than the other ; and, at the same time, incul- cated a very useful lesson as to the way to keep him. I asked him if it w\as not hard that one deviation from chastity should so absolutely ruin a young woman. Johnson. " Why no, 3ir ; it is the great principle w^hich she is taught. When she has ^iven up that principle, she has given up every notion of female \ionour and virtue, which are all included in chastity." A gentleman talked to him of a lady whom he greatly admired and wished to marry, but was afraid of her superiority ot" talents. " Sir," said he, " you need not be afraid ; marry her. Before a year goes about, you'll find that reason much weaker, and that wit not so bright." Yet the gentleman may be justified in his apprehension by one of Dr. Johnson's admirable sentences in his Life of Waller : " He doubtless praised many whom he would have been afraid to marry ; and, perhaps, married one whom he would have been ashamed to praise. Many qualities contribute to domestic happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow : and. many airs and sallies may delight imagination, which he who flatters them never can ap- prove." ' ' The general and constant advice he gave, when consulted about the choice of a wife, a orofession, or whatever influences a man's particular and immediate happiness, was always to reject no positive good from fears of its contrary consequences. " Do not," said he, " for- bear to marry a beautiful woman, if you can find such, out of a fancy that she will be less constant than an ugly one; or condemn yourself to the society of coarseness and vulgarity, 19* 442 LIFE OF JOHNSON. •-T68. He praised Signor Baretti. " His account of Italy is a very euter- taiuing- book ; and, Sir, I know no man who carries his head highei in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks ; but with wliat hooks he has, he "grapples very forcibly." At this time I observed upon the dial-plate of his watch a short Greek inscription, taken from the New Testament, Nf ^ yap epx^rai, being the first words of our Saviour's solemn admonition to the im- provement of that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity ; " the night cometh ' when no man can work." He some time after- wards laid aside this dial-plate ; and when I asked him the reason, he said, " It might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet ; but to have it upon his watch, which he carries about with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be censured as ostentatious." Mr. Steevens is now possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above. He remained at Oxford a considerable time. I was obliged to go to London, where I received this letter, which had been returned from Scotland. Letter 108. TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. " Oxford, March 23, 1T68. " My Dear Boswell, — I have omitted a long time to write to you, without knowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not write ; for who would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave?* Yet I write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that I shall be for fear of the expenses or other dangers of elegance and personal charms, which havo been always acknov/Iedged as a positive good, and for the want of which there should be always given some weighty compensation. I have, however," continued Mr. Johnson, " seen some prudent fellows who forbore to connect themselves with beauty lest coquetry should be near, and with wit or birth lest insolence should lurk behind them, till they have been forced by their discretion to linger life away in tasteless stupidity, and choose to count the moments by ••emembrance of pain instead of enjoyment of pleasure." But of tlie various states and con- Oltions of humanity, he despised none more than the man who marries for a maintenance : and of a friend who made his alliance on no higher principles, he said once, " Now has that fel- low " (it was a nobleman of whom they were speaking) " at length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will get his neck (failed for life with a collar." — Piozzi. ' Sir W^alter Scott put the same Greek words on a sun-dial in his garden at Abbotsfoid. — r. G. L. "^ Mr. Boswell, in his "Journal of a Tour in Corsica," had printed the second and third paragraphs of Johnson's letter to him of January 14, 1766, -*»-^'''-**. QUI ROGER. NEWDIGATE. 443 glad tt, see you, and that I wish you would empty your head of Corsica, wnich I think has filled it rather too long. But, at all events, I shall be glad, very glad, to see you. I am. Sir, yours affectionately, " Sam. Johnson." I answered thus : Letter 109. TO MR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. " London, April 26, 1768. " My Dear Sir, — I have received your last letter, which, though very short, and by no means coinpliuieiitary, yet gave me real pleasure, because it contains these words, ' I shall be glad, very glad, to see you.'— Surely you have no rea- son to complain of my publishing a single paragraph of one of your letters; the temptation to it was so strong. An irrevocable grant of your friendship, and your signifying my desire of visiting Corsica with the epithet of ' a wise and noble curiosity,' are to me more valuable than many of the grants of Vings. "But how can you bid me ' empty my head of Corsica?' My noble-minded 'riend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely struggling to be free ? Consider fairly what is the case. The Corsicans never received any kindness from the Genoese. They never agreed to be subject to them. They owe them nothing, and when reduced to an abject state, of slavery, by force, shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty, and break the galling yoke ? And shall not every liberal soul be warm for them ? Empty my head of Corsica ! Empty it of honour, empty it of humanity, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety. No! while I live, Corsica, and the cause of the brave islanders, shall ever employ much of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner. T am, &c. "James Boswell.*^ Letter 110. TO MRS. THRALE. " Oxford, March 24, 1768. " Our election was yesterday. Every possible influence of hope and fear was, I believe, enforced on this occasion ; the slaves of power, and the solicit- ors of favour, were driven hither from the remotest corners of the kingdom hut judex honestum jii'cetulit utili. The virtue of Oxford has once more pre- vailed. The death of Sir Walter Bagot, a little before the election, left them 10 great time to deliberate, and they therefore joined to Sir Roger Newdigate,' ilieir old representative, an Oxfordshire gentleman of no name, no great inter- i.st, nor perhaps any other merit, than that of being on the right side ; yet wheu ihe poll was. numbered, it produced — For Sir R. Newdigate, 352 ; Mr. Pago, 'JOG; Mr. Jenkinson, 19S; Dr. Hay, 62. Of this I am sure you must be glad; ' Sir Roger Newdigate died in 1806, in his eighty-seventh year, after having represented tin !'niversity of Oxford in five parliaments. 444 LIFE OF JOHNSON. ^^** ff r, without inquiring into tiie opinions or conduct of any party, it must be for ever pleasing to see men adhering to their principles against' their interest, especially when you consider that those voters are poor, and never can bfl much less poor by the favour of those whom they are now opposing." Lkttkr 111. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. " Oxford, April 18, 1768. " My Dear, Dear Lote, — You have had a very great loss.' To lose an old Iriend, is to be . cut off from a great part of the little pleasure that this life allows. But such is the condition of our nature, that as we live on we must see those whom we love drop successively, and find our circle of relations grow less and less, till we are almost unconnected with the world ; and then it must soon be our turn to drop into the grave. There is always this consolation, that we have one Protector who can never be lost but by our own fault, and every new experience of the uncertainty of all other comforts should determine us to fix our hearts where true joys are to be found. All union with the inha- bitants of earth must in time be broken ; and all the hopes that terminate here, must on [one] part or other end in disappointment. " I am glad that Mrs. Adey and Mrs. Cobb do not leave you alone. Pay my respects to them, and the Sewards, and all my friends. When Mr. Porter comes, he will direct you. Let me know of his arrival, and I will write to him. " When I go back to London, I will take care of your reading-glass. When- ever I can do anything for you, remember, my dear darling, that one of my greatest pleasures is to please you. "The punctuality of your correspondence I consider as a proof of great re gard. When we shall see each other, I know not, but let us often think on each other, and think with tenderness. Do not forget me in your prayers. I have for a long time back been very poorly ; but of what use is it to complain? Write often, for vour letters always give great pleasure to, my dear, your most affec- tionate, and most humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." Upon his arrival in London in May, he surprised me one morning with a visit at my lodging in Half-moon Street, v/as quite satisfied with ray explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. As he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published, I thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly whether it would be improper to publish his letters ' The death of her aut', Mrs. Hunter, widow of Johnson's schoolmaster. *^*' ^'- POPULAR LIHERTY. 448 after his death. His answer was, " Nay, Sir, wlieu I am dead, you may do as you will." lie talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty. " Tlicy make a rout about universnl liberty, without consi- dering that all that \9 to be valued, or indeed, con be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. Political liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know is a constant topic. Suppose you and I and two hundred more were restraiued from printing our thoughts : what then ? What proportion would that restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation ?" This mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint as light and insignilicant, was a kind of sophistry in which he delighted to indulge himself, in opposition to the extreme laxity for which it has been fashionable for too many to argue, when it is evident, upon reflection, that the very essence of govenunent is restraint ; and certain it is, that as govenunent produces rational hap[)iness, too much restraint is better than too little. But when restraint is unne- cessary, and so close as to gall those who are subject to it, the people may and ought to remonstrate ; and, if relief is not granted, to resist. Of this manly and spirited i)rineiple, no man was more convinced than Johnson himself. About this time, Dr. Kenrick attacked him, through my sides, in a pamphlet entitled, " An Epistle to James Boswell, Esq., occasioned by his having transmitted the moral Writings of Dr. Samuel John- son to Pascal Paoli, General of the Corsicans." I was at first inclined to answer this parai)hlet ; but Johnson, who knew that my doing so would only gratify Kenrick, by keeping alive what would soon die away of itself, would not suiier me to take any notice of it.' His sincere regard for Francis Barber, his faithful negro servant, ' Johnson's silence proceedeil not more from his couteuipt of sudi an adrcrsary, than from a BetUed resolution he bad formed, of declining all controversy in defence eitlierof himself or of his writin^ts. Against personal abuse he was ever armed, by a retleclion that I have hear«l him utter :-■" Alas ! reputation would be of little worth, were it iu the poi^er of every con- ceaUd enemy to deprive us of it ;" and he defied all attacks on his writings by an answer of Dr. Uentley to one who threatened to write him down, that " uo autlior was ever written down but by himself. "—Uawkins. 446 LIFE OF JOHNSON, ' l^*** made him so desirons of his further improvement, that he now placed him at a school at Bishop Stortford, in Hertfordshire. This humane attention does Johnson's heart much honour. Out of many letters which Mr. Barber received from his master, he has preserved three, which he kindly gave me, and which I shall insert according to their dates. Letter 112. TO MR. FRANCIS BARBER.' " May 28, 1768. " Dear Francis, — I have been very much out of order. I am glad to hear that you are well, and design to come soon to you. I would have you stay at Mrs. Clapp's for the present, till I can determine what we shall do. Be a good boy. My compliments to Mrs. Clapp and to Mr. Fowler. I am yours affec- tionately^ " Sam. Johnson." Soon afterwards, he supped at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in the Strand, with a company whom I collected to meet him. They were. Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, Mr. Langton, Dr. Robertson, the Historian, Dr. Hugh Blair, and Mr. Thomas Davies, who wished much to be introduced to these eminent Scotch literati ; but on the present occasion he had very Httle opportunity of hearing them talk ; for, with an excess of prudence, for which Johnson afterwards found fault with them, thev hardly opened their lips, and that only to say something which thej were certain would not expose them to the sword of Goliath ; such was their anxiety for their fame when in the presence of Johnson. He was this evening in remarkable vigour of mind, and eager to exert himself in conversation, which he did with great readiness and fluency ; but I am sorry to find that I have preserved but a small part of what passed. He allowed high praise to Thomson as a poet ; but when one of the company said he was also a very good man, our moralist con- tested this with great warmth, accusing him of gross sensuality and licentiousness of manners. I was very much afraid that, in writing Thomson's life, Dr. Johnson would have treated his private character 1 When Mrs. Williams and Francis quarrelled, as was very frequent, the lady would com- plain.to the doctor, adding, " This is your scholar, on whose education you have spent £.300." Dr. Johnson, in the conclusion of the letter, calls him a " ioy," but sixteen years had already »iapsed since h« entered Johnson's own service. — 0. ^^^■^- ^^- m. PERCY — SWIFT. 44t with a stf in severity, but I was agreeably disappointed ; and 1 may claim a li /tie merit in it, from my having been at pains to send him authentic accounts of the afifectionate and generous conduct of that poet to lis sisters, one of whom, the wife of Mr. Thomson, school- master rt Lanark, I knew, and was presented by her with three of bis lette :s, one of which Dr. Johnson has inserted in his hfe. He wis vehement against old Dr. Monsey,' of Chelsea College, as " a fell >w who swore and talked bawdy." " I have been often in his COB pany," said Dr. Percy, " and never heard him swear or talk bawdy. '' Mr. Davies, who sat next to Dr. Percy, having after this had soi-ae conversation aside with him, made a discovery, which, in his zef.l to pay court to Dr. Johnson, he eagerly proclaimed aloud from t^e foot of the table : " Oh, Sir, I have found out a very good reaso-A why Dr. Percy never heard Mousey swear or talk bawdy ; for ho tells me he never saw him but at the Duke of Northumber- land's table." " And so, Sir," said Dr. Johnson loudly to Dr. Percy, " you would shield this man from the charge of swearing and talk- ing bawdy, because he did not do so at the Duke of Northumber- land's table. Sir, you might as well tell us that you had seen him hold up his hand at the Old Bailey, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy ; or that you had seen him in the cart at Tyburn, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy. And is it thus. Sir, that you p'e- sume to controvQ^'t what I have related ?" Dr. Johnson's animad- version was uttered in such a manner, that Dr. Percy seemed to be displeased, .and soon afterwards left the company, of which Johnson did not at that time take any notice. Swift having been mentioned, Johnson, as usual, treated him with little respect as an author. Some of us endeavoured to support the Dean of St. Patrick's by various arguments. One, in particular praised his " Conduct of the Allies." Johnson. " Sir, his ' Con duct of the Allies ' is a performance of very little ability." " Surely Sir," said Dr. Douglas, " you must allow it has strong facts." ' Messenger Monsey, M.D., was born at Norfolk, in 1G93, and died at Chelsea College, Dec. 86, 1788, at the great age of ninety-five. " My respectable friond, upon reading this passage, observed, that he probably must have said not simply " strong facts," but "strong facts well arranged." His Lordsliip, however, knows too well the value of written documents to insist on setting his recr llection against my Bot«8 t»ken at the time. He does not attempt to traverse the record. The fact, perhap«| 148 LIFE OF JOHNSON. '*•*• Johnson. " Why yes, Sir ; but what is that to the merit of the composition ? In the Sessions-paper of the Old Bailey there are strong facts. Housebreaking is a strong fact ; robbery I5 a strong fact ; and murder is a mighty strong fact : but is great praise due to the historian of those strong facts ? No, Sir, Swift has told what he had to tell distinctly enough, but that is all. He had to count ten, and he has counted it right." Then recollecting that Mr. Davies, by acting as an informer, had been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to his friend Dr. Percy, for which, probably, when the first ebullition was over, he felt some compunc- tion, he took an opportunity to give him a hit : so added, with a preparatory laugh, " Why, Sir, Tom Davies might have written ' The Conduct of the Allies.' " Poor Tom being thus suddenly dragged into ludicrous notice in presence of the Scottish doctors, to whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was grievously mortified. Nor did his punishment rest here ; for, upon subsequent occasions, whenever he, " statesman all over," ' assumed a strutting importance, I used to hail him — " the Author of the Conduct of the Allies." When I called upon Dr. Johnson next morning, I found him highly satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding evening. " Well," said he, " we had good talk." Boswell. " Yes, Sir ; you tossed and gored several persons." The late Alexander Earl of Eglingtoune,^ who loved wit more than wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admiration of Johnson ; but, from the remarkable elegance of his own manners, was, perhaps, too delicately sensible of the roughness which sometimes appeared in Johnson's behaviour. One evening about this time, when his lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr. Robertson and several other men of literary dis- tinction, he regretted that Johnson had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished society. " No, no, my may have been, either that the additional words escaped me in the noise of a numerous com- pany, or that Dr. Johnson, from his injpetuosity, and eagerness to seize an opportunity %» make a lively retort, did not allow Dr. Douglas to finish his sentence. ^ See the hard drawing of him in Churchill's " Eosciad." ^ Tenth earl, who was shot, in 17C9, by Mungo Campbell, whose fowling-piece Lord Kglin k.'Wne attempted to seize. ^.•JAT. 55. LETTER TO THE KINg's LIBRARIAN. 44d lord," said Signor Baretti, " do with liira what you would, he would always have been a bear." " True," answered the earl, with a smile, " but he would have been a dancing bear." To obviate all the reflections which have gone round the world to Johnson's prejudice, by applying to him the epithet of bear, let me impress upon my readers a just and happy saying of my friend Goldsmith, who knew him well : — " Johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner ; but no man alive has a more tender heart. He has nothing of the hear hut his sJdnJ' ' Letter 113. TO F. A. BARNARD, ESQ." "May 28, 1763, " Sir, — It is natural for a scholar to interest himself in an expedition, under- taken, like yours, for the importation of literature ; and therefore, though, having never travelled myself, I am very little qualified to give advice to a traveller ; yet, that I may not seem inattentive to a design so worthy of re- gard, I will try whether the present state of my health will suifer me to lay before you what observation or report have suggested to me, that may direct your inquiries, or facilitate your success. Things of which the mere rarity makes the value, and which are prized at a high rate by a wantonness rather than by use, are always passing from poorer to richer countries ; and there- fore, though Germany and Italy were principally productive of typographical curiosities, I do not much imagine that they are now to be found there in great abundance. An eagerness for scarce books and early editions, which prevailed among the English about half a century ago, filled our shops with all the splendour and nicety of literature; and when the Harleian Catalogue was published, many of the books were bought for the library of the King of France. "1 believe, however, that by the diligence with which you have enlarged the library under your care, the present stock is so nearly exhausted, that, till new purchases supply the booksellers with new stores, you will not be able to do much more than glean up single books, as accident shall produce them ; this, therefore, is the time for visiting the continent. "What addition you can hope to make by ransacking other countries we will now consider. English literature you will not seek in any place but in England. Classical learning is diffused everywhere, and is not, except by ac- cidenfr, more copious in one part of the polite world than in another. But every country has literature of its own, which may be best gathered in 1 It was droUy said, in reference to the pensions granted to Doctors Shebbeare and /otui< ion, that tlie King had pensioned a She-hear and a He-hear. * Mr., afterwards Sir Francis, Barnard was Librarian to King George III. 450 LIFE OV JOHNSOi?. ^^^ its native soil. The studies of tlie learned are influenced by forms of goveru- meiit and modes of religion ; and, therefore, those books are necessary and 3ommon.in some places, which, where different opinions or different manners prevail, are of little use, and for that reason rarely to be found. " Thus in Italy you may expect to meet with canonists and scholastic divines, in Germany with writers on the feudal laws, and in Holland with civilians. The schoolmen and canonists must not be neglected, for they are useful to many purposes ; nor too anxiously sought, for their influence among us is much lessened by the Reformation. Of the canonists at least a few emi- nent writers may be sufficient. The feudal and civil law I cannot but wish to see complete. The feudal constitution is the original of the law of property, over all the civilised part of Europe ; and the civil law, as it is generally un- derstood to include the law of nations, may be called with great propriety a regal study. Of these books, which have been often published, and diversi- fied by various modes of impression, a royal library should have at least the most curious edition, the most splendid and the most useful. The most curi- ous edition is commonly the first, and the most useful may be expected among the last. Thus, of Tully's Offices, the edition of Fust is the most curious, and that of GriBvius the most useful. The most splendid the eye will discern. With the old printers you are now bec;Ome well acquainted ; if you can find any collection of their production." to be sold, you will undoubtedly buy it ; but this can scarcely be hoped, and you must catch up single volumes where you can find them. In every place things often occur where they are least expected. I was shown a Welsh grammar written in Welsh, and printed at Milan, I believe, before any grammar of that language had been printed here. Of purchasing entire libraries, I know not whether the inconvenience may not overbalance the advantage. Of libraries connected with general views, one will have many books in common with another. When you have bought two collections, you will find that you have bought many books twice over, and many in each which you have left at home, and, therefore, did not want ; and when you have selected a small number, you will have the rest to sell at a great loss, or to transport hither at perhaps a greater. It will generally be more commodious to buy the few that you want, at a price somewhat ad- vanced, tlian to encumber yourself with useless books. But libraries collected for particular studies will be very valuable acquisitions. The collection of an eminent civilian, feudist, or mathematician, will perhaps have very few suner« fluities. Topography or local history prevails much in many parts of the con- tinent. I have been told that scarcely a village of Italy wants its historian. These books may be generally neglected, but some will deserve attention by the celebrity of the place, the eminence of the authors, or the beauty of the sculptures. Sculpture has always been more cultivated among other nations than among us. The old art of cutting on wood, which decorated the books of ancient impression, was never carried here to any excellence ; and the practice of engraving on copper, which succeeded, has never been much em- ^TAT. B9. LETTER TO THE KIXg's LIBRARIAN. 451 ployed among us in udorning books. The old books with wooden cuts are to be diligently sought ; the designs were often made by great masters, and the prints are such as cannot be made by any artist now living. It will be of great use to collect in every place maps of the adjacent country, and plans of towns, Duildings, and gardens. By this care you will form a more valuable body of geography than can otherwise be had. Many countries have been very ex- actly surveyed, but it must not be expected that the exactness of actual men- suration will be preserved, when the maps are reduced by a contracted scale, and incorporated into a general system. " The king of Sardinia's Italian dominions are not large, yet the maps made of them in the reign of Victor fill two Atlantic folios. This part of your design will deserve particular regard, because, in this, your success will always be proportioned to your diligence. You are too well acquainted with literary history not to knovf, that many books derive their value from the reputation of the printers. Of the celebrated printers you do not need to be informed, and if you did, might consult Baillet, Jugemens'des S9avans. The productions of Aldus are enumerated in the Bibliotheca Graeca, so that you may know when you have them all ; which is always of use, as it prevents needless search. The great ornaments of a library, furnished for magnificence as well as use, are the first editions, of which, therefore, I would not willingly neglect the mention. You know, sir, that the annals of typography begin with the Codex, 1467 ; but there is great reason toi)elieve, that there are latent, in obscure corners, books printed before it. The secular feast, in memory of the invention of printing, is celebrated in the fortieth year of the century ; if this tradition, therefore, is right, the art had in 1457 been already exercised nine- teen years. " There prevails among typographical antiquaries a vague opinion, that the Bible had been printed three times before the edition of 1462, which Calmet calls ' La premiere edition bicn averee.' One of these editions has been lately discovered in a convent, and transplanted into the French king's library. Another copy has likewise been found, but I know not whether of the same impression, or anotlier. These discoveries are sufficient to raise hope and instigate inquiry. In the purchase of old books, let me recommend to you to inquire with great caution, whether they are perfect. In the first edition the loss of a leaf is not easily observed. You remember how near we both were to purchasing a mutilated Missal at a high price. "All this, perliaps, you know already, and, therefore, my letter may be of no use. I am, however, desirous to show you, that I wish prosperity to youi undertaking. One advice more I will give, of more importance than all the rest, of which I, therefore, hope you will have still less need. You are going into a part of the world divided, as it is said, between bigotry and atheism : Buch representations are always hyperbolical, but there is certainly enough ot both to alarm any mind solicitous for piety and truth ; let not the contempi of superstition precipitate you into infidelity, or the horror of iufidehty eusua^e 452 LIFE OF JOHNSON. W'® you ia superstition. I sincerely wish you successful and happy, for I am, Sir, etc., "Sam. Johnson." Letter 114. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER. " June 18, 1768. " My Love, — It gives me great pleasure to find that you are so well satisfied with what little things it has been in my power to send you. I hope you will always employ me in any office that can conduce to your convenience. My health is, I thaulv God, much better ; but it is yet very weak ; and very little things put it into a troublesome state ; but still I hope all will be'well. Pray for me. " My friends at Lichfield must not think that I forget them. Neither Mrs. Cobb, nor Mrs. Adcy, nor Miss Adey, nor Miss Seward, nor Miss Vise, are to suppose that I have lost all memory of their kindness. Mention me to them when you see them. I hear Mr. Vise has been lately very much in danger. I hope he is better. " When you write again, let me know how you go on, and what company you keep, and what you do all day. I love to think on you. but do not know when I shall see you. Pray, write very often. I am, dearest, your humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." lu 1769, so far as I can discover, the public was favoured with nothing of Johnson's composition, either for himself or any of his friends. His "Meditations" too strongly prove that he suffered much both in body and mind ; yet was he perpetually striving against evil, and nobly endeavouring to advance his intellectual and devotional improvement. Every generous and grateful heart must feel for the distresses of so eminent a benefactor to mankind ; and now that his unhappiness is certainly known, must respect that dignity of character which prevented him from complaining. His Majesty having the preceding year instituted the Royal Academy of Arts in London, Johnson had now the honour of being appointed Professor in Ancient Literature.' In the course of the year he wrote some letters to Mrs. Thrale, passed some part of the ' In which place he has been succeeded by Bennet Langton, Esq. When that truly reli- gious gentleman was elected to this honorary Professorship, at the same time that Edward Gibbon, Esq., noted for introducing a liind of sneering Infidelity into his historical writings, was elected Professor in Ancient History, in the room of Dr. Goldsmitli, I observed that it brought to my mind, " Wicked Will Whiston and good Mr. Ditton." I am now also [1791] of that admirable institution, as Secretary for Foreign Correspondence, by the favour of tbt Academicians, and the approbation of the sovereign. *^"- *>• OXFORD — LICHFIEIJ). 453 summer at Oxford, and at Lichfield, and when at Oxford he wrote the following letter : — • Letter 115. TO THE REV. MR. THOMAS WARTON. "May 81, 1760. " Dear Sir, — Many years ago, when I us«d to read in the library of your College, I promised to recompense the college for that permission, by adding to their books a Baskerville's Virgil. I have now sent it, and desire you to reposit it on the shelves in my name.* " If you will be pleased to let me know when you have an hour of leisure I will drink tea with you. I am engaged for the afternoon, to-morrow, and on Friday : all my mornings are ray own.* I am, etc., "Sam. Johnson." Letter 116. . TO MRS. THRALE. " Lichfield, August 14, 1769. " I set out on Thursoay morning, and found my companion, to whom I was very much a stranger, more agreeable than I expected. We went cheerfully forward, and passed the night at Coventry. We came in late, and went out early ; and therefore I did not send for my cousin Tom, but I design to make him some amends for the omission. " Next day we came early to Lucy, who was, I believe, glad to see us. She had saved her best gooseberries upon the tree for me ; and as Steele says, 1 . was neither too proud nor too wise to gather them. I have rambled a very little inter fontes et flwnina nota, but I am not yet well. They have cut down the trees in George Lane. Evelyn, in his book of Forest Trees, tells us of wicked men that cut down trees, and never prospered afterwards ; yet nothing has deterred these audacious aldermen from violating the Hamadryad of George Lane. As an impartial traveller, I must, however, tell that, in Stow- street, where I left a draw-well, I have found a pump, but the lading-well in this ill-fated George Lane lies shamefully neglected. "I am going to-day or to-morrow to Ashbourne; but I am at a loss how I shall get back in time to London. Here are only chance coaches, so that there is no certainty of a place. If I do not come, let it not hinder your journey. I can be but a few days behind you ; and I will follow in the BrighthelmstOiio coach. But I hope to come." 1 It has this inscription in a blank leaf: — " Bwnc librum J). D. Samuel JoTvnson eo quod hie loci stuiUUinterdum vacaret" Of this library, which is an old Gothic room, he waa very fond. On my observing to him that some of the modern libraries of the University were more commodioi»« and pleasant for study, as being more spacious and airy, he replied, "Sir, If a man has a mind to prance, he must study at Christ church and All Souls." — Warton. 3 During this f isit he seldom or never dined out. He appeared to be deeply engaged la iome literary y jrlt. Miss Williams was now with bini al Oxford.— Warton. 454 LIFE OF JOHNSON *'*• Letter IIY. TO MRS. ASTOK " Biighthelmstone, August, 26, 1T69. *' Madam,— I suppose you have received the mill ; the whole apparatus seemed to be perfect, except that there is wanting a little tin spout at the bottom, and some ring or knob, on which the bag that catches the meal is to be hung. When these are added, I hope you will be able to grind your own bread, and treat me with a cake, made by yourself, of meal from your own corn of your own grinding. " I -was glad, madam, to see you so well, and hope your health will long increase, and then long continue. I am, madam, your most obedient servant, "Sam. Johnson." 1 came to London in the autumn ; and having informed him that I was going to be married in a few months, I wished to have as much of his conversation as I could before engaging in a state ®f life which would probably keep me more in Scotland, and prevent me seeing him so often as when I was a single man ; but I found he was at Brighthelmstoue with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I was very sorry that I had not his company with me at the Jubilee, in honour of Shakspeare, at Stratford-upon-Avon, the great poet's native town.* Johnson's connection both with Shakspeare and Garrick founded a double claim to his presence ; and it would have been highly gratifying to Mr. Garrick. Upon this occasion I particularly lamented that he had not that warmth of friendship for his brilliant pupil, which we may suppose would have had a benignant effect on both. When almost every man of eminence in the literary world was happy to partake in this festival of genius, the absence of Johnson could not but be wondered at and regretted. The only trace of him there, was in the whimsical advenisement of a haber- dasher, who sold Shaksperian ribands of various dyes ; and, by way of illustrating their appropriation to the bard, introduced a line from the celebrated Prologue, at the opening of Drury Lane Theatre " Each change of many-colour'' d life he drew." From Brighthelrastone Dr. Johnson wrote me the following letter, ' Mr. Boswell, on this occasion, justified Johnson's foresight and prudence, in advising bim to " clear his head of Corsica :" unlucliily, tlie advice had nft^tfect, for Boswell made a fool of himself at the Jubilee by sundry enthusiastic freaks ; amongst others, lest he should not ba sufficiently distinguished, he wore the words Corsica Boswell in large letters round \m kat.— C. 1831. ^'^*'-^' LETTER TO BOSWELL. itt which they who may think that I ought to have suppressed, must have less ardent feelings than I have always avowed.' Letter 118. TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. " Brighthelmstone, Sept. 9, 1760. "Dear Sir, — Why do you charge me with unkindness ? I have omitted nothing that could do you good, or give you pleasure, unless it be that I have forborne to tell you my opinion of your ' Account of Corsica.' I believe iny opinion, if you think well of my judgment, might have given you pleasure ; but when it is considered how much vanity is excited by praise, I am not sure that it would have done you good. Tour History is like other histories, but your Journal is, in a very high degree, curious and delightful. There is between the History and the Journal that difference which there will always be found between notions borrowed from without, and notions generated within. Your history was copied from books; your journal rose out of your own ex- perience and observation. You express images which operated strongly upon yourself, and you have impressed them with grejit force upon your readers. I know not whether I could name any narrative by which curiosity is better excited, or better gratified. "I am glad that you are going to be married; and as I wish you well iu things of less importance, wish you well with proportionate ardour in this crisis of your life. What I can contribute to your happiness, I should be very un- willing to withhold ; for I have always loved and valued you, and shall love and value you still more, as you become more regular and useful : effects which a happy marriage will hardly fail to produce. " I do not find that I am likely to come back very soon from this place. I shall, perhaps, stay a fortnight longer; and a fortnight is a long time to a lover absent from his mistress. Would a fortnight ever have an end ? I am, dear. Sir, your most aflfectionate humble servant, " Sam. Johnson." > In the Preface to my Account of Corsica, published in 176S, I thus express myself : " He who publishes a book, affecting not to be an author, and professing an indifference for literary fame, may possibly impose upon many people such an idea of his consequence as b« wishes may be received. For my part, I should be proud to be known as an author, and I have an ardent ambition for literary fame ; for, of all possessions, I should imagine literary fame to be the most valuable. A man who has been able to furnish a book, which has beeu approved by the world, has established himself as a respectable character In distant society, without any danger of having that character lessentd by the observation of his wealaesses. To preserve an uniform dignity among those who see us every day, is hardly possible ; and to aim at it, must put us under the fetters of perpetual restraint. The author of an approved book may allow his natural disposition an easy play, and yet indulge the pride of superior genius, when he considers that by those who know him only as an author, he never ceases to be respected. Such an author, when in his hours of gloom and discontent, may have the cou- solation to think, that his writings are, at that very time, giving pleasure to numbers ; and 8uch an author may cherish the hope of being remembered after death, which has been a grekt object to the noblest minds in all ages." APPENDIX. No. L For the convenience of the reader, No. I. was introduced as a note page S4. No. II. AX ACCOUNT OF THE EARLY LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. [From a little volume published in 1S05, and now become scarce, entitled " An Account of the Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, from his Birth to his Eleventh Year, written by himself: to which are added. Original Letters to Dr. Johnson, by Miss Hill Boothby : from the MSS. pre- served by the Doctor, and now in possession of Richard Wright, Surgeon, of Lichfield." " This volume (says the Editor) was among that mass of papers which were ordered to be committed to the tiames a few days before Dr. Johnson's death, thirty-two pages of which were torn out by himself, and destroyed. Francis Barber, his black servant, unwilling that all the MSS. of his illustrious master should be utterly lost, preserved these relics from the flames. By purchase they came into possession of the Editor."] AXXALS.— I. lYOQ-lO. Sept. 7,* 1709, I was born at Lichfield. My mother had a very difficult and dangerous labour, and was assisted by George Hector, a man mid-wife of great reputation. I was born alraost.dead,^ and could not cry for some time. Wheu he had me in his arms, he said, " Here is a brave boy." In a few weeks an inflammation was discovered on my buttock, which was, at first, I think, taken for a burn ; but soon appeared to be a natural disorder. It swelled, broke, and healed. My father being that year Sheriff of Lichfield, and to ride the circuit of the • 18 of the present style: — Orig. ' To have been born almost dead has been related of many etnlnent men ; amongst otbc-ra cf Addison, Lord Lyttelton, and Voltaire. — Croeer. voi,. I. 20 ^ 468 APPENDIX II, County next day, which was a ceremony then performed with great pomp; he was asked by my mother, " Whom he would invite to the Riding ?" and answered, " All the town now." He feasted the citizens with uncommon mag- nificence, and was the last but one that maintained the splendour of the Hiding. I was, by my father's persuasion, put to one Marclew, commonly called Bellison,' the servant, or wife of a servant of my father, to be nursed in George Lane, where I used to call when I was a bigger boy, and eat fruit in the gar- den, which was full of trees. Here it was discovered that my eyes were bad; and an issue was cut in my left arm,'' of which I took no great notice, as I think my mother has told me, having my little hand in a custard. It is observable, that, having been told of this operation, I always imagined that I remembered it, but I laid the scene in the wrong house. Such coufu- dions of memory I suspect to be common. My mother visited me every day, and used to go different ways, that her assiduity might not expose her to ridicule ; and often left her fan or glove behind her, that she might have a pretence to come back unexpected ; but she never discovered any token of neglect. Dr. Swinfen ^ told me, that the scrofu- lous sores which afflicted me proceeded from the bad humours of the nurse, whose son had the same distemper, and was likewise short-sighted, but both in a less degree. My mother thought my diseases derived from her family.'* In ten weeks I was taken home, a poor, diseased infant, almost blind. I remember my aunt Nath. Ford told me, when I was about . . . years old, that she would not have picked such a poor creature up in the street. In . . . 67, when I was at Lichfield, I went to look for my nurse's house ; and, inquiring somewhat obscurely, was told " this is the house in which you were nursed." I saw my nurse's son, to whose milk I succeeded, reading a large Bible, which my nurse had bought, as I was then told, some time before her death. Dr. Swinfen used to say, that he never knew any child reared with so much difl&culty. II. 1*710-11. In the st'coud year I knew not what happened to me. I believe it was then 1 The name of Marklew, alias Bellison, ia yet common in Lichfield, and is dsually so dit tinguished — II. Wright. ^ How long this issue was continued I do not remember. I believe it was suffered to dry when I was about six years 0\'\.—Or-ig. 2 Samuel Swinfen, who took a degree of Doctor of Medicine from Pembroke College In 1712 —Hall. ■• His mother and Dr. Swinfen were both perhaps wrong in their conjecture as to the origla of the disease ; he more probably inherited it from his father, with the morbid melanchollf which is so commonly an attendant on scrofulous habits. — Choker. * AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENT. 459 that my mother carried me to Trystil,' to consult Dr. Atvvooil, an oculist of Worcester. My father and Mrs. Harriots, I think, never had much kindness for each other. She was my mother's relation ; and he had none so hif^h to whom he could send any of lus family. He saw her seldom himself, and will ingly disgusted her, by sending his horses from home on Sunday ; which she considered, and with reason, as a breach of duty. My fiither had much vanity, which his adversity hindered from being fully exerted. I remember, that, mentioning her legacy in the humility of distress, he called her our good Cousin Harriots. My mother had no value for his relations; those, indeed, whom we knew of, wero much lower than hers. This contempt began, I know not on which side, very early : but, as my father was little at home, it had not much eflect. My father and mother had not much happiness from each other. They sel- dom conversed ; for my father could not bear to talk of his affairs ; and my mother, being unacquainted with books, cared not to talk of anything else. Had my mother been more literate, they had been better companions. She might have sometimes introduced her unwelcome topic with more success, if she could have diversified her conversation. Of business she had no distinct conception ; and, therefore, her discourse was composed only of complaint, fear, and suspicion. Neither of them ever tried to calculate the profits of trade, or the expenses of living. My mother concluded that we were poor, because we lost by some of our trades ; but the truth was, that my fatlier, having in the early part of his life contracted debts, never had trade sufficient to enable him to pay them, and maintain his family ; he got something, but not enough. It was not till about 1768, that I thought to calculate the returns of my father's trade, and by that estimate his probable profits. This, I believe, mj parents never did. lu. 1711-12. This year, in Lent — 12. I was taken to London, to be touched for the evil by Queen Anne. My mother was at Nicholson's, the famous bookseller, in Little Britain." I always retained some memory of this journey, though I was then but thirty months old. I remembered a little dark room behind the kitchen, where the jack-weight fell through a hole in the floor, into which I once slipped my leg.'' I remember a boy crying at the palace when I went to be touched. Being ' Near Wolverliampton. — K. Wright. ^ My mother, tlien with child, concealt'cl her pregnancy, that she might not be liindered from the journey — Ong * I seem to i-emember, that I phiyed with a string and a bell, which my cousin Isaac John, wn gave me; and that there was a cat with a white collar, and a dog, called Cbops, that eaiK'd over a stick ; but I know not ■.vliethcr I remember the thing, or tlie talk of it. -UHg. <60 APPENDIX ir. askea, " on which side of the shop was the counter ?" I answered, " on the left from the entrance," many years after, and spoke, not by guess, but by memory. We went in the stage-coach and returned in the wagon, as my mother said, because my cough was violent. The hope of saving a few shil- lings was no slight motive; for she, not having been aceustomed to money, was afraid of such expenses as now seem very small. She sewed two guineas in her petticoat, lest she should be robbed. We were troublesome to the passengers ; but to suffer such inconveniences in the stage-coach was common in these days to persons in much higher rank»* She bought me a small silver cup and spoon, marked SAM. I., lest, if they had been marked S. I., which was her name, they should, upon her death, have been taken from me. She bought me a speckled linen frock, which I knew afterwards by the name of my London frock. The cup was one of the last pieces of plate which dear Tetty "•' sold in our distress. I have now the spoon. She bought at the same time two tea-spoons, and till my manhood she had no more. My father considered tea as very expensive, and discouraged my mother from keeping company with the neighbours, and from paying visits or receiv- ing them. She Hved to say, many years after, that if the time were to pass again, she would not comply with such unsocial injunctions.^ I suppose that in this year I was first informed of a future state. I remember, that being in bed with my mother one morning, I was told by her of the two places to which the inhabitants of this world were received after death : one, a fine place filled with happiness, called Heaven ; the other, a sad place, called Hell. That this account much affected my imagination, I do not remember. When I was risen, my mother bade me repeat what she had told me to Thomas Jackson. When I told this afterwards to my mother, she seemed to wonder that she should begin such talk so late as that the first time could be remem- bered. l^Here (here is a chasin of thirty-eight pages in the manuscript.^ examin- ation. We always considered it as a day of ease ; for we made no prepara- tion, and indeed were asked commonly such questions as we had been asked often before, and could regularly answer. But I believe it was of use at Grst. On Thursday night a small portion of Ji)sop was learned by heart, and on Friday morning the lessons in ^sop were repeated ; I believe, not those in ■ I was sick ; one woman fondled me : the other was disgusted. — Orig. 2 His wife, whom he called by this familiar contraction of Elizabeth. — Croker. 3 AVhen Dr. Johnson, at an advanced age, recorded all these minute circumstances, he con- templated, we are told, writing the history of his own life, and probably intended to develope, from his own infant recollections, the growth and powers of the faculty of memory, which he possessed in so remarkable a degree. From the little details of his domestic history he pei- haps meant also to trace the progressive change in the habits of the middle classes of society, — -Cbokjui. AtJTOBIOGRAPHiCAL FRAGMENT. 461 Helvicus. On Friday afternoon we learned Quce Genus ; I suppose that other boys miglit say their repetition, but of this I have now no distinct remembrance. To learn Quce Genus was to me always pleasing ; and As i?i Prcesenti was, I know not why, always disgusting. When we learned our Accidence we had no parts, but, I think, two lessons. The boys that came to school untaught read the Accidence twice through be- fore they learned it by heart. When we learned Propria quce Maribus, our parts were in the Accidence ; when we learned As in Prcesenti, our parts were in the Accidence and Pro- pria qum Maribus ; when we learned Syntaxis, in the former three. Propria quce Maribus I could repeat without any effort of recollection. I used to re- peat it to niy mother and Tom Johnson ; and remember, that I once went as far as the middle of the paragraph, " Mascula dicuntur monosyllaba," in a dream. On Saturday, as on Thursday, we were examined. We were sometimes, on one of those days, asked our Catechism,' but with no regularity or constancy. The progress of examination was this. When we learned Propria quce Maribus, we were examined in the Accidence ; particularly we formed Verbs, that is, went through the same person, in all the Moods and Tenses. This was very difficult to me ; and I was once very anxious about the next day, when this exercise was to be performed, in which I had failed till I was discouraged. My mother encouraged me, and I proceeded better when I told her of my good escape, " We often," said she, dear mother ! " come oif best, when we are most afraid." She told me, that, once when she asked me about forming verbs, I said, " I did not form them in an ugly shape." " You could not," said she, " speak plain ; and I was proud that I had a boy who was forming verbs." These little memorials soothe my mind. Of the parts of Corderius or ./Esop, which we learnffd to repeat, I have not the least recollection, except of a passage in-one of the Morals, where it is said of some man, that, wheD he hated another, he made him rich; this I repeated emphatically in my mother's hearing, who could never conceive that riches could bring any evil. She remarked it, as I expected. I had the curiosity, two or three years ago, to look over Garretson's Exer- cises, Willymot's Particles, and Walker's Exercises ; and found very few sen- tences that I should have recollected if I had found them in any other books. That which is read without pleasure is not often recollected nor infixed by con- versation, and therefore in a great measure drops from the memory. Thus it happens that those who are taken early from school, commonly lose all that they had learned. When we learned As in Prcesenti, we parsed Propria quce Maribv.-i by Hoole's Terminations ; and, when we learned Syntaxis, we parsed As in Prce- ienti : and afterwards Quce Genus, by the same book ; sometimes, as I remem- * G. Hector never had been taught his Catechism. — Orig, 462 APPENDIX It. ber, proceedir.g ir order of the rules, and sometimes particularly, in As in Prce.ienti, taking words as they occurred in the Index. The whole week before we broke up, and the part of the week in which we broke up, were spent wholly, I know not why, in examination ; and were therefore easy to both us and the master. The two nights before the vaca- tion were free from exercise. This was the course of the school, which I remember with pleasure ; for I was indulged and caressed by my master, and, I think, really excelled the rest. I was with Hawkins but two years, and perhaps four months. The time, till I had computed it, appeared much longer by the multitude of novelties which it supplied, and of incidents, then in my thoughts important, it pro- duced. Perhaps it is not possible that any other period can make the same impression on the memory. s. 1719. In the spring of 1719, our class consisting of eleven, the number was alway.s fixed in my memory, but one of the names I have forgotten, was removed to the upper school, and put under Holbrook, a peevish and ill-tempered man. We were removed sooner than had been the custom; for the head-master, intent upon his boarders, left the town-boys long in the lower school. Our removal was caused by a reproof from the Town-cierk ; and Hawkins com« plained that he had lost half his profit. At this removal I cried. The rest were indifferent. My exercise in Garretson was somewhere about the Gerunds, Our places in ^sop and Helvicus I have totally forgotten. At Whitsuntide Mrs. Longworth brought me a " Hermes Garretsoni," of which I do not remember that I ever could make much use. It was afterwardjS lost, or stolen at school. My exercise was then in the end of the Syntax. Hermes furnished me with the word inliciturus, which I did not understand, but used it. This task was very troublesome to me ; I made all the twenty-five exercises, others made but sixteen. I never shewed all mine ; five lay long after in a drawer in the shop. I made an exercise in a little time, and shewed it my mother ; but the task being long upon me, she said, " Though you could make an exercise in so short a time, I thought you would find it difficult to make them all as soon as you should." This Whitsuntide, I and my brother were sent to pass some time at Birming- ham ; I believe, a fortnight. Why such boys were sent to trouble other houses, I cannot tell. My mother had some opinion that much improvement was to be had by changing the mode of life. My uncle Harrison was a widower; and his house was kept by Sally Ford, a young woman of such sweetness of tem- per, that I used to say she had no fault. We lived most at uncle Ford's, being much caressed by my aunt, i good-natured, coarse woman, easy of i onversa AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENT. 463 but willing to find something to censure in the absent. M_v uncle Harrison did not much like us, nor did we like him. He was a very mean and vulgar man, drunk every night, but drunk with little drink, very peevish, very proud, verj ostentatious, but, luckily, not rich. At my aunt Ford's I eat so niucli of a boiled leg of mutton,^ that she used to talk of it. My mother, who had lived in a narrow sphere, and was then aifected by little things, told me seriously that it would hardly ever be forgotten. Her raiiid, I think, was afterwards much enlarged, or greater evils wore out the care of less. I stayed after the vacation was over some days ; and remember, when 1 wrote home, that I desired the horses to come on Thursday of the first school week ; and then, and not till then, they should be welcome to go. I was much pleased with a rattle to my whip, and wrote of it to my mother. When my father came to fetch us home, he told the ostler, that he had twelve miles home, and two boys under his care. This offended me. He had then a watch,'' which he returned when he was to pay for it. In making, I think, the first exercise under Holbrook, I perceived the power of continuity of attention, of application not suffered to wander or to pause. I wa.s writing at the kitchen windows, as I thought, alone, and turning my head saw Sally dancing. I went on with»it notice, and had finished almost without perceiving that any time had elapsed. This,close attention I have seldom in ray whole life obtained. In the upper-school, I first began to point my exercises, which we made noon's business. Of the method I have not so distinct a remembrance as of the foregoing system. On Thursday morning we had a lesson, as on other mornings. On Thursday afternoon, and on Saturday morning, we commonly made examples to the Syntax. "We were soon raised from Jilsop to Phaedrus, and then said our repetition on Friday afternoon to Hunter. I remember the fable of the wolf and lamb, to my draught — that I may drink. At what time we began Phsedrns, I know not. It was the only book which we learned to the end. In the latter part thirty lines were expected for a lesson. What reconciles masters to long les- sons is the pleasure of tasking. Helvicus was very difficult : the dialogue Vesiitus, Hawkins directed us to omit, as being one of the hardest in the book. As I remember, there was another upon food, and another upon fruits, which we began, and were ordered not to pursue. In the dialogue of Fruits, we perceived that Holbrook did not know the meaning of Uvce Crispce. That lesson gave us great trouble. I ob- * All these trifles — since Dr. Johnson in the height of his fame (for the Account must have been written subsequent to 1768) thouglit them worth recording — appear worth quoting. Hia voracious love of a leg of mutton adhered to him through life; and the prophecy of his mother, that it never wauld he forgotten, is realised in a way that good woman could not nave anticipated — Crokeb. * The convenience of a watch, now so general, Dr. Johnson himself, as Sir J. Hawkins r«pnrt« (p. 460), did not possess till 1768. — Crokeb, 464 APPENDIX III. served that we learned Helvictus a long time with very little progress. We learned it in ihi afternoon on Monday and Wednesday. Gladiolus Scriptorius. — A little lapse, we quitted it. I got an English Erasmus. In Phaedrus we tried to use the interpretation, but never attempted the notes. Nor do I remember that the interpretation helped us. In Phffidrus we were sent up twice to the upper master to be punished. The second time we complained that we could not get the passage. Being told that we should asli, we informed him that we had asked, and that the Hasistaut ^\ ould not tell us. NO. III. THE CLUB. The following complete list of the Club, (referred to in p. 381), with the dates of the elections of all the members, and of the deaths of those deceased, from its foundation to the present time, and the observations prefixed and annexed, have been obligingly furnished by Mr. Hatchett, the present treasurer. " The Club was founded in l'i'G4, by Sir Joshua Reynolds and Dr. Samuel Johnson, and for some years met on Monday evenings. In 1772, the day of meeting was changed to Friday ; and about that time, instead of supping, they agreed to dine together once in every fortnight, during the sitting of par- liament. " In 1773, the Club, which, soon after its foundation, consisted of twelve members, was enlarged to twenty; March 11, 1777, to twenty-six; November 27, 1778, to thirty; May 9, 1780, to thirty-five; and it was then resolved that it never should exceed forty. " It met originally at the Turk's Head, in Gerrard Street, and continued to meet there till 1783, when their landlord died, and the house was soon after wards shut up. They then removed to Prince's, in Sackville Street; and on his house being soon afterwards shut up, they removed to Baxter's, which afterwards became Thomas's, in Dover Street. In January, 1792, they removed to Parsloe's, in St. James's Street ; and, on February 26, 1799, to the Thatched House in the same street. " From thj original foundation to this time, the total number of members is one hundred and eleven. Bsto perpetua. C. H. "Pelle Vue House, Chelsea, March 10, 1836, LIST OF THE CLUB. 465 Original. 1.-1764 . 8.— 4.— 6.— 6.— T.— 8.— 9.— Elected. 10.— 1T64 . 11.— 1765 . 12.-1766 . 18.— 1768, Mar. 14.— 1773, Mar. 15.-1773, Mar. 16.— 1773, Apr. 2 17.— 1778 . 18.— 17T3, Apr. 80 19.— 1774, Feb.. 20.— . Feb. 21.— . Feb. 22.— . Mar. 4 28.— . . 24.— 1775, Dec. 25.— . . 26.-1777, Jan. 27.— . Mar. 29.— 30.— . . . 81.— 1T78, Dec. 82.— . . 33.— , . 85.-1780, 36.- 1782, 87.— . 88.— . 39— . 40- . 41.— 1784, 42.- . 43.— . 44.— . 45.-1786, 46.— 1788, 47 —1792, 4b.— . 49.— . 60-1791, Nov. Jan. 22 Feb. 5 Mar. 5 Apr. 2 Apr. 16 Feb. 10, Feb. Feb. 17 Dec. 23 May 9 Dec. 22 Mar. 27 May 8 May 22 Mar. 18 Members. Died. Sir Joshua Reynolds ..... Feb. 23, 1792. Dr. Samuel Johnson Dec. 13, 1784. Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke July 9, 1797. Christopher Nugent, M.D Nov. 12, 1775. Bennet Langton, Esq Dec. 18, 1801. Topham Beauclerk, Esq Mar. 11, 1780. Oliver Goldsmith, M.D Apr. 4, 1774. Anthony Chamier, Esq Oct. 12, 1780. Sir John Hawkins, who soon withdrew . . May 21, 1789. Members. Died. Samuel Dyer, Esq Sept. 14, 1772. Dr. Thomas Percy, Bishop of Dromore . . Sept. 30, ISll. Sir Robert Chambers May 9, 1803. George Colman, Esq. Aug. 14, 1794. Earl of Charlemont Aug. 4, 1794. David Garrick, Esq Jan. 20, 1779. Sir William Jones ...... Apr. 17, 1794. Agmondesham Vesey, Esq Aug. 11, 1785. James Boswell, Esq. May 19, 1795, Rt. Hon. Charles James Fox .... Sept. 13, 1806. Sir Charles Bunbury, Bart Mar 31, 1S21 Dr. George Fordyce May 27, 1802 George Steevens, Esq >. Jan. 22, 1800. Edward Gibbon, Esq Jan. 26, 1794 Adam Smith, Esq July 17, 1790. Dr. Thomas Bernard, Bishop of Limerick . July 7, 1806. Rev. Dr. Joseph Warton Feb. 23 ISiiO. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq. . . . July 7, 1816. Earl of Upper Ossory Feb. 1, 1S18 Rt. Rev. Dr. Richard Marlay, Bishop of Water- ford July 2, 1802 John Dunning, Lord Ashburton . . . Aug. 28, 178-3. Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Banks, P.R.S. . . , June 19, 1S2Q Rt. Hon. William Windham .... June 4 1810 Rt. Hon. Sir Wm. Scott, Lord Stowell . The Earl Spencer Nov. 10, 1834 Dr. J. Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph . . Dec. 9, 1788, Lord Eliot Feb. 17, 1804. Edmond Malone, Esq May 25, 1812. Rev. Thomas Warton ... . May 21, 1790 The Earl of Lucan Mar. 29, 1799. Richard Burke, Esq Aug. 2 1794. Sir William Hamilton Apr. 6, 18(J3. Viscount Palmerston Apr. 16, 1S02. Charles Burney, Mus. D Apr. 12, 1814. Richard Warren, M.D June 22, 1797. The Earl of Macartney Mar. 31, 1806. John Co\irtenay, Esq Mar. 24, 1816. Dr. J. Hinchliffe, Bishop of Peterborough . Jan. 11, 1794. Duke of Leeds Jan. 31, 1799 Dr. John Douglas, Bishop of Salisbury . . May 19, 1SC7 Sir Charles Blagden Mar. 27, 1S20. 20* 466 APrENDIX. III. Elected: 51.- 17yt, Jan. 22 52.— . Feb. 3 53.— . June 9 54.— 1797, Jan. 21 65.-1799, Feb. 12 56.— . Feb. 26 57.— 1800, Feb. 4 58.— . Mar. 4 59.— . Mar. 18 60.— . June 10 61.-1801, War. 17 62.— 1802, Dec. 7 63.— . Dec. 21 64.— 1808, Jan. 25 65.— . Feb. 28 66—1804, Mar. 20 67.— 1806, Jan. 21 68.- , May 13 69.— . May 27 TO.— 1808, Mar. 22 71.— . May 8 T2.~ . May 81 73.-1809, Feb. 21 74.— . Mar. T 75— . Mar. 21 76.— 1810, Feb. 27 77.-1811, June 4 78.-1813, Mar. 2 79.— . Mar. 2 80.— 1814, June 7 81.— . July 19 82 — . Aug. 2 S3.— 1815, Feb. 21 84.— . Apr. 4 85.-1816, Mar. 26 86.-1817, Apr. 8 67.-1818, Jan. 27, 88.— . Apr. 7 69 — . Apr. 21 90.-1820, Jan. 25 91.— . . 92.— 1821, ivlar. 20 93.— 1822, Apr. 16 94.— 1823, May 27 95— . . 96.-1826, Dec. 12 97.— 1828, May 6 98.— . May 20 99.— . . 100.-1829, Apr. 7 Menibera. Major Rennell Rev. Dr. Richard Farmer The Marquess of Bath Frederick North, Earl of Guildford . The Rt. Hon. George Canning William Marsden, Esq. . . . Rt. Hon. John Hookham Frere . Rt. Hon. Thomas Grenville Dr. Vincent, Dean of Westminster William Lock, jun. Esq. . . . George Ellis, Esq. .... Gilbert Lord Minto .... Dr. French Lawrence . . . Rt. Hon. Sir William Grant . . Sir George Staunton, Bart. Dr. S. Horsley, Bishop of St. Asaph Charles Wilkins, Esq. . . . Rt. Hon. Sir William Drummond Sir Henry Halford, Bart. . Sir H. C. Englefleld, Bart. The Lord Holland .... The Earl of Aberdeen . . . Charles Hatchett, Esq. Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Vaughan , Sir Humphry Davy, Bart. . . The Rev. Dr. Charles Burney . . Sir William Gell .... Rt. Hon. William Elliot . Richard Heber, Esq. . . Thomas Phillips, Esq. R.A. Rt. Hon. Sir James Mackintosk . Lord Chief Justice Gibbs . . The Marquess of Lansdowne . .• The Lord Lyttelton .... Dr. William Howley, Bishop of London* Roger Wilbraham, Esq. ... The Lord Glenbervie Dr. AVilliam Hyde WoUaston . Sir Walter Scott, Bart. The Earl of Liverpool . . . Charles Butler, Esq Dr. C. J. Blomfield, Bishop of London Rt. Hon. W. C. Plunket, Lord Plunket, Francis Chantrey, Esq. R.A. Henry Hallam, Esq. .... Sir Thomas Lawrence, P. R.A. . Lieutenant-Colonel W. M. Leake, . Thomas Young, M.D. Rev. William Buckland, D.D. . J. N. Fazakerley, Esq. Died Mar. 29, Sept. 8, Nov. 20, Oct. 14, Aug. 8, Dec. 21, 1815 Apr. 10, 1815. June 24, 1814. Feb. 27, 1809. May 25, 1832. Oct. 4, 1806. Mar. 29, 1828. Mar. 21, 1822. May 29, Dec. 28, Oct. 26, Oct. 4, May 30, Feb. 8. Jan. 6, May 2, Dec. 22, Sept. 21, Dec. 4, June 2, Jau. 14, 1800. May 10, 1839L * Dr. William Howley withdrew from the Club on becoming Archbishop of Cant et bury, February 1829. LrST OF THE CLUB i6 . The Hon. Mount Stuart Elphinstone. J. N. Fazakerley, Esq. The Rt. Hon. John Hookham Frere. Sir William Gell. David Gilbert, Esq. P.R.S. Rt. Hon. Thomas Grenville. Hudson Gurney, Esq. Sir Henry Halford, Bart. Henry Hallam, Esq. Charles Hatchett, Esq. (Treasurer.) Lord Holland. Henry Galley Knight, Esq. The Bishop of Llandaff(Dr. Edward Copleston). The Marquess of Lansdowne. Lieut.-Col. Leake. William Locke, Esq. The Bishop of London (Dr. C. J. Blomfield). Lord Lyttelton. Viscount Mahon. William Marsden, Esq. Thomas Phillips, Esq. R A. Lord Plunket. Sir Martin Archer Shee, P.R.A. Sir George Thomas Staunton, Bart. Lord Stowell (senior member of the Club). The Rt. Hon. Sir Charles Vaughan. Sir Charles Wilkins. At the meetings of the club the chair is taken in rotation by the members, iiccording to the alphabetical arrangement of their names; the only permanenl officer being the treasurer. Mr. Malone was the first treasurer; and upon his decease, in 18i2, Sir He 468 APPENDIX, iii. Charles Englefield was elected to that office, which, however, on account of weciki^ess of sight, he resigned in 1814; when the Rev. Dr. Charles Burnev was chosen, and continued to be treasurer until his death, which took place in December, 1817 ; and on the 10th of March 1818, Mr. Hatchett, the present treasurer was elected. ^ PR .3: ! THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. Series 9482 br^ 73 6 12^ UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 001 425 422 1 A ^*M.l X .V^t^ > ^" >^^ ^"^ \i ¥ ^ ^^IV^ ;1 V .*^■