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THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. 
 
   Quo fit lit ovinis 
 
 Votiva pateat veluti descripta fabella 
 Fita senis Horat. 
 
 Complete in Dne ©ofume* 
 
 CHrSWICK : 
 PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM 
 
 COLLEGE HOUSE. 
 
9MPJ 
 
 oh' 
 
 9^1 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. 
 
 COMPREHENDING 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF HIS 
 
 STUDIES AND NUMEROUS WORKS, 
 
 IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER; 
 A SERIES OF HIS 
 
 EPISTOLARY CORRESPONDENCE AND CONVERSATIONS 
 
 WITH MANY EMINENT PERSONS; 
 AND VARIOUS 
 
 ORIGINAL PIECES OF HIS COMPOSITION. 
 
 THE WHOLE EXHIBITING 
 
 % mim of literature antJ Xiterarp jj^en in (Bxm ISritain, 
 
 FOR NEAR HALF A CENTURY DURING WHICH HE FLOURISHED. 
 
 BY JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 WITH COPIOUS NOTES AND BIOGRAPHICAL ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 BY EDMOND MALONE, ESQ. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN SHA.IPE, PICCADILLY; AND 
 
 WILLIAM JACKSON, NEW YORK. 
 
 M DCCC XXX- 
 

 library. 
 
SHARPE'S LIBRARY '^ C 
 
 THE BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 3n JHonti^lB Cabinet Volumes, 
 AT FOUR SHILLINGS EACH. 
 
 Commencing in July, 1830, with 
 ADDISON'S ESSAYS, in Two Volumes. 
 
 I.v announcing the publication of a new series of volumes under tli 
 general designation of a Library, its Projector will perhaps be excuse 
 for adverting, for a moment, to the popular form which has lately bee 
 given to the literary manufacture of the age. At this season of bustlin 
 pretence, when all claims not pointedly brought before the notice < 
 the world are liable to be overlooked, the Publisher of " The Britii 
 Classics," " The British Poets," " The British Prose Writers,'* and oth( 
 collections of the same description, may also, he trusts, be permitted i 
 remind the Patrons of the modern race of Libraries, that he has ahead 
 endeavoured to earn a title to their support; and that in presentii 
 himself before them upon this occasion, he does not enter the field i 
 competition as an adventurer, willing to profit by the labours ar 
 ingenuity of its occupants ; but may rather be said to have returned • 
 it as an Original Proprietor of the soil, with something like a right ' 
 participate in the advantages which his neighbours are reaping from i 
 cultivation. 
 
 In compliance with what appears to be the prevailing taste, he hi 
 adopted the term '* Library," although his work will in fact (lit 
 those of a similar class already in progress) differ but little in ph 
 from the succession of volumes which have issued from his pre 
 during the last thirty years ; and which have been honoured with 
 large a share of public approbation. 
 
 8^1 
 
SHARPE S LIBRARY OF THE BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Whilst however it will assimilate in some degree, in form a 
 frequency of publication, to other " Libraries/' it wiH '^-f^ ; 
 differ from them all in its spirit and character. 
 " Sharpe's Library of the Belles Lettres "' dot ;; 
 confess, that his principal object is to amuso ^ud inteidst ins rem 
 by a judicious selection of the lighter graces of British Litera 
 leaving the more dignified task of instruction to " The Scl^oolmasix 
 and his assistants, who seem determined to apply a high pressi. 
 system of condensation to all the wisdom of past ages, and to c 
 their disciples across the " vasty deep " of human knowledge a. 
 science with the velocity of a hundred-volume power per month. 
 
 It will scarcely be expected that, in this day of open conipelition, 
 should fully disclose the plan of his publication; nor is a nrogranimj 
 a course of polite literature (always more agreeable wheu most disci. 
 sive) by any means called for. When he has stated h"' Histor 
 Geology, the Mathematics, and in short all the graver Sciences, wi 
 give place to Poetry, Romance, Literary and Biographical Anecdot 
 Epistolary Correspondence, and the pleasant gossip of polite learnin;^ 
 the leading features of his work will be sufficiently understood. : 
 need hardly be added, that the judgment exercised in the selection ( 
 his materiel will rigidly exclude every thing that militates in the moj 
 trifling degree against religion or morality. 
 
 KLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE, PICCADILLY. 
 
 the works which will follow 
 The Essays of Addisox, two volumes, are 
 The Lyre.— Fugitive Poetry of the xixth Century. 
 The Modern Decameron, vols. 1 and 2. 
 The Laurel. — A companion volume to The Lyre. 
 Anecdotes of Literature. 
 The Poetry [selected] of the Age of Qufen Elizabeth. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 I fY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I v^RY liberal motive that can actuate an Authour in the dedica- 
 ^ "of his labours, concurs in directing me to you, as the person to 
 lom the following Work should be inscribed. 
 If there be a pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of 
 a contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity not altoge- 
 ther inexcusable, in appearing fully sensible of it, where can I find 
 i 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 flfittery, ascribe to youw 
 
 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 a person of the first eminence in the age in which he lived, 
 ^ whose company has been universally courted, I am justified in 
 availing myself of the usual privilege of a Dedication, when I 
 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 
 or the many happy hours which I owe to your kindness, — for the 
 cordiality with which you have at ail times been pleased towel- 
 come me, — for the number of valuable acquaintances to whom you 
 have introduced me,r— for the nodes ccenccqiie Deiim, which I have 
 enjjoyed 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 ensure it credit 
 «nd success,, the Life of Dr. Johnson is, with the greatest propriety, 
 »edicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was the intimate and 
 ieloved friend of that great man; the friend whom he declared 
 ' ^ be *' the most invulnerable man he knew ; whom, if he should 
 
^m ADYERTISE3IENT TO 
 
 to this Work, will appear from what he 
 wrote to me upon a former occasion 
 from Oxford, November 17, 1785: — 
 " 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 return from 
 the country, and in which you have 
 depicted our friend so perfectly to my 
 fancy, in every attitude, every scene and 
 situation, that I have thought myself in 
 the company, and of the party, almost 
 throughout. It has given very general 
 satisfaction ; and those who have found 
 most fault with a passage here and there, 
 have agreed that they could not help 
 going through, and being entertained with 
 the whole. I wish, indeed, some few 
 gross expressions had been softened, and 
 
 THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 a few of our Hero's foibles had been a 
 little moie shaded ; but it is useful to sop 
 the weaknesses inciueu: to gr^at wiur. 
 and you have given «? Dr. Johnf*oii 
 authority that in history all ouehr to ' 
 told." 
 
 Such a sanction to my facultv oi i;;\ ...g 
 a just representation of Dr. Johnson I 
 could not conceal. Nor will I suppress 
 my satisfaction in the consciousness, that 
 by recording so considerable a portion of 
 the wisdom and wit of " the brightest 
 ornament of the eighteenth century*," 
 I have largely provided for the instruc- 
 tion and entertainment of mankind. 
 London, April 20, 1791. 
 
 * See Mr. Malone's Preface to his editioR 
 of Shakspeare, 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 That I was anxious for the success of a 
 Work which had employed much of my 
 time and labour, I do not wiijh to con- 
 ceal : but whatever doubts I at anytime 
 entertained, have been entirely removed 
 by the very favourahlp r<?/-eption with 
 ■which it has been honoured. That re- 
 ception has excited my best exertions to 
 render my Book more perfect; and in 
 this endeavour I have had the assistance 
 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 additions. 
 These I have ordered to be printed sepa- 
 rately in quarto, for the accommodation 
 of the purchasers of the first edition. 
 May I be permitted to say that the typo- 
 graphy 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 are often at once 
 pleasing and painful. Of this truth, the 
 progress of the present Work furnishes a 
 striking instance. It was highly gratify- 
 ing to me that my friend. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, 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, pro- 
 portionate to the felicity which he dif- 
 
 fused through a wide circle of admirers 
 and friends. 
 
 In reflecting that the illustrious subject 
 of this Work, by bei|ig more extensively 
 and intimatelv known, however elevated 
 berore, has risen in the veneration and 
 love of mankind, I feel a satisfaction be- 
 yond 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 fortune to be in his company^; 
 and, without doubt, if his discourse at 
 other periods had been collected with the 
 same attention, the whole tenour of what 
 he uttered would have been found equally 
 excellent. 
 
 His strong, clear, and animated en- 
 forcement of religion, morality, loyalty, 
 and subordination, while it delights and 
 improves the wise and the good, will, I 
 trust, prove an effectual anfidote to that 
 detestable sophistry which has been lately 
 imported from France, under the false 
 name of Philosophy, and with a malig- 
 nant industry has been employed against 
 the peace, good order, and happiness of 
 society, in our free and prosperous coun- 
 try ; but, thanks be to God, without pro- 
 ducing the pernicious effects which were 
 hoped for by its propagators. 
 
 It seems to me, in my moments of 
 self-complacency, that this extensive bio- 
 graphical Work, however inferior in its 
 nature, may in one respect be assimilated 
 
t ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 to the OdyssjEY. Amidst a thousand en- 
 tertaining and instructive episodes the 
 
 Hero is never long out of sight ; for they 
 are all in some degree connected with 
 kiin ; and He, in the whole course of 
 the History, is exhibited by the Authour 
 for the best advantage of his readers: 
 
 —Quid virtus et quid sapienlia possit, 
 Vcile proposuit nubia ixemplar VlysstH. 
 
 Should there be any cold-blooded and 
 morose mortals who really dislike this 
 Book, I will give them a stoi'y to apply. 
 When the great Duke of Marlborough, 
 accompanied by Lord Cadogan, was 
 one day reconnoitring Ihe army in Flan- 
 ders, a heavy rain came on, and they 
 both called for their cloaks. Lord Ca- 
 dggan's servant, a good humoured alert 
 lad, brought his Lordship's in a minute. 
 The Duke's servant, a lazy sulky dog, 
 was so sluggisli, 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 fellow's tem- 
 per." 
 
 There are some men, I believe, who 
 liave, 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, on liaving 
 obtained such fame, to me would be 
 truly painful. Why then should I sup- 
 
 IX 
 
 press it? Why " out of the abundance of 
 the heart" should I not speak? Let me 
 then mention with a warm, but no inso- 
 lent exultation, that 1 have been regaled 
 with spontaneous praise of my Work by 
 many and various persons eminent for 
 their rank, learning, talents, and acconi- 
 plishments ; much of which praise I 
 have under their hands to be reposited in 
 my archives at Auchinleck. An honour- 
 able and reverend friend speaking of the 
 favourable reception of my volumes, 
 even in the circles of fashion and ele- 
 gance, said to me, " you have made them 
 all talk Johnson," — Yes, I may add, I 
 have Johnsonised the land ; and I trust 
 they will not only talk, but think, John- 
 son. 
 
 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 magnifi- 
 cent, yet dangerous embassy, in which 
 he is now employed, which makes every 
 thing that relates to him peculiarly inter- 
 esting. 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 
 Lordsliip's hand-writing, an inscription 
 of such high commendation, that even 1, 
 vain as I am, cannot prevail on myself 
 to publish it. 
 [July 1, 1793.] 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 Several valuable letters, and other cu- 
 rious matter, having been communicated 
 to the Authour too late to be arranged in 
 that chronological order which he had 
 endeavoured uniformly to observe in his 
 work, he was obliged to introduce them 
 in his Second Edition, by way of Ad- 
 denda, as commodiously as he could. In 
 the present edition they have been dis- 
 tributed in their proper places. In re- 
 vising his volumes for a new edition, he 
 had pointed out where some of these 
 materials should be inserted ; but unfor- 
 tunately, in the midst of his labours, he 
 was seized with a fever, of which, to the 
 great regret of all his friends, he died on 
 the lOih of May, 1795. All the Notes 
 that he had written in the margin of the 
 copy which he had in part revised, are 
 iiere faithfully preserved ; and a few new 
 
 Notes have been added, principally by 
 some of those friends to whom the Au- 
 thour in the former editions acknow- 
 ledged his obligations. Those subscribed 
 with the letter B. were communicated 
 by Dr. Burney ; those to which the 
 letters J. B. are annexed, by the Rev. J. 
 B. Blakeway, of Shrewsbury, to whom 
 Mr. Boswell acknowledged himself in- 
 debced for some judicious remarks on the 
 first edition of his W'ork ; and the letters 
 J. B. — O. are annexed to some remarks 
 furnished by the Authour's second son, a 
 Student of Brazen Nose College, in Ox- 
 ford. Some valuable observations were 
 communicated by James Bindley, Esq. 
 First Commissioner in the Stamp Office, 
 which have been acknowledged in their 
 proper places. For all those without any 
 signature, Mr. Malone is answerable. — 
 
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 Every new remark, not written by the 
 Authour, for the sake of distinction has 
 been enclosed within crotchets. 
 
 I have only to add, that the proof- 
 sheets of the present edition not having 
 passed through my hands, I am not an- 
 swerable for any typographical errours 
 that may be found in it. Having, how- 
 ever, been printed at the very accurate 
 
 press of Mr. Baldwin, I make no doubt 
 it will be found not less perfect than the 
 former edition ; the gr. aif si . .^ ,.--'.]^ 
 been taken, by correctn ss .. 
 to do justice to one of ttic- :■ 
 tive and entertaining wir:..- 
 lish language. 
 
 EDM. MALONE. 
 April 8, 1799, 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 In this edition are inserted some new 
 letters, of which the greater part has been 
 obligingly communicated by the Reve- 
 rend Doctor Vyse, Rector of Lambeth. 
 Those written by Dr. JohnsOiN concern- 
 ing his mother, in her last illness, furnish 
 a new proof of his great piety and ten- 
 derness of heart, and therefore cannot 
 but be acceptable to the readers of this 
 very popular work. Some new notes 
 also have been added, which, as well as 
 the observations inserted in the third 
 edition, and the letters now introduced, 
 are carefully included within crotchets, 
 that the authour may not be answerable 
 for any thing which had not the sanction 
 of his approbation. The remarks of his 
 friend^ are distinguished as formerly, 
 except those of Mr. Malone, to which 
 the letter M. is now subjoined. Those 
 to which the letter K. is afllixed were 
 communicated by my learned friend, 
 the Reverend Doctor Kearney, for- 
 
 merly Senior Fellow of Trinity College, 
 Dublin, and now beneficed in the dio- 
 cess of Raphoe in Ireland, of which he 
 is Archdeacon. 
 
 Of a work which has been before the 
 publick for thirteen years with increas- 
 ing approbation, and of which near four 
 thousand copies have been dispersed, it 
 is not necessary to say more ; yet I can- 
 not refrain from adding, that, highly as 
 it is now estimated, it will, I am confi- 
 dent, be still more valued by posterity a 
 century hence, when all the actors in the 
 scene shall be numbered with the dead ; 
 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, admira- 
 tion, and delight. 
 
 E. M. 
 June 20, 1804. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIFTH EDITION. 
 
 In this fifth edition some errours of the 
 press, which had crept into the text and 
 notes, in consequence of repeated im- 
 pressions, have been corrected. Two 
 letters written by Dr. Johnson, and 
 
 several new notes, have been added ; 
 by which, it is hoped, this valuable Work 
 is still further improved. 
 
 E. M. 
 
 January I, 1807. 
 
CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PROSE WORKS* OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. 
 
 [N. B. To Ihose which he himself acknowIed«recl is added acknowl. To those vvhich may 
 be fully believed to be his from internal evidence, is added intern. evuL] 
 
 1735. Abridgement and translation of 
 Lobo's Voyage to Abyssinia. 
 acknoivl. 
 
 1738. Part of a translation of Father Panl 
 
 Sarpi's History of the Council 
 
 of Trent, acknowl. 
 
 [N. B. As this work, after some sheets 
 
 were printed, suddenly stopped, I know 
 
 not whether any part of it is now to be 
 
 found.] 
 
 For the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 Life of Father Paul, acknoivl. 
 
 1739. A complete vindication of the Li- 
 
 censer of the Stage from the 
 malicious and scandalous asper- 
 sions of Mr. Brooke, authour of 
 Gustavus Vasa, acknowl. 
 Marmor Noi'folcience : or, an 
 Essay on an ancient prophetical 
 inscription in monkish rhyme, 
 lately discovered near Lynne in 
 Norfolk : by Probus Britanni- 
 cus. acknowl. 
 
 For the Gentleman's Magatine. 
 
 Life of Boerhaave. acknoivl. 
 
 Address to the Reader, intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Appeal to the Publick in behalf of 
 the Editor, intern, evid. 
 
 Considerations on the case of Dr. 
 Trapp's Sermons; a plausible 
 attempt to prove that an au- 
 thour's work may be abridged 
 without injuring his property. 
 acknowl. 
 
 * I do not here include his Poetical Works ; 
 for, excepting his Latin Translation of Pope's 
 Alessiah, his London, and his Vanity of Hu- 
 man Wishes imitated from Juvenal; his Pro- 
 logue on the openini,' of Drury Lane Theatre 
 by Mr. Garrick, and his Irene, a Tragedy, 
 they are very numerous, and in general short; 
 and 1 have promised a complete edition of 
 them, in which I shall with the utmost care 
 ascertain their authenticity, and illustrate 
 them with notes and various readings. 
 
 1740. For the Gentleman's Magazitie. 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 
 Life of Admiral Drake, acknowl. 
 Life of AdiTiiral Blake, acknowl. 
 Life of Philip Barretier. acknowl. 
 Essay on Epitaphs, acknowl. 
 
 1741. For the Gentleman's Magazine > 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 
 A free translation of the Jests of 
 Hierocles, with an introduction. 
 intern evid. 
 
 Debate on the Humble Petition 
 and Advice of the Rump Par- 
 liament to Cromwell in 1657, 
 to assume the Title of King ; 
 abridged, methodized, and di- 
 gested, intern, evid. 
 
 Translation of Abbe Guyon's Dis- 
 sertation on the Amazons, in- 
 tern, evid. 
 
 Translation of Fontenelle's Pane- 
 gyrick on Dr. Moriu. intern, 
 evid. 
 
 1742. For the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 
 Essay on the Account of the Con- 
 duct of the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough, acknowl. 
 
 An Account of the Life of Peter 
 Burman. acknowl. 
 
 The Life of Sydenham, afterwards 
 prefixed to Dr. Swan's Edition 
 of his Works, acknowl. 
 
 Proposals for printing Bibliotheca 
 Harleiana, or a Catalogue of the 
 Library of the Earl of Oxford, 
 afterwards prefixed to the first 
 Volume of that Catalogue, in 
 which the Latin Accounts of the 
 Books were written by him. 
 acknowl. 
 
 Abridgement, entitled, Foreign His- 
 tory, intern, evid. 
 
 Essay on the Description of China, 
 from the French of Dn Halde. 
 intern, evid. 
 
Xii CHRONOLOGIC. 
 
 1743. Dedication to Dr. Mead of Dr. 
 
 James's Medicinal Dictionary. 
 intern, evid. 
 
 For the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 
 Parliamentary Debates under the 
 name of Debates in the Senate 
 of Lilliput, from Nov. 19, 1740, 
 to Feb. 23, 1742-3, inclusive. 
 acknowl. 
 
 Considerations on the Dispute be- 
 tween Cronsaz and Warbnrton 
 on Pope's Essay on Man. in- 
 tern, evid. 
 
 A Letter, nnnonncing that the Life 
 of Mr. Savage was speedily to 
 be published by a person who 
 was favoured with his confi- 
 dence, intern, evid. 
 
 Advertisement for Osborne con- 
 cerning the Harleian Catalogue. 
 intern, evid. 
 
 1744. Life of Richard Savage, acknowl. 
 Preface to the Harleian Miscel- 
 lany, acknowl. 
 
 For the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 Preface, intern, evid. 
 
 1745. Miscellaneous Observations on the 
 
 Tragedy of Macbeth, with re- 
 marks on Sir T. H.'s (Sir Tho- 
 mas Hammer's) Edition of 
 Shakspeare, and proposals for 
 a new Edition of that Poet. 
 acknowl. 
 
 1747. Plan for a Dictionary of the Eng- 
 
 lish Language, addressed to 
 "Philip Dormer, Earl of Chester- 
 field. acTinuwl. 
 
 For the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 
 1748. Life of Roscommon, acknowl. 
 Foreign History, November, in- 
 tern, evid. 
 
 For Mr. Dodsley's Preceptor. 
 
 Preface, acknowl. 
 
 Vision of Theodore the Hermit. 
 acknowl. 
 1750. The Rambler, the first Paper of 
 which was published, 20th of 
 March this year, and the last 
 17th of March, 1752, the day 
 on which Mrs. Johnson died*. 
 ackiiowl. 
 
 Letter in the General Advertiser 
 to excite the attention of the 
 Pnblick to the Performance of 
 Comus, which was next day to 
 be acted at Drury-Lane Play- 
 house for the Benefit of Milton's 
 Grand-daughter, acknowl. 
 
 * [This is a mistake. The last number of 
 tlie RduWiler appeared on the fonrieenth of 
 IMarcli, three days before Mrs. Johuson died. 
 
 Set- p. 57. 
 
 AL CATALOGUE 
 
 Preface and Postscript to Lauder' 
 Pamphlet, entitled, " An Essa- 
 on Milton's Use «nd Imi'.. ;' 
 of the Moderns in his Paradiat 
 Lost." acknowl. 
 1751. Life of Cheynel, in the Aliscellany 
 called "The 8Uxdt:n\.''acknowL 
 
 Letter for Lauder, addressed to the 
 Reverend Dr. John Douglas, ' 
 acknowledging his Fraud con- 
 cerning Milton in terms of suit- 
 able Contrition, acknowl. 
 
 Dedication to the Earl of Middle- 
 sex, of Mrs. Charlotte Lennox's 
 •' Female Quixote." intern, 
 evid. 
 
 1753. Dedication to John Earl of Or- 
 rery, of Shakspeare Illustrated, 
 by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, ac- 
 knotvl. 
 
 During this and the following year 
 he wrote and gave to his nuich 
 loved friend Dr. Bathurst the 
 Papers in the Adventurer, signed 
 T. acknowl. 
 
 1754. Life of Edward Cave in the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine, acknowl. 
 
 1755. A Dictionary, with a Grammar 
 and History, of the English 
 Language, acknowl. 
 
 An Account of an Attempt to ascer- 
 tain- the Longitude at Sea, by 
 an exact Theory of the Varia- 
 tions of the Magnetical Needle, 
 with a Table of the Variations at 
 the most remarkable Cities in 
 Europe, from the year IGOO to 
 1860. acknowl. This he wrote 
 for Mr. Zachariah Williams, an 
 ingenious ancient Welsh Gentle- 
 man, father of Mrs. Anna Wil- 
 liams, whom he for many years 
 kindly lodged in his house. It 
 was published with a Transla- 
 tion into Italian by Signor Ba- 
 retti. In a Copy of it which he 
 presented to the Bodleian Li- 
 brary at Oxford, is pasted a cha- 
 racter of the late Mr. Zachariah 
 Williams, plainly written by 
 Johnson, intern, evid. 
 
 1756. An Abridgement of his Dictionary. 
 acknoivl. 
 
 Several Essays in the Universal 
 Visiter, which there is some dif- 
 ficulty in ascertaining. All that 
 are marked with two asterisks 
 have been ascribed to him, al- 
 though I am confident from in- 
 ternal evidence, that we should 
 except from these *' The Life of 
 Chaucer," *' Rellections on the 
 State of Portugal," and " An 
 Essay on Archilecture:" and 
 I from the same evidence I am 
 
 confident that he wrote " Fur- 
 
OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 ther Thoughts on Agriculture," 
 and ** A Dissertation on the 
 State of Literature and Au- 
 thours." The Dissertation on 
 the Epitaphs written by Pope 
 he afterwards acknowledged, 
 and added to his ** Idler." 
 Life of Sir Thomas Browne pre- 
 fixed to a new Edition of his 
 Christian Morals, acknoid. 
 
 In the Literary Magazine; or, Uni- 
 versal Review, which began in Janu- 
 ary, 1756. 
 
 His Original Essays are. 
 
 The Preliminary Address, intern, 
 evid. 
 
 An Introduction to the Political 
 State of Great Britain, intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Remarks on the Militia Bill, in- 
 tern, evid. 
 
 Observations on his Britannick 
 Majesty's Treaties with the Em- 
 press of Russia and the Land- 
 grave of Hesse Cassel. intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Observations on the Present State 
 of Affairs, intern, evid. 
 
 Memoirs of Frederick III. King of 
 Prussia, intern, evid. 
 
 In the same Magazine his Reviews 
 are of the following Books :— 
 " Birch's History of the Royal 
 Society." — ** Browne's Chris- 
 tian Morals." — " Warton's Es- 
 say on the Writings and Genius 
 of Pope, Vol. I." — " Hampton's 
 Translation of Polybius." — " Sir 
 Isaac Newton's Arguments in 
 Proof of a Deity." — " Borlase's 
 History of the Isles of Scilly." 
 — " Home's Experiments on 
 Bleaching." — " Browne's His- 
 tory of Jamaica." — *' Hales on 
 Distilling Sea Waters, Ventila- 
 tors in Ships, and curing an ill 
 Taste in Milk." — " Lucas's Es- 
 say on Waters." — ** Keith's Ca- 
 talogue of the Scottish Bishops." 
 — " Philosophical Transactions, 
 Vol. XLIX." — "Miscellanies 
 by Eliz. Harrison." — " Evans's 
 Map and Account of the Middle 
 Colonies in America." — '* The 
 Cadet, a Military Treatise." — 
 "The Conduct of the Ministry 
 relating to the present War im- 
 partially examined." intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Mrs. Lennox's " Translation of 
 Sully's Memoirs." — " Letter on 
 the Case of Admiral Byng." — 
 " Appeal to the People concern- 
 ing Admiral Byng." — " Han- 
 
 PROSE WORKS. XIU 
 
 way's Eight Days' Journey, and 
 Essay on Tea." — " Some further 
 Particulars in Relation to the 
 Case of Admiral Byng, by a 
 Gentleman of Oxford." ackn. 
 
 Mr. Jonas Hanway having written 
 an angry Answer to the Review 
 of his Essay on Tea, Johnson in 
 the same Collection made a re- 
 ply to it. acknowl. This is the 
 only instance, it is believed, 
 when he condescended to take 
 notice of any thing that had been 
 written against him ; and here 
 his chief intention seems to have 
 been to make &port. 
 
 Dedication to the Earl of Roch» 
 ford of, and Preface to, Mr. 
 Payne's Introduction to the 
 Game of Draughts, acknowl. 
 
 Introduction to the London Chro- 
 nicle, an Evening Paper which 
 still subsists with deserved cre- 
 dit, acknowl. 
 
 1757. Speech on the Subject of an Ad- 
 
 dress to the Throne after the 
 Expedition to Rochefort : de- 
 livered by one of his Friends in 
 some publick Meeting : it is 
 printed in the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine for October, 1785. intern, 
 evid. 
 The first two paragraphs of the 
 Preface to Sir William Cham- 
 bers's Designs of Chinese Build- 
 ings, &c. acknowl. 
 
 1758. The Idler, which began April 5, 
 
 in this year, and was continued 
 till April 5, 1760. acknoivl. 
 An Essay on the Bravery of the 
 English Common Soldiers was 
 added to it, when published in 
 volumes, acknowl. 
 
 1759. Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, a 
 
 Tale. ackno^M. 
 
 Advertisement for the Proprietors 
 of the Idler against certain Per- 
 sons who pirated those Papers 
 as they came out singly in a 
 Newspaper called the Universal 
 Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette. 
 intern, evid. 
 
 For Mrs. Charlotte Lennox's Eng- 
 lish Version of Brumoy, — " A 
 Dissertation on the Greek Co- 
 medy," and the General Conclu- 
 sion of the Book, intern, evid. 
 
 Introduction to the World Dis- 
 played, a Collection of Voyages 
 and Travels, acknotvl. 
 
 Three Letters in the Gazetteer, 
 concerning the best plan for 
 Blackfriars Bridge, acknoivl. 
 
 1760. Address of the Painters to George 
 
 III. on his Accession to the 
 Throne. inter7t. evid. 
 
CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE 
 
 Dedication of Baretti's Italian and 
 Englisli Dictionary to the Mar- 
 quis of Abren, then Envoy Ex- 
 traordinary from Spain at the 
 Court of Great Britain, intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Review in the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine, of M. Tytler's acute and 
 able Vindication of Mary Queen 
 of Scots, acknowl. 
 
 Introduction to the Proceedings of 
 
 the Committee for Clothing the 
 
 French Prisoners, acknowl. 
 
 , Preface to Rolfs Dictionary of 
 
 Trade and Commerce, acknowl. 
 
 Corrections and improvements for 
 Mr. Gwyn the Architect's Pam- 
 phlet, entitled " Thoughts on the 
 Coronation of George III." ac- 
 knowl. 
 . Dedication to the King, of the Re- 
 verend Dr. Kennedy's Complete 
 System of Astronomical Chro- 
 nology unfolding the Scriptures, 
 Quarto Edition, acknowl. 
 
 Preface to the Catalogue of the 
 
 Artists' Exhibition. m^erw.evic?. 
 
 . Character of Collins in the Poetical 
 
 Calendar, published by Fawkes 
 
 and Woty. acknowl. 
 
 Dedication to the Earl of Shafts- 
 bury of the edition of Roger 
 Ascham's English Works, pub- 
 lished by the Reverend Mr. Ben- 
 net, acknowl. 
 
 The Life of Ascham, also prefixed 
 to that edition, acknowl. 
 
 Review of Telemachus, a Masque, 
 by the Rev. George Graham, 
 of Eton College, in the Critical 
 Review, acknowl. 
 
 Dedication to the Queen of Mr. 
 Hoole's Translation of Tasso. 
 acknowl. 
 
 Account of the Detection of the Im- 
 posture of the Cock Lane Ghost, 
 published in the Newspapers and 
 Gentleman's Magazine, ack. 
 . Part of a Review of Grainger's 
 " Sugar Cane, a Poem," in the 
 London Chronicle, acknowl. 
 
 Review of Goldsmith's Traveller, 
 a Poem, in the Critical Review. 
 acknoivl. 
 !. The Plays of William Shakspeare, 
 in eight volumes, 8vo. with 
 Notes, acknowl. 
 1. The Fountains, a Fairy Tale, in 
 Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. 
 acknowl. 
 '. Dedication to the King, of Mr. 
 Adams's Treatise on the Globes. 
 acknoivl. 
 I. Character of the Reverend Mr. 
 Zachariah Mudge, in the Lon- 
 don Chronicle, acknowl. 
 
 1770. The False Alarm, acknowl. 
 
 1771. Thoughts on the late Transactioiii- > 
 
 respecting Fulkiaud's Islaad.. 
 acknowl. 
 
 1772. Defence of a Schoolmaster; d"ic 
 
 tated to me foi the House ot 
 Lords, acknowl. 
 Argument in Support of the Law 
 of Vicious Intromission ; dic- 
 tated to me for the '^ "• t of Ses- 
 sion in Scotland, ■c.;.^; c-c". 
 
 1773. Preface to Macbear ' ^ '•• ; m ■.' v 
 
 of Ancient Geog ;v ;, . 
 
 Argument in Favou:     i.i.iM- 
 of Lay Patrons ; dictateti U> iJ'.e 
 for the General Assembly of the 
 Church of Scotland, acknoivl. 
 
 1774. The Patriot, acknowl. 
 
 1775. A Journey to the Western Islands 
 
 of Scotland, acknowl. 
 
 Proposals for publishing the Works 
 of Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, in 
 three Volumes Quarto, acknowl. 
 
 Preface to Baretti's Easy Lessons 
 in Italian and English* intern, 
 evid. 
 
 Taxation no Tyranny ; an Answer 
 to the Resolutions and Address 
 of the American Congress, ack. 
 
 Argument on the Case of Dr. Me- 
 mis ; dictated to me for the 
 Court of Session in Scotland. 
 acknowl. 
 
 Argument to prove that the Cor- 
 poration of Stirling was corrupt ; 
 dictated to me for the House of 
 Lords, acknowl. 
 
 1776. Argument in Support of the Right 
 
 of immediate and personal Re- 
 prehension from the ' Pulpit ; 
 dictated to me. acknoivl. 
 Proposals for publishing an Ana- 
 lysis of the Scotch Celtic Lan- 
 guage, by the Reverend William 
 Shaw, acknoivl. 
 
 1777. Dedication to the King of the 
 
 Posthumous Works of Doctor 
 Pearce, Bishop of Rochester. 
 acknowl. 
 
 Additions to the Life and Charac- 
 ter of that Prelate ; prefixed t(. 
 those Works, acknowl. 
 
 Various Papers and Letters in Fa- 
 vour of the Reverend Dr. Dodd. 
 acknowl. 
 
 1780. Advertisement for his friend Mr. 
 
 Thrale to the Worthy Electors 
 of the Borough of South wark. 
 acknowl. 
 The first Paragraph of Mr. Thoma- 
 Davies's Life of Garrick. ac 
 knowl. 
 
 1781. Prefaces, Biographical and Criti- 
 
 cal, to the 'Works of the most 
 eminent English Poets ; after- 
 wards published with the Till< 
 
OF DR. JOHNSON S PROSE WORKS. 
 
 of the Lives of the English 
 Poets, acknowl. 
 
 Argument ou the Importance of 
 the Registration of Deeds ; dic- 
 tated to me for an Election 
 Committee of the House of 
 Commons, acknowl. 
 
 On the Distinction between Tory 
 and Whig ; dictated to me. 
 acknowl. 
 
 On Vicarious Punishments, and the 
 great Propitiation for the Sins 
 of the World, by Jesus Christ ; 
 dictated to me. acknowl. 
 
 Argument in favour of Joseph 
 Knight, an African Negro, who 
 claimed his Liberty in tlie Court 
 of Session in Scotland, and ob- 
 tained it; dictated to me. ac- 
 knoivl. 
 
 Defence of Mr. Robertson, Printer 
 of the Caledonian Mercury, 
 against the Society of Procura- 
 tors in Edinburgh, for having 
 inserted in his Paper a ludicrous 
 Paragraph against them ; de- 
 monstrating that it was not an 
 injurious Libel; dictated to me. 
 acknowl. 
 1782. The greatest part, if not the whole, 
 of a Reply, by the Reverend 
 . Mr. Shaw, to a Person at Edin- 
 burgh, of the Name of Clarke, 
 refuting his arguments for the 
 authenticity of tiie Poems pub- 
 lished by Mr. James Macpher- 
 son as Translations from Ossian. 
 intern, evid. 
 1 784. List of the Authours of the Univer- 
 sal History, deposited in the 
 British Museum, and printed in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine for 
 December, this year, acknowl. 
 
 Various years. 
 Letters to Mrs. Thrale. acknotvl. 
 Prayers and Meditations, which he 
 
 delivered to the Reverend Mr. 
 Strahan, enjoining him to pub- 
 lish them, acknowl. 
 Sermons, left for Publication by 
 John Taylor, LL. D. Preben- 
 dary of Westminster, and given 
 to the World by the Reverend 
 Samuel Hayes, A.M. intern: 
 evid *. 
 
 Such was the number and variety of 
 the Prose Works of this extraordinary 
 man, which I have been able to discover, 
 and am at liberty to mention ; but we 
 ought to keep in mind, that there mu?t 
 undoubtedly have been many more which 
 are yet concealed ; and vve may add tx) 
 the account, the numerous Letters which 
 he wrote, of which a considerable part 
 are yet unpublished. It is hoped that 
 those persons in whose possession they 
 are will favour the world with them. 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL. 
 
 * [To Ihis List of the Writings of Dr. Jolin- 
 sion, Mr. Alexander Chalmers, with consider- 
 able probability, suggests to me that we may 
 add the following-; — 
 
 In the Gentlcman^s Magazine. 
 
 1747. Lauder's Proposals for printing tlie 
 Adamus ExiU of Grotius. Vol. io. 
 p. 404. 
 
 1750. Address to the Publick, concerning Miss 
 Williams's Miscellanies. Vol. 20. 
 p. 428. 
 
 1753. Preface. 
 
 Notice of Mr. Edward Cave's death, in- 
 serted in the last page of the Index. 
 
 In the Literary Magazine. 
 1756. " Observations on tlie foregoing letter i" 
 i. e. A letter on the American Colo- 
 nies. Vol. 1. p. 66. M.] 
 
" After my death I wish no other herald, 
 No other speaker of my living actions, 
 To keep mine honour from corruption, 
 But such an honest chronicler as Griffith*. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE, HENRY VIII. 
 
 » See Dr. Johnscm's letter to Mrs. Thrale, dated Ostick in Skie, September 30, 1773:- 
 " Bosweil vvritea a regular Journal of our travels, uiiich I think coniains as much of uhat I 
 say and do, as of all other occurrences together ; *^for such a faithful chronicler is Griffith.^ 
 
LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, XL. D. 
 
 J o write the Life of him who excelled 
 all mankind in writing the lives of others, 
 and who, whether we consider his ex- 
 traordinary endowments, or his various 
 works, has been equalled by few in any 
 age, is an arduous, and may be reckoned 
 ill me a presumptuous task. 
 
 Had Dr. Johnson written his own life, 
 I in _ci>jt)formity with the opinion which 
 ; he has given *, that every man's life may 
 ; be best written by himself; had he em- 
 [ ployed 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 dif- 
 ferent times, in a desultory manner, 
 committed to writing many particulars 
 of the progress of his mind and fortunes, 
 he never had persevering diligence 
 r enough to form them in a regular com- 
 position. Of these memorials a few 
 have been preserved ; but the greater 
 part was consigned by him to the flames, 
 a few days before his death. 
 
 As I had the honour and happiness of 
 enjoying lus friendship for upwards of 
 twenty years; as 1 had the scheme of 
 •writing his life constantly in view ; as 
 he was well apprized of this circum- 
 stance, and from time to time obligingly 
 satisfied my inquiries, by communicating 
 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 
 vigour and vivacity constituted one of 
 the first features of his character ; and as 
 I have spared no pains in obtaining ma- 
 terials concerning him, from every quar- 
 ter where I could discover that they 
 were to be found, and have been favoured 
 with the most liberal communications 
 by his friends ; I flatter myself that few 
 biographers have entered upon such a 
 work as this with more advantages, in- 
 dependent 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. 
 
 * Idler, No. 84. 
 
 Since my work was announced, se- 
 veral Lives and Memoirs of Dr. Johnson 
 have been published ; the most volumi- 
 nous of which is one compiled for the 
 booksellers of London, by Sir John 
 Hawkins, Knight f, a man, whom, during 
 my long i.Jtimacy with Dr. Johnson, I 
 never sAw in Iii? company, I thiiJ^, bit. 
 once, and I a'n. i.ure not above tvi.c'J. 
 Johnson might have esteemed nim for 
 hi.s decent religious demeanour, and his 
 k.40wledge of boc'is and literary history ; 
 but, frc m' th»^ rigid •'ormalijij oj hi&rvian- 
 ners, it is evident tnat tliey never cuulcl, 
 have lived together with companionable 
 ease and familiarity : nor had Sir John 
 Hawkins that nice perception which 
 was necessary to mark the finer and less 
 obvious parts of Johnson's character. 
 His being appointed one of his executors 
 gave him an opportunity of taking pos- 
 session of such fragments of a diary and 
 other papers as were left ; of which, 
 before delivering them up to the resid- 
 uary legatee, whose property they were, 
 he endeavoured to extract the substance. 
 In this he has not been very successful, 
 as 1 have found upon a perusal of those 
 papers which have been since transferred 
 to nie. Sir John Hawkins's ponderous 
 labours, 1 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 unneces- 
 sary extracts from various works (even 
 
 + The greatest part of this book was written 
 while Sir John Hawkins was alive; and 1 
 avow, that one object of my strictures was to 
 make him feel some compunction for his 
 illiberal treatment of Dr. Johnson. Since his 
 decease, I have suppre.^sed several of my 
 remarks upon his work. But though 1 would 
 not '• war with the dead" offensively, I think 
 it necessary to be strenuous ni defmce of my 
 illustrious friend, wliicb I cannot be, without 
 strouff animadversions upon a writer who has 
 
 froatly injured him. Let me add, that ihough 
 doubi I should not have been very prompt 
 to gratify Sir John Hawkins with auv com- 
 pliment in his lifetime, I do now frankly 
 acknowledge that, in my opinion, his volume, 
 however iuadequate and improper as a li/e 
 of Dr. Johnson, and however discredited by 
 unpardonable inaccuiacies in other respects, 
 contains a collection of curious anecdotes and 
 observations, vvliicli few men but its author 
 
 i could have brought together. 
 
 \ B 
 
2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 one of several leaves from Osborne's 
 Harleian Catalogue, and those not com- 
 piled 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 through- 
 out the whole of it a dark uncharitable 
 cast, by which the most unfavourable 
 construction is put upon almost every 
 circumstance in the character and con- 
 duct of my illustrious friend ; who, 1 
 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 gr^at ijitimacv with him. 
 
 Thefejs, in the- Briiiyh Museum, a 
 letter, from Bishop V"'^a.burtoa to Dr. 
 Bii'ch, on the subject of biography ; 
 which, thoMgh I Piri awdre ii may expose 
 me to a '^harge of artfully raising tl'ie 
 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 here inserting it: 
 
 " I shall endeavour (says Dr. War- 
 burton), to give you what satisfaction I 
 can in any thing you want to be satisfied 
 in any subject of Milton, and am ex- 
 tremely glad you intend to write his 
 life. Almost all the life-writers we had 
 before Toland and Desmaiseaux are 
 indeed strange and 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), that 
 by the vigour of your style and senti- 
 ments, 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 constantly speaking 
 in my own person, by which I might 
 have appeared to have more merit in 
 
   Brit. Mus. 4320, Ayscoutrirs Catal. Sloane 
 
 MSS. 
 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 the execution of the work, I have re- 
 solved to adopt and enlarge upon the 
 excellent plan of Mr. Mason, in his 
 Memoirs of Gray. Wherever narrative 
 is necessary to explain, connect, and 
 supply, I furnish it to the best of my 
 abilities; but in the chronological series 
 of Johnson's life, which I trace as dis- 
 tinctly 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 ac- 
 quainted with him than even most of I 
 those were who actually knew him, but ! 
 could know him only partially ; whereas | 
 there is here an accumulation of intel- i 
 ligence from various points, by which 
 his character is more fully understood 
 and illustrated. 
 
 Indeed I cannot conceive a more per- 
 fect mode of ^yriti^^g any man's life than 
 not only relating all the most important 
 events of it in their order, but inter- 
 ^weaving what he privately wrote, and 
 said, and thought; by which mankind 
 Jtrfe 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 en- 
 tirely preserved. As it is, I w ill 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 panegyrick, 
 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 was is indeed subject of 
 panegyrick enough to any man in this 
 state of being ; but in every picture there 
 should be shade as well as light, and 
 when I delineate him without reserve, 
 I do what he himself recommended, both 
 by his precept and his example. 
 
 " If the biographer writes from per- 
 sonal knowledge, and makes haste to 
 gratify the publick curiosity, tliere is 
 danger lest his interest, his fear, his gra- 
 titude, 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 
 failings of their friends, even when they 
 can no longer suffer by their detcctioji ; 
 we therefore see whole ranks of charac- 
 ters adorned with uniform Uajieg^jjck, 
 and not to be known from one another " 
 but by extrinsick and casual circum- 
 stances. ' 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 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 regard to the memorj' of the dead, there 
 is yet more respect to be paid to know- 
 ledge, to virtue, and to truth *." 
 
 What I consider as the peculiar value 
 of the following work, is, the quantity 
 it contains of Jjsilin§fin!s ^onversationj 
 which is universally acknowledged to 
 have been eminently instructive and en- 
 tertaining; and of which the specimens 
 that I have given upon a former occasion 
 have been received with so much appro- 
 bation that I have good grounds for sup- 
 posing that the world will not be indif- 
 ferent to more ample communications of 
 a similar nature. 
 
 That the conversation of a celebrated 
 man, if his talents have been exerted in 
 conversation, will best display his cha- 
 racter 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. Wil- 
 liam Whitehead, in which there is lite- 
 rally no Ijife, 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 domestick companion of a superan 
 nuated lord and lady, conversation could 
 no more be expected than from a Chi- 
 nese mandarin, on a chimneypiece, or 
 the fantastick figures on a gilt leather 
 skreen. 
 
 If authority be required, let us appeal 
 to Plutarch, the prince of ancient bio- 
 graphers. OvT£ raig STiKpavEa-TatTaag ■n-^oeiidi 
 travrw; svetti 5*iXwj-»j ct^STYig >! xaxta?, ctKKcx 
 TT^ctytxa. pfaX^ nroKKanq Koti pYiiJ-ot, xai Traj^ja 
 Tig eu.<pa7iv *;Souf eTrciy)C-EV fxaXhov y\ [J-oty^ai 
 /u.of«2V£XfO», TTafaxafa; <M /ufytcrrat, xat tto- 
 Xjofxta TToXfwv. " Nw is it always in the 
 most distinguished achievements that 
 men's virtues or vices may be best dis- 
 ^ corned ; but very often an action of small 
 note, a short saying, or a jest, shall dii-:- 
 tinguish a person's real character more 
 than the greatest sieges, or the most im- 
 portant battiest." 
 
 To this may be added the sentiments 
 of the very man whose life I am about 
 to exhibit. " The business of th)|,biogra 
 pher is often to pass slightly over those 
 performances and incidents which pro- 
 duce vulgar greatness, to lead the thoughts 
 into domestick privacies, and display the 
 minute details of daily life, where ex- 
 terior appendages are cast aside, and 
 men excel each other only by prudence 
 and by virtue. The account of Thuanus 
 
 • Rambler, No. 60. 
 
 + Fiutarcli's Life of Alexander.— Lang- 
 horne's tranblation. 
 
 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 ingenium 
 ct candorein 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 circum- 
 stances, which, whether we read as in- 
 quirers after natural or moral knowledge, 
 whether we intend to enlarge our science 
 or increase our virtue, are more impor- 
 tant than publick occurrences. Thus 
 Sal lust, 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 indication of a 
 mind revolving with violent commotion. 
 Thus the story of Melancthon atfords 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 enter- 
 prises of De Witt are now of less impor- 
 tance to the world than that part of his 
 personal character which represents him 
 as careful of his health, and negligent of 
 his life. 
 
 " But biography has often been allotted 
 to writers, who seem very little ac- 
 quainted with the nature of their task, 
 or very negligent about the performance. 
 They rarely afford any other account than 
 might be collected from publick papers, 
 but imagine themselves writing a life, 
 when they exhibit a chronological 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 character, by a 
 short conversation with one of his ser- 
 vants, 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 de- 
 layed till interest and envy are at an 
 end, we may hope for impartiality, but 
 must expect little intelligence ; for the 
 incidents which give excellence to bio- 
 graphy, are of a volatile and evanescent 
 kind, such as soon escape the memory, 
 and are rarely transmitted by tradition. 
 We know how few can pourtray a living 
 acquaintance, except by his most pro- 
 minent and observable particularities, 
 and the grosser features of his mind ; 
 and it may be easily imagined how much 
 of this little knowledge may be lost in 
 
4 THE LIFE OF 
 
 imparting it, and how soon a succession 
 of copies will lose all resemblance of the 
 original*." 
 
 I am fully avvare of the objections 
 which may be made to the minuteness 
 on some occasions of my detail of John- 
 son'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 frequently characteristick, 
 and always amusing, wljjgn they rj^ate 
 to a distinguished man. I am therefore 
 exceedingly unwilling that any thing, 
 however slight, which my illustrious 
 friend thought it worth his while to ex- 
 press, 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 Jew- 
 ish commentator, who lived about five 
 hundred years ago, explains that passage 
 in the first Psalm, His leaf also shall 
 not ivither, fvom Rabbins yet older than 
 himself, thus ; That even the idle talk, 
 so he expresses it, of a good man ought 
 to be regarded ; the most superiluous 
 things he saith are always of some value. 
 And other ancient authoars have the same 
 phrase, nearly in the same sense." 
 
 Of one thing I am certain, that con- 
 sidering how highly the small portion 
 which we have of the table-talk 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 dis- 
 positions it cannot be known with cer- 
 tainty beforehand, whether what may 
 seem trifling to some, and perhaps to the 
 collector himself, may not be most agree- 
 able to many ; and the greater number 
 that an authour 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 C/ESar, 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 +." 
 
   Rambler, No. 60. 
 
 t Bacoa'sAdvanceuientof Learning, Book 1. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Having said thus much by way of 
 introduction, I commit the following 
 *pages to the candour of the publick. 
 
 Samuel Johnson was born at Lich- 
 field, in Staffordshire, on the 18th of Sep- 
 tember, N. S. 1709 ; and his initiation into 
 the Christian church was not delayed : 
 for his baptism is recorded, in the regis- 
 ter of St. Mary's parish in that city, to 
 have been performed on the day of his 
 birth : his father is there styled Gentle- 
 many a circumstance of which an igno- 
 rant 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 taken by those 
 who could not boast of gentility. His 
 father was Michael Johnson, a native of 
 Derbyshire, of obscure extraction, who 
 settled in Lichfield as a bookseller and 
 stationer. His mother was Sarah Ford, 
 descended of an ancient race of substan- 
 tial 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 cha- 
 racter wliose various excellence I am to 
 endeavour to record, and Nathaniel J, 
 who died in his twenty-fifth year. 
 
 ^^'Mr. Michael Johnson was a man of a 
 large and robust bo<ly, 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 
 mixture of that disease, the nature of 
 which eludes the most minute inquiry, 
 though the effects are well known to be 
 a weariness of life, an unconcern about 
 those things which agitate the greater 
 part of mankind, and a general sensation 
 of gloomy wretchedness. From him 
 then his son inherited, with some other 
 
 ■Qualities, " a vile melancholy," whicli 
 in his" too strong expression oi any dis- 
 turbance of the mind, ".made hini mad 
 aUhis JlfCj^t least not sober ^^J^ Michael 
 was,* liowever, forced by the nairowness 
 of his circumstances to be very diligent 
 in business, not only in his shop, but by 
 occasionally resorting to several towns 
 in the •eighbourhoodjl, some of which 
 
 X Nallianicl >\as born in 1712, aud died in 
 1737. Tlieir father, Mioliiiel Johnson, was 
 born at Ciiblev in Derbyshire, in lfij6, and 
 died at Lirbfic'ld in 1731, at the a.^e of seventy- 
 six, blaraii Ford, his wife, was born at KingV 
 Norton, in the connty of VV.uwick, in 1669, 
 an<l died at Lichfield, in January, 1759, in her 
 ninetieth year. M. 
 
 § Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d 
 edit. p. 213. , _ 
 
 II li;.\tr;tct of a le;ter, dated " Trenthani, 
 St. Peter's day, 1716," written by tlie Rev. 
 Geor^je Plaxlon, chaplain at that ijn;e to 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 were at a considerable distance from 
 Licljfield. At that time booksellers' 
 shops, in the provincial towns of Eng- 
 land 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 cre- 
 ditable as to be made one of the magis- 
 trates of Lichfield ; and being a man of 
 good sense, and skill in his trade, he ac- 
 quired a reasonable share of wealth, of 
 which however he afterwards lost the 
 greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully 
 in a manufacture of parchment. He was 
 a :^lpus hi gh -ch urch man and royally 
 and' retained his attachment to" the un- 
 fortunate house of Stuart, though he re- 
 conciled 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 authen- 
 ticated that I shall not omit it. A young 
 w^oman of Leek, in Staffordshire, while 
 he served his apprenticeship there, con- 
 ceived 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 hu- 
 manity 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 inscription : 
 
 Here lies the bodv of 
 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Blaney, a stranger: 
 
 She departed this life 
 
 20ih of September, ln9i. 
 
 Johnson's mother was a woman of 
 distinguished understanding*. I asked 
 
 Lord Gower, which niav serve to show the 
 high estimation in which the falher of our 
 gr»;At moralist was held :—" Johnson, the 
 Lichfield librarian, is now here; he propa- 
 gates learning all over this diocess, and 
 advanceth knowledge to its just height; all 
 the clergy here are his pupils, and suck all 
 they have from him; Allen cannot make a 
 warrant without his precedent, nor our quon- 
 dam John Evans draw a recognizance sine 
 directione Michaelis."— Gentleman's Mai?. 
 Oct. 1791. 
 
 * It was not, however, much cultivated, as 
 we may collect from Dr. Johnson's own ac- 
 count of his early years, published by R. Phil- 
 lips, evo. 1805, a work undoubtedly authentick, 
 and which, though short, is curious, and well 
 worthy of perusal. *«My father and mother 
 (savs Johnson) had not much bapphiess from 
 each other. They seldom conversed ; for my 
 father could not bear to talk of his affairs : 
 
 his old schoolfellow, Mr. Hector,surgeon, 
 of Birmingham, 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 infe- 
 riour to her understanding ; and to her 
 must be ascribed those early impressions 
 of religion upon the mind of her soh^j^ 
 frOnrvvhich tlie 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," communi- 
 cated to him by her, when a little child 
 in bed with her; and that it might be 
 the better fixed in his memory, she sent 
 him to repeat it to Thomas Jackson, their 
 man-servant : he not being in the way, 
 this was not done ; but there was no oc- 
 casion for any artificial aid for its pre- 
 servation. 
 
 In following so very eminent a man 
 from his cradle to his grave, every mi- 
 nute particular, which can throw light 
 on the progress of his mind, is interesting. 
 That he was remarkable, even in his ear- 
 liest years, may easily be supposed ; for, 
 to use his own words in his Life of Sy- 
 denham, *rThat the_strength of his iin- 
 derstaruiiiigiTtle^cciiracy of his discern- 
 ment, and the ardoiir of his curiijsity, 
 might have been remarked from Jiis 
 infancy, by a diligent observer, there i^ 
 no reason to douby for there is no in- 
 stance of any man, whose history has 
 been minutely related, that did not in 
 every part of life discover the same pro- 
 portion of intellectual vigour." #•" 
 
 In all such investigations it is certainly- 
 unwise to pay too much attention to 
 incidents which the credulous relate with 
 eager satisfaction, and the more scru- 
 pulous or witty inquirer considers only 
 as topicks of ridicule : Yet there is a 
 traditional story of the infant Hercules 
 of toryism, so curiously characteristick, 
 that I shall not withhold it. It was com- 
 
 and my mother, being unacquainted with 
 boohs, cared not to talk of any thing ehe. 
 Had my mother been more literate, thev had 
 been bettei companions. She might 'have 
 sometimes introduced her unwelcome topick 
 wilh more success, if she could have diversi- 
 fied her conversation. Of business she had no 
 distinct conception; and therefore her dis- 
 course was composed only of complaint, fear, 
 and suspicion. Neither or them ever tried to 
 calculate ihe 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, tliat my falher, having, in 
 the early part of his life, contracted debts, 
 never had trade sufficient to enable him to 
 pay them, and to maintain his family: he got 
 something, but not enou&h. It was not till 
 about 1768, that I thought to calculate the 
 returns of my father's trade, and by that 
 estimate liis probable profits. This my pa- 
 rents never did." M. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 municated to me in a letter from Miss 
 Mary Ayde, of Lichfield. 
 
 " When Dr. Sacheverel was at Lich- 
 field, Johnson was not quite three years 
 old. My grandfather Hammond ob- 
 served him at the cathedral perched 
 upon his father's shoulders, listening and 
 
 f aping at the much celebrated preacher. 
 Ir. Hammond asked Mr. Johnson how 
 he could possibly think of bringing such 
 an infant 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 publick spirit and zeal for 
 Sacheverel, and would have staid for 
 ever in the church, satisfied with be- 
 holding him." 
 
 Nor can I omit a little instance of 
 that jealous independence of spijcit and 
 impetuosity of temper which never for- 
 sook him. The fact was acknowledged 
 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, he set 
 out by himself, though he was th£fl=^o 
 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, followed him at some distance. He 
 happened to turn about and perceive 
 her. Feeling her careful attention as an 
 insult to his manliness, he 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 1776, by his step-daughter, 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter, as related to her by 
 his mother. When he was a child in 
 petticoats, and had learned to read, Mrs. 
 Johnson one morning 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 
 up stairs, leaving him to study it: but 
 by the time she had reached the second 
 tloor, 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 
 
 • Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson by Hester Lvnch 
 Piozzi, p. 1 1. Life of Dr. Johnson by Sir John 
 Hawkins, p. 6. 
 
 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 ^ood master Duck, 
 Whom SHrauel Johnson trod on; 
 
 If it had lived, it had been good luck, 
 For then we'd had an odd one." 
 
 There is surely internal evidence that 
 this little composition combines in it 
 what no child of three years old could 
 produce, without an extension of its 
 faculties by immediate inspiration ; yet 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter, Dr. Johnson'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 dilficult is 
 it to obtain an authentick relation of 
 facts, and such authority may there be 
 for errour ; 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 chil- 
 dren f." 
 
 Young Johnson had the misfortune to 
 be much afflicted with the scrofula, or 
 king's-evil, which disfigured a counte- 
 nance 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 difttrent from that 
 of the other. There is amongst his 
 prayers one inscribed, " When my eye 
 ivas restored to its «se j," which ascer- 
 tains a defect that many of his friends 
 knew he had, though I never perceived 
 
 t This anecdote of the duck, though dis- 
 proved by internal and external evidence, 
 has, neverthelet.s, upon supposition of its truth, 
 been made the foundation of the following 
 ingenious and fanciful reflections of Miss 
 Seward, amongst die communications con- 
 cerning Dr. Johnson with which she has been 
 pleased to favour me :—" These infant num- 
 bers contain the seeds of those propensities 
 which throusrh his life so strongly marked his 
 character, of that poetick talent which after- 
 wards bore such rich and plentiful fruits ; for, 
 excepting his orthographick works, every 
 thing wilich 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 adminitlration; an<l in an 
 elooucnce which conveys (heir blended ilhit.- 
 irations in a language ' more tuneable than 
 neeilsor rhyme orverse to add more harmony.' 
 
 "The above little verses also show that 
 superstitiousbias which 'grew with his growth, 
 and strengthened with his strength,* and of 
 late years particularly, injured his happine«)--, 
 by preseniing to him the gloomy side of reli- 
 gion, rather than that bright and cheering 
 one which gilds (he period of closing lite 
 with the light of pious hope." , ^ , 
 
 This is so beautifully imagined that I would 
 not suppress it. Hut, like many other the- 
 ories, it is deduced from a supposed fact, 
 which is, indeed, a fiction. 
 
 I Prayers and Meditations. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 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, whetlier of nature 
 or of art, with a nicety that is rarely to 
 be found. When he and I were traveling 
 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, but that 
 one side of it was larger than the other.* 
 And the ladies with whom he was ac- 
 quainted agree, that, no man was moie 
 'l^S^iX^^d miu!jjJiy_ia^ticat4«h4ii£_£le- 
 
 «£ance olTfe male dress, When I found 
 that he saw the romantic beauties of 
 Islam, in Derbyshire, much better than 
 I did, I told him that 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 lie contracted this grievous 
 malady from his nurse f. 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 Lon- 
 don, where he was actually touched by 
 
   Queen AnneJ. 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, — 
 
 * Speaking himself of the imperfection of 
 one of his cncs, he said, lo Dr. Huniey, " the 
 dog' was never good for much." Hurney. 
 
 t Sucii was the opinion of Dr. Swinfen. 
 Johnson's eyes were very soon discovered to 
 be bad, and, to relieve them, an issue was cui 
 in his left arm. At the end often weeks from 
 his birth, he was tai<en home from his nurse, 
 " a poor diseased infant, almost blind." See 
 a work, alreadv quoted, entitled " An Account 
 of the Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson, from his 
 birth to his Eleventh Year; written by him- 
 Relf." 8vo. 1^05. M. 
 
 J He was onlv thirty months old, when he 
 was taken lo London to be touched for the 
 evil. Durinsf this visit, he tells us his mother 
 purchased for him a small silver cup and 
 spoon. "The cup," he aflectin^ly adds, " was 
 one of the last pieces of plate which dear 
 Tetty sohl 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." M, 
 
 " He had (he said) a confused, but some- 
 how a sort of solemn recollection of a 
 lady in diamonds, and a long black 
 hood§." This touch, however, was with- 
 out 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." 
 
 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 
 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 spake of him to me, he fami- 
 liarly called~Tom Brown, who, said he, 
 " published a spelling-book, and dedi- 
 cated it to the Universe ; but, I fear, no 
 copy of it can now be had." 
 
 He began to learn JLalm with Mr. 
 Hawkins, usher, or under-master of Lich- 
 field school, " a man (said he) very skil- 
 ful in his little way." With him he 
 continued two years, and then rose to be 
 under the care nf JVf r- Hiintpr^ tbp lipad^ 
 master^ who, according to his account, 
 '^was very severe, and wrong-headedly 
 severe. He used (said he) to beat ns 
 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 ques- "" 
 tion, and if lie 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." 
 
 It is, however, but justice to the me- 
 mory of Mr. Hunter to mention, that 
 though he might err in being too severe, 
 the school of Lichfield was very_resj)fict- 
 ahlsJnTnr'TtTirer^ The iirt&^DrT Taylor, 
 PrebeiuTaiy ^ Westminster, who was 
 educated under him, told me, that " he 
 was an excellent master, and that his 
 ushers were most of them men of emi- 
 nence ; that Holbrook, one of the most 
 ingenious men, best scholars, and best 
 
 § Anecdotes, p. 10. 
 
8 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 preachers of his age, was usher during 
 tiie greatest part of the time that Johnson 
 was at school. Then came Jiaguf?, of 
 whom as much might be said, with the 
 addition that he was an elegant poet. 
 Hague was succeeded by Green, after 
 wards Bishop of Lincoln, whose character 
 in the learned world is well known. In 
 •^he same form with Johnson was Cou.- 
 g£iii:£, who afterwards became chaplain 
 tb Archbishop Boulter, and by that con- 
 nexion obtained good preferment in Ire- 
 land. He was a younger son of the 
 ancient family of Congreve, in Stafford- 
 shire, of which the poet was a branch. 
 His brother sold the estate. There was 
 also Lowe, afterwards Canon of Wind- 
 
 Indeed Johnson was very sensible how 
 much he owed to Mr. Hunter. Mr. 
 Langton one day asked him how he had 
 acquired so accu rate,, a, koD-odedge^of 
 Latin, i n ^v h ic h jT~^ Lie vg^ - he was ex-. 
 cee^ea"by no man^Jiisjtime ; he said, 
 • * Mj masteQvTiijgt jiifi viiry well . With- 
 out that, sir, IlTi'onld have done nothing." 
 He told Mr. Langton, that while Hunter 
 was flogging his boys unmercifully, he 
 used to say, " And this I do to save you 
 from the gallows." .Tohnso n^ upon a ll 
 occasions, expressed IhT approbatio**- of 
 enforcing iiistrnction by means oL.the 
 I rodif. " I would rather (said he) have 
 the rod to be tlie general terrour 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 eflfect which termi- 
 iiatcs in itself. A child is afraid of being 
 whipped, and gets his task, and there's 
 an end on't ; whereas, by exciting^mu- 
 latJQn^ and comparisons of superiority, 
 you lay the foundation of laatiag. juis- 
 chieT: 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 Shakspeare's lines 
 a little varied f. 
 ''V^tJrrJj^^iojaour thee for^tJiisjLhy dirtf ." 
 
 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 ex- 
 traordinary powers of mind, of which he 
 could not but be conscious by comparison ; 
 
 « Johnson's observations to Dr. Rose, on 
 this subject, may be found in a subsequent 
 part of iliis work. See near the end of the 
 year 1775. B. .. 
 
 t The line is in King Henry vi. Part n. 
 
 "Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed." 
 
 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 others. John- 
 son did not stmt or stand on tiptoe ; he 
 only did not stoop. From his earliest 
 years, his superiority was perceived and 
 
 facknowledged. lie was from tlie,b£gin- 
 ni ng civa^ av^gan/, a k ing of men. His 
 schooiiellow, Mr. HectoiHi as "obligingly 
 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 fiom 
 their business. He seemed to learn by 
 intuition J. for thougti ijadolence and pro- 
 crastination were inherent in his consti- 
 tution^ whenever he made an exertion 
 he di(ljnore than any one else. In short, 
 he^rra memorable mstance of what has 
 been often observed, that the boy is the ; 
 man in miniature; anlOliat the distin- 
 giitshing characteiisticks of each indi- 
 vidual are the same, through the whole 
 course of life. His favourites used to 
 receive very liberal assistance from him ; 
 and such was the submission and defer- 
 ence 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 attendants, 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 eaily predominance of intel- 
 lectual vigour is very remarkable, and 
 does honour to human nature. — Talking 
 to me once himself of his being much 
 distinguished at school, he told me, 
 " they never thought to raise me by com- 
 paring 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 in- 
 quisitive; and his memory was so tena- 
 cious that he never forgot any thing 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. 
 
 X' He never joined with the other boys 
 ift 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 : r.o 
 very easy operation, as his size was re- 
 
markably large. His defective sight, 
 incliied^eveiited hfm from enjoying the 
 common sports : and'Tie once pleasantly 
 remark ecTTolne, " how wonderfully well 
 he had contrived to be idle without them." 
 Lord Chestertield, 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 di .smal i n ertness of j lispQsition, 
 JdTm^«i«fHt«4unita-tiia.«£e«t-^tra^ 
 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 immo- 
 derately fond of reading romances of^ 
 chivalry, and he retained his fondness for 
 them through life ; so that (adds his lord- 
 ship) spending part of a summer at my 
 parsonage house in the country, he chose 
 for his regular reading the old Spanish 
 romance of Felixmarte of Hircania, in 
 folio, which he read quite through. Yet 
 I have heard him attribute to these ex- 
 travagant fictions that unsettled turn of 
 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, re- 
 moved to the acho^l of Stourbxidfie, in 
 Worcestershire, of whiciriVrr.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 dispositions were disgraced by 
 licentiousness t, 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 capacity of an assistant to Mr. Went- 
 worth, in teaching the younger boys. 
 **jyijv-WTnitWorTlr^{he_toIijn&X-^wiis,-a 
 very ab[g man, hut an-idLe-man, an d ^ 
 nie-xejc y se vere, ; but I cannot blame him 
 much.^T~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 
 
 » Cornelius Ford, according to Sir John 
 Hawkins, was his cousin german, being the 
 son of Dr. Joseph, [Q. Niuhaniel] Ford, an 
 eminent physician, who was brother to John 
 son's mother. M. 
 
 I + He is said to be the original of the parson 
 lin Hogarth's Modern Midnight Conversation 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 9 
 
 would be ascribed to my own labour, or 
 to my former master. Yet he taught me 
 a great deal." 
 
 He thus discriminated, to Dr. Percy, 
 Bishop of Dromore, his progress at his 
 two grammar-schools. " At one, I learned -^ 
 much in the school, but little from the 
 master ; in the other, I learned much from 
 the master, but little in the school." 
 
 The bishop also informs me, that 
 " Dr. Johnson's father, before he was 
 received at Stourbridge, applied to have 
 him admitted as a scholar and assistant 
 to the Rev. Samuel Lea, M. A. head 
 master of Newport School, in Shrop- 
 shire (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 j). This 
 application to Mr. Lea was not success- 
 ful ; but Johnson had afterwards the gra- 
 tification to hear that the old gentleman, 
 who lived to a very advanced age, men- 
 tioned it as one of the most memorable 
 events of his life, that " he was very 
 near having that great man for his 
 scholar." 
 
 He remained at Stourbridge little more 
 than a year, and then he returned home, 
 where he may be sjiid t^Tnave loitered, 
 for, two years'Tn a state very unworthy 
 his uncommon abilities. H^hat^already 
 given several proofs of Jiis. poetical genius, 
 both "in his schooTexercises and in other 
 occasional compositions. Of these I have 
 obtained a considerable collection, by 
 the favour of Mr. Wentworth, 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. 
 
 MELIB(EUS. 
 
 Now, Tityrus, you, supine and careless laid. 
 Play on your pipe beneath this beechen shade : 
 Willie wretched we about the world must roam. 
 And leave our pleasine: fields and native home. 
 Here at your ease you sing your amorous flame. 
 And the wood rings with Amaryllis' 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: 
 He gave my flocks to graze the flowery meads, 
 And me to tune at ease the' unequal reeds. 
 
 MELIBCEUS. 
 
 My admiration only I express'd 
 CNo spark of envy haibours in my breast). 
 That when contusion o'er the country reigne. 
 To you alone this happy state remains. 
 Here I, though faint myself, must drive my 
 
 Far from their ancient fields and humble cots. 
 This scarce I lead, who left on yonder rock 
 Two tender kids, the hopes of all the flock, 
 flad we not been perverse and careless grown. 
 This dire event by omens was foresh own; 
 
 X As was likewise the bishop of Dromore 
 many years afterwards. 
 
10 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 72S. 
 
 Our trees were blasted by the thunder stroke, 
 And left-han(J crows, from an old hollow oak, 
 Foretold thecomjng evil by their dismal croak. 
 
 Translation of HoRXCE. Book I. Ode xxii. 
 Thk man, my friend, whose conscious heart 
 
 With virtue's sacre<l ardour glows, 
 Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart. 
 
 Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows : 
 Though Scythia's icy cliffs he treads. 
 
 Or horrid Africk's faithless sands ; 
 Or where the famed Hydaspes spreads 
 
 His liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands. 
 For while my Chloe's image charm'd, 
 
 Too far in Sabine woods I stray'd: 
 Me singing, careless and unaim'd, 
 
 A grisly wolf surprised, and Hed. 
 No savage more portentous stain'd 
 
 Apulia^s spacious wilds with gore; 
 No fiercer Juba's thirsty land. 
 
 Dire nurse of raging lions, bore. 
 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 denied Co human race; 
 I'll sing of Chloe's charms divine. 
 
 Her heavenly voice, and beauteous face. 
 
 Translation of Horace. Book II. Ode ix. 
 Clouds do not always veil the skies. 
 
 Nor showers immerse the verdant plain; 
 Nor do the billows always rise. 
 
 Or storms afiiict the ruffled main ; 
 Nor, Valgius, on the Armenian shores 
 
 Do the chain'd waters always freeze. 
 Not always furious Boreas roars. 
 
 Or bends with violent force the trees. 
 But you are ever drown'd in tears, 
 
 For Mystes dead you ever mourn ; 
 No setting Sol can ease your cares, 
 
 But finds you sad at his return. 
 The wise experienced Grecian jage 
 
 Moiirn'd not Autilochus 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; 
 Repeat 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 Roman's slave, ' 
 
 And scarce forsake his native fields. 
 
 Translation of Part of the Dialogue betwen. 
 Hector and Andromache ; from the Sixth 
 Book of Homer's Iliad. 
 She ceased ; the 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 tlie unfinish'd war^ 
 How would the Trojans brand great Hector's 
 
 name ! 
 And one base action sully all my fame, 
 Acquired F»y wounds and battles bravely 
 
 fought! 
 O, how my soul abhors so mean a thought ! 
 Long since I learn'd to slight tliis fleeting 
 
 breath, 
 And view with cheerful eyes approaching 
 
 death. 
 The inexorable sisters have decreed 
 That Priam's house, and Priam's self shall 
 
 bleed : 
 The day will come, in which proud Troy shall 
 
 yield, 
 And spread its smoking ruins o'er the field. 
 
 Yet Hecuba's nor Priam's hoary age, 
 Whose blood shall quench some Grecian 
 
 thirsty rage, 
 Nor my brave brothers, that have bit th< 
 
 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, 
 Mimick 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 Trov ! 
 
 •oy : 
 i beai 
 
 Tears, at my name, shall drown those beau- 
 teous eyes, 
 And that fair bosom heave with rising siglisi 
 Before that day, by some brave hero's hand 
 May 1 lie slain, an'd spurn the bloo<ly sand. 
 
 To a Young Lady on her Birthday *. 
 
 This tributary verse receive, my fair. 
 Warm with an ardent lover's fondest prayer. 
 May this returning day for ever find 
 Thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind : 
 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 I 
 O, then, when conquer'd crowds confess thy 
 
 sway. 
 When ev'n proud wealth, and prouder wit obey, 
 My fair, be mindful of the mighty trust : 
 Alas! 'lis hard 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 forw ard fool, 
 Shown in the faithless glass of ridicule ; 
 Teach mimick censures her own faults to find, 
 No more let coquettes to themselves be blind, 
 So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind. 
 
 The Young Authour t. 
 
 When 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 flowery 
 
 fields ; 
 Then dances jocund o'er the watery way. 
 While the bretze whispers, and the streamers 
 
 Unbounded prospects in his bosom roll, 
 And future millions lilt 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 ; 
 Sickening with fear, he longs to view the shore. 
 And vows to trust the faithless deep no more. 
 So the young authour, panting after fame, 
 And the long honours of a lasting name. 
 Entrusts his happiness to human kind, 
 More false, more cruel, than the seas or wind. 
 '• Toil on, dull crowd," in ecstasies he ciics, 
 " For wealth or title, perishable prize ; 
 While I those transitory blessings scorn, 
 Secure of praise from ages yet unborn." 
 This thought once forme«l, all counsel comes 
 
 too late; 
 He flies to press, and hurries on his fate; 
 
 * Mr. Hector informs me that this was vat 
 almost impromptn, in his presence. 
 
 t This he inserted, with many alle'ratj 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1743, 
 
JEtat. 19. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 11 
 
 Swiftly he sees the imagined laurels spread, 
 g'And feels llie unfading v>reatii suriound his 
 head. 
 I V VVarn'd bv another's fate, vain youth, be wise ; 
 Those dreams were Settle's once, and Ogil- 
 by'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 slinging jest; 
 There begs of Heaven a iebs distingiiish'd lot. 
 Glad to be hid, and proud to be forgot. 
 
 Epilogue, ijitended to have been spoken by a 
 Lady who teas to personate the Ghost of 
 Hkrmione *. 
 Ye blooming train, who give despair or joy, 
 Bless with a smile, 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 barbarous 
 
 play, 
 Unpityiog see them weep, and hear tin m pray, 
 And uurtlcnling sport ten thousand lives 
 
 away : 
 For yoti, ye fair, [ quit the gloomy plains, 
 Where sable night in all her horrour reigns; 
 . No fragrant bowers, no delightful glades 
 Receive the unhappyghosts of scornful maids. 
 For kind, for tender nymphs the myrtle 
 
 blooms. 
 And weaves her bending boughs in pleasing 
 
 glooms; 
 Perennial roses deck eacli purple vale, 
 And scents ambrosial breathe in every gale ; 
 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 in 
 
 flame. 
 For those who feel no guilt can know no 
 
 shame ; 
 Unfaded still their former charms they shew. 
 Around iliem pleasures wait, and joys for ever 
 
 But cruel virgins meet severer fates ; 
 ExpelI'd and~^e.\iled from the blissful seats 
 To dismal realms, and regions void of peace. 
 Where furies ever howl, arid serpents ever hiss. 
 O'er the sad plains perpetual tempests sigh. 
 And poisonous vapours, blackening all the sky, 
 With livid hue the fairest face o'trcast. 
 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 every eye, and every bosom tear. 
 Their foul deformities by all descried. 
 No maid to flatter, and no paint to hide. 
 Then melt, ye fair, while clouds around you 
 
 sigh. 
 Nor let disdain sit lowering in your eye ; 
 With pity soften every 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 
 
 * Some young ladies at Lichfield having 
 proposed to act " The Distressed Mother," 
 Johnson wrote this, and gave it to Mr. Hector 
 to convey it privately to them. 
 
 was scolded by his father for his want of 
 steady application. H^J iad no settled 
 pl ^n of life, nor looked Ifor ward at all, 
 
 hat tnprely Iwwifroni Hay fo'day. tct 
 
 he t£ad_3L^grieal^eariira" (teStrtttJry man- 
 ner, 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 large folio proved 
 to be Petrarch, whom he had seen men- 
 tioned, in some preface, as one of the 
 restorers of learning. His curiosity having 
 been thus excited, he sat down with 
 avidity, and read a part of the book. 
 What he read during these two years, he 
 told me, was not works of mere amuse- 
 ment, "not voyages and travels, but all 
 literature, sir, all ancient writers, all 
 manly : though but little Greek, only 
 some of Anacreon, 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 master of Pembroke 
 College, told me, I was the best qualified 
 for the University that he had ever known 
 come there." 
 
 Jn estimating the progress of his mind 
 during these two years, as well as in 
 future periods of his life, we must not 
 regard his own hasty confession of idle- 
 ness ; for we see, when he explains him- 
 self, that he was acquiring various stores ; 
 and indeed he himself concluded the 
 account with saying, " I would not have 
 you think that I was doing nothing then.'* 
 He might, perhaps, have studied more 
 assiduously ; 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 animals who feed excursively is 
 allowed* to have a higher flavour than 
 that of those who are cooped up. May 
 there not be the same difference between 
 men who read as their taste prompts, 
 and men who are confined in cells and 
 colleges to stated tasks? 
 
 That a man in Mr. Michael's Johnson's 
 circumstances should think of sending his 
 son to the expensive University of Ox- 
 ford, at his own charge, seems very im- 
 probable. The subject was too delicate 
 
12 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1728, 
 
 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 under- 
 taken 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, \ v^t to Oxford, an^ 
 was^ntered a_ commoner of Pembroke 
 College, on the 31st oT" October, 17^8, 
 being then in his nineteenth'~ycjrr; 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Adams, who after- 
 wards presided over Pembroke 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 accompanied 
 him, found means to have him introduced 
 to Mr. Jorden, who was to be his tutor. 
 His being put under any tutor reminds 
 us of what Wood says of Robert Burton, 
 authour of the ** Anatomy of Melan- 
 choly," when elected student of Christ 
 Church ; " for form's sake, though he 
 wanted not a tutor, he was put under 
 the tuition of Dr. John Bancroft, after- 
 wards Bishop of Oxon*." 
 
 His father seemed very full of the 
 merits of his son, and told the company 
 he was a good scholar, and a poet, and 
 wrote Latin verses. His figure and 
 manner appeared strange to them ; but 
 he behaved modestly, and sat silent, till 
 upon something which occurred 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 in- 
 dulged himself. 
 
 I ^is tutor, M rj^Jpjideu, fellow of Pem- 
 broke, was not, it seems, a man of such 
 abilities as we should conceive requisite 
 for the instructor of Samuel Johnson, 
 who gave me the following account of 
 him. " He was a very worthy man, but 
 a heavy man, and I did y;Qt^pt;ofit nu>ch 
 by his instructions. imhr^clTldid not 
 attE^i3^5Sri«iTrtf:~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 Christ Church meadow : and this I 
 said with as much nonchalance as I am 
 nowt talking to you. I had no notion 
 that I was wrong or irreverent to my 
 tutor." BoswELi.. ** That, sir, was great 
 fortitude of mind." Johnson. " No, sir," 
 stark insensibility j." 
 
 * Alhen. Oxon. edit. 1721, i. 627. 
 + Oxford, 20!h March, 1776. 
 X It ought to be remembered, that Dr. John- 
 sou was apt, in his literary as well Us moral 
 
 The fifth of November was at that tim 
 kept with great solemnity at Pembrok 
 College, and exercises upon the subje< 
 of the day were required. Johnson nej 
 lected to perform his, which is much t 
 be regretted ; for his vivacity of imag 
 nation and force of language would pr< 
 bably have produced something sublim 
 upon the gunpowder plot. To apologiz 
 for his neglect, he gave in a short cop 
 of verses, entitled somnium, containin 
 a common thought; " that the Muse ha 
 come to him in his sleep, and whisperec 
 that it did not become him to write o: 
 such subjects as politicks ; he shoul 
 confine himself to humbler themes :" bii 
 the versification was truly Virgilian. 
 
 He had a love and respect for Jord'^ 
 not for his literature, but for his wor 
 " Whenever (said he) a young man b 
 comes Jorden's pupil, he becomes h? 
 son." 
 
 Having given such a specimen of hi 
 poetical powers, he was asked by Mi 
 Jorden to transl.alJe_Ei>p&*-sJVl£&siali-int 
 Latin verse, as aChristmas ejcerjilae. H 
 performed 'it with_iLQ£fimmon rapiditj 
 and in sqjmasterly aJiia|Tiier~tfiat he ot 
 tained great applause from it, which evf 
 after kept him high in the estimation ( 
 his College, and, indeed, of all the Un 
 vei>ity. 
 'It is said, that Mr. Pope exprcsse 
 himself concerning it in terms of stron 
 approbation. Dr. Taylor told me, th; 
 it was first printed for old Mr. Johnsoi 
 without, the knowledge of his son, wl; 
 was veiy angry when he heard of it. . 
 Miscellany of Poems, collected by a 
 person of the name of Husbands, was 
 published at Oxford in 1731. In that 
 Miscellany Johnson's translation of the 
 Messiah appeared, with this modest mot* 
 from Scaliger's Poetics : Ex alieno in- 
 genio pocta, ex suo tantum versifit*Tt 
 tor." *' 
 
 I am not ignorant thatjcritical ob' 
 tions have been mcide to ilHSftH^^oth 
 sgeclmens_ of Johnson's Latin poetry 
 acknowledge myself not competent ., 
 decide on a question of such extreme 
 nicety. But I am satisfied with the jii.' 
 and discriminative eulogy pronounc 
 upon it by my friend Mr. Courtenay. 
 " And wilh like ease liis vivid lines assunu 
 The garb and diffnity of ancient Rome.— 
 Let college verse-men trife conceits expres' 
 Trick'J oiit in splendid shreds of Virgil's dre 
 From playful Ovid cull the tinsel phrase. 
 And vapid notions hitch in pilfer'd lays; 
 Then with mosaic art the piece combine, 
 And boast the e^litter of each dulcet line : 
 Johnson adventured boldly to transfuse 
 His vigorous sense into the Lai in !Muse;' 
 
 exercises, to overcharge his defects. J 
 Adams informed me, that he attended 
 tutor's lectures, and also the lectures in i 
 College Hall, very regularly. 
 
iETAT. 19. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 13 
 
 Aspired to shine by uiireflected lieht, 
 And with a Roman's ardour tki.nknn<\ write. 
 He felt the tuneful Nine his breast inspire, 
 And, like a master, waked the soothin-^r lyre ; 
 Horalian strains a grateful heart proclaim, 
 While Sky's wild recks resound his Thralia's 
 
 Hesperia** plant, in some less skilful hands, 
 To bloom awhile, factitious heat demands : 
 Thoush glowing Maro a faint warmth supplies. 
 The sickly blossom in the hot-house dies: 
 By Johnson's genial culture, art, and toil. 
 Its root strikes deep, and owns the fostering 
 
 soil ; 
 Imbibes our sun tliroiigh all its swelling veins, 
 And grows a native of Britannia's plains*." 
 The If jmitbHLmelancholy," which was 
 lurking^ in his constitntion, and to which 
 we m ay ascn be those particu 1 aritje^^ aBf 1 
 tliat aversion to f egular life^ w hich at a 
 very eaiTy~periT)frmaris£cL hischaracter, 
 'f«re<r"suGTrWength in JjiOwentieth 
 • as to afflicTlum in a dreadful nian- 
 V- While he was at Lichfield, in the 
 Jilege vacation of the year 1729, he felt 
 himself overwhelmed with a horrible 
 : jipophnnHr ia. \vith perpetual irritation, 
 'yfulne^an d impa tience; arfd""vvTffi'a 
 ^nection, gloom, and despair, which 
 ^'t^Ae existence misery. From this dismal 
 »n«ilady he neve r afterwar ds wasjgfij fectly 
 d i^ed ; and~all his labours, aud all his 
 -i^oyments were but temporary inter- 
 ■fptions of its baleful influence. How 
 i*)nderful, how unsearchable are the ways 
 .of God I Johnson, who was blessed with 
 ^^^ the powers of genius and understand- 
 \ ijig in a degree far above the ordinary 
 'lie of human nature, was at the same 
 : .lie visited with a disorder so afflictive 
 (hat they w ho know it by dire experience 
 >vill not envy his exalted endowments 
 That it was, in some degree, occasioned 
 by a defect in his nervous system, that 
 I inexplicable part of our frame, appears 
 highly probable. He told Mr. Paradise 
 M he was sometimes so languid and 
 'efficient that he could not distinguish 
 " j^our upon the town clock. 
 ./>hnson, upon the first violent attack 
 I -^ disorder, strove to overcome it by 
 . j] t'ible exertions. He frequently walked 
 to Birmingham and back again, and tried 
 many other expedients; but all in vain. 
 His expression concerning it to me was, 
 '' •! did not then know how to manage 
 *.'" His distress became so intolerable 
 that he applied to Dr. Swinfen, physician 
 in Lichfield, his godfather, and put into 
 his hands a state of his case, written in 
 Latin. Dr. Swinfen was so much struck 
 with the extraordinary acuteness, re- 
 search, and eloquence of this paper, that, 
 in his zeal for his godson, he sliowed it 
 to several people. His daughter, Mrs. 
 Desmouliiis, who was many years hu- 
 
 * Poetical Review of the Literarv and Moral 
 Character of Dr. Johnson, by Johu'Courlcnay, 
 Esq. M.p. •" 
 
 manely supported in Dr. JoUnson*s house 
 in London, told me, that upon his dis- 
 covering that Dr. Swinfen had commu- 
 nicated his case, he was so much offended 
 that he was never afterwards fully re- 
 conciled to him. He indeed had good 
 reason to be offended ; for though Dr. 
 Swinfen's motive was good, he incon- 
 siderately betrayed a matter deeply in- 
 teresting and of great delicacy, which had 
 been entrusted to him in confidence : and 
 exposed a complaint of his young friend 
 and patient, which, in the superficial 
 opinion of the generality of mankind, is 
 attended with contempt and disgrace. 
 
 But let not little men triumph upon 
 knowing that Johnson was an Hypochon- 
 DRiACK, was subject to what the learned, 
 philosophical, and pious Dr. Cheyne has 
 so well treated nnder the title of " The 
 English Malady." Though he suffered 
 severely from it, he was not therefore • 
 degraded. The powers of his great mind 
 might be troubled, and their full exercise 
 suspended at times ; but the mind itsel f 
 vvasjever Q,ntii-.es^ As a prool' of this, it is 
 only necessary to consider, that, when 
 he was at the very worst, he composed " 
 that state of his own case which showed 
 an uncommon vigour, not only of fancy 
 and taste, but of judgment. I am aware 
 that he himself was too ready to call 
 such a complaint by the nnB\e cf mad-^ ^ 
 ness ; in conformity with which notion, 
 he has traced its gradations, with exquisite 
 nicety, in one of the chapters of his Ras- 
 SELAS. But there is surely a clear dis- 
 tinction between a disorder which affects 
 only the imagination and spirits, while 
 the judgment is sound, and a disorder by 
 which the judgment itself is impaired. 
 This distinction was made to me by the 
 late Professor Gaubius of Leydcn, phy- 
 sician to the Prince of Orange, in a con- 
 versation which I had with him several 
 years ago ; aud he expounded it thus : 
 " If (said he) a man tells me that he is 
 grievously disturbed, for that he ima- 
 gines he sees a ruffian coming against 
 him with a drawn sword, though at tJie 
 same time he is conscious it is a delusion, 
 I pronounce him to have a disordered 
 imagination ; but if a man tells me that 
 he sees this, and in consternation calls to 
 me to look at it, I pronounce him to be 
 mad." 
 
 It is a common effect of low spirits or 
 melancholy, to make those that are af- 
 flicted with it imagine that they are ac- 
 tually suffering those evils which happen 
 to be most strongly presented to their 
 minds. Some have fancied themselves 
 to be deprived of the use of their limbs,, 
 someto labour underacute diseases, others 
 to be in extreme poverty ; when, in trulh,^ 
 there was not the least reality in any of 
 
14 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 tlie suppositions; so that when the va- 
 pours were dispelled, they were convinced 
 of the delusion. To Johnson, whos^ su- 
 preme enjoyment was the exercise of his 
 reason, the disturbance or obscuration of 
 that faculty was the evil most to be 
 dreaded. I nsanity, llier efore. was tlie 
 object of hi? most dismal appreirensiiin ; 
 and "he fancied himselT seized by it, or 
 approaching to it, at the very time when 
 he was giving proofs of a more than or- 
 dinary soundness and vigour of judgment. 
 That his own diseased imagination should 
 have so far deceived him is strange ; but 
 it is stranger stilFthat someof his friends 
 should have given credit to his groundless 
 opinion, when they had such undoubted 
 proofs that it was totally fallacious ; 
 though it is by no means surprising that 
 those who wish to depreciate him should, 
 since his death, have laid hold of this 
 circumstance, and insisted upon it with 
 very unfair aggravation. 
 
 Amidst the oppression and distraction 
 of a disease, which very few have felt in 
 its full extent, but many have experienced 
 in a slighter degree, Johnson, in his wri- 
 tings and in his conversation, never failed 
 to display all the varieties of intellectual 
 excellence. In his march through this 
 world to a better, his mind still appeared 
 grand and brilliant, and impressed all 
 aroun'^l him with the truth of Virgil's 
 noble sentiment — 
 
 ** Igneus est ollis vigor et ccelestis origo." 
 
 The history of his mind as <o religion 
 is an important article. I have mentioned 
 the early impressions made upon his 
 tender imagination by his mother, who 
 continued her pious cares with assiduity, 
 but, in his opinion, not with judgment. 
 " Sunday (said he) was a heavy day to 
 me when I was a boy. My mother con- 
 fined me on that day, and made me read 
 * The Whole Duty of Man, from a great 
 part of which I could derive no instruc- 
 tion. When, for instance, I had read the 
 chapter on theft, which, from my infancy, 
 I had been taught was wrong, I was no 
 more convinced that theft was wrong than 
 before ; so there was no accession of 
 knowledge. A boy should be introduced 
 to such books, by having his attention 
 directed to the arrangement, to the style, 
 and other excellencies of composition ; 
 that the mind being tlius engaged by an 
 amusing variety of objects may not grow 
 weary." 
 
 He communicated to me the following 
 particulars upon the subject of his reli- 
 gious progress. " \ fell intfl nn inattan- 
 
 tion toj;£lijrir^tx,-Qii:ip inflifft^r^pt^e nhnnr 
 
 172 
 
 rf~in mv ninth_\'£ar. The church at 
 Lichfield, in which we had a seat, wanted 
 reparation, so I was to go and find a seat 
 
 in other churches; and having bad ey 
 and being awkward about this, I used 
 go and read in the fields on Sundj 
 This habit continued till my fourteei 
 year; and still I find a great reluctai , 
 to go to church. I then became a sort 
 lax talker against religion, for I did a 
 much think against it ; and this lasl 
 till I went to Oxford, where it would i 
 be suffered. When at Oxford, I to 
 up ' Law's Serious Call to a Holy Lit 
 expecting to find it a dull book (as si 
 books generally are), and perhaps 
 laugh at it. But I found Law quite 
 overmatch for me ; and this was the fi 
 occasion of my thinking in earnest 
 religion, after I became capable of 
 tional inquiry*." From this time i 
 ward religion was the predomin 
 object of his thoughts; though, with 
 just sentiments of a conscientious Ch 
 tian, he lamented that his practice of 
 duties fell far short of what it ought to 
 This instance of a mind such as t 
 of Johnson being first disposed, by an i 
 expected incident, to thi' ': with anxi. 
 
 * Mrs. Piozzi has given a strange fanl 
 tical accomii of ilie original of Dr. Johnsc 
 belief in our most lioly religion. •' At the i 
 of ten years his mind was disturbed by sc 
 pies of infi<lelity, which preyed upon* 
 spirits, and made him very uneasy : the ni' 
 so, as he revealed his uneasiness lo no 
 being naturally (as he said) of a sullen t( 
 per, an<l reserved disposition. He search 
 however, diligently, out fruitlessly, for « 
 dences of the truth of revelation'; and, 
 length, recollecling a book he ha<l once S' 
 [/ suppose at Jive years old] in his fath 
 shop, entitled De veritate Keligionis, ^c. 
 began to think himself highlj^ culpable 
 neglecting siich a means ot intormation, 
 took himseie severely to task for this 
 addingmany acts of voluntary, and, to oth 
 unknoVnjoena»c». The first opportunity wli 
 offered, of course, he seized the book v 
 avidity; but, on exaniinaliou, not find 
 hiniiei/srholar enough to peruse its conte: ' 
 set his heart at rest ; and not thinking 
 inquire whether Ihrre were any Entflish b"\ 
 written on the subject, followed his uK 
 amusements, and considered his conscienc^ 
 lightened of a crime. He redoubled liis d^ 
 gence to team the language that contau 
 the information he most wished for ; bttt ft 
 the pain which guilt [namely having omit 
 to read what he aid not tinderstandl nad gi 
 him, he now began to deduce the soul's 
 mortality [a sensation of pain in this «•» 
 being an unquestionable proof of existfnct 
 another], which was the point that belief* 
 stopped at ; and from that moment resolvin 
 be a Christian, became one of the most zeal 
 and pious ones our nation ever produc< 
 Anecdotes, p. 17. 
 
 This is one of the numerous misreprese; 
 tions of this livelv lady, which it is w< 
 while to correct ; for if credit should be gi 
 to such a childish, irrational, and ridicu 
 statement of the foundation of Dr. Johns 
 faiih in Christianity, how little credit w< 
 be due to it! Mrs. Piozzi seems to wish, 
 the world should think Dr. Johnson 
 under the influence of that easy logick, 
 pro ratione voluntas. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 15 
 
 judges on this subject, once observed to 
 me, that " Johnson knew more books 
 tlian any man alive." He had a , pec uliar 
 ^feciliiy jn seiziiig - al_liijice_jiLhat was 
 valua ble~Ul aay-hcu,»k, without submitting 
 to tlie labour of perusing it from begin- 
 ning to end. He had, from the irritability 
 of his constitution, at all times an impa- 
 tience and hurry when he either read or 
 wrote. A certain apprehension, arising 
 from novelty, made him write his first 
 exercise at college twice over; but he 
 never took that trouble with any other 
 composition ; and we shall see that his 
 most excellent worke were struck pff 
 at a heat, with a rapid exertion*. > 
 
 Yet he appears, from his early notes 
 or memorandums in my possession, to 
 have at various times attempted, or at 
 least planned^ a meth o dical course Qf 
 
 JEtat. 20. 
 
 of the momentous concern of eternity, 
 and of " what he should do to be saved," 
 may for ever be produced in opposition 
 to the superficial and sometimes profane 
 ' contempt that has been thrown upon 
 those occasional impressions which it is 
 certain many Christians have expe- 
 rienced ; tliough it must be acknow- 
 ledi;ed that weak minds, from an erro- 
 neous supposition that no man is in a 
 state of grace who has not felt a particular 
 conversion, have, in some cases, brought 
 ^ degree of ridicule upon them ; a ridi- 
 cule, of which it is inconsiderate or un- 
 fair to make a general application. 
 
 How seriously Johnson was impressed 
 with a sense of religion, even in the vigour 
 of his youth, appears from the following 
 passage in his minutes, kept by way of 
 
 .diary : Sept. 7, 1736. " I have this day ^e_ -^ . . ,._^ 
 
 entered upon my 28th year. Mayest,_atS<iy>.according to computation, of which 
 
 iaou, O God, enable me, for Jf:sus 
 w^rist's sake, to spend this in such a 
 manner that I may receive comfort from 
 it at the hour of death, and in the day of 
 judgment! Amen." 
 
 The particuki' course of his reading 
 while at Oxforo, and during the time of 
 "acation which he passed at home, cannot 
 
 ; traced. Enough has been said of his 
 irregular mode of study. He told me, 
 Hhat ftogjjjiis earliest _yearaJifi, lov«4-t4»- 
 i^d po'PTfy, but hardly ever read any 
 poT?ni to afi^end ; that he read Shaks- 
 «|peare at a period so early that the speech 
   of the Ghost in Hamlet terrified him 
 ,<»»lien he was alone ; that Horace's Odes 
 were the compositions in which he took 
 most delight, and it was long before he 
 liked his Epistles and Satires. He told 
 me what he read solidly at Oxford was 
 » Greek ; not the Grecian historians, but 
 Homer and Euripides, and now and then 
 a little Epigram ; that the study of which 
 'le was the most fond was Metaphysicks, 
 nt he had not read much, even in that 
 *%ay. I always thought that he did him- 
 self injustice in his account of what he 
 if;ad read, and that he must have been 
 ' Speaking with reference to the vast por- 
 tion xf study which is possible, and to 
 which ftiw scholars in the whole history 
 of literature have attained ; for when I 
 once asked him whether a person, whose 
 name I have now forgotten, studied hard, 
 he answered, " No, sir. I do not believe 
 he studied hard. I never knew a man 
 who studied hard. I conclude, indeed, 
 from the effects, that some men have 
 studied hard, as Bentley and Clarke." 
 Trying him by that criterion upon which 
 he formed his judgment of others, we 
 may be absolutely certain, both from his 
 writings and his conversation, that hi^ 
 reyin§,was.i;£i:jL^xtensive. Dr. Adam 
 amiih, than whom few were better 
 
 he was all his life fond, as it fixed his 
 attention steadily upon something with- 
 out, and prevented his mind from preying 
 upon itself. — Thus I find in his handr 
 writing the number of lines in each of 
 two of Euripides's Tragedies, of the 
 Georgicks of Virgil, of the first six books 
 of the ^neid, of Horace's Art of Poetry, 
 of three of the books of Ovid's Metamor- 
 phoses, of some parts of Theocritus and 
 of the tenth Satire of Juvenal ; and a 
 table, showing at the rate of various 
 numbers a day (I suppose verses to be 
 read), what would be, in each case, the 
 total amount in a week, month, and year. 
 No man had a more ardent love of 
 literature, or a higher respect for it than 
 Johnson. His apartment in Pembroke 
 College was that upon the second floor 
 over the gateway. The enthusiast of 
 learning will ever contemplate it with 
 veneration. One day, while he was sit- 
 ting in it quite alone. Dr. Panting, then 
 master of the college, whom he called " a 
 fine Jacobite fellow," overheard him 
 uttering this soliloquy in his strong em- 
 phatic voice: " Well, I have a mind to 
 see what is done in other places of learn- 
 ing. I'll go and visit the Universities 
 abroad. I'll go to France and Italy. 
 I'll go to Padua. — And I'll mind jny 
 business. For an Athenian blockhead 
 is the worst of all blockheadsf." 
 
 * He told Dr. Burney, that he never wrote 
 any of his works, that were printed, twice 
 over. Dr. Kuniey's wonder at seeing several 
 pages of his " Lives of the Poets," in manu- 
 script, with scarce a blot or erasure, drew 
 this observation from him. M. 
 
 t I had this anecdote from Dr. Adams, and 
 Dr.Johnsonconfirmed.it. Bramston, in hi$ 
 " Man of Taste," has the same tliouglit: 
 " Sure, of all blockheads, scholars are the 
 worst." 
 
 [Johnson's meaning', however, is, that a 
 sciiolar who is a blockhead, must be the worst 
 of all blockheads, because he is without ex- 
 
16 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Dr. Adams told me that Johnson, while 
 
 he was at Pembroke College, '"was 
 caressed and loved by all about him, was 
 a gay and tVolicksome fellow, and passed 
 there the happiest part of his life." But 
 this IS a striking proof of the fallacy of 
 appearances, and how little any of us 
 know of the real internal state even of 
 those whom we see most frequently ; for 
 the truth is, that he was then depressed 
 \y poverty, and irritated by disease. 
 When 1 mentioned to him this account 
 as given me by Dr. Adams, he said, 
 " Ah, sir, I was mad and violent. It 
 was bitterness which they mistook for 
 frolick. I was miserably poor, and I 
 thought to fight my way by my literature 
 and my wit ; so I disregarded all power 
 and all authority." 
 
 The bishop of Dromore observes in a 
 letter to me, " The pleasure he took in 
 vexing the tutors and" fellows has been 
 often mentioned. But I have heard him 
 say, what ought to be recorded to the 
 honour of the present venerable master 
 of that college, the Reverend William 
 Adams, D. D. who was then very young, 
 and one of the junior fellows; that the 
 mild but judicious expostulations of this 
 worthy man, whose virtue awed him, and 
 whose learning he revered, 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 con- 
 temporaries that he was generally seen 
 lounging at the college gate, with a circle 
 of young students round him, whom he 
 WHS entertaining with wit,' and keeping 
 from their studies, if not spiriting them 
 up to rebellion against the college disci- 
 pline, which in his maturer years he so 
 much extolled." 
 
 He very early began to attempt keep- 
 ing notes or memorandums, by way of a 
 diary of his life. I find, in a parcel of 
 loose leaves, the following spirited reso- 
 lution to contend against his natural in- 
 dolence : Oct. 1729. " Desidice vale- 
 dixi ; sprenis istius cantibus surdiwi 
 posthac aurem obversurus. — 1 bid fare- 
 well to sloth, being resolved hencefortli 
 not to listen to her syren strains." I 
 have also in my possession a few leaves 
 of another Libellus, or little book, en- 
 titled Annales, in which some of the 
 early particulars of his history are regis- 
 tered in Latin. 
 
 I do not find that he formed any close 
 intimacies with his fellow collegiyns. 
 But Dr. Adams told me, that he con- 
 tracted a love and regard for Pembroke 
 College, which he retained to the last. 
 
 cuse. But Branmlon, in the assumed character 
 of an i^noriiiit coxcnnib, maintains tliat all 
 scliolars arc blockheads on account of their 
 scholaishii). J. Boswell.J 
 
 172! 
 A short time before his death he sent 
 that college a present of all his works 
 be deposited in their library ; and he L 
 
 r •''ul''?. ""^ **'^^'"g to it his house j 
 Lichfield; but his friends who wei 
 about him very properly dissuaded hif 
 from It, and he bequeathed it to som 
 poor relations. He took a pleasure i 
 boasting of the many eminent men wh- 
 had been educated at Pembroke, li 
 this hst are found the names of Mr. Haw 
 kins, the Poetry Professor, Mr. Shen 
 stone. Sir William Blackstone, anc 
 others*; not forgetting the celebratec 
 popular preacher, Mr Gepr.g£.J^hite 
 field, of ^vhom,. Ihough^r. Jxdimmr die 
 not think very highly^. ii-masj_jje ac- 
 knowledged tliat4ii« ele^tt«iic£_waa-pow. 
 erful^is views pious and charitable, his 
 assiduity almost incredible; and that 
 since his death, the integrity of his cha- 
 racter has been fully vindicated. Being 
 himself a poet, Johnson was peculiarlj 
 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 wha< 
 he thought the defects of his own college : 
 and I have, from the information oi 
 Dr. Taylor, a very strong instance of tha 
 rigid honesty which he ever inflexibh 
 preserved. Taylor had obtained hii 
 tather's consent to be entered of Pem 
 broke, that he might be with his school 
 fellow Johnson, with whom, though som 
 years older than himself, he was ver 
 intimate. This would have been a grea 
 comfort to Johnson. But he faiily tol 
 Taylor that he could not, in conscience 
 suffer him to enter where he knew h 
 could not have an able tutor. He the 
 made inquiry all round the University 
 and having found that Mr. Bateman, « 
 Christ Church, was the tutor of highe 
 reputation, Taylor was entered of thi 
 college. Mr. Bateman's lectures were s 
 excellent that Johnson used to coine an 
 get them at second hand from Taylo 
 till his poverty being so extreme, that h 
 shoes were worn out, and his fcot »j^- 
 peared through them, he saw that th 
 humiliating circumstance was perceive 
 by the Christ Church men, and he cam 
 no more. He was too proud to accej 
 of money, and somebody having set 
 pair of new shoes at his door, he thre" 
 them away with indignation. How mu 
 we feel when we read such an anecdoi 
 of Samuel Johnson ! 
 
 His spirited refusal of an eleemosynar 
 supply of shoes arose, no doubt, from 
 proper pride. But, considering I 
 ascetick disposition at times, as ackuu 
 
 » See Nash's History of Worctsterbhii 
 vol. i. p. 529. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 JEtxt. 20. 
 
 led^ed by himself iii his Meditations, 
 and the exaggeration with which some 
 have treated the peculiarities of his cha- 
 racter, I should not wonder to hear it 
 ascribed to a principle of superstitious 
 mortification ; as we are told by Tursel- 
 lintis, in his Life of St. Iii;natius Loyola, 
 that this intrepid founder of the order of 
 Jesuits, when he arrived at Goa, after 
 having made a severe pilgrimage through 
 the eastern deserts, persisted in wearing 
 his miserable shattered shoes, and when 
 new ones were offered him, rejected them 
 as an unsuitable indulgence. 
 
 The res anyusta 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 Lichfield, 
 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 col- 
 lege in autumn, 1731, without a degree, 
 having been a member of it little more 
 than three years. 
 
 Dr. Adams, the worthy and respect- 
 able master of Pembroke College, has 
 generally had the reputation of being 
 Johnson's tutor. The fact, however, is, 
 that in 1731 Mr. Jorden quitted the col- 
 lege, and his pupils were transferred to 
 Dr. Adams ; so that had Johnson re- 
 turned. Dr. Adams would have been his 
 tutor. It is to be wished that this con- 
 nexion had taken place. — His equal 
 temper, mild disposition, and politeness 
 of manners, might have insensibly softened 
 the harshness of Johnson, and infused 
 into him those more delicate charities, 
 those petites 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 Ox- 
 ford, in 1776, " I was his nominal tutor ; 
 but he was above my mark." When 1 
 repeated it to Johnson, his eyes flashed 
 with grateful satisfaction, and he ex- 
 claimed, " That was liberal and noble." 
 And now (I had almost said poor J 
 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 
 ijttlp diaries of the following year, which 
 strongly displays his spirit and virtuous 
 
 17 
 
 dignity of mind. " 1732, Julii 15. Un- 
 decirrvaureos deposui, quo die quicquid 
 ante matris funus (quod serum sit 
 precor) de paternis bonis sperari licet, 
 viyinti scilicet lihras, accept. Usque 
 adeo mihi for tuna finyenda est. In- 
 terea, ne paupertate vires animi lan- 
 yuescant, nee inflayitia eyestas abiyat, 
 cavendum. — I layed by eleven guineas 
 on this day, when I received twenty 
 pounds, being all that I have reason to 
 hope for out of my father's effects, pre- 
 vious to the death of my mother ; an 
 event which I pray Goi) may be very 
 remote. I now therefore see that I must 
 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 cri- 
 minal act." 
 
 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 Gar- 
 rick, father of the great ornament of the 
 British stage ; but above all, Mr. Gilbert 
 VValmsley*, Registrar of the Ecclesi- 
 astical Court of Lichfield, whose charac- 
 ter, long after his decease. Dr. Johnsoti 
 has, in his life of Edmund Smith, thus 
 drawn in the glowing colours of gratitude : 
 '* Of Gilbert Walmsley, 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 and malevo- 
 lence of his party ; yet difference of 
 opinion did not keep us apart. I ho- 
 noured 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 cul- 
 tivation of his mind. His belief of reve- 
 lation was unshaken : his learning pre- 
 served his principles ; he grew first 
 regular, and then pious. 
 
 " His studies had been so various that 
 
 * Mr. Warton informs me, that tliis early 
 friend of Johnson was entered a commoner of 
 Trinity College, Oxford, aged 17, in 1696; and 
 is the author of many Latin verse translations 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine. One of them 
 is a translation of 
 
 *' Mytiine,Oye Muses,was happily spent," &c« 
 He died August 3, 1751, and a monument to 
 his memory has been erected in the cathedral 
 I of Lichfield, with an inscription written by 
 Mr. Seward, one of the prebendaries. 
 
 1 c 
 
18 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1732. 
 
 1 ani not able to name a man of equal 
 knowledge. His acquaintance with books 
 was great, and what he did not imme- 
 diately know, he could, at least, tell 
 where to find. Such was his amplitude 
 of learning, and such his copiousness of 
 communication, that it may be doubted 
 whether a day now passes, in which 1 have 
 not some advantage from his friendship. 
 
 " At this man's table I enjoyed many 
 cheerful and instructive hours, with com- 
 panions such as are not often found — 
 with one who has lengthened, and one 
 w ho has gladdened life ; with Dr. James, 
 whose skill in physick will be long re- 
 membered ; and with David Garrick, 
 whom 1 hoped to have gratified with this 
 character of our common friend. Ent 
 what are the hopes of man ! I am disap- 
 pointed by that stroke of death w hich has 
 eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and im- 
 poverished the publick stock of harmless 
 pleasure." 
 
 In these families he passed much time 
 in his early years. In most of them he 
 was in the company of ladies, particu- 
 larly at Mr. Walmsley's, whose wife 
 ;ind sister-in-law, of the name of Aston, 
 and daughters of a baronet, were remark- 
 able 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 
 hadbcen confirmed in coarse and ferocious 
 manners by long habits, is wholly with- 
 out 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 testimony of a lady, who, in a paper 
 with which I have been favoured by a 
 daughter of his intimate friend and phy- 
 sician. Dr. Lawrence, thus describes 
 Dr. Johnson some years afterwards : 
 
 " As the particulars of the former part 
 >)f Dr. Johnson's life do not seem to be 
 very accurately known, a lady hopes that 
 the following information may not be 
 imacceptable. 
 
 " She remembers Dr. Johnson on a 
 visit lo Dr. Taylor, at Ashbourn, some- 
 time between the end of the year 37, 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. Meynell, at Bradley, where 
 his company was much desired by the 
 ladies of the family, who were, perhaps, 
 in point of elegance and accomplishments, 
 inferiour to few of those with whom he 
 was afterwards acquainted. Mr. Mey- 
 iMJi's eldest daughter was afterwards 
 
 married to Mr. Fitzherbert, father to 
 Mr. AUeyne 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 baronet ; she was also 
 sister to the wife of his friend, Mr. Gil- 
 bert Walmsleyt. Besides his intimacy 
 with the abovementioned persons, who 
 were surely people of rank and education, 
 while he was yet at Lichfield he used to 
 be frequently 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 want of due 
 attention to the management of his do- 
 mestic concerns left a very large 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 the 
 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 be employed as 
 usher in the school of Market-Bosworth, 
 in Leicestershire, to which it appears, 
 from oneof his li»lle fragments of a diary, 
 that he went on foot, on the 16th of July, 
 — '* Julii 16, Bosvortiam pedes 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 j, who was his scholar ; for 
 Mr. Blackwall died on the 8th of April, 
 
 * The words ofSir Jolin Hawkins, p. 316. 
 
 t Sir Thomas Aston, Bart, who <lie(l in Jan- 
 uary, 1724-5, left one son, nanieil Thomas also, 
 and eiRht daughters. Of the daughters. Catha- 
 rine married Johnson's friend, the Hon. Henry 
 Harvey: Margaret, Gilbert Walmslev. Ano- 
 ther ofthese ladies married the Rev. Mr. Gas- 
 trpll. Mary, or Molli/ Aston, as she was usually 
 called, became the wife of Captain Biodie of 
 the Navy. Another sister, who was unmarried, 
 was living at Lichfield in 1776 M. 
 
 t There is here fas Mr. James Boswell ob- 
 serves to me), a slight inaccuracy. Bishop 
 Hurd, in the Epistle Dedicatory prefixed to 
 his Commentary on Horace's Art of Poetry, 
 &c. does not praise Blackwall, but the Rev. 
 Mr. Budwoith, head-master of the grammar 
 school at Brewood in Staffordshire, who had 
 himself been bred under Blackwall. See 
 vol. v. near the end. where, from the infor- 
 mation of Mr. John Nichols, Johnson is said 
 to have applied in 1736 to Mr. Budworth; fo 
 he received by him as an assistant in hi?: « h >' 
 in Staffordshire. M. 
 
-flETAT. 23. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 19 
 
 1730*, more than a year before Johnson 
 left the Ifniversity. 
 
 This employment was very irksome to 
 him in every respect, and he complained 
 grievously of it in his letters to his friend, 
 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 the dull 
 sameness of his existence in these words 
 * Vitavi continet una dies* (one day 
 contains the whole of my life) ; 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 harsh- 
 ness ; and, after suffering for a few months 
 such complicated misery f, he relin- 
 quished a situation which all his life 
 afterwards he recollected with the strong- 
 est aversion, and ev^n a degree of hor- 
 rour. But it is probable that at this 
 period, whatever uneasinesS'he may have 
 endured, he laid the foundation of much 
 future eminence by application to his 
 studies. 
 
 Being now again totally unoccupied, 
 he was invited by Mr. Hector to pass 
 some time with hfna at Birmingham, as 
 his guest, at the hojjse of Mr. Warren, 
 with whom Mr." Sector lodged and 
 boarded. Mr. Wa\-renf was the first 
 established bookseller in Birmingham, 
 and was very attentive to Johnson, who 
 he soon found could be of much service 
 to him in his trade, by his knowledge of 
 literature; and he even obtained the 
 assistance of his pen in furnishing some 
 numbers of a periodica* Essay printed in 
 the newspaper, of which Warren was 
 proprietor. After very diligent inquiry, 
 I have not been able to recover those 
 early specimens of that particular mode 
 of writing by which Johnson afterwards 
 so greatly distinguished himself. 
 
 He continued to live as Mr. Hector's 
 guest for about six months, and then 
 hired lodging in another part of the tow n |, 
 finding himself as well situated at Bir- 
 
 * See Gent. Mag. Dec. 1764, p. 957. 
 
 t II appears from a letter of^ Johnson's to a 
 friend, which I have read, dated Lichfield, 
 Ju.ly. 27, 1732, that he had left Sir Wolstan 
 Dixie's house, recently before that letter was 
 written. He then had hopes of succeeding' 
 either as master or Usher, in the school of 
 Ashbnrne. M. 
 
 1 In June, 1733, Sir John Hawkins states, 
 Mom one of Johnson's diaries, that he lodged 
 
 minghani as he supposed he could be any 
 where, while he had no settled plan of 
 life, and very scanty means of subsistence. 
 He made some valuable acquaintances 
 there, amongst whom were Mr. Porter, 
 a mercer, whose widow he afterwards 
 married, and Mr. Taylor, who, by his 
 ingenuity in mechanical inventions, and 
 his success in trade, acquired an immense 
 fortune. But the comfort of being near 
 Mr. Hector, his old schoolfellow and 
 intimate friend, was Johnson's chief in- 
 ducement to continue here. 
 
 In what manner he employed his pen 
 at this period, or whether he derived 
 from it any pecuniary advantage, I have 
 not been able to ascertain. He probably 
 got a little money from Mr. Warren ; 
 and we are certain that he executed here 
 one piece of literary labour, of which 
 Mr. Hector has favoured me with a 
 minute account. Having mentioned that 
 he had read at Pembroke College a Voy- 
 age to Abyssinia, by Lobo, a Portuguese 
 Jesuit, and that he thought an abridgment 
 and translation of it from the French into 
 English might be a useful and profitable 
 publication, Mr. Warren and Mr. Hector 
 joined in urging him to undertake it. He 
 accordingly agreed ; and the book not 
 being to be found in Birmingham, he 
 borrowed it of Pembroke College. A 
 part of the work being very soon done, 
 one Osborn, who was Mr. Warren's 
 printer, was set to work with what was 
 ready, and Johnson engaged to supply 
 the press with copy as it should be 
 wanted ; but his constitutional indolence 
 soon prevailed, and the work was at a 
 stand. Mr. Hector, who knew that a 
 motive of humanity would be the most 
 prevailing argument with his friend, went 
 to Johnson, and represented to him, that 
 the printer could have no other employ- 
 ment till this undertaking was finished, 
 and that the poor man and his family 
 were suffering. Johnson upon this ex- 
 erted the powers of his mind, though his 
 body was relaxed. He lay in bed with 
 the book, which was a quarto, before 
 him, and dictated while Hector wrote. 
 Mr. Hector carried the sheets to the 
 press, and corrected almost all the proof 
 sheets, very few of which were even 
 seen by Johnson. In this manner, with 
 the aid of Mr. Hector's active friendship, 
 the book was completed, and was pub- 
 lished in 1735, with London upon the 
 title page, though it was in reality printed 
 at Birmingham, a device too common 
 with provincial publishers. For this 
 work he had from Mr. Warren only the 
 sum of five guineas. 
 
 in Birmingham at the house of a person named 
 Jarvis, probably a relation of Mrs. Porter, 
 whom he afterwards married. M. 
 
20 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1733. 
 
 This being the first prose work of 
 Johnson, it is a curious object of inquiry 
 how much may be traced in it of that 
 style which marks his subsequent writings 
 with such peculiar excellence ; with so 
 happy a union of force, vivacity, and 
 perspicuity. I have perused the book 
 with this view, and have found that here, 
 as I believe in every other translation, 
 there is in the work itself no vestig^-^f 
 the^JUiajjslator's own styleT'T^l-'^fhelan- 
 guage of^translSTfoiTllyeiTrgladapted to the 
 thoughts of another person, insensibly 
 follow their cast, and as it were runs 
 into a mould that is ready prepared. 
 
 Thus, for instance, taking the first sen- 
 tence that occurs at the opening of the 
 book, p. 4. '* I lived here above a year, 
 and completed my studies in divinity ; 
 in which time some letters were received 
 from the fathers of Ethiopia, with an 
 account that Sultan Segned, emperor of 
 Abyssinia, was converted to the church 
 of Rome ; that many of his subjects had 
 followed his example ; and that there was 
 a great want of missionaries to improve 
 these prosperous beginnings. Every body 
 was very desirous of seconding the zeal 
 of our fathers, and of sending them the 
 assistance they requested : to which we 
 were the more encouraged, because the 
 emperour's letter informed our provincial, 
 that we might easily enter his dominions 
 by the way of Dancala; but, unhappily, 
 the secretary wrote Geila for Dancala, 
 which cost two of our fathers their lives." 
 Every one acquainted with Johnson's 
 manner will be sensible that there is 
 nothing of it here ; but thatjtlii^ sentence 
 might have been composed by any other 
 man. 
 
 Biit^ in thepre£3.cg3_the Johnsonian 
 style beginslb appear-; aruf tHough use 
 had not yet taught his wing a permanent 
 and equable flight, there are parts of it 
 which exhibit his best manner in full 
 vigour. I had once the pleasure of ex- 
 amining it with Mr. Edmund Burke, who 
 confirmed me in this opinion, by his 
 superiour critical sagacity, and was, I 
 remember, much delighted with the fol- 
 lowing specimen : 
 
 " The Portuguese traveller, contrary 
 to the general vein of his countrymen, 
 has amused his reader with no romantick 
 absurdity, or incredible fictions : what 
 ever he relates, whether true or not, is 
 at least probable ; and he who tells no- 
 thing exceeding the bounds of probability 
 has a right to demand that they should 
 believe him who cannot contradict him. 
 ** He appears by his modest and un- 
 affected narration to have described things 
 ;is he saw them, to have copied nature 
 from the life, and to have consulted his 
 senses, not bis imagination. He meets 
 
 with no basilisks that destroy with their 
 eyes ; his crocodiles devour their prey 
 without tears, and his cataracts fall from 
 tlie rocks without deafening the neigh- 
 bouring inhabitants. 
 
 " The reader will here find no regions 
 cursed with irremediable barrenness, or 
 blessed with spontaneous fecundity; no 
 perpetual gloom, or unceasing sunshine ; 
 nor are the nations here described either 
 devoid of all sense of humanity, or con- 
 summate in all private or social virtues. 
 Here are no Hottentots without religious 
 policy or articulate language; no Chinese 
 perfectly polite, and completely skilled 
 in all sciences ; he will discover, what 
 will always be discovered by a diligent 
 and impartial inquirer, that wherever 
 human nature is to be found, there is a 
 mixture of vice and virtue, a contest of 
 passion and reason ; and that the Creator 
 doth not appear partial in his distributions, 
 but has balanced, in most countries, their 
 particular inconveniences by particular 
 favours." 
 
 Here we have an early example of 
 that brilliant and energetick expression, 
 which, upon innumerable occasions in 
 his subsequent life, justly impressed the 
 world with the highest admiration. 
 
 Nor can any one, conversant with the 
 writings of Johnson, fail to discern his 
 hand in this passage of the Dedication to 
 John Warren, Esq. of Pembrokeshire, 
 though it is ascribed to Warren the book- 
 seller. " A generous and elevated mind 
 is dis^ingiziibed^b^jiothing more certainly 
 than aTt piTMii^ jjt dpgrp pjtf curiosity * ; 
 nor is that curiosity ever more agreeably 
 or usefully employed than in examining 
 the laws and customs of foreign nations. 
 I hope, therefore, the present I now 
 presume to make will not be thought 
 improper; which, however, it is not my 
 business as a dedicator to commend, nor 
 as a bookseller to depreciate." 
 
 It is reasonable to suppose, that his 
 having been thus accidentally led to a 
 particular study of the history and man- 
 ners of Abyssinia, was the remote occa- 
 sion of his writing, many years afterwards, 
 his admirable philosophical tale, the 
 principal scene of which is laid in that 
 country. 
 
 Johnson returned to Lichfield early in 
 1734 ^, and in August that year he made 
 an a.tl£ijxpt to procure some little sub- 
 sistence by his pen ; for he published 
 proposals for printing by subscription 
 the Latin Poems of Politian + : " Angeli 
 Politiani Poemata Latina, quibus 
 
 * See Rambler, No. 103. 
 
 t May we not trace a fanciful similarity be- 
 tween Folilian ami Jolmson ! Hiictiiis, speak- 
 injf of Paulus Peligsonius Fontaneriiis, says 
 " —in quo Natura, ut olim iu Augclo Politiauo , 
 
^TAt. 24. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 21 
 
 Notas, cum historid Latince poeseos, a 
 Petrarch(B cevo ad Politiani tempora 
 deductd, et vitd Politiani fusius quam 
 antehac enarrata, addidit Sam. John- 
 son*. 
 
 It appears that his brother Nathaniel 
 had taken up his father's trade : for it is 
 mentioned that ** subscriptions are taken 
 in by the editor, or N. Johnson, book- 
 seller, of Lichfield." Notwithstanding 
 the merit of Johnson, and the cheap price 
 at which this book was offered, there 
 were not subscribers enough to insure a 
 sufficient sale ; so the wo fk npvfr jijjpear- 
 ^edj^nd probably never was executed. 
 
 We find him again this year at Bir- 
 mingham ; and there is preserved the 
 following letter from him to Mr. Edward 
 Gavet, the original compiler and editor 
 of the Gentleman's Magazine : 
 
 TO MR. CAVK. 
 " SIR, J^ov. 25, 173t. 
 
 " As you appear no less sensible than 
 yonr readers of the defects of your poetical 
 article, you will not be displeased, if, in 
 order to the improvement of it, I com- 
 municate toyouthesentimentsof a person, 
 who will undertake, on reasonable terms, 
 sometimes to fill a column. 
 
 ** His opinion is, that the publick would 
 not give you a bad reception, if, beside 
 the current wit of the month, which a 
 critical examination would generally re- 
 duce to a narrow compass, you admitted 
 not only4iiaeitts, inscii^f^tions, &c. never 
 printed before, which he will sometimes 
 supply yon with ; but likewise -short 
 lite<;aEyJJfiaei*ia.tii)ji&,^ in Xaiin or English, 
 critjca,! remarks on.authours ancient or 
 modern", forgotten poems that deserve 
 revival, or loose pieces, like Floyer'sJ, 
 worth preserving. By this method, your 
 literary article, for so it might be called, 
 will, he thinks, be better recommended 
 to the public than by low jests, awkward 
 buffoonery, or the dull scurrilities of either 
 party. 
 
 ** If such a correspondence will be 
 agi-eeable to you, be pleased to inform 
 
 deformitatem oris excellentis insrenii prse- 
 stantisi compensavit." Comment. Jle Reb. ad 
 eum periin. Edit. Amstel. 1718. p. 200. 
 
 * The book was to contain more than thirty 
 sheets; the price to be two shillings and six- 
 pence at the time of snbscribinir, and two 
 shillings and sixpence at the delivery of a 
 perfect book in qniies. 
 
 t Miss Cave, the grandniece of Mr. Edw. 
 Cave, has obligingly shown me the originals 
 of this and the other letters of Dr Johnson lo 
 him, whirh were first published in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, with notes by Mr. John 
 ISicliols, and the worthy indefatigable editor 
 of that valuable miscellany, signed N. ; some 
 of which I shall occasionally trani»cribe in the 
 course of this work. 
 
 t Sir John Floyer's Treatise on Cold Baths. 
 Gem. Mag. 1734, p. 197. 
 
 me, in two posts, what the conditions are 
 on which yon shall expect it. Your late 
 offer § gives me no reason to distrust your 
 generosity. If you engage in any literary 
 projects besides this paper, I have other 
 designs to impart, if I could be secure 
 from having others reap the advantage of 
 what I should hint. 
 
 ** Your letter by being directed to 
 S. Smith, to be left at the Castle in 
 Birmingham, Warwickshire, will reach 
 " Your humble servant." 
 
 Mr. Cave has put a note on this letter. 
 " Answered, Dec. 2." But whetkcr-«tty 
 thing w^^!*- 4f > np i n c ongp( p ieiic*^,of it we 
 are^not informed. 
 
 Johnson had, from his early youth, 
 been sensible to the influence of female ^ 
 chjtrms. When at Stourbridge school,^ 
 he wfis much ejiamqiire<l.QlQiixia Ljo^d, 
 a young quaker, to whom he wrote a 
 copy of verses, which I have not been 
 able to recover : but with what facility 
 and elegance he could warble the amorous 
 lay will appear from the following lines 
 which he wrote for his friend Mr. Ed- 
 mund Hector : 
 
 Verses to a Lady, on receiving from her a 
 Sprig of Myrtle. 
 
 " What hopes, what terrours does thy gift 
 create, 
 Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate ! 
 The myrtle, ensign of supreme command, 
 Consign'd by Venus to Melissa's hand ; 
 Not less capricious than a reigning fair, 
 Now grants, and now rejects a lov'er's prayer. 
 In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain; 
 In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain; 
 The myrtle crowns the happy lovers' heads. 
 The unhappy lover's grave the myrtle spreads ; 
 
 § A prize of fifty pounds for the best poem 
 •' on Life, Death, Judgment, Heaven, and 
 Hell." See Gentleman's Magazine, vol. iv. 
 p. 560. Nichols. 
 
 II Mrs. Piozzi gives the following account 
 of this little composition from Dr. Johnson's 
 own relation to her, on her inquiring whether 
 it was rightly attributed to him. — " I think it 
 is now just fortv years ago, that a young fellow- 
 had a sprig of myrtle given him by a girl he 
 courted, and asked me to write him some 
 verses that he might present her in return. 
 I promised, but forgot; and when he called 
 for his lines at the lime agreed on— Sit still a 
 moment (says I), dear Mund, and I'll fetch 
 them thee — So stepped aside for five minutes, 
 and wrote the nonsense you now keep such a 
 stir Ahoni.'''— Anecdotes, p. 34. 
 
 In mv first edition I was induced to doubt 
 the authenticity of this account, by the follow- 
 ing circumstantial statement in a leiter to me 
 from M iss Seward,of Lichfield :— '* I know those 
 verses were addressed to Lucy Porter, when 
 he was enamoured of her in his boyish days, 
 two or three years before he had seen her . 
 mother, his future wife. He wrote them at my 
 grandfather's, and gave them to Lucy in the 
 presence of my mother, to whom she showed 
 tliem on the instant. She used to repeat them 
 to me, when I asked her for the Verses Dr. 
 
22 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1736. 
 
 ::i 
 
 His juvenile attachments to the fair 
 sex were, however, very transien t ; and 
 it is certain, that he fbrmed no criminal 
 connexion whatsoever. Mr. Hector, who 
 lived with him in his younger days in 
 the utmost intimacy and social freedom, 
 has assured me, that even at that ardent 
 season his conduct was strictly virtuous 
 in that respect : and though he loved to 
 exhilarate himself with wine, he never 
 knew him intoxicated but once. 
 
 In a man whom religious education has 
 secured from licentious indulgences, the 
 passion of love, when once it has seized 
 him, is exceedingly strong ; being unim- 
 paired by dissipation, and totally con- 
 
 . Johnson gave her on a sprig of myrtle, which 
 he had stolen or begged from her bosom. We 
 all know honest Lucy Porter to have been 
 incapable of the mean vanity of applying to 
 herself a compliment not intended for her." 
 Such was this lady's statement, which I make 
 no doubt she supposed to be correct; hut it 
 shows how dangerous it is to trust too im- 
 plicitly to traditional testimony and ingenious 
 
 < inference ; for Mr. Hector has lately assured 
 me thai Mrs. Piozzi's account is in this insiance 
 accurate, and that he was tlie person for whom 
 Johnson wrote those verses, which have been 
 erroneously ascribed to Mr. Hammond. 
 
 I am obliged in so many instances to notice 
 Mrs. Piozzrs incorrectness of relation, that I 
 gladly seize this opportunity of acknowledg- 
 ing, that, however often, she is not always in- 
 
 ' accurate. 
 
 The auihour having been drawn into a con- 
 troversy with Miss Anna Seward, in conse- 
 quence 'of the preceding statement (which 
 
 ' may be found in " the Gentleman's Maga- 
 
 . zine," vol. Ixiii. and Ixiv.), received the 
 following letter from Mr. Edmund Hector, on 
 the subject: 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM sorry to see you are engaged in alter- 
 cation with a lady, who seems unwilling to be 
 convinced of her errours. Surely it would be 
 more ingenuous to acknowledge than to per- 
 severe. 
 
 " Lately, in looking over some papers I 
 meant to burn, I found the original manuscript 
 of the myrtle, with the date on it, 1731, which 
 I have enclosed. 
 
 " The true history (which I could swear to) 
 is as follows: Mr. Morgan Graves, the elder 
 brother of a worthy clergyman near Bath, with 
 whom I was acquainted, waited upon a lady 
 in this neighbourhood, who at parting pre- 
 !-ented him the branch. He showed it me, and 
 wished much to return the compliment in 
 verse. I applied to Johnson, who was with 
 ine ; and in about half an hour dictate«l the 
 ver>es, which I sent to my friend. 
 
 " I most solemnly declare, at that time, 
 Johnson was an entire stranger to the Porter 
 family ; and it was almost two years after that 
 I introduced him to the acquaintance of Porter, 
 whom I bought my cloaths of. 
 
 *< If you intend to convince this obstinate 
 woman, and t(> exhibit to the publick the truth 
 of your narrative, you are at liberty to make 
 what use you please of this statement. 
 
 *• i hope you will pardon me for taking up 
 so much of your time. Wishing you mnltos et 
 felices annos, I shall subscribe myself 
 " Your obliged humble servant, 
 
 " Birmingham, " E. HECTOR." 
 
 Jan. 9ih, iTJi.'* 
 
 centrated in one object. This was ex- 
 perienced by Johnson, when he became 
 the fervent aHnjjr^.^f ]Y[|,i^, Pmtpr, aftpr 
 her fir stjiusband's death*. Miss Porter 
 tofd mefthat when lie was first introduced 
 to her mother, his appearance vvas very 
 forbidding : he_.w as theii ^Iean a.nd-lank, 
 so that his immense structure_of bones 
 was hideously stnlurTf TirHTeTye, and the 
 sea l's of the scrofu la-jyere deeply visible. 
 HTalso wore his hair, which was straight 
 and stitf, and separated behind ; and he 
 ofte^_Jiad^seemingl^;J^_cpJ]lyu^^ starts 
 and odd gesticulations, which tended to 
 excite at once surprise and ridicule. 
 Mrs. Porter \v as so m uch.j£aga£.ed by 
 his conver3atioir'thaOh£-ay£rloj?ked all 
 the^eexternal disadvantages, and said to 
 her daughterj "This is the most sensible 
 man that I ever saw in my life." 
 
 Though Mrs. Porter was double the age 
 of Johnson t, and her person and manner, 
 as described to me by the late Mr. Gar- 
 rick, were by no means pleasing to others J, 
 she must have had a superiority of under- . 
 standing and talents §, as- she certainly I 
 inspired him with a more than ordinary f 
 
 * It appears, from Mi-jj: Hector's letter, that 
 Johnson became acquainted with her three 
 years before he married her. M. 
 
 t Mrs. Johnson's maiden name was Jervis. — 
 Though there was a great disparity of years 
 between her and Drr Johnson, she was not 
 quite so old as she is here rep<-esented, being 
 only at the time of her marriage in her forty- 
 eiffhth year, as appears by the following ex- 
 tract from the ()arish register of Great Peatling 
 in Leicestershire, which was obliein^ly made 
 at my request, by the Hon and Rev'. Mr. Ryder, 
 Rector of Lutterworth, in that county ; 
 
 " Anno Dom. 1688-[-9.] Elizabeth, the daugh- 
 ter of William Jervis, Esq. and Mrs. Anne his 
 wife, born the fourth dav of February and 
 mane, baptized the I6th day of the same month 
 by Mr. Smith, Curate of Little Peatling. 
 
 "John Allen, Vicar." 
 
 The family of Jervis, Mr. Rider informs me, 
 once possessed nearly the whole lordship of 
 Great Peatling (about 2000 acres), and thfcre 
 are many monuments of them in the church ; 
 hut the estate is now much reduced. The 
 present repiesentative of this ancient family 
 IS Mr. Charles Jervis, of Hinckley, Attorney at 
 Law. M. 
 
 t That in Johnson's eyes she was handsome, 
 appears from the epitaph which he caused to 
 be inscribed on her tombstone not long before 
 his own death, and which may be found under 
 the year 1752. M. 
 
 § The followins account of Mrs. Johnson, 
 and her family, is copied from a paper (chiefly 
 relatinir to Mrs. Anna Williams) written by 
 l.ady knight at Rome, and transmitted by her 
 to the late John Hoole, Esq. the translator of 
 Metastasio, &c. by whom it was inserted in 
 the European Magazine for October, 17D9: 
 
 " Mrs. Williams's account of Mrs. Johnson 
 was, that she had a good understanding, and 
 great sensibility, but inclined to be satirical. 
 Her first husband died insolvent; her sons 
 were much disgusted with her for her second 
 marriage, perhaps because they, being strug- 
 gling to get advanced in life, were mortified 
 to think she had allied herself to a man who 
 had not any visible means of being useful to 
 
jEtat. 27. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 23 
 
 passion ; and she having signified her 
 willingness to accept of his hand, he 
 went to Lichfield to ask his mother's 
 consent to the marriage, which he could 
 not but be conscious was a very imprudent 
 scheme, both on account of their disparity 
 of years, and her want of fortune. But 
 Mrs. Johnson knew too well the ardour 
 of her son's temper, and was too tender 
 a parent, to oppose his inclinations. 
 
 I know not fo_ rjvh at rea son the mar- 
 riage cei:£iru)nx_^^5--ii<it~perfor:meil^a_t 
 Bhjiungham ; but a resolution was taken 
 ttat it should be at Derby, for which 
 place the bride and bridegroom set out 
 on horseback, I suppose in very good 
 humour. But though Mr. Topham Beau- 
 clerk used archly to mention Johnson's 
 having told him, with much gravity, 
 " Sii:» it was a love marriage on both 
 sides," I have had from my illustrious 
 friend the following curious account of 
 their journey to church upon the nuptial 
 morn, (9th July) : — " Sir, she had read 
 the old romances, and had got into her 
 head the fantastical notion that a woman 
 
 them ; however, she always retained her affec- 
 tion for tliem. Wiiiie they [Dr. and Mrs. John- 
 son] resided in Gouph Square, her snn, the 
 officer, knocked at the door, and asked the 
 maid, if Iter mistress was at home. She an- 
 swered, ' Yes, sir; hut she is sick in bed.' 
 * O,' says he, * if it's so, tell her that her son 
 Jervis called to know how she did;' jnd was 
 going- away. The maid begg^ed she might run 
 up to tell her mistress, and without attending 
 hisanswer,lefthim. Mrs. Johnson, enraptured 
 to hear her son was below, desired the maid 
 to tell him she longed to embrace him. When 
 the maid descended, the gentleman v>as gone, 
 and poor Mrs. Johnson was much agitated by 
 the adventure : it was the only time he ever 
 made an effort to see her. Dr. Johnson did 
 all he could to console his wife, but told 
 Mrs. Williams, ' Her son is uniformly undu- 
 tiful; BO I conclude, like many other sober 
 men, he might once in his life be drunk, and 
 in that fit nature got the better of his pride.' " 
 
 The following anecdotes of Dr. Johnson are 
 recorded by the same lady : 
 
 " One day that he came to my house to meet 
 many others, we told him that we had arranged 
 our party to go to Westminster Abbev ; would 
 not he go with us! ' 2Vtf,' he replied, ' not while 
 I can keep out.^ 
 
 " Upon our saying that the friends of a lady 
 had been in great fear lest she should make 
 a certain match, he said, * We that are his 
 friends have had great fears for him.' 
 
 " Dr. Johnson's political principles ran high, 
 both in church and state: he wished power to 
 the King and to the Heads of the Church, as 
 the laws of England have established; but I 
 know he disliked absolute power ; and I am 
 very sure ofhis disapprobation of the doctrines 
 of the church of Rome; because about three 
 weeks before we came abroad, he said to my 
 Cornelia, ' You are going where the ostenta- 
 tious pomp of church ceremonies attracts the 
 imagination ; but if they want to' persuade 
 you to change, you must remember, that by 
 increasing ybur faith, you may be persuaded 
 to become Turk.' If these were not the words, 
 I have kept up to the express meaning." M. 
 
 of spirit should use her lover like a dog. 
 So, sir, at first she told me that I rode 
 too fast, and she could not keep up with 
 me ; and, when I rode a little slower, she 
 passed me, and complained that I lagged 
 behind. I was not to be made the slave 
 of caprice; and I resolved to begin as I 
 meant to end. I therefore pushed on 
 briskly, till I was fairly out of sight. 
 The road lay between two hedges, so I 
 was sure she could not miss it ; and I 
 contrived that she should soon come up 
 with me. When she did, I observed her 
 to be in tears." 
 
 This, it must be allowed, was a singular 
 beginning of connubial felicity ; but there 
 is no doubt that Johnson, though he thus 
 showed a manly firmness, proved a most! 
 aflfectionate and indulgent husband to the! 
 last moment of Mrs. Johnson's life: and,\ 
 in his " Prayers and Meditations," we \ 
 find very remarkable evidence that his 
 r egard and fondness for her never ce^sed,^ 
 even aTfer her deatli. ^ 
 
 "He~now setoip a private academy, for 
 which purpose he hired a large house, 
 well situated, near his native city. In 
 the Gentleman's Magazine for 1736, there 
 is the following advertisement: "At 
 Edial, near Lichfield, in Staflfordshire, 
 young gentlemen are boarded, and taught 
 the Latin and Greek languages, by Samuel o 
 Johnson." But the only pupils that were^^^ 
 put under his care were the celebratecr^ 
 DavidGijirick and his brother George, 
 aruTMrTOffely, a young gentleman of 
 good fortune, who died early. As yet, 
 ins name had nothing of that celebrity 
 which afterwards commanded the highest 
 attention and respect of mankind. Had 
 such an advertisement appeared after the 
 publication of his London, or his Ram- 
 bler, or his Dictionary, how would it have 
 burst upon the world! with what eager- 
 ness would the great and wealthy have 
 embraced an opportunity of putting their 
 sons under the learned tuition of Samuel 
 Johnson ! The truth, however, is, that he 
 was n ot so we \\ qnalifipd for being a 
 teacher of elejjlfe nts, an d a Conductor in 
 learning by regular gradations, as men of 
 inferiour powers of mind. His own ac- 
 quisitions had been made by fitsand starts, 
 by violent irruptions in the regions of 
 knowledge ; and it could not be expected 
 that his impatience would be subdued, 
 and his impetuosity restrained, so as to fit 
 him for a quiet guide to novices. The 
 artof communicating instruction, of what- 
 ever kind, is much to be valued ; and I 
 have ever thought that those who devote 
 themselves to this employment, and do 
 their duty with diligence and success, are 
 entitled to very high respect from the 
 community, as Johnson himself often 
 
24 THE LIFE OF DR 
 
 maintained. Yet I am of opinion, tliat 
 tiie greatest abilities are not only not re- 
 quired for this office, but render a man 
 less lit for it. 
 
 While we acknowledge the justness of 
 Thomson's beautiful remark, 
 " Delightful task ! to rear the tender thouj^ljt, 
 And teach the jouiig idea how to shoot!" 
 we must consider that this delight is per- 
 ceptible only " by a mind at ease," a 
 mind at once calm and clear; but that a 
 mind gloomy and impetuous, like that of 
 Johnson, cannot be tixed for any length 
 of time in minute attention, and must be 
 so frequently irritated by unavoidable 
 slowness and errour in the advances of 
 scholars, as to perform the duty with 
 little pleasure to the teacher, and no great 
 advantage to the pupils. - Good temper 
 is a most psspntial i-pqiiisjtein « pipffptm-, 
 Horace paints the character as bland : 
 
 " Vt piieris olim dant crustnla blandi 
 
 Doctores, elementa velint ut discire prima.''^ 
 
 Johnson was not more satisfied with 
 his situation as the master of an academy 
 than with that of the usher of a school ; 
 we need not wonder, therefore, that he 
 did not keep his academy above a year 
 and a half. From Mr. Garrick's account, 
 he did not appear to have been profoundly 
 reverenced by his pupils. His oddities 
 of manner and uncouth gesticulations 
 could not but be the subject of merriment 
 to them ; and in particular, the young 
 rogues used to listen at the door of his 
 bedchamber, and peep through the key- 
 hole, that they might turn into ridicule 
 his tumultuous and awkward fondness for 
 Mrs. Johnson, whom he used to name 
 by the familiar appellation of Tettu or 
 T&tsey ; which, like Betty or Betsey, 
 is provincially used as a contraction for 
 Elizabeth, her Christian name, but which 
 to us seems ludicrous, when applied to 
 a woman of her age and appearance. 
 Mr. Garrick described her to me as very 
 fat, with a bosom of more than ordinary 
 protuberance, with swelled cheeks of a 
 rtorid red, produced by thick painting, 
 and increased by the liberal use of cor- 
 dials ; flaring and fantastic in her dress, 
 and atfected both in her speech and her 
 general behaviour. I have seen Garrick 
 exhibit her, by his exquisite talent for 
 mimickry, so as to excite the heartiest 
 bursts of laughter; but he, probably, as 
 is the case in all such representations, 
 considerably aggravated the picture. 
 
 That Johnson well knew the most 
 proper course to be pursued in the in- 
 struction of youth, is authentically ascer- 
 tained by the following paper in his own 
 handwriting, given about this period to 
 a relation, and now in the possession of 
 Mr. John Nichols: 
 
 JOHNSOM. 1736. 
 
 " Scheme /or the Classes o/ a Grammar 
 School. 
 
 " When the introduction or formation 
 of nouns or verbs is perfectly mastered, 
 let them learn. 
 
 " Corderius, by Mr. Clarke ; begin- 
 ning at the same time to translate out of 
 the introduction, that by this means they 
 may learn the syntax. Then let them 
 proceed to 
 
 " Erasmus, with an English translation, 
 by the same authour. 
 
 ** Class II. Learns Eutropius and 
 Cornelius Nepos, or Justin, with the 
 translation. 
 
 '* N. B. The first class gets for their 
 part every morning the rules which they 
 have learned before, and in the afternoon 
 learns the Latin rules of the nouns and 
 verbs. 
 
 " They are examined in the rules which 
 they have learned, every Thursday and 
 Saturday. 
 
 " The second class does the same whilst 
 they are in Eutropius ; afterwards their 
 part is in the irregular nouns and verbs, 
 and in the rules for making and scanning 
 verses. They are examined as the first. 
 
 " Class III. Ovid's Metamorphoses 
 in the morning, and Caesar's Commenta- 
 ries in the afternoon. 
 
 " Practise in the Latin rules till they 
 are perfect in them ; afterwards in Mr. 
 Leeds' Greek Grammar. Examined as 
 before. 
 
 " Afterwards they proceed to Virgil, 
 beginning at the same time to write 
 themes and verses, and to learn Greek : 
 from thence passing on to Horace, &c. 
 as shall seem most proper. 
 
 " I know not well what books to direct 
 you to, because you have not informed 
 me what study you will apply yourself 
 to. I believe it will be most for your 
 advantage to apply yourself wholly to 
 the languages, till you go to the Univer- 
 sity. The Greek authors I think it best 
 for you to read are these : 
 
 Cebes. ) 
 
 ^lian. r 
 
 Lucian by Leeds. I 
 
 Xenophon. ) 
 
 Homer. lonick. 
 
 Theocritus. Dorick. 
 
 Euripides. Attick and Dorick. 
 
 " Thus you will be tolerably skilled in 
 all the dialects, beginning with the Attick, 
 to which the rest must be referred. 
 
 " In the study of Latin, it is proper 
 not to read the latter authours, till you 
 are well versed in those of the purest 
 ages ; as Terence, Tully, Caesar, Sallust, 
 Nepos, Velleius Paterculus, Virgil, Ho- 
 race, Phaedrus. 
 
 . Attick. 
 
iEtAT. 27. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHN^SON. 
 
 ** The greatest and most necessairy task 
 still remains, to atjpiin a hgTrrTT^f pvjrtrivs- 
 si^il^^^itliont which knowl e(l^ejs_ofiittle 
 use. This i*-«ecBS^ry in Latin, and more 
 TTecessary in English ; and can o nly be 
 acqiureiLJiy_ajdaily-.imitation of tliejSest 
 aai^coi=»"«c^«&t ^uthours . 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 While Johnson kept his academy, there 
 can be no doubt that he was insensibly 
 furnishing his mind with various know- 
 ledge ; but I have not discovered that he 
 wrote any tiling, except a great part of 
 his, tragedy of Irene, Mr. Peter Garrick, 
 the elder brother of David, told me that 
 he remembered Johnson's borrowing the 
 Turkish History of him, in order to form 
 his play from it. When he had finished 
 some part of it, he read what he had 
 done to Mr. Walmsiey, who objected to 
 his having already brought his heroine 
 into great distress, and asked him, " how 
 can you possibly contrive to plunge her 
 into deeper calamity?" Johnson, in sly 
 allusion to the supposed oppressive pro- 
 ceedings of the court of which Mr. 
 Walmsiey was registrar, replied, " Sir, I 
 can put her into the Spiritual Court!" 
 
 Mr. Walmsiey, however, was well 
 pleased with this proof of Johnson's abi- 
 lities as a dramatick writer, and advised 
 him to finish the tragedy, and produce it 
 on the stage. 
 
 Johnson now thought of trying his for- 
 . tune in London, the great field of genius 
 and exertion, where talents of every kind 
 have the fullest scope and the highest 
 encouragement. It is a memorable cir- 
 cumstance that his pupil David Garrick 
 went thither at the same time*, with 
 intent to complete his education, and 
 follow the profession of the law, from 
 which he was soon diverted by his decided 
 preference for the stage. 
 
 This joint expedition of those two emi- 
 nent men to the metropolis, was many 
 years afterwards noticed in an allegorical 
 
 Soem on Shakspeare's Mulberry Tree, by 
 Ir. Lovibond, the ingenious authour of 
 " The Tears of Old-May-Day." 
 They were recommended to Mr. Col 
 
 * Both of them used to talk pleasaniijj of 
 this their first Journey to London. Garrick. 
 evidently meaning to embellish a little, said 
 one day in my hearing-, " we rode and tied." 
 And the Bishop of Kfllaloe [Dr. Barnard] in- 
 formed me,lhatatanother time, when Johnson 
 and Garrick were dining together in a pretty 
 large company, Johnson humorously ascer- 
 taining the chronology of something, ex- 
 pressed himself thus: "that was the year 
 when [ came to London with two-pence ha!f- 
 
 Kenny in my pocket." Garrick, overhearing 
 im, exclaimed, '• Eh ? what do you say ? with 
 twopence halfpenny in your pocket?"— John 
 SON. "Why, yes;" when I came with two- 
 pence halfpenny in viy pocket, and thou, 
 Davy, with three halfpence in thine." 
 
 25 
 
 son +, an eminent mathematician and 
 master of an academy, by the following 
 letter from Mr. Walmsiey : 
 
 TO THE REVEREND MR. COLSON j. 
 " DEAR SIR, Lichfield, March 2, 1737. 
 " I HAD the favour of yours, and am ex- 
 tremely obliged to you ; but I cannot 
 say I had a greater affection for you upon 
 it than I had before, being long since so 
 inuch endeared to yon, as well by an 
 early friendship, as by your many excel- 
 lent 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 neighbour of mine, 
 one Mr. Samuel Johnson, set out this 
 morning for London together. Davy 
 Garrick is to be with you early the next 
 week, and Mr. Johnson to try his fate 
 with a tragedy, and to see to get himself 
 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 lie in your 
 way, I doubt not but you would be ready- 
 to recommend and assist your country- 
 man. " G. Walmsley." 
 
 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. Walmsiey gave him a 
 letter of introduction to Lintot his book- 
 seller, and that Johnson wrote some things 
 for him ; but I imagine this to be a mis- 
 take, for I have discovered no trace of 
 
 t The character of Gelxdus, the philosopher 
 (Rambler, No. 24), was meant to represent 
 this gentleman. 
 
 I The Reverend John Colson was bred at 
 Emmanuel College in Cambridge, and in 1728, 
 when George the Second visited that Uni- 
 versity, was created Master of Arts. About 
 that time he became First Master of the Free 
 School at Rochester, founded by Sir Joseph 
 Williamson, In 1739 he was appointed Lu- 
 casian Professor of Mathematirks m the Uni- 
 versity of Cambridge,on the death of Professor 
 Sanderson, and held that office till 1759, when, 
 he died. He published Lectures on experi- 
 mental Philosophy, translated from tlie French 
 of I'Abbe Nodet, 8vo. 1732, and some other 
 tracts. Our authour, it is believed, was mis- 
 taken in stating him to have been Master of 
 an Academy. Garrick, probably, during his 
 short residence at Rochester, lived in his 
 house as a private pupil. M. 
 
 § One curious anecdote was communicated by 
 himself to Mr. John Nichols. Mr. Wilcox, the 
 bookseller, on being informed by hmi that bis 
 intention was to get his livelihood as an au- 
 thour, eyed his robust frame attentively, and, 
 with a significant look, said, " You had belfer 
 buv a porter's knor.'> He however added. 
 
2G 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1737. 
 
 it, and I am pretty sure he told me, that 
 Mr. Cave was the first publislier 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 lodg- 
 ings were at the house of Mr. Norris, 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 as 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 prac- 
 tice to which he rigidly conformed for 
 many years together, at difterent periods 
 of his life. 
 
 His Ofeixus, in the Art of Living in 
 London, I have heard him relate, was 
 an Irish painter, whom he knew at Bir- 
 mingham, 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 Mas ap- 
 prehensive of the expense, " that thirty- 
 pounds a year was enough to enable a 
 man to live there without being con- 
 temptible. He allowed ten pounds for 
 clothes and linen. He said a man might 
 live in a garret at eighteen-pence a week ; 
 few people would inquire where he 
 lodged ; if they did, it was easy to say, 
 ' Sir, I am to be found at such a place.' 
 By spending three-pence at 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 know- 
 ledge of the world, fresh from life, not 
 strained through books. He borrowed a 
 horse and ten pounds from Birmingham. 
 Finding himself master of so much mo- 
 ney, he set otf for West Chester, in order 
 to get to Ireland. He returned the horse, 
 and probably the ten pounds too, after 
 l»e got home." 
 
 Considering Johnson's narrow circum 
 
 stances in the early part of his life, and 
 particularly at the interesting jera 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 atten- 
 tion, and be ever recollected by him as 
 a circumstance of much importance. He 
 amused himself, I remember, by com- 
 puting 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 lo cheer hirn"; 
 he was well acquainted with Mr. Henry 
 Hervey *, one of the branches of the 
 noble family of that name, who had been 
 quartered at Lichfield as an officer of the 
 army, and had at this time a house in 
 London, where Johnson was frequently 
 entertained, and had an^ fljcmflrtmiity of 
 meeting_^eiiteeL_company. Not very 
 long before his death he mentioned this, 
 among other particulars of his life, which 
 he was kindly communicating lo 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 Irene, and that he re- 
 tired for some time to lodgings at Green- 
 wich, 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 lite- 
 rary history, it is proper to insert : 
 
 TO MR. CAVE. 
 ** SIR, 
 
 " Having observed in your papers very 
 uncommon offers of encouragement to 
 men of letters, I have chosen, being a 
 stranger in London, to communicate 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 
 
 * The Honourable Henry Hervey, third son 
 of tlie first Earl of Briaol, quiued the army, 
 and took orders. He married a sister of Sir 
 Thomas Astou, by whom he got the Aston 
 )>;iat(>, and assnnied tlie name and arms of 
 thai fiimily. Vide Collins's Peerage. 
 
.^TAT. 28. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 27 
 
 is so much revived in England that, it is 
 presumed, a new translation of it from 
 the Italian, 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 undertaking, 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 without discovering 
 that the style is capable of great improve- 
 ments ; but whether those improvements 
 are to be expected from the 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 turn the balance in our 
 favour, considering the reputation of the 
 Annotator. 
 
 ** 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 this letter, though 
 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 re- 
 turned to Lichfield, where he had left 
 Mrs. Johnson, and there he at last 
 finished his tragedy, which was not exe- 
 cuted 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 tra- 
 gedy, 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, Roman, and 
 modern writers. The hand-writing is 
 very difficult to be read, even by those 
 who were best acquainted with Johnson'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. Lang- 
 ton to take a copy of it for himself. 
 
 The whole _of it is rich in thought a nd 
 imjiger: ^and happy e x pres sions ; and of 
 the disjecta membra scattered through- 
 out, and as yet unarranged, a good dra- 
 matic poet might avail himself with con- 
 siderable advantage. I shall give my 
 readers some specimens of different 
 kinds, distinguishing them by the Italick 
 character. 
 
 " Nor th'mk to say, here will I stop, 
 Here will I fix the limits of transgression, 
 Nor farther tempt theavengivg rage of heaven. 
 When guilt like thisonce harbours tn the breast, 
 Those holy beings, whose unseen direction 
 Guides through the maze of life the steps of 
 
 Fly the detested mansions of impiety. 
 
 And quit their charge to horrour and to ?"Mtn." 
 
 A small part only of this interesting 
 admonition is preserved in the play, and 
 is varied, I think, 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, 
 Affrighted 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,'''' 
 
 " Sure this is love, which heretofore 
 I conceived the dream, of idle maids, 
 and wanton poets." 
 
 " Though no comets or prodigies fore- 
 told the ruin of Greece, signs which 
 heaven must by another miracle enable 
 us to understand; yet might it before- 
 shown, by tokens no less certain, by the 
 vices which always bring it on." 
 
 This last passage is worked up in the 
 tragedy itself, as follows : 
 
 LEONTIUS. 
 
 " That power ihai kindly spreads 
 
 The clouds, a signal of impending showers. 
 To warn the waad'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 re- 
 
 When some neglected fabrick nods beneath 
 The weight of years, and totrers to the tempest. 
 Must Heaven despatch the messengers of light, 
 Or wake the dead, to warn us of its fall!" 
 
 Mahomet, (to Irene.) " / have tried 
 thee, and joy to find that thou deservent 
 
28 
 
 to he loved hy Mahomet, — with a mind 
 great as his own, Sure, thou art an 
 erronr of nature, and an exception to 
 the rest of thy sex, and art immortal ; 
 for sentiments like thine were never to 
 sink into nothing. J thought all the 
 thoughts of the fair had been to select 
 the graces of the day, dispose the colours 
 of the flaunting (flowing) robe, tune 
 the voice androll the eye, place the gem, 
 choose the dress, and add new roses to 
 the fading cheek, but — sparkling." 
 
 Thus in the tragedy : 
 
 *' Illustrious maid, new wondrrs fix me thine; 
 Thy soul completes tiie triumphs of thy face; 
 1 thoug-ht, forgive, my fair, the noblest aim, 
 The sti-oHgest effort of a female soul 
 Was but to choose the prraces of the day, 
 To tune the tonsrue, to teach the eyes to roll. 
 Dispose the colours of the flowing robe, 
 And add new roses to the faded cheek." 
 
 I shall select one other passage, on ac- 
 count of the doctrine which it illustrates. 
 Irene observes, " that the Supreme 
 Being will accept of virtue, whatever 
 outward circumstances it may be ac- 
 companied with, and m^ay be delighted 
 with varieties of worship : but is an- 
 swered ; That variety cannot affect 
 that Being, who, infinitely happy in 
 his own perfections, wants no external 
 gratifications ; nor can infinite truth 
 be delighted with falsehood; that 
 though he may guide or pity those he 
 leaves in darkness, he abandons those 
 who shut their eyes against the beams 
 of day." 
 
 Johnson's residence at Lichfield, on 
 his return to it at this time, was only for 
 three months ; and as he had as yet seen 
 . but a small part of the wonders of the 
 metropolis, he had little to tell his towns- 
 iTien. He related to me the following 
 minute anecdote of this period : " In 
 the last age, wi\en my mother lived in 
 London, there were two sets of people, 
 those who gave the wall, and those who 
 took it ; the peaceable and the quarrel- 
 some. When I returned to Lichfield, 
 after having been in London, my mother 
 asked me whether I was one of those 
 who gave the wall, or those vi ho took it. 
 IVow it is fixed that every man keeps to 
 the right; or, if one is taking the wall, 
 another yields it ; and it is never a dis- 
 pute*." 
 
 He now removed to London with 
 Mrs. Johnson ; but her daughter, who 
 had lived with them at Edial, was left 
 with her relations in the country. His 
 lodgings were for some time in Wood- 
 stock-street, near Hanover-square, and 
 afterwards in Castle-street near Caven- 
 
 * Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit. 
 p. 2ii. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1737. 
 
 dish-square. As there is something 
 pleasingly interesting, to many, in tracing 
 so great a man through all his different 
 habitations, I shall, before this work ia 
 concluded, present my readers with an 
 exact list of his lodgings and houses, in 
 order of time, which, in placid conde-| y 
 scension to my respectful curiosity, hes 
 o ne evening dict ate d to m e, but without 
 specifying h'OVV long he lived at each. In 
 the progress of his life I shall have occa- 
 sion to mention some of them as con- 
 nected with particular incidents, or with 
 the writing of particular parts of his 
 works. To some this minute attention 
 may appear trifling ; but when we con- 
 sider the punctilious exactness with 
 which the different houses in which 
 Milton 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 afterwards 
 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 
 patronized by some man of high rank ; 
 
 and it was no^ acted til j^ 1749. when his 
 friend Davi"& Garricir~was manager of 
 that theatre. 
 
 The G entleman's Maga zine, begun and 
 carried'onby Mr. Edward Cave, under 
 the naine of Sylvanus Urban, had at- 
 tracted 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 njiscellany was ori- 
 ginally printed, he " beheld it with 
 reverence." I suppose, indeed, that 
 every young authour has had the same 
 kind of feeling for the magazine or peri- 
 odical publication which has first enter- 
 tained him, and in which he has first an 
 opportunity to see himself in print, with- 
 out the risk of exposing his name. I 
 myself recollect such impressions from 
 The Scots Magazine, which was begun 
 at Edinburgh in the year 1739, and has 
 been ever conducted with judgment, 
 accuracy, and propriety. I yet cannot 
 help thinking of it with an affectionate 
 regard. Johnson has dignified the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine, by the importance 
 with which he invests the life of Cave ; 
 but he has given it still greater lustre by 
 the various admirablc ^ssays whi ch he 
 wrote for it. 
 
IEtxt. 23. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 29 
 
 Though Johnson was often solicited by 
 his friends to make a complete list of his 
 writings, and talked of doing it, I believe 
 with a serious intention that they shonid 
 all be collected on his own «ccount, he 
 put it otf from year to year, and at last 
 died without having done it perfectly. I 
 have one in his own hand-writing which 
 contains a certain number; I indeed 
 doubt if he could have remembered every 
 one of them, as they were so numerous, 
 so various, and scattered in siick_a_nuiji- 
 t iulicity of uncon nected j^ub lication s ; 
 nay7 several of them published under the 
 names of other persons, to whom he 
 liberally contributed from the abundance 
 of his mind. We must, therefore, be 
 content to discover them, partly from 
 occasional information given by him to 
 his friends, and partly from internal evi- 
 dence*. 
 
 His first performance in the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, which for many years 
 was his principal source of employment 
 and support, was a copy of Latin verses, 
 in March 1738, addressed to the editor in 
 so happy a style of compliment, that 
 Cave must have been destitute both of 
 taste and sensibility, had he not felt 
 himself highly gratified. 
 
 Ad Urbanum. fiO 
 Urbane, nnllis Jesse labortfms. 
 Urbane, nullis viete calumniis, 
 Cui Jronte sertum in erudita 
 Perpetuo viret et virebit ; 
 Quid moliatur gens imitanthtm, 
 Quid et minetur, soticilvs parum, 
 Vacare soils perge Mnsis, 
 Juxta oidnio siudiisqne fcUx, 
 Lingu<B procacis plnmbea spicnla, 
 Fidens, siiperbo /'range silenlio ; 
 Victrix per obxtanles catervus 
 Hedulilas animosa tendet. 
 Inttnde ncrvos, fortis, inanibus 
 Kisurns olim nisibim temuli; 
 Inlende jam nervos, habtbis 
 Pariicipes operte Camcenas. 
 Non ulla Musis pagina gratior, 
 Quam quce sevens tudicra jungere 
 Novit, faligatamqne nvgis 
 Utilibus recreare menlem. 
 Texente Nymphis serta Lycoride, 
 Ros(B rubdrem sic viola adjuvat 
 Immista, sic Iris re fidget 
 ^thereis variutu fuels i. S. J. 
 
 It appears that he was now enlisted by 
 Mr. Cave as a reg^ular coadjutor 4n-iua 
 M^igaaimj^ by which he probably obtained 
 a teieraWe livelihood . At whaTTTme; Or 
 by what means, he had acquired a com- 
 petent knowledge both of French and 
 Italian, I do not know; but he was so 
 well skilled in them, as to be suiiiciently 
 qualified for a translator. That part of 
 his labour which consi sted in emen dation 
 and improvement'Tif thegroductions^r 
 otliericonti^itTmn'STlfike^Tiatemp in 
 
 levelling ground," ca»V be peTceiv£^d.iinfy 
 by those who had an opportuniiy of 
 co mparin g theori^i^ial witli tEe^ altered 
 
 * While in the course of my narrative 1 
 enunieraie his writings, I sliall take care that 
 my readers shall not be left to waver in doiibr, 
 between certainty and conjecture, with regard 
 to their authenticity ; and, for that purpose, 
 shall mark with an Italic foJ those which he 
 acknowledged to his friends, and with an 
 Italic (ft) tliose which are ascertained to be his 
 by internal evidence. When any other pieces 
 are ascribed to him, I shall give my reasons. 
 
 t A translation of this Ode, by an unknown 
 correspondent, appeared in the Magazine for 
 tlie month of May following. 
 
 Hail, Urban! indefatigable man. 
 Unwearied yet by all thy useful toil ! 
 
 Whom numerous slanderers assault in vain; 
 Whom no base calumny can put to foil. 
 
 ^copj^. What we certainly know to have 
 been done by him in this way, was the 
 Debates in both houses of Parliament, 
 under the name of " The Senate of Lil- 
 liput," sometimes with feigned denomi- 
 nations of the several speakers, sometimes 
 with denominations formed of the letters 
 of their real names, in the manner of 
 what is called anagram, so that they 
 might easily be deciphered. Parliament 
 then kept the press in a kind of mys- 
 terious awe, which made it necessary to 
 have recourse to such devices. In our 
 time it has acquired an unrestrained free- 
 dom, so that the people in all parts of the 
 kingdom iiave a.fairj open, and exact 
 repor4; of the actual proceedjjjj^pflheir 
 
 But still the laurel on thy learned brow 
 
 Flourishes fair, and shall for ever grow. 
 
 What mean the servile imitating crew. 
 What their vain blust'ring, and their empty 
 noise, 
 
 Ne'er seek; but still thy noble ends pursue, 
 Unconquer'd by the rabble's venal voice. 
 
 Still to the Muse thy studious mind apply, 
 
 Happy in temper as in industry. 
 
 The senseless sneerings of a haughty tongue 
 Unworthy thy attention to engage. 
 
 Unheeded pass: and though they mean thee 
 wrong, 
 By manly silience disappoint their rage. 
 
 Assiduous diligence conCounds its foes. 
 
 Resistless, though malicious crowds oppose. 
 
 Ti^y gpoft^jjajtiegnaj l quash all false repo rts : 
 
 Exert thy powers, nor fear~a rival^s Jortt, 
 liut thou shall smile at all his vain efforts; 
 
 Thy labours shall be crown'd with large 
 success : 
 
 The Muse's aid thy Magazine shall bless. 
 
 No paare more grateful to the harmonious 
 Nine 
 Than that wherein thy labours we survey : 
 
 Where solemn themes in fuller splendour 
 
 shir.-., 
 
 (Delightful mixture), blended with the gay, 
 Where in improving, various joys we find, 
 A welcome respite to the wearied mind. 
 Thus when the nymphs in some fair ver- 
 dant mead, 
 Of various flowers a beauteous wreath com- 
 pose, 
 The lovely violet's azure-painted head 
 Adds lustre to the crimson-blushing rose. 
 Thus splendid Iris, with her varied dve, 
 Shines in the sether, and adoins the sky. 
 Briton. 
 
30 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 representatives and legislators, which in 
 our constitution is highly to be valued ; 
 though, unquestionably, there has of late 
 been too much reason to complain of the 
 petulance with which obscure scribblers 
 have presumed to treat men of the most 
 respectable character and situation. 
 
 This important article of the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine was, for several years, 
 
 executed by Mj. WiHij^m Onthj-ie, a man 
 
 who deserves to be respectfully recorded 
 
 in the literary annals of this country. 
 
 He was descended of an ancient family 
 
 in Scotland ; but having a small patri- 
 mony, and being an adherent of the un- 
 fortunate house of Stuart, he could not 
 
 accept of any office in the state ; he 
 
 therefore came to London, and employed 
 
 his talents and learning as an *' Authour 
 
 by profession." His writings in history, 
 
 criticism, and politicks, had considerable 
 
 merit*. Hft^vasJhfi_£rsl_JEn^lish_hjs- 
 
 torianjwjiojia d recourse to that authentick 
 
 soijjrce of informationjjthe^Parliamentarv 
 
 Journals; and such was the power of 
 ^ his politTcal pen that, at an early period, 
 
 Government 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, though sur- 
 passed by others who have since followed 
 
 him in 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 at- 
 tained to greater variety of employment, 
 
 and the sp,eediies--vKei:e~-XU2re_imd more 
 
 e n r i chfid- by^ -the__a£ cfissi^wj^of^Johjison ' s 
 
 genijis,Jt was resolved that he should do 
 
 the whole himself, from the scanty notes 
 
 furnished by persons employed to attend 
 
 in both houses of Parliament. Some- 
 times, however, as he himself told me, 
 
 he had nothing more communicated to 
 
 him than the names of the several speak- 
 ers, and the part which they had taken 
 
 in the debate. 
 
 Thus was Johnson egiployed, during 
 
 some of the best yearsoTiit?! life, as a 
 
 mere literary laboui er " for gain, not for 
 
 glory," 8olely _to^ obtain jan honest sup- 
 port. HeTiowever indulged himself in 
 
 occasional little sallies, which the French 
 
 so happily express by the term jeujc 
 
 d'esprit, and which will be noticed in 
 
 their order, in the progress of this work. 
 But what first displayed his transcen- 
 * How much poetry he wrote I know not : 
 
 f)iU he informed me tliac he was llie authoiir 
 
 of the heaunful httle piece, " The Eajjle and 
 
 Robin Redbreast," in the collection of poems 
 
 f iititled "The Union." though it is there said 
 
 to be written by Archibald Scott, before the 
 
 year IdOO, 
 
 1738. 
 dent powers,, and ** gave the world as^ 
 surance of the Man," was his " London, 
 a Poem, in Imitation of the Third Saf^e 
 of Juvenal ;" which came out in May 
 this year, and burst forth with a splen- 
 dour, the rays of which will for ever 
 encircle his name. Boileau had imitate3 
 the same satire with great success, ap- 
 plying it to Paris : but an attentive com- 
 parison will satisfy every reader, that he 
 is much excelled by the English Juvenal. 
 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 topicks of satire. Whether John- 
 son had previously read Oldham's imi- 
 tation, I do not know ; but it is not a 
 little remarkable that there is scarcely 
 any coincidence found between the two 
 performances, though upon the very same 
 subject. 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. 
 
 '• Tlie common shore of Paris and of Rome." 
 Johnson. 
 and, 
 
 " No caliing or profession comes amiss, 
 A needy monsieur can be what he please." 
 Oldham. 
 
 The particulars which Oldham has 
 collected, both as exhibiting the horrours 
 of London and of the times, contrasted 
 with better days, are ditferent from those 
 of Johnson, and in general well chosen 
 and well expressed t. 
 
 There are, in Oldham's imitation, 
 many prosaick verses and bad rhymes, 
 and his poem sets out with a strange inad- 
 vertent blunder : 
 
 " Though much concern'd to leave my dear old 
 
 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 
 him. A young lady at once corrected 
 this with good critical sagacity, to 
 " Though mucij concern'd to iose my dear old 
 friend." 
 
 There is one passage in the original, 
 
 t I own it pleased me to find araonest them 
 one trait of the manners of ihe age in London, 
 in the last century, to shield frnm the sneer of 
 English ridicule what was some time ago too 
 common a practice in my native city of Edin- 
 burgh! 
 
 " If what I've said can't from the town affright, 
 Consider other dangers of the nifihl ; 
 When brickbats are from upper stories thrown. 
 And emptied chamherpots come pouring down 
 From garret windotvs." 
 
JEr\T. 29. 
 better transfused by Oldham than by 
 Johnson : 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. ^'^fT 
 
 disadvantageous circumstances of fortithe. X 
 I beg, therefore, that you will favour me 
 
 " Nil habet infelix paupertas dnrius in se, 
 Qitam quod ridiculos homines facit." 
 
 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 distrest, 
 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 grinning scoin." 
 
 Where, or in what manner, this poem 
 was composed, I am sorry that I neg- 
 lected to ascertain with precision, from 
 Johnson's own authority. He has marked 
 upon his corrected copy of the first 
 edition of it, " Written jii 1738 ;" and, as 
 it was pubttstretTTn the rnonth of May in 
 I that year, it is evident that much time 
 f was not employed in preparing it for the 
 i press. The history of its publication 1 
 I am enabled to give in a very satisfactory 
 ' manner; and judging from myself, and 
 many of my friends, I trust that it will 
 not be uninteresting to my readers. 
 
 We may be certain, though it is not 
 expressly named in the following letters 
 to Mr. Cave, in 1738, that they all relate 
 to it: 
 
 **T0 MR. CAVE. 
 
 Castle-Street, Wednesday morning. 
 "sir, {No date. 1738 J 
 
 ** When I took the liberty of writing 
 to you a few days ago, I did not expect 
 a repetition of the 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 authour (of whose abilities 
 I shall say nothing, since I send you his 
 performance), I believed I could not 
 procure more advantageous terms from 
 any person than from you, who have so 
 much distinguished yourself by your 
 generous 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 do not doubt but you will look over 
 this poem with another eye, and reward 
 it in a different manner, from a mer- 
 cenary bookseller, who counts the lines 
 he is to purchase, and considers nothing 
 but the bulk. I cannot help taking 
 notice, that, besides what the authour 
 may hope for on account of his abilities, 
 he has likewise another claim to your 
 regard, as he lies at present under very 
 
 * His Ode " Ad Urbanum," probably. Ni- 
 chols. 
 
 with a letter to-morrow, that I rriay- /J^ 
 know what you can afford to allow him,y/^ 
 that he may either part with it to you, of 
 find out (which I do not expect), some 
 other way more to his satisfaction. 
 
 ** I have only to add, that as I am sen- 
 sible I have transcribed it very coarsely, 
 which, after having altered it, I was 
 obliged to do, I will, if you please to 
 transmit the sheets from the press, correct 
 it for you ; and take the trouble of altering 
 any stroke of satire which you may 
 dislike. 
 
 ** By exerting on this occasion your 
 usual generosity, you will not only en- 
 courage learning, and relieve 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." 
 
 " to mr. cave. 
 " SIR, Monday, Nov. 6, Castle-street. 
 " I AM to return you thanks for the pre- 
 sent 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. Jf you 
 please to send it me by the post, with a 
 note to Dodsley, 1 will go and read the 
 lines to him, that we may have his con- 
 sent to put his name in the title page. 
 As to the printing, if it can be set im- 
 mediately about, i will be so much the 
 authour's friend, as not to content my- 
 self 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 ; provided, as you very 
 generously propose, that the profit, if 
 any, be set aside for the authour'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 ser- 
 vants write an exact account of the ex- 
 pense 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 tem- 
 per deserving of the gratitude of those 
 who suflfer so often from a contrary dis- 
 position. I am, SIR, 
 
 '* Your most humble servant, 
 
 '* Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** to mr. cave. 
 
 " SIR, [No date.'] 
 
 " I WAITED on you to take the copy to 
 Dodsley's : as I remember the number 
 
32 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 of lines which it contains, it will be no 
 longer than Eugenio*, with the quota- 
 tions, which must be subjoined at the 
 bottom of the page : part of the beauty 
 of the performance (if any beauty be al- 
 lowed it), consisting in adapting Juvenal's 
 sentiments to modern facts and persons. 
 It will, with those additions, very con- 
 veniently make live sheets. And since 
 the expense will be no more, I shall 
 contentedly insure it, as I mentioned in 
 my last. If it be not therefore 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 compjosed a Greek 
 Epigram to Eliza f, 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, siK, 
 ** Yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " to mr. cave. 
 
 " SIR, [No date.] 
 
 " 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 authonr'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 who have long known the manly 
 force, bold spirit, and masterly versifica- 
 tion of this poem, it is a matter of cu- 
 riosity to observe the diffidence with 
 which its authour brought it forward into 
 publick 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. 
 
 » A poem, published in 1737, of wbicb see 
 an account under April 30, 1773. 
 
 + [The lenrned Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, daiigh- 
 • er of Nicholas Carter, D. D. She died Feb. 
 19, 1806, in her eighty niuih year.] 
 
 173S. 
 
 If we did, we could not but feel an in- 
 dignant regret ; but how painful is it to 
 see that a writer of such vigorous powers 
 of mind was actually in such distress that 
 the small profit which so short a poem, 
 however excellent, could yield, was 
 courted as a ** relief." 
 
 It has been generally said, I know not 
 with what truth, that Johnson offered his 
 " London" to several booksellers, none 
 of whom would purchase it. To this 
 circumstance Mr. Derrick alludes in the 
 following lines of his •' Fortune, a Rhap- 
 sody :" 
 
 " Will no kind patron Johnson own? 
 
 Shall Johnson friendless range the town? 
 
 And every publisher refuse 
 
 The offering of his happy Musel" 
 
 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 Whitehead had a little before got 
 ten guineas for a poem ; and I would not 
 take less than Paul Whitehead." 
 
 I may here observe, that Johnson ap- 
 peared to me to undervalue Paul White- 
 head upon every occasion when he was 
 mentioned, and, in my opinion, <lid not 
 do him justice ; but when it is considered 
 that Paul Whitehead was a member of 
 a riotous and profane club, we may ac- 
 count for Johnson's having a prejudice 
 against him. — Paul Whitehead was, in- 
 deed, unfortunate in being not only 
 slighted by Johnson, but violently at- 
 tacked by Churchill, who utters the fol- 
 lowing imprecation : 
 
 " May I (can worse disgrace on manhood fall ?) 
 Be horn a Whitehead, and baptized a Paul !" 
 
 yet I shall never be persuaded to think 
 meanly of the authour of so brilliant and 
 pointed a satire as '* Manners." 
 
 Johnson's ** London" was published 
 in May, 1738;; and it is remarkable, 
 
 X The assertion that Johnson was not even 
 acquainted with Savage, when he published 
 his " London," may oe doubtful. Johnson 
 took leave of Savage when he went to Wales 
 in 1739, and must liave been arquainted with 
 him before that period. See his life of Savage. 
 A. C. 
 
 Sir John Hawkins, p. 66, tells ns, "The event 
 is antedated in the poem of ' London:' but in 
 every paiticular, ixcept the difference of a 
 year, what is there said of the departure of 
 Thales, must be understood of Saxage, and 
 looked upon a.s true history.** This conjecture 
 is, I believe, entirely groundless. I lia\e been 
 assured that Johnson said he was not so much 
 as acauainted with Savage, when he wrote 
 his " London." If the departure mentioned 
 in it was the departure of Savage, the event 
 was not antedated butjoresemi for " Loudon'* 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 that it came out on the same morning 
 with Pope's satire, entitled " 1738 ;" so 
 that England had at once its Juvenal and 
 Horace as poetical monitors. The Re- 
 verend Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of 
 Salisbury, to whom I am indebted for 
 some obliging communications, was then 
 a student at Oxford, and remembers well 
 the effect which " London" produced. 
 Every body was delighted with it ; and 
 there being no name to it, the first buzz 
 of the literary circle was, " here is an 
 unknown poet, greater even than Pope." 
 And it is recorded in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine of that year, that it " got to the 
 second edition in the course of a week." 
 
 One of the warmest patrons of this 
 poem on its first appearance was General 
 Oglethorpe, whose " strong benevolence 
 of soul" was unabated during the course 
 of a very long life ; though it is painful 
 .to think, that he had but too much reason 
 to become cold and callous^ and discon- 
 tented with the world, from the neglect 
 which he experienced of his publick 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 qua- 
 lities ; and no man was more prompt, 
 active, and generous, in encouraging 
 merit. I have heard Johnson gratefully 
 acknowledge, in his presence, the kind 
 and effectual support which he gave to 
 his " London," though unacquainted with 
 its authour. 
 
 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 re- 
 membered, 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 authour was. Mr. Richardson, after 
 some inquiry, having informed him that 
 he had discovered only that his name 
 was Johnson, and tlurt he was some 
 obscure man ; Pope said, "He will soon 
 be deterre * ," We shall presently see, 
 from a note written by Pope t, that he 
 was himself afterwards more successful 
 in his inquiries than his friend. 
 
 That in this justly celebrated poem 
 may be found a few rhymes which the 
 critical precision of English prosody at 
 this day would disallow, cannot be denied ; 
 
 was published in May, 1738, and Savage did 
 not set out till July, 1739. However well 
 Johnson could defend the credibility of second 
 siKhi, he did not pretend that he himself was 
 possessed of that faculty. 
 
 * Sir Joshua Reynolds, from the information 
 of the youni?er Richardson. 
 
 + [See p. 106. IMalone.] 
 
 but with this small imperfection, which 
 in the general blaze of its excellence is 
 not perceived, till the mind has subsided 
 mto cool attention, it is, undoubtedly, 
 one of the noblest productions in our 
 language, both for sentiment and expres- 
 sion. The nation was then in that ferment 
 against the Court and the Ministry, which 
 some years after ended in the downfall 
 of Sir Robert Walpole ; and, as it has 
 been said, that Tories are Whigs when 
 out of place, and Whigs Tories when in 
 place ; so, as a Whig Administration 
 ruled with what force it could, a Tory 
 Opposition had all the animation and all 
 the eloquence of resistance to power, 
 aided by the common topics of patriotism, 
 liberty, and independence! Accordingly 
 we find in Johnson's " London" the most 
 spirited invectives against tyranny and 
 oppression, the warmest predilection for 
 his own country, and the purest love of 
 virtue ; interspersed with traits of his 
 own particular character and situation, 
 not omitting his prejudices as a " true- 
 born Englishman j," not only against 
 foreign countries, but against Ireland and 
 Scotland. On some of these topics I 
 shall quote a few passages : 
 
 " The cheated nation's happy favourites see ! 
 
 Mark whom the great caress, who frown on 
 me." 
 " Has heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, 
 
 No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore? 
 
 No secret island in the boundless main? 
 
 No peacefid desert yet unclaim'd by Spain? 
 
 Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore. 
 
 And bear Oppression's insolence no more." 
 " How, when competitors like the^e contend. 
 
 Can surli/ Virtue hope to find a friend?" 
 '* This mournful truth is every where confess'd, 
 
 Slow RISES worth, by poverty depress'd I" 
 
 We may easily conceive with what 
 feeling a great mind like his, cramped 
 and galled by narrow circumstances, 
 uttered this last line, which he marked 
 by capitals. The whole of the poem is 
 eminently excellent, and there are in it 
 such proofs of a knowledge of the world, 
 and of mature acquaintance with life, as 
 cannot be contemplated without wonder, 
 when we consider that he was then only 
 Id his twenty-ninth year, and had yet 
 been so little in the busy haunts of men." 
 
 Yet, while we admire the poetical ex- 
 cellence of this poem, candour obliges us 
 to allow, that the flame of patriotism and 
 zeal for popular resistance, with which it 
 is fraught, had no just cause. There was, 
 in truth,7iO "oppression ;" the "nation" 
 was ?iot " cheated." Sir Robert Walpole 
 
 J It is, however, remarkable that he used 
 the epithet, v\hich undoubtedly, since the 
 union betweea England and Scotland, ought 
 lo denominate the "natives of both parts of our 
 island: 
 *' Was early taught a Briton's right to prize." 
 
34 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 173S. 
 
 was a wise and a benevolent minister, 
 nvIk) tliought that the happiness and pros- 
 perity of a commercial country like ours 
 would be best promoted by peace, which 
 he accordingly maintained with credit, 
 daring a very long period. Johnson him- 
 self afterwards honestly acknowledged 
 the merit of Walpole, whom he called 
 ** a fixed star ;" while he characterized 
 his opponent, Pitt, as " a meteor." But 
 Johnson's juvenile poem was naturally 
 impregnated with the fire of opposition 
 and upon every account was universally 
 admired. 
 
 Though thus elevated into fame, and 
 conscious of uncommon powers, he had 
 not that bustling confidence, or, I may 
 rather say, that animated ambition, which 
 one might have supposed would have 
 urged him to endeavour at rising in life. 
 Birt such was his inflexible dignity of 
 character, that he could not stoop to court 
 the great; without which, hardly any 
 man has made his way to a high station. 
 He could not expect to produce many 
 such works as his " London," and he felt 
 the hardships of writing for bread ; he 
 was, therefore, willing to resume the 
 otfice of a schoolmaster, so as to have a 
 sure, though moderate income for his life; 
 arid an offer being made to him of the 
 mastership of a school*, provided he 
 could obtain the degree of Master of Arts. 
 Dr. Adams was applied to, by a common 
 friend, to know whether that could be 
 granted him as a favour from the Uni- 
 
 * In a billet written by I\Ir. Pope in ihe 
 foilowinc year, this school is said to ha^e 
 been in Shropshire ; but as it appears from a 
 letter from Earl Gowcr, that the trustees of it 
 were " some worthy eenilemen in Johnson's 
 nei^hbouriiood," I in my tirst edition siiea;esied 
 that Pope must have, by niittike, written 
 Shropshire, instead of Siaffordi-hire. But I 
 have since been obliged to Mr. Spearintr, at- 
 torneyat-law, for the loliowinEr information : 
 — '• William Adams, formerly citiz«'n and 
 haberdasher of London, founded a school at 
 Newport, in ihecountv of Salop, by deed dated 
 27th Novcmbrr, 1C56, by which he (rranted ' ihe 
 yearly sum of nixty ponvds to sm h able and 
 learned schoolniasitr.from time to lime, bcins: 
 of godly life and conversation, who should 
 have been educated at one of the Universities 
 of Oxford or Cambridae, and ha<l taken the 
 degree of Master of Arts, and was well read 
 in the Greek and Latin tonjfucs, as should be 
 nominated from lime to time by llie said Wil- 
 liam Adani», <lnring his life: and aft< r the 
 decease of ihe said William Adams by the 
 g'overnours (namely, the Master an<l Wardens 
 of the Haberdas-hoiV Company of Ihe city of 
 London) and th«ir successors!' The manour 
 and lands out of which the revenues for tlie 
 maintenance of the school were to issue are 
 situate at Knifchton avd Adha.stou, in the 
 county of Stdjfoifi." Krom the foregoinij ao- 
 counl" of this founrlalion, partiitilarly Ihe eir- 
 rumstances of the -alary bein^ sixty pounds, 
 and the decree of Master of Arts beiiiff a re- 
 quisite qualifictfion in the leicherj ii seemed 
 probable that thi-i '\a8 ihe school in contem- 
 plation; and thai Lord (.'oNver erroneously 
 
 versify of Oxford. But though he had 
 made such a figure in the literary world, 
 it was then thought too great a favour to 
 be asked. 
 
 Pope, without any knowledge of him 
 but from his ** London," recommended 
 him to Earl Gower, who endeavoured to 
 procure for him a degree from Dublin, 
 by the following letter to a friend of 
 Dean Swift : 
 
 " Mk. Samuel Johnson (authourof Lon- 
 don, a satire, and some other poetical 
 pieces) is a native of this country, and 
 much respected by some worthy gentle- 
 men in his neighbourhood, who are trus- 
 tees of a charity school now vacant ; the 
 certain salary is sixty pounds a year, of 
 which they are desirous to make him 
 inastcr ; but, unfortunately, he is not 
 capable of receiving their bounty, which 
 would make him happy for life, by not 
 being a Master of Arts ; which, by the 
 statutes of this school, the master of it 
 must be. 
 
 " Now these gentlemen do me the 
 honour to think that I have interest 
 enough in you, to prevail upon you to 
 write to Dean Swift, to persuade the 
 University of Dublin to send a diploma 
 to me, constituting this poor man Master 
 of Alts in their University. They highly 
 extol the man's learning and piobity ; 
 and will not be persuaded that the Uni- 
 versity will make any difficulty of con- 
 supposed that the eentlemen who possessed 
 tlie lands, out of which the revenues issued, 
 were trustees of tlie charity. 
 
 Such was probable conjerturf. But in "the 
 Gentleman's Magazine" for May, 1793, thire 
 is a letter from Mr. Henn, one of the masters 
 of the school of A| pleby, in Leicestershire, in 
 which he writes as follows : 
 
 " 1 compared time and circumstances toge- 
 ther, in order to discover whether the school 
 in question miulit not be this of Apy)leby. 
 Some of the trustees at that period were 
 * worthy gent'emen of the neighbourhood of 
 Lichfield.' Appleby itself is not far from the 
 neighbourhood of Lichfield, the salary, tie 
 degree requisite, together with the tittie df 
 election, all agreeing with the statutes cf Ap- 
 pleby. The election, as said in ihe Utter, 
 ' could not be delaye<l longer than the llih of 
 next month,' which was the llih of Septc mbcr, 
 just three months after the annual audii-dav 
 <if Appleby school, which is alwa.\s on die lldi 
 of June; "and the statutes enjoin, ve uUivs 
 pt(Bce/)torii>n electio uintius tribus itieiisibiis 
 nioraretnr, SfC. 
 
 *' These I thought to be convincing proofs 
 that my conjeciure was not ill founded, and 
 that, in a lulure edition of ihJt book, the cir- 
 cumstance mit:hi be reroided as fact. 
 
 '* Hut what ))ani^he8 every shadow of doubt 
 is the Minuli-l-ook of the i>cho(d, which de- 
 clares the head mastership to be at that time 
 
 VACANT." 
 
 I cannot omit returning thanks to lb! 
 learned gentleman for the very IkukIsou . 
 manner in which he has in that letter bei., 
 so good as to speak of this work. 
 
Etat. 29. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 35 
 
 fening such a favour upon a stranger, if 
 he is recommended by the Dean. They 
 say, he is not afraid of the strictest ex- 
 amination, though lie is of so long a 
 journey ; and will ventine it, if the Dean 
 thinks it necessary ; choosing rather to 
 die upon the road, than he starved to 
 death in translating for booksellers ; 
 which has been his only subsistence for 
 some time past. 
 
 " I fear there is more difficulty in this 
 aflfair than those goodnatured gentlemen 
 apprehend ; especially as their election 
 cannot be delayed longer than the eleventh 
 of next month. If you see this matter 
 in the same light that it appears to me, I 
 hope you will burn this, and pardon me for 
 giving you so much trouble about an im- 
 practicable thing; but, if you think there 
 is a probability of obtaining the favour 
 asked, I am sure your humanity, and 
 propensity to relieve merit in distress, 
 will incline you to serve the poor man, 
 without my adding any more to the trou- 
 ble 1 have already given you than assuring 
 you that I am, with great truth, sir, 
 " Your faithful servant, 
 " Tiendiain, « GOWER." 
 
 " An^. 1, I7a9.'' 
 
 It was, perhaps, no small disappoint- 
 ment to Johnson that this respectable 
 application had not the desired effect; 
 yet how much reason has there been, 
 both for himself and his country, to rejoice 
 that it did not succeed, asjhe,might pro- 
 bably have wasted in^obscurity those 
 hours in which he afterwards produced 
 his incomparable_works. 
 
 About this time he made one other 
 effort to emancipate himself from tiie 
 drudgery of authourship. He applied to 
 Dr. Adams, to consult Dr. Smalbroke 
 of the Commons, whether a person might 
 be permitted to practise as an advocate 
 there, without a doctor's degree in Civil 
 Law. " J am (said he) a total stranger 
 to these studies : but whatever is a pro- 
 fession, and maintains numbers, must be 
 within the reach of common abilities, and 
 some degree of industry." Dr. Adams 
 was much pleased with Johnson's design 
 to employ his talents in that manner, 
 being confident he would have attained to 
 great eminence. And, indeed, 1 cannot 
 conceive a man better qualified to make 
 a distin-^r.isiied figure as a lawyer; for, 
 he wotdd have brought to his profession 
 a rich store of various knowledge, an 
 uncommon acuteness, and a command 
 of language, in which few could have 
 equalled, and none have surpassed him. 
 He who could display eloquence and wit 
 in defence of the decision of the House 
 of Commons upon Mr. Wilkes's election 
 for Middlesex, and of the unconstitutional 
 . taxation of our fellow subjects in Ame- 
 
 rica, must have been a powerful advocate 
 in any cause. But here, also, the w^Jiit 
 of a degree was a_nJnsurroQuntahlfe:^r. 
 
 He was therefore under the necessity 
 of persevering in that course, into which 
 he had been forced ; and we find, that his 
 proposal from Greenwich to Mr. Cave, 
 for a translation of Father Paul Sarpi's 
 History, was accepted *. 
 
 Some sheets of this translation were 
 printed off, but the design was dropped ; 
 for it happened, oddly enough, that ano- 
 ther person of the name of Samuel John- 
 son, Librarian of St. Martin's in the 
 Fields, and Curate of that parish, engaged 
 in the same undertaking, and was pa- 
 tronised by the Clergy, particularly by 
 Dr. Pearce, afterwards Bishop of Ko- 
 cliester. Several light skirmislies passed 
 between the rival translators, in the 
 newspapers of the day ; and the conse- 
 quence was that they destroyed each 
 other, for neither of them went on with 
 the work. It is much to be regretted, 
 that tlie able performance of that cele- 
 brated genius Fra Paolo, lost the advan- 
 tage of being incorporated into British 
 literature by the masterly hand of John- 
 son. 
 
 I have in my possession, by the favour 
 of Mr. John Nichols, a paper in Johnson's 
 handwriting, entitled "Account between 
 Mr. Edward Cave and Sam. Johnson, 
 in relation to a version of Father Paul, 
 &c. begun August the 2nd, 1738;" by 
 which it appears, that from that day to 
 the 21st of April, 1739, Johnson received 
 for this work 49/. 7s. in snn)s of one, 
 two, three, and sometimes four guineas 
 at a time, most frequently two. And it 
 is curious to observe the minute and 
 
 * In the Weekly Mi-ceilany, October 21, 
 1738, there appeared the f<>ilowinir advertise- 
 nieiit: "Jii.>t pHbli>htd, proposals for printing 
 the History ot the Council ofTrent, translated 
 from the Italian of Fa.lier Paul Sarpi , with 
 the Authoiir's Life, and Notes theological, 
 historical, and critical, from the French edi- 
 tion ot Dr. Le Co(ira\ei. To which are added, 
 Observations on the History, and Notes and 
 Illustrations from various Aiiilioiirs.boih print- 
 ed and mannscnpt. By S. Johnson, r. The 
 work will con<isi of two hundred sheets, and 
 he two volumes in quarto, printed on eood 
 paper and letter. 2. The price will be 18*. 
 eat h volunie, to be paid, halt a sjuinea at the 
 delivery of the first volume, and the rest at 
 the delivery of the second voliime in slieetg. 
 3 Twopence to be abated lor evtr> sheet less 
 than two hundred. If may he had on a large 
 paper, in ihree volumes, at the price of three 
 iiuineas; one to be paid at the time of siih- 
 scribing, anotlier at thf delivery of the fir^t, 
 and the rest at the deliveiy of ihe o;her 
 volumes. Th«^ work is now in the pi< ss, an<l 
 will be diligently prosecuud. Sut scriy tions 
 are taken in by Mr. Dodslev in Pall Mall, 
 Mr. Rivington nr St. Paul's Churi hyaxi, by 
 E. Cave at St. John's Gate, and the Translator, 
 at No 6, in Castle Street, by Ca\endish 
 Square." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 scrupulous accuracy with which Johnson 
 had pasted upon it a slip of paper, which 
 he has entitled ** Small account," and 
 which contains one article, " Sept. 9th, 
 Mr. Cave laid down 2s. 6d." There is 
 subjoined to this account a list of some 
 subscribers to the work, partly in John- 
 son's handwriting, partly in that of ano- 
 ther person ; and there follows a leaf or 
 two on which are written a number of 
 characters, which have the appearance 
 of a short hand, which, perhaps, Johnson 
 was then trying to learn. 
 
 ** TO MR. CAVE. 
 *' SIR, Wethiesday. 
 
 " I DID not care to detain your servant 
 while I wrote an answer to your letter, 
 in which you seem to insinuate that I 
 had promised more than I am ready to 
 perform. If I have raised your expec- 
 tations by any thing that may have es- 
 caped my memory, I am sorry ; and if 
 you remind me of it, shall thank you for 
 the favour. If I made fewer alterations 
 than usual in the Debates, it was only 
 because there appeared, and still appears 
 to be less need of alteration. The verses 
 to Lady Firebrace* may be had when 
 you please, for you know that such a 
 subject neither deserves much thought, 
 nor requires it. 
 
 "The Chinese Stories t may be had 
 folded down when you please to send, in 
 which I do not recollect that you desired 
 any alterations to be made. 
 
 •' An answer to another query I am 
 very willing to write, and had consulted 
 with you about it last night, if there had 
 been time ; for I think it the most proper 
 way of inviting such a correspondence as 
 may be an advantage to the paper, not a 
 load upon it. 
 
 " As to the Prize Verses, a backward- 
 ness to determine their degrees of merit 
 is not peculiar to me. You may, if you 
 please, still have what I can say ; but I 
 shall engage with little spirit in an affair 
 which I shall hardly end to n)y own 
 satisfaction, and certainly not to the 
 satisfaction of the parties concerned;. 
 
 " As to Father Paul, I have not yet 
 been just to my proposal, but have met 
 with impediments, which, T hope, are 
 now at an end : and if you find the pro- 
 gress hereafter not such as you have a 
 right to expect, you can easily stimulate 
 a negligent translator. 
 
 * They afterwards appeared in tlie Gentle- 
 man's Mag'azine with this tille:—" Verses to 
 Lady Firebrace, at Bury Assizen." 
 
 + "De Halde's Description of China was then 
 publisliiiidf by Mr. Cave in weekly numbers, 
 whence Johnson was lo select pieces for the 
 embellishment of ihc Magazine. Nichols. 
 
 t The. prenvium of forty pounds proposed for 
 the best poem on the Divine Attributes is here 
 alluded to. Nichols. 
 
 1738. 
 
 If any or all of these have contributed 
 to your discontent, I will endeavour to 
 remove it ; and desire you to propose 
 the question to which you wish for a^_ 
 answer. I am, sir, "-mm 
 
 " Your humble servant, '^H 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." ^^" 
 
 " to mr. cave. 
 
 " SIR, [No dale.] 
 
 " I AM pretty much of your opinion, that 
 the Commentary cannot be prosecuted 
 with any appearance of success ; for as 
 the names of the authours concerned are 
 of more weight in the performance than 
 its own intrinsic merit, the publick will 
 be soon satisfied with it. And I think 
 the Examen should be pushed forward 
 with the utmost expedition. Thus, ' This 
 day, &c. An Examen of Mr. Pope's 
 Essay, &c. containing a succinct Account 
 of the Philosophy of Mr. Leibnitz on the 
 System of the Fatalists, with a Confuta- 
 tion of their Opinions, and an Illustration 
 of the Doctrine of Free Will ;' [with what 
 else you think 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 beforehand, and there- 
 fore was less anxious in providing them 
 more. But if ever they stand still on 
 my account, it must doubtless be charged 
 to me ; and whatever else shall be rea- 
 sonable, 1 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 translation 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 trans- 
 lation was erroneously ascribed to him ; 
 and I have found this point ascertained, 
 beyond all doubt, by the following article 
 in Dr. Birch's JVIanuscripts, in the British 
 Museum : 
 
 ** EuSiE Carters, S. P. D. Thomas 
 
 Birch. 
 " Versionem fuam Examinh Crou- 
 saziani jam pcrlegi. Summam styli et 
 
 § The compositors in Mr. Cave's prinlinsr 
 office, who appear by this letter to liave then 
 waited for copy. Nichols. 
 
THE LIFE OF DK. JOHNSON. 
 
 37 
 
 elegantiam, et in re difficilUmci pro- 
 prietatem, admiratus. 
 
 " Daham Novemh. 27° 1738*." 
 
 Indeed Mrs. Carter has lately acknow- 
 ledged 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 tliis state of want himself, his bene- 
 volent heart was not insensible to the 
 necessities of an humble labourer in 
 literature, as appears from the very next 
 letter : 
 
 " TO MR. CAVE. 
 ** DEAR SIR, i'No date.'] 
 
 " You may remember I have formerly 
 talked with you about a Military Dic- 
 tionary. The eldest Mr. Macbean, who 
 was with Mr. Chambers, has very good 
 materials for sucli a work, which I have 
 seen, and will do it at a very low ratef. 
 I think the terms of War and Navigation 
 might be comprised, v»'ith good explana- 
 tions, in one 8vo. pica, which he is wil- 
 ling to do for twelve shillings a sheet, to 
 be made up a guinea at the second im- 
 pression. 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." 
 
 I 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 ; faj and he wrote the Preface to the 
 Volume, f&J 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 lie could 
 draw up a prefatory address was one of 
 his peculiar excellences. 
 
 It appears too, that he paid a friendly 
 attention to Mrs. Elizabeth Carter ; for 
 in a letter from Mr. Cave to Dr. Birch, 
 November 28, 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 suf- 
 ficiently popular for an extensive sale. 
 How well Johnson himself 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. 7.) 
 
 « Birch MSS. Brit. Miis. 4323. 
 t This book was published. 
 
 '* O qui perpetua mundnm ralione gubernas, 
 
 Terrnruni cvelique sator I 
 
 Disjice terrenae nebulas et pondera molts, 
 Atque tno splendore mica ! Tii namque se- 
 
 rennm 
 Tu reqnies tranqtiilla pits. Te cernere finis, 
 Principium, vector, dux, semita, terminus, . 
 
 idem.^* / 
 
 * O THOU whose power o'er moving worlds 
 
 presides. 
 Whose voice created, and whose wisdom 
 
 guides, 
 On darkhng man in pure effulg-ence shine. 
 And cheer the clouded mind witlT 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 parliamentary Debates, his 
 writings in the Gentleman's Magazine 
 were, " The Life of Boerhaave,"f'«J in 
 which it is to be observed, that he dis- 
 covers that love of chymistry which never 
 forsook him ; " An Appeal to the Publick 
 in behalfof the Editor ;"(''&^ "An Address 
 to the Reader ;"f6J " An Epigram both 
 in Greek and Latin to Eliza,"f «^ and also 
 English verses toher',CaJ and, "A Greek 
 Epigram to Dr. Birch." (aj It has been 
 erroneously supposed, that an Essay 
 published in that Magazine this year, 
 entitled ** The Apotheosis of Milton," 
 was written by Johnson ; and on that 
 supposition it has been improperly in- 
 serted 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 men- 
 tioned in an Essay professedly reviewing 
 the principal English poets, would ascer- 
 tain 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 written by Guthrie. His 
 separate publications were, "A complete 
 Vindication of the Licensers of the Stage, 
 from the malicious and scandalous As- 
 persions of Mr. Brooke, Authourof Gus- 
 tavus Yasa,"(aJ 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 Lynne in Norfolk, by 
 Probus Britannicus."(^aJ In this perform- 
 ance, he, in a feigned inscription, sup- 
 posed to have been found in Norfolk, the 
 county of Sir Robert Walpole, then the 
 obnoxious prime minister of this country, 
 inveighs against the Brunswick succes- 
 sion, and the measures of government 
 consequent upon it J. To this supposed 
 
 X The Inscription and the Translation of it 
 are preserved in the London Magazine for 
 the year 1739, p. 244. 
 
38 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1739. 
 
 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 mnch noise as was ex- 
 pected, and, therefore, had not a very 
 extensive circulation. Sir John Hawkins 
 relates, that ** warrants were issued, and 
 messengers employed to apprehend the 
 authour ; 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. I'his, 
 however, is altogether without founda- 
 tion ; for Mr. Steele, one of the Secre- 
 taries of the Treasury, who, amidst a 
 \ariety of important business, politely 
 obliged me with his attention to my in- 
 quiry, informed me, that ** he directed 
 every possible search to be made in the 
 records of the Treasury and Secretary of 
 State's Ofllce, but could find no trace 
 whatever of any warrant having been 
 issued to apprehend the authour of this 
 pamphlet." 
 
 " Marmor Norfolciense" became ex- 
 ceedingly scarce, so that I for many years 
 endeavoured in vain to procure a copy 
 of it. At last I was indebted to the malice 
 of one of Johnson's numerous petty ad- 
 versaries, who, in 1775, published a new 
 edition of it " with Notes and a Dedication 
 to SamuelJohuson, LL. D. byTribunus; 
 in which some puny scribbler invidiously 
 attempted to found upon it a charge of 
 inconsistency against its authour, because 
 he had accepted of a pension from his 
 present Majesty, and had written in sup- 
 port of the measures of government. As 
 a mortification to such impotent malice, 
 of which there are so many instances 
 towards men of eminence, I am happy 
 to relate, that this telum imbelle did not 
 reach its exalted object, till about a year 
 after it thus appeared, when I mentioned 
 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 gadly ; yet, if it 
 had not been for you, you rogue, I should 
 probably never have seen it." 
 
 As Mr. Pope's note concerning John- 
 son, alluded to in a former page, refers 
 both to his" London," and his" Marmor 
 Norfolciense," 1 have deferred inserting 
 it till now. I am indebted for it to 
 Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who 
 permitted ine 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. 
 Richardson the painter, the person to 
 whom it is addressed. 1 have transcribed 
 it with minute exactness, that the pecu- 
 liar 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 imitation of Juvenal. 
 
 " This is imitated by one Johnson who 
 put in for a publick school in Shrop- 
 shire*, but was disappointed. He has 
 an infirmity of the convulsive kind, 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<i«. 
 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 informed him 
 of the compliment which it contained, 
 but, from delicacy, avoided showing him 
 the paper itself. When Sir Joshua ob- 
 served 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 al- 
 ludes, appeared to me also, as 1 have 
 elsewhere + observed, to be of the con- 
 vulsive kind, and of the nature of that 
 distemper called St. Vitus's dance ; and 
 in this opinion I am confirmed by the 
 description which Sydenham gives of 
 that disease. " This disorder is a kind 
 of convulsion. It manifests itself 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 applied to the breast, or any other 
 part of the bo«iy, he cannot keep it a 
 moment in the same posture, but it will 
 be drawn into a ditlerent one by a con- 
 vulsion, notwithstanding all his eftbrts to 
 the contrary." Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 however, was of a ditterent opinion, an(l 
 favoured me with the following paper. 
 
 "Those motions or tricks of Dr. John- 
 son are improperly called convulsious. 
 He could sit motionless, when he was 
 told so to do, as well as any other man. 
 
 * See note, p. P3. 
 
 t Joiirudl of a Tour to the Hehrides, 3d edit, 
 p. 6. 
 
.'Etat. 30. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DIl. JOHNSON. 
 
 39 
 
 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 ac- 
 tions 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 em- 
 ployment whatever, he preferred to being 
 ^y 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. 
 
 'LOne instance of his absence of mind 
 and particularity, as it is characteristick 
 of the man, may be worth relating. 
 When he and I took a journey together 
 into the West, we visited the late Mr. 
 Banks, 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 gentle- 
 man, observing him, went up to him, and 
 in a very courteous manner assured him, 
 though it was not a new house, the floor- 
 ing was perfectly safe. The Doctor started 
 from his reverie, like a person waked out 
 
 readers may not be displeased with ano- 
 ther 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. Richardson, 
 authour 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 
 1745-0 ; and being a warm partisan of 
 , George the Second, he observed to Rich- 
 ardson, tliat certainly there must have 
 been some very unfavourable circum- 
 stances 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 committed, 
 as this had the appearance of putting a 
 man to death in cold blood t, and was 
 
 * Sir Joshua Reynolds's notion on this sub- 
 ject is conrirmeil by what Johnson himself said 
 to a young lady, the niece of his friend Chris- 
 topher Suiiirt. See a note by Mr. Bo-iwell on 
 sonje particulars communicated by Reynolds, 
 in vol. V. uuiler March 30, 1783. M. 
 
 t Imparrial posterity may, perhaps, be as 
 litile inclined as Ur. Johnson was, to justify 
 the uncommon rigour exercised in tht case 
 of Dr. Areliibaid Cameron. He was an amiable 
 and truly hoaosi man; and his offence wa> 
 owiiigr to a generous, though mistaken prin 
 ciple of duty. Being: obliged, after 1740, to 
 
 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 strange 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, tins 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 officer of high rank had been acquitted 
 by a Court Martial, George the Second 
 had with his own l^id 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. 
 
 In 1740 he wrote for the Gentleman's 
 Magazine tlie " Freface,"fbJ " The Life 
 of Admiral Blake,' Y«^ and the first parts 
 of those of*' Sir Francis Drake,"('«^ and 
 " Philip BarretierJ,"fflJ both which he 
 finished the following year. He also 
 wrote an " Essay on Epitaphs,"f aj and 
 
 of his sleep, but spoke not a word." -si . an " Epitaph on Phillips, a Musician,' Y a >J 
 While we are on this subject, my which was afterwards published with 
 
 some other pieces of his, in Mrs. W^il- 
 
 iiams's Miscellanies. This Epitaph is so 
 exquisitely beautiful that 1 remember 
 even Lord Karnes, strangely prejudiced 
 as he was against Dr. Johnson, was com- 
 pelled 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 by Dr. Johnson, and 
 give the following account of the manner 
 in which it was composed. Johnson and 
 he were sitting together; when, amongst 
 other things, Garrick repeated an Epi- 
 taph upon this Phillips by a Dr. Wilkes, 
 in these words : 
 
 give up his profession as a physician, and to 
 ■^0 into foriegn parts, he was honoured with 
 the rank of Colonel, both in the Fiench and 
 Spanish service. He was a son nf the ancient 
 and respectable family ofCaineron, of Lochiel ; 
 md his brother, who was the Cliief of that 
 brave clan, distinguished himself by modera- 
 tion and humanity, while ihe Highland army 
 marched victorious through Scotland. It is 
 remarkable of this Chief, ihut though he had 
 earnestly remonstrated against the attempt as 
 hopeless, he was of too heroick a spirit not to 
 venture his life and fortune in the cause, when 
 personally asked by him whom he thought his 
 
 Prince. 
 
 J [To which in 1742 he made very large ad- 
 ditions which have never vet been incorpo- 
 rated in any ad<lition of Barretiei's Life.—A. 
 Chalmers.] 
 
40 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1740. 
 
 ' Exalted soul! whose harmony could please I 
 The love-sick virgin, and the gouiy ease; 
 Could jarring: discord, like Amphion, move | 
 To beauteous order and harmonious love; 
 Rest here in peace, till angels bid tliee rise, 
 And meet thj blessed Saviour in the skies." 
 
 Johnson shook his head at these com- 
 mon-place funeral lines, and said to Gar- 
 rick, ** I tliink, 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 : 
 
 " Phillips, whose touch harmonious could re- 
 move 
 The pangs of guilty pow er or hapless love ; 
 Rest here, disiress'd by poverty no more. 
 Here find that calm thou gavest so oft before: 
 Sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine, 
 Til! angels wake thee w ith a note like thine * !" 
 
 At the same time that Mr. Garrick 
 favoured me with this anecdote, he re- 
 peated a very pointed Epii;ram by John- 
 son, on George the Second and CoUey 
 Cibber, which has never yet appeared, 
 and of which I know not the exact date. 
 Dr. Johnson soon afterwards gave it to 
 me himself: 
 
 " 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 1741 he wrote for the Gentleman's 
 Magazine " the Preface,"^ & j " Conclusion 
 of his Lives of Drake and Barretier,"(^rt; 
 ** A free Translation of the Jests of Hie- 
 rocles, with an Introduction 'j'YbJ and, I 
 think, the following pieces : *' Debate on 
 the Proposal of Parliament to Cromwell, 
 to assume the Title of King, abridged, 
 
 » [This epitaph of Phillips is in the porch 
 of Wolverhampton church. The prose pait 
 of it is curious : 
 
 " Near this place lies 
 Charles Claudius Phillips, 
 Whose absolute contempt of riches 
 and inimitable performances upon the violin 
 made him the admirationof all that knew him. 
 He was born in W^ales, 
 K made the tour of Europe, and, 
 
 f after the experience of both kinds of fortune, 
 » Died in 1732." 
 
 Mr. Garrick appears not to have recited the 
 verses correctly, the original being as follows : 
 One of the various readings i>t reniHrkablc, as 
 it is the germ of Johnson's concluding line: 
 *' Exalted soul, l/iy variovs sounds coald please 
 The love sick virgin, and tbe gouty ease; 
 Could jarring crowds, like o/c/ Amphion, move 
 To beauteous order and harmonious love ; 
 Rest here in peace, till Anseh bid thee rise. 
 And meet thy Saviour's consort in the skies." 
 Dr. Wilkes, the aulhour of these lines, waji 
 a Fellow of Trinity Collese, in Oxford, and 
 Rector of Piichford, in Shropsliire : he col- 
 lected materials for a history of that county, 
 and is spoken of by Brown Willis, in his His- 
 tory of Mitred Abbies. vol. ii. p. 169. But he 
 was a n.itive of Staffordshire; and to the an- 
 tiqiiitiesof that county was his attention chiefly 
 confined. Mr. Shaw has had {Iw use of his 
 papers. Blakenay.J 
 
 modified, and digested ;'Y&/' "Translation 
 of Abbe Guyon's Dissertation on the 
 Amnzons ;" f I) J "Translation of Fonte- 
 nelle's Panegyrick on Dr. Morin." fbj 
 Two notes upon this appear to me un- 
 doubtedly 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, pre- 
 cisely exact in his statement, which hv 
 mentioned from hasty recollection : for 
 it is sufficiently evident that his com- 
 position 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 as- 
 sistance 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, 21 St July, 1735, " I trouble you 
 with the enclosed, because you said you 
 could easily correct what is here given 
 
 for Lord C Id's speech. I beg you 
 
 will do so as soon as you can for me, 
 because the month is far advanced." 
 
 And 15th July, 1737, " As you re- 
 member the debates so far as to perceive 
 the speeches already printed are not 
 exact, I beg the favour that you will 
 peruse the enclosed, and, in the best 
 manner your memory will serve, correct 
 the mistaken passages, or add any thing 
 that is omitted. I should be very glad 
 to have something of the Duke of 
 N le's speech, which would be par- 
 ticularly of service. 
 
 " A gentleman has Lord Bathurst's 
 speech to add something to." 
 
 And July 3, 1744, " You will see what 
 stupid, low, abominable stuff is putt upon 
 your noble and learned friend's j charac- 
 ter, such as I should quite reject, and 
 endeavour to do something better towards 
 doing justice to the character. But as I 
 cannot expect to attain my desire in that 
 respect, it would be a great satisfaction, 
 as wellas an honour to our work, to have 
 the favour of the genuine speecli. 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 1 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 them- 
 selves, who have been pleased to visit 
 St. John's Gate, and show particular 
 marks of their being pleased §." 
 
 There is no reason, I believe, to doubt 
 the veracity of Cave. It is, however, 
 remarkable that none of those letters are 
 
 + I suppose in another compilation of the 
 same kind, 
 t Doubtless, Lord Hardwirk. 
 § Birch's MSS. in the British Museum, 4302. 
 
^TAT. 31. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 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 genuine, he determined that he 
 would write no more of them ; " for he 
 would not be accessary to the propagation 
 of falsehood." And such was the tender- 
 ness of his conscience, that a short time 
 before his death he expressed his regret 
 for his having been the authour of fictions, 
 which iiad passed for realities. 
 
 He nevertheless agreed with me in 
 thinking that the debates which he had 
 framed were to be valued as orations 
 upon questions of publick importance. 
 They have accordingly been collected in 
 volumes, properly arranged, and recom- 
 mended to the notice of parliamentary 
 speakers by a preface, written by no in- 
 ferior hand*. I must, however, observe, 
 that although 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 publick speaking, who pre- 
 sumes to give, as the characteristicks of 
 two celebrated orators," the deepmouthed 
 rancour of Pulteney, and the yelping 
 pertinacity of Pittf'?" 
 
 This year I find that his tragedy of 
 " Irene" had been for some 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 ma- 
   nuscripts in the British Museum, from 
 which I copied those above quoted. They 
 were most obligingly pointed out to me 
 by Sir William Musgrave, one of the 
 Curators of that noble repository. 
 
 "Sept. 9, 1741. 
 *' I HAVE put Mr. Johnson's play into 
 Mr. Gray's J hands, in order to sell it to 
 him, if he is inclined to buy it ; but 1 
 doubt whether he will or not. He would 
 dispose of the copy, and whatever ad- 
 vantage may be made by acting it. Would 
 your society §, or any gentleman, or body 
 of men that you know, take such a bar- 
 gain? He and I are very unfit to deal 
 
 * r am assured that the editor is Mr. George 
 Cliahners, whose conuiiercial works are well 
 known and esteemed. 
 
 + Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 100. 
 
 X A bookseller of London. 
 
 § Not the Koyal Society ; but the Society for 
 the Encouragement of Learnin?, of which 
 Dr. Birch was a leading member. Their object 
 was to assist authours in printing expensive 
 works. It existed from about 1735 to 1746, 
 when, having incurred a considerable debt, 
 it was dissolved. 
 
 41 
 
 with theatrical persons. Fleetwood was 
 to have acted it last season, but Johnson's 
 diflidence or * prevented it." 
 
 I have already mentioned that " Irene" 
 was not brought into publick notice till 
 Garrick was manager of Drury Lane 
 Theatre. 
 
 In 1742 1 he wrote for the Gentleman's 
 Magazine the" Preface,'Y&>'the " Parlia- 
 mentary Deh-dtes," fa) " Essay on the 
 Account of the Conduct of the Duchess 
 of Marlborough," (^ay then the popular 
 topick of conversation. This Essay is a 
 short but masterly performance. We 
 find him, in No. 13 of the Rambler, 
 censuring a profligate sentiment in that 
 *' Account ;" and again insisting upon 
 it strenuously in conversation j. *' An 
 Account of the LifeofPeterBurman,'Y«J 
 I believe chiefly taken from a foreign 
 publication ; as, indeed, he could not 
 himself know much about Burman ; 
 " Additions to his Life of Barretier ',"Co,) 
 " The Life of Sydenham,"('a j afterwards 
 prefixed to Dr. Swan's edition of his 
 works; " Proposals for printing Bibli- 
 otheca Harleiana, or a Catalogue of the 
 Library of the Earl of Oxford. "faj His 
 account of that celebrated collection of 
 books, in which he displays the import- 
 ance of literature, of what the French 
 call a catalogue raisonne, when the 
 subjects of it are extensive and various, 
 and it is executed with ability, cannot 
 fail to impress all his readers with admi- 
 ration of his philological attainments. It 
 was afterwards prefixed to the first volume 
 of the Catalogue, in which the Latin ac- 
 counts of books were written by him. 
 He was employed 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 daj' knocked Osborne down 
 in his shop, with a folio, and put his foot 
 upon his neck. The simple truth I had 
 from Johnson himself. " Sir, he was 
 impertinent to me, and I beat him. But 
 it was not in his shop : it was in my own 
 chamber." 
 
 * There is no erasure here, but a mere blank ; 
 to fill up which may be an exercise for inge- 
 nious conjecture. 
 
 t From one of his letters to a friend, written 
 in June, 1742, it should seem that he then pro- 
 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 alhidea 
 to, however, is somewhat ambiguous; and the 
 work which he then had in contemplation may 
 have been a history of that monarch. M. 
 
 t Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. 167. 
 
42 
 
 THE LIFE OF DU. JOHNSON. 
 
 1742 
 
 A very diligent observer may trace 
 him wliere we should not easily suppose 
 him to be found. I liave 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 
 command a suspension of hostilities, and 
 which seems intended, by putting a short 
 stop to violence and slaughter, to altord 
 time for malice to relent, and animosity 
 to subside ; we can scarce expect any 
 other account than of plans, negotiations, 
 and treaties, of proposals for peace, and 
 preparations for war." As also this pas- 
 sage : " Let those who despise the capa- 
 city of the Swiss tell us by what won- 
 (ii^rfnl policy, or by what happy concilia- 
 tion of interests, it is brought to pass, that, 
 in a body made up of different commu- 
 nities 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 pre- 
 paring an historical account^of the British 
 Parliament. ' '~'"~" 
 
 " TO MR. CAVE. 
 " SIR, [No date.'] 
 
 " I BELiiiVE 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 1 believe you mistook, 
 some way or other, my meaning ; I had 
 no other view than that you might rather 
 print too many of five sheets than of 
 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. 
 £mptoris sit eliyere. 
 
 '* 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 onler of 
 facta with sufficient exactness, the proper 
 medium between a jotirnal, which lias 
 regard only to time, and a history which 
 ranges facts according to their depen- 
 dence on each other, and postpones or 
 anticipates according to the convenience 
 of narration. I Ihink the work ought to 
 partake of the spirit of history, which is 
 contrary to minute exactness, and of the 
 regularity of a ionrnal, which is incon- 
 sistcut with spirit. For this reason I 
 
 neither admit numbers or dates, nor re- 
 ject them. 
 
 " I am of your opinion with regard lo 
 placing most of the resolutions, &c. in 
 tile margin, and think we shall give the 
 most complete account of parliamentary 
 proceedings that can be contrived. Tiie 
 naked papers, without an historical trea- 
 tise interwoven, require some other book 
 to make them understood. I will date 
 the succeeding facts with some exactness, 
 but I think in the margin. You t<>ld nie 
 on Saturday that I had received money 
 on this work, and found set down 
 13^. 2s. Qd. reckoning the half guinea ol 
 last Saturday. As you hinted to me tliar 
 you had many calls for money, I would 
 not press you too hard, and therefore 
 shall desire only, as 1 send it in, two 
 guineas for a sheet of copy ; the rest yon 
 may pny me when it may be more con- 
 venient ; and even by this sheet pay- 
 ment 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 like- 
 wise lie by in your hands till it is done. 
 With the debates, shall not I have busi- 
 ness enougli? 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 any thing 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 me 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 any thing 
 for the inscription +. I hope you don't 
 think I kept it to extort a price. I could 
 think of nothing till to-day. 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. 1 am almost well again." 
 
 * TO MR. CAVE. 
 
 ' SIR, 
 
 ** You did not tell me your determination 
 about the Soldier's Lettfri, whicli I 
 am confident was never printed. I think 
 
   «' The Plain Dealer" wa<i published 1742, 
 and contained some arcount of Savaee. 
 
 t H«*rliap« the Riuiirk InbCiiption, Gent. 
 Mair. vol, Kii. p. t3'i.— M. 
 
 J 1 have not discovered what ihi» was. 
 
^TAT. 33. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 43 
 
 it will not do by itself, or in any other 
 place, so well as the Mag. Extraordinary. 
 If yon will have it at all, I believe yon 
 ilo not think I set it high, and 1 will be 
 glad if what you give you will give 
 quickly. 
 
 " You need not be in care about some- 
 thing to print, for I have 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 Re- 
 port." [No date nor signature.] 
 
 I would also ascribe to him an ** Essay 
 on the Description of China, from the 
 French of Du Ud\(\e."CbJ 
 
 His writings in the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine in 1743, are, the Preface, ('ft; the 
 Parliamentary Debates, (bj " Considera- 
 tions on the Dispute between Crousaz 
 and Warburton, on Pope's Essay on 
 Man ;"(bj in which, while he defends 
 Crousaz, he shows an admirable meta- 
 physical acuteness and temperance in 
 controversy ; " Ad Lauram parituram 
 Epigramma • ;"C^J and " A Latin Trans- 
 
 * Angiiacas inter pulcherr'ima Laura puellaSy 
 Alox uteri pondiis deposilnra grave, 
 
 A'Jsit, Laura, tibifacilis Lucina dolenti, 
 Neve tibi nvceat preBnilnisse De<B. 
 
 Mr. Hecror was present when tin's Epigram 
 was made impromptu. The first line was" pro- 
 posed by Dr. James, and Johnson was called 
 upon bv the company to finish it, which he 
 insrantly did. 
 
 The followinar elegant Latin Ode, which ap- 
 peared in the Gentleman's Masrazine for 1743 
 fvol. xiii. p. 548), may safely be attributed to 
 Johnson. 
 
 AD ORNATISSIMAM PUELLAM. 
 
 Vanae si« arii, sit studio modus, 
 
 Formosa virago ! sit sperulo quies, 
 Curamque quaerendi decoris 
 
 iMitte, snpervacuosqiie cultus. 
 Ui fortuitis verna coloribns 
 Depicta vul^o nira magis placent. 
 Nee invident horto nitenti 
 Divitias opt-rosiores; 
 Lenique fons cum nuirmnre pulchrior 
 Obliquat ultrn praecipitem fugam 
 Inter reluctantes. lapillos, e"t 
 Ducit aquas temere sequentes : 
 IJtqne inter undas, inter et arbores. 
 Jam vere primo dulce strepunt aves, 
 Et arte nulla gratiores 
 
 InKcminant sine lej^e cantus: 
 Nativa sic te gratia, te nitor 
 Simplex decehit, te Veneres tuae; 
 Nudus Ciipido suspiitatur 
 Artifices nimis apparatus. 
 Ergo fiuentem tn, malesedula, 
 Ne seeva inuras semper acu comam ; 
 Nee sparsa odorato nitentes 
 Pulvere dedecores capillos; 
 Quales nee olim vel Ptolemaeia 
 Jactabat uxor, sidereo in choro 
 Ufcunqne devotee refuloent 
 Verticis exuviae dtcorii 
 Nee diva mater, cum similem tuae 
 Mentita foiniiim, et pidchrior aspici 
 Permisit incomtas protervis 
 Fusa comas ag^itare ventis. 
 
 lation of Pope's Verses on his Grotto;'Ya>^ 
 and, as he could employ his pen with 
 equal success upon a small matter as a 
 great, I suppose him to be the authour of 
 an advertisement for Osborne, concerning 
 the great Harleian Catalogue. 
 
 But I should think myself much want- 
 ing, both to my illustrious friend and my 
 readers, did I not introduce here, with 
 more than ordinary respect, an exqui- 
 sitely beautiful Ode, which has not been 
 inserted in any of the collections of 
 
 Johnson's poetry, writtpn \^y fijn^ at a 
 
 very early period, asTVIr. Hector informs 
 me, and inserted in the Gentlcraan's 
 Magazine of this year. 
 
 Friendship, an Ode. foj 
 pRiKNjsHTPf pecjjlj ar boon of he aven. 
 
 nJi^uobjeltuimPr^ltlu^ktJin^^ 
 To ni£n ami auHels only-gjven. 
 
 T o all the lower worl d detligd. 
 While Love, unknown among the blest. 
 
 Parent of thousand wild desires. 
 The savage and the humau 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. 
 Thv gentle flows of guiltless Joys 
 
 On fools and villains ne'er descend: 
 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 wav I 
 And let the tortures of mistrust 
 
 On selfish bosoms only prey. 
 Nor shall thine ardour cease to glow,, 
 
 When souls to blissful climes remove : 
 What raised our virtue here below. 
 
 Shall aid our happiiiess above. 
 
 Johnson 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 Dic- 
 tionary," in three volunaes folio. John- 
 son, as I understood from him, had writ- 
 ten, or assisted in writing, the proposals 
 for this work ; and being very fond of 
 the study of physick, in which James 
 was his master, he furnished some of the 
 articles. He, however, certainly wrote 
 for it the Dedication to Dr. Mead, (bJ 
 which is conceived with great address, to 
 conciliate the patronage of that very emi- 
 nent manf. 
 
 + " TO DR. MKADt 
 *' SIR, 
 
 " That the 'Medicinal Dictionary' is dedi- 
 cated to yon is to be imputed only to your 
 reputation for su|,erior skill in lho>e sciences 
 which I have endeavoured to explain and 
 facilitate: and you are, therefore, lo consider 
 this addiess, ifit be agreeable to you as one 
 of the rewards of merit; and if other.wise, as 
 one of the inconveniences of eminence. 
 
 " However you shall receive it, my design 
 cannot be disappointed; because this publick 
 appeal to your judgmeut will show that 1 Uo 
 
14 THE LIFE OF 
 
 It has been circulated, I know not 
 With what authenticity, that Johnson 
 cot^et-e4-Jir,-Bux;h as. a^duJj write£ 
 /aud said of Jiim, " 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 lite rature of 
 this country Js^_ni.tt<Ji-inclebtfid-4a Birch's 
 acttvrty and diligence_miis.t_cerXainly be 
 ^cknowTecTigedr. We have seen that John- 
 son honoured him with a Greek Epi- 
 gram ; and his correspondence with him, 
 during many years, proves that he had 
 no mean opinion of him. 
 
 " TO DR. BIRCH. 
 *'SIR, Thursday, Sept. 29, 1743. 
 
 " I HOPE you will excuse me for troubling 
 you on an occasion on which I know not 
 whom else I can apply to ; I am at a loss 
 for the Lives and Characters of Earl 
 Stanhope, the two Craggs, and the mi- 
 nister Sunderland ; and beg tiiat you will 
 inform [me] where I may find tiiem, 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 affection 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 
 considerable to him. This appears from 
 the following letter which he wrote to 
 Mr. Levett, of Lichtield, the original of 
 which lies now before me. 
 
 '* TO MR. LEVETT ; IN LICHFIELD. 
 *'SIR, Decenilier 1, 1743. 
 
 I AM extremely sorry that we have en- 
 croached 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 (1 
 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 mention 
 it to my dear motlier. If it be necessary 
 to pay this in less time, I believe I can 
 do it ; but I take two months for a cer- 
 tainty, and beg an answer whether you 
 can allow me so much time. I think 
 myself very much obliged to your for- 
 
 not found mv hopes of approbation upon the 
 ig°norance of my readers, and iliat I Uiar his 
 censure least whose know led^e is most exten- 
 sive. I am, SIR, 
 " Vour moil obedient humble servant, 
 
 " R. James." 
 
 / 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 1743. 
 
 bearance, and shall esteem it a great 
 happiness to be able to serve you. I 
 have great opportunities of dispersiiii; 
 any thing that you may think it proper 
 to make publick. I will give a note for 
 the money, payable at the time men- 
 tioned, to any one here that you shall 
 appoint. I am, sir, 
 
 *' Your most obedient 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 ,, . ,, " Sam. JoHxNson." 
 
 " At Mr. Osborne's, Bookseller, 
 in Gray's Inn." 
 
 It does not appear that he wrote any 
 thing in 1744 for the Gentleman's Maga 
 zine, but the Preface. f&; His life of Bar 
 retier was now republished in a pamphkf 
 by itself. But he produced one work tlii- 
 year, fully sufficient to maintain the hiyh 
 reputation which he had acquired. Tlii> 
 was "The Life of Richard Sayiige ;(^«y 
 a man, of whom it is dIfficuTtto speak 
 impartially, without wondering that he 
 was foiuior]a£_Jim£_yie Jjilimate^oin- 
 panion of Johnson.; for his character '' 
 was marked by profligacy, insolence, and 
 ingratitude ; yet, as he undoubtedly had 
 a waoiL^rid yiijomufijjtlioHgh unregulated 
 ,^jnd, had seen life inaTr ils varieties, 
 amPbeen much in the company of tlu 
 statesmen and wits of his time, he could 
 communicate to Johnson an abundant 
 supply of such materials as his philo 
 sophical curiosity most eagerly desired ; 
 and as Savage's misfortunes and miscon 
 duct 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 t. 
 
 * As a specimen of his temper I insert the 
 following- letter from him to a noble lord, to 
 whom he was under great obligationf, but 
 who, on account of his bad conduct, 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 Booby, 
 
 " I FIND you want (as Mr. is pleased to 
 
 hint) to swear away my life, that is, the life of 
 your creditor, because he asks you for a debt. 
 — rhe publicK shall soon be acquainte<l with 
 this, to judge wlitther you are not filter to be 
 an Irish Evidence than to be an Irish Peer.— 
 I defy and despise you. I am, 
 
 " Your determined adversary, 
 
 " K. S." 
 
 t Sir John Hawkins gives the world to un- 
 derstand, that Johnson, "being an admirer of 
 genteel manners, was captivated by the ad- 
 dress and demeanour of Savage, who, as to 
 his exterior, waa to a remarkable degree 
 accomplished."— Hawkins's Life, p. 52. But 
 Sir John's notions of gentility must Appear 
 somewhat ludicrous, from his stating the fol- 
 lowing circumstance as pre>umptive evidence 
 that Savage was a good swordsman: "That 
 he umiersiood the exercise of a gentleman's 
 weapon may he inferred from the use made of 
 it in that rash encounter which is related in 
 his life." The dexterity here alluded to was. 
 
JEtxt. 34. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 45 
 
 It is melancholy to reflect, that John- 
 son and Savage were sometimes in such 
 extreme indigence* that they could not 
 pay for a lodging ; so tliat they liave 
 wandered together whole nights in the 
 streetsf. 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 Imhappy 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 lodging, they were not at all 
 depressed by their situation ; but, in high 
 spirits and brimful of patriotism, tra- 
 versed the square for several hours, 
 inveighed against the minister, and " re- 
 solved they would stand by their coun- 
 try." 
 
 I am afraid, however, that by asso- 
 ciating with Savage, who was habituated 
 to the dissipation and licentiousness of 
 the town, Johnson, though his good prin- 
 
 that Savaa^e, in a nocturnal fit of drunkenness, 
 stabbed a man at a coffee-house, and killed 
 him : for whirli he was tried at the Old Bailey, 
 and found guilty of murder. 
 
 Johnson, indeed, describes him as having 
 "a grave and manly deportment, a solemii 
 dignity of mien; but which, upon a nearer 
 acquaintance, softened into an ensag-inar easi- 
 ness of manneis." How highly Johnson ad- 
 mired him for that knowledge vvliich he him- 
 self so much cultivated, and what kindness he 
 entertained for him, appears from the follow- 
 ing lines in the Gentleman's Magazine for 
 April, 1738, which I am assured were written 
 by Johnson : 
 
 Ad RiCARDUM Savage. 
 *' Hnmani studium f^eneris cui pcclorefervet 
 O colat humanum tefoveatque genus.^^ 
 * "Soon after Savage's Life was published, 
 Mr. Haite, authour of the Life of Gustavus 
 Adolphus, dined with Edward Cave, and oc- 
 casionally praised it. Soon after, meeting him. 
 Cave said, * You made a man verv happy 
 t'other day.'— ' How could that be?' says 
 Harte ; ' nobody was there but ourselves.' 
 Cave answered by remindin"^ 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 
 conversation, he was highly delighted 'with 
 the encomiums on his book." 
 
 t As Johnson was married before he settled 
 in London, and must have always had a habi- 
 tation for his wife, some readers have won- 
 dered, how he ever could have been driven to 
 stroll about with Savage, all night, for want 
 of a lodging. But it sliould he remembered, 
 that Johnson, at different periods, had lodg- 
 ings in the vicinity of London ; and hisfinances 
 certainly would not admit of a double esta- 
 blishment. When, therefore, he spent a con- 
 vivial day in London, and found it too late to 
 return to any country residence he may occa- 
 sionally have had, having no lodging in town, 
 he was obliged to pass fhe ni^hi in the man- 
 ner described above j for, tliough at that 
 period it was not uncommon for two men to 
 sleep together. Savage, it appears, could ac- 
 commodate him with nothing but his company 
 in the open air. M. 
 
 ciples remained steady, diiLxuiLfintiXfiJy 
 preserve that conduct for whicll, Jn day^ 
 of greatershn^licltyj he was remarked 
 by ins jFrlendlMj'^_ Hector ; but was im- 
 perceptibly led into some ihduTgerices 
 which occasioned much distress to his 
 virtuous mind. 
 
 That Johnson was anxious that an 
 authentick and favourable account of his 
 extraordinary friend should first get pos- 
 session of the publick attention, is evi- 
 dent from a letter which he wrote in the 
 Gentleman's Magazine for August of the 
 year preceding its publication. 
 
 " MR. URBAN, 
 
 " As your collections show how often 
 you have owed the ornaments of your 
 poetical pages to the correspondence of 
 the unfortunate and ingenious Mr. Sa- 
 vage, I doubt not but you have so much 
 regard to his memory as to encourage 
 any design that may have a tendency to 
 the preservation of it from insults or 
 calumnies ; and therefore, with some 
 degree of assurance/ entreatyou to inform 
 the publick, that his life will speedily 
 be published by a person who was fa- 
 voured with his confidence, and received 
 from himself an account of most of the 
 transactions which he proposes to men- 
 tion, to the time of his retirement to 
 Swansea in Wales. 
 
 " Fiom th j aj period foj ijjs deafh in the 
 pri son of i3ris'tql 2_the__accoujit_will^ 
 conlinujad from mate r_iaIsstin ,Je£s-Uable 
 tp objection ; his own letters^ and those 
 of his~ Tfieiids, 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 pub- 
 lish only a novel, filled with romantick 
 adventures and 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 Warwick Lane." 
 
 {No signature,'] 
 
 In February, 1744, it accordingly came 
 forth from the shop of Roberts, between 
 whom and Johnson I have not traced any 
 connection, except the casual one of this 
 publication. Jn ' Johnson's Life of Sa- 
 vage," although it must be jJlo.w£dJlia.t 
 i t s' rn oTaT^Is itiffijifivejise of^^ 
 exem^Tm'--Jiitai-mariii2iqii£^-iuI?ebo,'' a 
 ve«^y_u&efiilJe,sgon is inculcated, to guard 
 mea_Qf^warm passions from a too free„ 
 iadol^encelof them ; and the various 
 
46 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 incidents are related in so clear and ani- 
 mated a manner, and illuminated through- 
 out with so much philosophy, that it is 
 one of the most interesting narratives in 
 the English language. Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds told me, that upon his return from 
 Italy he met with it in Devonshire, 
 knowing nothing of its authour, and 
 began to read it while he was standing 
 with his arm leaning against a chimney- 
 piece. It seized his attention so strongly 
 that, not being able to lay down the book 
 till he had tinished it, when he attempted 
 to move, he found his arm totally be- 
 
 / numbed. The rapidity with which this 
 ^ork was composed is a wonderful cir- 
 cumstance. Johnson has been heard to 
 say, " I wrote forty-eight of the printed 
 octavo pages of the Life of Savage at a 
 sitting ; but then I sat up all night *." 
 
 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 made this remark to me ; and, 
 in support of it, quoted from the poem 
 entitled "The Bastard," a line in which 
 the fancied superiority of one '* stamped 
 in Nature's mint with ecstasy" is con- 
 trasted with a regular lawful descendant 
 of some great and ancient family : 
 
 " No tenth triin<n)ii:tcr of a foolish fare." 
 But the fact is, that this poem was pub- 
 lished some years before Johnson and 
 Savage were acquainted. 
 
 It is remarkable, that in this biogra- 
 phical disquisition there appears a very 
 strong symptom of Johnson's prejudice 
 against players; a prejudice whicirit1?t> 
 be attributed to the following causes: 
 first, the imperfection of his organs, which 
 were so defective that he was not suscep- 
 tible of the fine impressions which the- 
 atrical excellence produces upon the 
 generality of mankind ; secondly, the 
 c< ^d r<;; ie y , fion o fjiis tragedy ; audy4a*44y, 
 t he WtJlUiUrt-MigceSS'oT^rrlc k , w h o h a d 
 been_his pujiil, whftTiad conTe to Lipndon 
 at tile same ifm'e with film, not Tn a much 
 more prosperous stale than himself, and 
 whose tajei ^ts he -iipdoMhtv;d)y-*^****^ iow, 
 corrTprrfed with hisovvn. His being out- 
 8trt|)pedT5y"Trr8"pupTi in the race of im- 
 mediate fame, as well as of fortune, pro- 
 j bably made him feel some indignation, 
 ' as thinking that whatever might be Gar- 
 rick's merits in his art, the reward was 
 too great when compared with what the 
 most successfid <;ftorts of literary labour 
 
 » Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3(1 edit. 
 p.3i. 
 
 could attain. At all periods ofhis_Ji 
 Johnson ns.ed tjojalk contemptuously of 
 players ; but in this work he speaks of 
 tfiem with peculiar acrimony ; for which, 
 perhaps, there was formerly loo much 
 reason from the licentious and dissolute 
 manners of those engaged in that pro- 
 fession. It is but justice to add, Ihat in 
 our own time such a change has taken 
 place, that there is no longer room for 
 such an unfavourable distinction. ; 
 
 His schoolfellow and friend. Dr. Tay- 
 lor, told me a pleasant anecdote of John- 
 son'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 
 Giftard. Johnson, who was ever depre- 
 ciating stage-players, after censuring 
 some mistakes in emphasis, which Gar- 
 rick 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 Garri£k_aiid- Giftard 
 were offended at t his sarc asm, and en- 
 deavoMied'tb 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 t against thy 
 neighbour.'" Both tried at it, said 
 Dr. Taylor, and both mistook the em- 
 phasis, which should be upon not and 
 false ivitncss. Johnson put them right, 
 and enjoyed his victory with great glee. 
 
 His " LifeofSgvagc'* was no sooner 
 publishe?fth'an me tolfitwing liberal praise 
 was given to it, in " The Champion," a 
 periodical paper: "This pamphlet is, 
 without flattery to its authour, as just and 
 well written a piece as of its kind I ever 
 saw ; so that at the same time that it 
 highly deserves, it certainly stands very 
 little in need of this recommendation. As 
 to the history of the unfortunate person, 
 whose memoirs compose this work, it is 
 certainly penned with equal accuracy and 
 spirit, of which I am so much the better 
 judge, as I know many of the facts men- 
 tioned to be strictly true, and very fairly 
 related. Besides, it is not only the story 
 of Mr. Savage, but innumerable inci- 
 
 t I suspect Dr. Taylor was inaccnrUe in 
 this siarenuiu. The em|i]iH»i6 i^iiould be 
 equally upon i,ltalt and not, as both ronrnr to 
 form the negative injiuiciion ,a\u\ false ivilnmn, 
 like the other acit> piolnbileil in the DecH- 
 iosriie, sJioiild not \w markid l)y any pernliar 
 (>ni[.-hHsiH, but only be disiiuctly eniinriaied. 
 
 [A nKxIcrate enipba!>ii( »huud be placed on 
 fuhi. K.] 
 
ILr.\i. 35. 
 
 THE LlFIi OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 47 
 
 dents, relating to other persons and other 
 alfaii s, which renders this a very amusing, 
 and, withal, a very instructive and valu- 
 able perlormance. Tlie authour's obser- 
 vations are sliort, significant, and just, 
 as his narrative is remarkably smooth and 
 well disposed. His, r gpecti^ns ^p en to' 
 
 all f| lP Xf'fi^ s^j ??' "^^^^^ ^-** " ' """ liP ai- r -^-i^jLifl^^ 
 
 in a word, a jnm_^e^X"-^'L5iL_p].6.i5diit». a 
 more inipj:oving 
 
 more engaging or _ 
 t re ijCflle^jSn 'anjlie.£x<^^^ t ; 
 
 of liujimnjnatuj::e^jls^.a£arce,ii)..ie_^nid 
 in our ovviij_0JL4iiixh4tps-^4«*y^-»U«jfc4a.u- 
 guage*." 
 ^ Johnson's partiality for Savage made 
 4'him entertain no doubt of his story, how- 
 /ever extraordinary and improbable. It 
 / never occurred to him to question his 
 \ being the son of the Countess of Maccles- 
 1 field, of whose unrelenting barbarity he 
 if so loudly complained, and the particulars 
 A of which are related in so strong and 
 ' affecting a manner in Johnson's Life of 
 him. Johnson was certainly well war- 
 ranted in publishing his narrative, how- 
 ever offensive it might be to the lady and 
 Jier relations, because her alleged unna- 
 tural and cruel conduct to her son, and 
 shameful avowal of guilt, were stated in 
 a Life of Savage now lying before rne, 
 which came out so carly'as 1727, and no 
 attempt had been made to confute it, 
 to punish the authour or printer as 
 libeller ; but, for the honour of human 
 nature, we should be glad to lind the shock- 
 ing 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 in- 
 quiries, will, I think, render it at least 
 somewhat doubtful, especially when we 
 consider that it must have originated from 
 the person himself who went by the name 
 of Richard Savage. 
 
 If the maxim, y*a/sMm in uno, fahum 
 in omnibus, were to be received without 
 qualification, the credit of Savage's nar- 
 rative, as conveyed to us, would be an- 
 nihilated ; for it contains some assertions 
 which, beyond a question, are not true. 
 
 1. In order to induce a belief that the 
 Earl Rivers, on account of a criminal 
 connection with whom. Lady Maccles- 
 field is said to have been divorced from 
 her husband, by Act of Parliament j, had 
 a peculiar anxiety about the child which 
 she bore to him, it is alleged, that liis 
 
 * This character of the Life of Savage \v;i> 
 not written by Fiddine, as has been sup- 
 posed, but moft probabi) b;^ Ralph, who, as 
 appears from the minutes of the Partner?* ot 
 •The Champion' in the possession of Mr. 
 Reed, of Staple Inn, suoreeded Fielding in 
 his share of the paper, before the date of that 
 euUpium. 
 
 t The late Francis Cockayne Cust, Esq. one 
 of his Majesty's Counsel. 
 
 t 1697' 
 
 Lordship gave him his own name, and 
 had it duly recorded in the register of 
 St. Andrew's, Holborn. I have carefully 
 inspected that register, but no such entry 
 jis to be found §. 
 
 2. Itjs statetl that *' Lady Macclesfield, 
 having lived for some time upon very 
 uneasy terms with her husband, thought 
 a publick confession of adultery the most 
 obvious and expeditious method of ob- 
 taining her liberty;" and Johnson, as- 
 suming this to be true, stigmatises Iter 
 with indignation, as, "the wretch who 
 had, without scruple, proclaimed feterself 
 an adultressj|." But 1 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 
 voluntarily submitting to the ignonrinious 
 charge of adultccy'j s he made a strenuou s 
 defence^j^ her^ Counsel ; the bill having 
 been first moved" the loth of January, 
 
 § Mr. Cust's reasoning, with respect to the 
 filiation of Richard Savage always appeared 
 to me extremely unsatisfactory; and is en- 
 tirely overturned by the following d«ci-)ve 
 observations, for which the reader is indebted 
 to tiie unwearied researches of Mr. Hin<l- 
 ley.— The story on which Mr. Cust so muth 
 relies, that Savaue was a supposititious child, 
 not the son of Lord Rivers and Lady Macclet?- 
 (ield, but the offspring of a shoemaker, intro- 
 duced in consequence of her real son's deaih, 
 was, without doubt, gn.un'ieil on the circinii- 
 stance of Lady Macciestield having, in IfcSG, 
 previously to the binh of Savage, had a 
 drtuuhter by the Earl Rivers, who ditd in her 
 infancy : a tact, which, as the same gentleman 
 -ibserves lo me, was proveil in the course of 
 
 the proceedintrs on Lord Macclesfield's Bill 
 ot Divorce. Most fictions ol this kind have 
 some admixture of tiuth in tlicm. M. 
 
 From " the Earl of Macclesfield's Case," 
 which, in 1697-h, was presented to the Lords, 
 in order to procure an act of divorce, it ap- 
 pears that *♦ Anne, Countess of Macclesfield, 
 under the name of Madam Smith, in Fox-court, 
 near Brook-street, Holborn, was delivered of 
 a male chdd bv Mrs. Wright, a midwife, on 
 Saturday the 16tli of Januitry, 1696-7, at six 
 o'clock in the morning, who "was baptized or. 
 the Monday followinir*, and registered bv the 
 name of Richard, the son of John Smith, i>y 
 Mr. Burbridge, assistant to Dr. Mannini>:han;'s 
 curate for St. Andrew's, Holborn: lliai the 
 child was christened on Monday the 18th of 
 January, in Fox-court; and, from the privacy, 
 was supposed by Mr Burbridge to be ' a hv- 
 blow, or bastard.' It also appears that during 
 her delivery the lady wore a mask ; and that 
 Mary Peglar on the next day aftf-r the bap- 
 tism (Tuesday) took a male child, whose 
 mother was called Madam Smith, from the 
 house of Mr.-«. Pheasant, in Fox-court [running 
 from Brook-street into Grav's-inn-lane], who 
 wenc by the name of Mrs. Lee." 
 
 Conformable to this statement is the entry 
 in the Register of St. Andrew's, Holborn, 
 which is as follows, and which unquestionably 
 records the baptism of Richard Savase, to 
 whom Lord Rivers gave his own Christiiin 
 name, prefixed to the" assumed surname of his 
 uiother: "Jan. l69ti-7. Richard, son of Jolm 
 Smith and Mary, in Fox court, in GraN's-inn- 
 lune, baptized the ISih." J. B. 
 
 II No divorce can be obtained in the Courts, 
 on confession of the parly. There must be 
 proofs. K. 
 
48 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1744. 
 
 1697-8, in the house of Lords, and pro- 
 ceeded on (with various applications for 
 time to bring up witnesses at a distance, 
 &c.), at intervals, till the 3d of March, 
 when it passed. It was brought to tlie 
 Commons by a message from the Lords, 
 the 5th of March, proceeded on tlie 7th, 
 10th, nth, 14th, and 15th, on which day, 
 after a full examination of witnesses on 
 both sides, and liearing 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 de- 
 nied ; but the question now is, whether 
 the person calling himself Richard Sa- 
 vage 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 be- 
 lieve that this was a malignant lie, in- 
 vented by a mother to prevent her own 
 child from receiving the bounty of his 
 father, which was accordingly the conse- 
 quence, 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 
 was 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 per- 
 sonate him ; and that the fraud being 
 known to Lady Macclesfield, he was 
 therefore repulsed by her with just resent- 
 ment. 
 
 There is a strong circumstance in sup- 
 port of the last supposition, though it has 
 been mentioned as an aggravation of 
 Lady Macclesfield'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 he 
 was not the real person. The just infer- 
 ence 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 had a title to the legacy, he could 
 not have found any difficulty in recover- 
 ing it ; for had the executors resisted his 
 claim, the whole costs, as well as the 
 legacy must have been paid by them, 
 if he had been the child to whom it was 
 given. 
 
 » This is not correctly Btated. The slioe- 
 iiiaker under whose care Sivaire was place<l, 
 with a view to his becoming his a)n>rentice, 
 wa-* not the husband of his nurse.— See John- 
 sou's Life of Savage. 
 
 The talents of Savage, and the mingled 
 fire, rudeness, pride, meanness, and 
 ferocity of his character t, concur in 
 making it credible 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 coun- 
 tries, and have had a considerable degree 
 of success. 
 
 Yet, on the other hand, to the com- 
 panion of Johnson, (who, through what- 
 ever medium he was conveyed into this 
 world,— belt ever so doubtful "To whom 
 related) or by whom begot," was unques- 
 tionably a man of no common endow- 
 ments), we must allow the weight of 
 general repute as to his Status or paren- 
 tage, though illicit; and supposing him 
 to be an impostor, it seems strange that 
 Lord TyrconncI, the nephewof Lady Mac- 
 clesfield, should patronise him, and even 
 admit him as a guest in his family %. 
 Lastly, it must ever appear very sus- 
 picious that three different accounts of 
 the life of Richard Savage, one published 
 in " The Plain Dealer," in 1724, another 
 in 1727, and another by the powerful pen 
 of Johnson, in 1744, and all of them while 
 Lady Macclesfield w as alive, should, not- 
 
 t Johnson's companion appears to have 
 persuaded that loCiy-niinded man that he 
 resembled him in having a noble pride; for 
 Johnson, after painting in strong colours the 
 quarrel between Lord fyrconnel 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 
 lo whom I have alluded, has in his possession 
 a letter from Savage, after Lord Tyrconnel 
 had discarded him, addressed to the Reverend 
 Mr. Gilbert, his Lordship's Chaplain, in which 
 he requests him, in the humblest manner, to 
 represent his case to the Viscount. 
 
 I Trusting to Savage's information, Johnson 
 represents this unhappy man's being received 
 as a companion by Lord Tyrconnel, and pen- 
 sioned by his Lordship, as nosteriour to Sa- 
 vage's conviction and pardon. But I am 
 assured that Savage had received the voluntary 
 bounty of Lord Tyrconnel, and had been dis- 
 riiissed by him long before the murder was 
 commitied, and that his Lordship' was very 
 instrumental in procuring Savage's paidon, 
 by liis intercession with ilie Queen, through 
 La<ly Hertford. If, therefore, he had been 
 desirous of preventing lh;2 publicalion by 
 Savage, he would have left him to his fate. 
 Indeed I must observe that, although Johnson 
 mentions that Lord Tyrconnel's patronage of 
 Savage was " upon his promise to lay aside 
 his design of exposing the cruelty of his 
 molhei," the great biographer has forgotten 
 that he himself has nientiontd that Savage's 
 story had been told several years before in 
 "The Plain Dealer;" from whidi he quotefi 
 this strong saving of the generous Sir Richard 
 Steele, that the " inhumanity of his mother 
 had given him a right to (iud tvery good man 
 his father.'' At the same tinu- it must be 
 acknowledged that Lady Mace le>fuld and her 
 relations might still wish that her story should 
 not be brought into more conspicuous notice 
 by the satirical pen of Savage. 
 
iETAT. 35. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 49 
 
 withstanding the severe attacks upon lier, 
 have been sutfeied to pass without any 
 pubiick and etfectual contradiction. 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to sum up the 
 evidence upon the case, as fairly as 1 can ; 
 and the result seems to be that the world 
 must vibrate in a state of uncertainty as 
 to what was the truth. 
 
 This digression, I trust, will not be 
 censured, as it relates to a matter exceed- 
 ingly curious, and very intimately con- 
 nected with Johnson, both as a man and 
 an authour *. 
 
 He this year wrote the '^ Preface toJ he 
 Harleijm^Miscellany.'Y^^' I'lc selection 
 of "the paniplilets of which it was com- 
 posed was made by Mr. Oldys, a man 
 of eager curiosity and indefatigable dili- 
 gence, 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. 
 
 In 1745 he published a pamphlet en- 
 titled, ** MisceJJaii£fiiL§._Qi?seixations on 
 the Tra^edj of Macbeth, with Remarks 
 on^ir T. H's (SirlTromas Hanmer's) 
 Edition of Shakspeare.'Ytty' To which 
 he affixed proposals for a new edition of 
 that poet. 
 
 As we do not trace any thing else pub- 
 lished 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 pubiick to his anonymous pro- 
 posals for the execution of a task which 
 Warburton was known to have under- 
 taken 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 Shakspeare published two years after- 
 wards, thus mentioned it : " As to all 
 those things which have been published 
 under the titles of Essays, Remarks, 
 Observations, &c. on Shakspeare, if you 
 
 * Miss Mason, after having forfeited the 
 title ot Lady Macclesfield by divorce, was 
 married to Colonel Brett, and", it Is said, was 
 well known in all the polite circles. Coiley 
 Cibber, I am informe.l, had sohigh an opinion 
 of her taste and judgment as to genteel life 
 and manners, that he submitted every scene 
 of his "Careless Husband" to Mrs. Brett's 
 revisal and correction. Colonel Brett was re- 
 porteil lo be free in his gallantry with his 
 lady's maid. Mrs. Brett came into a room 
 one day in her own houe, 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 intrii(ue ; 
 hilt she never at any time took notice of it lo 
 him. This incident, as 1 am told, gave occa- 
 sion to the well wrought scene of Sir Charles 
 and Lady Easy, and Edging. 
 
 For a further illustration of this subject, see 
 European Magazine, vol. xxi. page 36. 
 
 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 absolutely below 
 a serious notice." 
 
 Of this flattering distinction shown to 
 him by Warburton, a very grateful remem- 
 brance was ever entertained by Johnson, 
 who said, '* He praised me at a time 
 when praise was of value to me." 
 
 In 1746 it is probable that he was still 
 employed upon his Shakspeare, which 
 perhaps he laid aside for a time, upon 
 account of the high expectations which 
 were formed of Warburton's edition of 
 that great poet. It is somewhat curious 
 that his literary career appears to have 
 been almost totally suspended in the 
 years 1745 and 1746, 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 unfortunate House is well known ; 
 and some may fancifully imagine that a 
 sympathetick anxiety impeded the ex- 
 ertion 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 atfairs. Dr. Adams in- 
 forms 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, have engaged 
 himself, rather than on any other sub- 
 ject." 
 
 In J747 it js gupp^sed that i\\p £[^\^f^ 
 man's Magaziiie.ior._^Ia;^ was enrjclied 
 
 by jjini_jftith ■fi>^_short_poincarpieces, 
 distinguishe d by three ast einsk;5; TKe'Brst 
 is a IransIa^tTon, or rather"a paraphrase, 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 cha- 
 racter of Hanmer 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 con- 
 trariety between the character in the Ob- 
 servations, and that in his own Pre face 
 to Shakspeare ; but a considerable time 
 elapsed between the one publication and 
 the other, whereas the Observations and 
 the Epitaph came close together. The 
 
 others are, "To Miss , on her giving 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I74r. 
 
 the Authour a gold and silk network 
 Purse of lier own weaving;" " Slellain 
 Mourning ;" ** The ^Viutnr'o JW^alk ;" 
 •^ATn 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 contro- 
 verted to be his, and all of them have 
 the same mark, it is reasonable to con- 
 clude that they are all written by the 
 same hand. Yet to the Ode, in wliich 
 we find a passage very characteristick of 
 him, being a learned description of the 
 gout, 
 
 " Unhappy, whom to beds of pain 
 ArthrUic/i tyranny consig-ns;" 
 
 there is the following note : *' The authour 
 being ill of the gout:" but Johnson was 
 not attacked with tiiat 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 suppose 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 produce such a 
 group of conceits as appear in the verses 
 to Ijyce, 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 skp, in such stanzas as this : 
 
 " Her teeth the night with darkness dyes, 
 She's starr^tt with pimples o'er; 
 
 Her tongue like nimble lightning plies. 
 And can with Ihnnder roar." 
 
 But as at a very advanced age he could 
 condescend to trifle in namby-pamby 
 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 edi- 
 tion of *' The Winter's Walk," the con- 
 cluding 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 horrour at life in general is more con- 
 
 • [n the Universal Visiter, to which Johnson 
 contributed, the mark whirh isattixed to some 
 pieces unqueslionahly his is also found «uh- 
 )oined to others, of which he certainly was 
 not the aurhour 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 pout. The 
 verses on a Purse were inserte<l alterwjirds in 
 MfA. Williams's Miscellanies, and are, unques- 
 tionably, Johnfon's. M. 
 
 sonant with Johnson's habitual gloomy 
 cast of thought. 
 
 I have heard him repeat with great 
 energy the following verses which ap- 
 peared 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 criticks of our age suggests to 
 me that " the word indifferently being 
 used in the sense of without concern, 
 and being also very un poetical, renders 
 it improbable that they should have been 
 his composition." 
 
 " On Lord Lovat's Execution. 
 " Fity'd by gentle minds Kilmarnock died; 
 The brave, Balmerino, were on thy side ; 
 Kadcliffe, uniidppy in his crimes of youth, 
 Steady in what he still mistook for Iriith, 
 Beheld liis death so decently unmoved, 
 The soft lamented, and the brave approved. 
 But Lovat's fate indifferently we view. 
 True lo no King, to no religion true : 
 tio fair forgets the ruin he has done; 
 No child laments the tyrant of his son; 
 No tory pities, thinking what he was; 
 No whig compassions, y<)r he left the cause; 
 The brave regret not, tor he was not brave ; 
 The honest mourn not, knowing him a 
 
 knave t." 
 This year his old pupil and friend, 
 David Garrick, having become joint 
 patentee and manager of Drury Lane 
 Tlieatre, Johnson honoured his opening 
 of it with a Prologue, fa^ which, for just 
 and manly dramatick criticism on the 
 whole range of the English stage, as well 
 as for poetical eloquence j, is unrivalled. 
 ^Like the celebrated Epilogue to the 
 " Distressed Mother," it was, during the 
 season, oft called for by the audience. 
 The most striking and brilliant passages 
 of it have been so often repeated, and 
 
 t These verses are soiiie\\hat too severe on 
 the extraordinary person who is the chief 
 figure in them ; for he was undoubtedly brave. 
 His pleasantry «luring his solemn trial (in 
 which, by the way, I have heard Mr. Davi<l 
 Hume observe that we have on« of the very 
 few speeches of Mr. Murrav, now Earl of 
 Mansfield, auihcntically given) was very re- 
 markable. When asked if he had any ques- 
 tions to pnt to Sir Everard Fawkener, who 
 was oniE; of the strongest witnesses against 
 him, he answered, " f only wish him joy of 
 iiis young wife." And alter sentence of death, 
 in the iiorrible terms in such cases of treason, 
 was pronounced upon him, and he was retiring 
 fron> the bar, he said, '* F^re you well, my 
 L)r<ls, we shall not all meet again in one 
 place." He behaved with perfect composure 
 at his execution, and caHed out " VuUe et 
 decorum est pro pa trie niori.*^ 
 
 X My friend Mr. Courtenay, whose eulogy 
 on Jiilinson's Latin Pootrv has been inserted 
 in dii^ Work, is no less happy in praising his 
 English Poetry: 
 
 But hark, he siug:>! the strain even Pope ad- 
 mires; 
 Indignant virtue her own bard inspires. 
 Sublime as Juvenal he pours his lays, 
 And witlithe Roman shares conaenial praise:— 
 In glowing numbers now he fires the age, 
 And Shakspeare's sun relumes the clouded 
 stage. 
 
.f^TAT. 38. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 51 
 
 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 De- 
 cember this year, he inserted an "-04e 
 o n Win U:r," which is, I think, an.jid-. 
 nura^iejjggciniMt of his getrnts-fof jyrick 
 poetry. 
 
 "But the year ITJZ^s distinguished as 
 the epoch, when Johnson's arduous and 
 important work, hi£_DicUon<yx-Ol~tlie 
 Enjlish_Lajagu,ag£.^JKaCan^^ to the 
 
 worTcT, by the publication of its Plan or 
 Prospectus. 
 
 How long this immense undertaking 
 had been the object of his contemplation, 
 1 do not know. I once asked him by 
 what means he had attained to that as- 
 tonishing knowledge of our language, by 
 which he was enabled to realize a design 
 of such extent and accumulated difliculty. 
 He told me that " it was not the efltect 
 of particular study ; but that it had grown 
 up in his mind insensibly." I have been 
 informed by Mr. James Dodsley, that 
 several years before this period, when 
 Johnson was one day sitting in his brother 
 Robert's shop, he heard his brother sug- 
 gest to him, that a Dictionary of the 
 English Language would be a work that 
 would be well received by the publick ; 
 that Johnson seemed at first to catch up 
 the proposition, but, after a pause, said, 
 in his abrupt decisive manner, " I believe 
 I shall not midertake it." That he, how- 
 ever, had bestowed much thought upon 
 the subject, before he published his 
 " Plan/' is evident from the enlarged, 
 clear, and accurate views which it ex- 
 hibits ; and we find him mentioning in 
 that tract, that many of the writers, 
 whose testimonies were to be produced 
 as authorities, were selected by Pope ; 
 which proves that he had b&en furnished, 
 probably by Mr. Robert Dodsley, with 
 whatever hints that eminent poet had 
 contributed towards a, great literary pro- 
 ject, that had been the subject of im- 
 portant consideration in a former reign. 
 
 The booksellers who contracted with 
 Johnson, single and unaided, for the ex- 
 ecution of a work, which in othei: coun- 
 tries has not been effected but by the 
 cooperating exertions of many, were 
 Mr. Robert Dodsley, Mr. Charles Hitch, 
 Mr. Andrew Millar, the two. Messieurs 
 Longman, and the two Messieurs Knap- 
 ton. The price stipulated was fifteen 
 hundred and seventy-five pounds. 
 
 The " Plan" was addre§sed_Ui Philip 
 DonjifiEiTrarrof Cheslerfield, then one 
 6f"fiis MajFSty*sT?rin;ctpfaJt-^^retaries of 
 State ; a nobleman who was very gm,bi- 
 ti^us of literary distinction, and v*ho, 
 upon being informed of the design, had 
 expressed, himself in terras very favour- 
 
 able to its success. There is, perhaps, in 
 every thing of any consequence, a secret 
 history which it would be amusing to 
 know, could we have it authentically 
 communicated. Johnson told me *, " Sir, 
 the way in which the plan of my Dic- 
 tionary came to be inscribed to Lord 
 Chesterfield, was this : I had neglected 
 to write it by the time appointed. Dods- 
 ley 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 address- 
 ing to Lord Chesterfield, it will be as- 
 cribed 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 substantial 
 merit of comprehension, perspicuity, and 
 precision, but that the language of it i s 
 unexceptio jHi?lX-£2Uxlleat ; it being alto- 
 gethieir f rjee from that i«flation_of_style, 
 and those uncommon "Buflipt aod e.aer- 
 getick words, which in sonie of his wri- 
 tings have been censured, with more 
 petulance than justice; and never was 
 there a more dign^ified strain of compli- 
 ment than that in which h"e""courts the 
 attention of one, who, he had been per- 
 suaded to believe, would be a respectable 
 patron. 
 
 " With regard to questions of purity 
 or propriety (says he), I was once in 
 doubt whether 1 should not attribute to 
 myself too much in attempting to decide 
 them, aqd 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 de- 
 termined, by your Lordship's opinion, to 
 interpose my own judgment, and shall 
 therefore endeavour to support wha.t ap- 
 pears to me most consonant to grammar 
 and reason. Ausonius thought that ijio- 
 desty forbade him to plead inability for 
 a task to which Ceesar had judged him 
 equal : 
 Cur me pQsse mgem, posse quod tile pntat ? 
 And I may hope, niy Lord, that since 
 you, whose authority in our language is 
 so generally acknowledged, have com- 
 missioned me to. declare my own opinion, 
 1 shall be considered as exercising a kind 
 of vicarious jurisdiction ; aiid that the 
 power which might have been denied^to 
 n^3LQ^7V"c^a^m, will be readily aUawjed 
 ra&as ttie delegate of your Lordship." 
 
 This passage proves, th^t Johnson's 
 addressing his '* plan" to Lord Chester- 
 field was not merely in consequence of 
 the result of a i:epQrt by means of Dods- 
 
 * September •!% \Til, going from Ashbourue 
 in DerDy!>U.ire, to see Islam. 
 
:>2 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 h.'V, that the Earl favoured the design ; 
 but that there had been a particular 
 communication with his Lordship con- 
 cerning 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 shown 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 
 Chestertield. When Taylor observed that 
 this might be an advantage, Johnson re- 
 plied, " 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 authour appears from the following 
 extract of a letter from the Earl of Orrery 
 to Dr. Birch : 
 
 " Caledon, Dec. 30, 1747. 
 *' I HAVE just now seen tlie^specimen of 
 Mr^ JJjMso.n'l TDicftDiiary, add to 
 
 Lord Chesterfield ; I am much pleased 
 with the plan, and 1 think the specimen 
 is one of the best that I have ever read. 
 Most specimens disgust, rather than pre- 
 judice 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 flow- 
 ers. Sed hcB sunt nugcc, and I have great 
 expectations from the performance *." 
 
 That he was fully aware of the arduous 
 nature of the undertaking, he acknow- 
 ledges ; and shows himself perfectly 
 sensible of it in the conclusion of his 
 " Plan;" but he had a noble consciousness 
 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 dia- 
 logue 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 Skiimer, and 
 others ; and there is a Welsh gentleman 
 who has published a collection of Welsh 
 proverbs, who will help me with the 
 Welsh. Adams. But, sir, how can you 
 do thisjinthr ec yeai:s ? JanasQiL,-Sii:J 
 have'lTo douBLt]lijLl_canjlo it jntljree 
 ye^rsTj^Dtl^. But tlveFi-enclfXcJuIerny, 
 whichconsists of forty members, took 
 forty years to compile their Dictionary. 
 Johnson. Sir, thus it is. This is the 
 proportion. Let me see : forty times 
 • Birch MSS. Brit. Miis. 4303. 
 
 forty is sixteen hundred. As three to 
 sixteen hundred, so 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 publick has had, from another 
 pen +, a long detail of what had been 
 done in this country by prior lexicogra- 
 phers : and no doubt Johnson was wise, 
 to avail himself of them, so far as they 
 went : but the learned, yet judicious re- 
 search of etymology, the various, yet 
 accurate display of definition, and the 
 rich collection of authorities, were re- 
 served 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 been so hostile, that five of them 
 were of that country. There were two 
 Messieurs Macbean ; Mr. Shiels, who, 
 we shall hereafter see, partly wrote the 
 Lives of the Poets to which the name of 
 Gibber is affixed+; Mr. Stewart, son of 
 Mr. George Stewart, bookseller at Edin- 
 burgh ; and a Mr. Maitland. The sixth 
 of these humble assistants was Mr. Pey- 
 ton, who, I believe, taught French, and 
 published some elementary tracts. 
 
 To all these painful labourers Johnson 
 showed a never ceasing kindness, so far 
 as they stood in need of it. The elder 
 Mr. Macbean had afterwards the honour 
 of being Librarian to Archibald, Duke 
 of Argyle, for many years, but was left 
 without a shilling. Johnson wrote foi' 
 him a Preface to " A System of Ancient 
 Geography ;" and, by the favour of Lord 
 Thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother 
 of the Charterhouse. For Shiels, who 
 died of a consumption, 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 for- 
 ward, Johnson lived part of the time in 
 Hoi born, part in Gongh 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 sup- 
 plied by himself, having been first written 
 down with spaces left between them, he 
 delivered in writing their etymologies, 
 definitions, and various significations. 
 The authorities were copied from the 
 books themselves, in which he had 
 
 t See Sir John Hawkins's Life of Johnson. 
 X See Vol. iii. under April 10, 1776. 
 
jEtat. 39. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 53 
 
 marked the passages with 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 remarkable, that he 
 was so attentive in the choice of the 
 passages in which words were authorized 
 that one may read page after pa^ e oQiis 
 Dictionary with improvement aii'd plea 
 
 funonserved, 
 
 surirparrmt snoTrnTnof pass 
 tliat he has quoted no authour whose 
 writings had a tendency to hurt sound 
 religion and morality. 
 
 The necessary expense of preparing a 
 work of such magnitude for 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 mis- 
 take, been written on both sides of the 
 paper, so as to be inconvenient for the 
 compositor, it cost him twenty pounds to 
 have it transcribed upon one side only. 
 
 He is now to be considered as " tugging 
 at his oar," as engaged in a steady con- 
 tinued course of occupation, sufficient to 
 employ all his time for some yeais; 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 
 c.Quld not be satisfied without more di- 
 versity of employment, and the pleasure 
 of animated relaxation*. He therefore 
 not only exerted his talents in occasional 
 composition, very different from lexico- 
 graphy, but formed a club in Ivy Lane, 
 Paternoster Row, with a view to enjoy 
 literary discussion, and amuse his even- 
 ing hours. The members associated with 
 him in this little society were, his be- 
 loved friend Dr. Richard Bathurst, Mr. 
 Hawkesworth, afterwards well known 
 by his writings, Mr. John Hawkins, an 
 attorney t, and a few others of different 
 professions. 
 
 In the Gentleman's Magazine for May 
 of this year he wrote a *' Life of Ros- 
 common,'Y«.^ with Notes ; which he af- 
 terwards much improved (indenting the 
 
 labours, and probably also for Mrs. Johnson', 
 health, he tliis summer visited Tunbridgc 
 Wells, tlien a place of much greater resort 
 than it is at present. Here he met Mr. Cibber, 
 Mr. Garrick, Mr. Samuel Richardson, Mr. 
 Whiston, Mr. Onslow (the Speaker), Mr. Pitt, 
 Mr. Lyttelton, and several other distinguishe(i 
 persons. In a print, representing some ol 
 " the remarkable characters" who were at 
 Tunbridge Weils in 1748 (see llichardson's 
 Correspondence), Dr. Johnson stands the first 
 figure. M. 
 
 + He was afterwards for several years Chair- 
 man of the Middlesex Justices, and upon oc- 
 
 notes into the text), and inserted amongst 
 his Lives of the Elnglish Poets. 
 
 Mr. D odsley this year brought out his 
 PreceptorTone of the most valuable books 
 for the improvement of young minds that 
 has appeared in any language; aad,,tp 
 this tncritoriou s work Jo hnson furnished 
 th e '* P refdceJ'CaJ containing a general ^^ 
 s"ketch of the book, with a short and per- / 
 spicuous recommendation of each article ; ' 
 as also, " The Vision of Theodore, the 
 Hermit, found in his Cell," (aj 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 thought 
 this was the best thing he ever wrote. 
 
 In January, 1749, he published •' The 
 Vaniity _pf Hmnan Wishes, being the 
 Tenth Satire of Juvenal imitated." fa^ 
 He, I believe, composed it the preceding 
 yearj. 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 wilJb- »Mdt.iJL_ffiiiS..pm3BSSCTs 
 scarcely credible. I have heard him say, 
 that'Tfe composed seventy lines of it in 
 one day, without putting one of them 
 upon paper till tliey were finished. I 
 remetnber, 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 
 permanent 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 
 publication of the same size has since 
 been known to yield. I have mentioned, 
 upon Johnson's own authority, that for his 
 " London" he had 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 
 authentick document in my possession §. 
 
 casion of presenting an address to the King, 
 accepted the usual offer of knighthood. He 
 is authour of " A History of Musick," in five 
 volumes in qnarlo. By assiduous attendance 
 upon Johnson in his last illness, lie obtained 
 the office of one of his executors ; in conse- 
 quence of wliich, the booksellers of London 
 employed him to publish an edition of Dr. 
 Johnson's Works, and to write his Life. 
 
 t Sir John Hawkins, with solemn inaccuracy, 
 represents this poem as a consequence of tlie 
 indifferent reception of his tragedy. Hut the 
 fact is that the poem was publislicd on the 
 9th of January, and the tragedy was not acted 
 till the 6th of the February following. 
 
 § " Nov. 25, 1748, I received of iMr. Doisley 
 
54 
 
 It will be observed, that he reserves to 
 himself the right of printing one edition 
 of this satire, which was his practice upon 
 occasion of the sale of all his writings ; it 
 being his fixed intention to publish at 
 some period, for his own profit, a com- 
 plete collection of his works. 
 
 His * ' Vanjty_o£^-H«miM»- Wishes " has 
 le ss of comm on Jifej_J?jU-imi)re_a£ ji phi.- 
 logo pl>ick dig nity than his " LQadon/'- 
 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 discriminatio1ti7~as is usual with 
 wits, " When Johnson lived much with 
 the Herveys, and saw a good deal of 
 what was passing in 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 on 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 eflEort of ethick poetry as any 
 langtjage^can_sho\v. "Tlie in stance's 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 studentf. That of the warrior, 
 
 fifteen guineas, for which I assign to liim the 
 li^lit of copy of an Imitation of the Tenth 
 Satire of Juvenvi), written hy me; reserving 
 to myself the right of printing one edition. 
 •* Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, 29 June, 1786. A true copy, from 
 the original in Dr. Johnson's handwriting. 
 "Jas. Dodsley." 
 
 * From Mr. Langton. 
 
 + In this poem one of the instances men- 
 tioned of unfortunate learned tuen is Lydiat : 
 
 •' Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end." 
 The History of Lydiat being little known, the 
 following account of him inay be acceptable 
 to many of my readers, it appeared as a note 
 In the Supplement to the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine for 17 18, in which some passages extracted 
 from Johnson's poem were inserted, and it 
 should have been added to the subseqnent 
 editions. — " A very learned divine and ma- 
 thematician, fellow of New Colleee, O.xon. 
 and Rector of Okeitop, near Banbury. He 
 wrote, among many others, a Latin treatise 
 * 1)e nntnra ceeli, <J-c.' in which he attacked 
 the sentiments of Scaliger and Aristotle, not 
 bearing to hear it urged, tkat some thhies 
 are true in philosophy, and false in religion. 
 He made above six hundred Sermons on the 
 harmony of the Evangelists. Being imsuc- 
 ressfui in publishing his works, he lay in the 
 prison of Bocardo at Oxford, an«l in the King's 
 Bench, till Bishop Usher, Dr. Laud, Sir Wil 
 liain Boswell, and Dr. Pink, released him by 
 paying his debts. He petitioned King Charles 
 I. to be sent into Ethiopia, &c. to procure MSS 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1749. 
 
 Charles of Sweden, is, I think, as highl\ 
 finished a picture as can possibly be con 
 ceived. 
 
 Were all the other excellences of thi« 
 poem annihilated, it must ever have oui 
 grateful reverence from its noble conclu- 
 sion ; 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 object* 
 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? 
 Inquirer, cease ; petitions yet remain, 
 Which Heaven 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 prayer; 
 Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, 
 Secure, whaie'er he gives, he gives the best: 
 Yet when the sense ol sacred presence fires, 
 And strong devoticn to the skies aspires, 
 Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind. 
 Obedient passions, and a will resien'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 ror retreat: 
 These goods tor man the laws of Heaven or- 
 dain, 
 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 J." 
 
 Having spoken in favour of nmnarchy anit 
 bishops, he was plundered by the parliament 
 forces, and twice carried away prisoner from 
 his rectory ; and afierwanls had not a shirt 
 to shift him in three months, without he bor- 
 rowed it ; and died very poor in 164f>," 
 
 I In this poem, a line in which the danger 
 attending on female beauty is mentioned has 
 very generally, I believe, been misunderstood ; 
 
 " Yet Vane could tell what ills from beaaty 
 
 spring. 
 And Sedley cursed the form that pleased a 
 
 king." 
 
 The lady mentioned in the first of these 
 verses was not the celebr,»ted Lady Vane, 
 whose memoirs were given to the publick by 
 Dr. Smollett, but Ann Vane, who was mistress 
 to Frederick Prince of Wales, and died in 
 I7J6, not long before Johnson settled in Lon- 
 don. Some account nf this lady was published, 
 under the title of The Secret History of Va- 
 nella,8vo. 1732. See also Vanella in the Straw, 
 4to. 1732. In Mr. Boswell'a Tour to ihe He- 
 brides, we find some observations respecting 
 the lines in question: 
 
 " In Dr. Johiisoo's Vanity of Human Wishes, 
 there is the following passage: 
 ' The teeming mother, anxious for her race, 
 Beers for each birth the fortune of a face : 
 Yet Vane,' \c. 
 
 " Lord Hailes told him [Johnson], he was 
 mistaken in the instances he had (riven of 
 unfortunate fair ones, for neither Vane nor 
 Sedley had a title to ih.it description."— His 
 lordship therefore thought fit that Ihe line^ 
 should rather have run thus: 
 
JEtxT. 40. 
 
 Garrick being now vested with tliea- 
 tricai power by being manager of Drury 
 Lane Theatre, he kindly and generously 
 made use of it to bring out Jolinson's 
 tragedy, which had long been 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 re- 
 vised 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 applied 
 to the Reverend Dr. Taylor (o interpose. 
 Johnson was at tirst very obstinate. " Sir 
 (said he), the fellow wants me to make 
 Mahomet run mad, that he may have an 
 opportunity of tossing his hands and 
 kicking his heels*." He was, however, 
 at last, with difficulty, prevailed 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 
 me the following account : " Before the 
 curtain drevv up, there were catcalls 
 whistling, which alarmed Johnson's 
 friends. The Prologue, which was writ- 
 ten by himself in a manly strain, soothed 
 the audience t, 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 bow- 
 string round her neck. The audience 
 
 Yet Shore could tell 
 
 And Valiere cursed 
 
 " Our friend (Ue adds in a subsequent note, 
 addressed to Mr. Boswell on this subject) 
 chose Vane, who was far from bein? vvell- 
 look'd, and Sedley, who was so ug-Ty thvit 
 Charles 11. said— his biotiier had her by way 
 of penance." M. 
 
 * Muhomet was in fact played by Mr. Barrv, 
 and I>emetrins by Mr. Garrick : but probably 
 at this time the parts were not yet cast. 
 
 t The expression used by Dr. Adams was 
 " soothed." 1 should rather think tlie au- 
 dience was awed bv 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 : 
 Shoulil partial catcalls all his hopes confound, 
 He bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound ; 
 Should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, 
 He rolls no thunders 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 rneck address, the suppliant 
 
 strain, 
 With merit needless, and without it vain : 
 In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust; 
 Ye fops, be silent ; and yt wits, be just !" 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 55 
 
 cried out 'Murder! Murder If* She 
 several times attempted to speak ; but in 
 vain. At last she was obliged to go off 
 the stage alive." This passage was after- 
 wards 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 person then so eminent in the ^^. 
 political world. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the support of such 
 performers as Garrick, Barry, Mrs. Gib- 
 ber, Mrs. Pritchard, and every advantage 
 of dress and decoration, tlie.. tragedy of 
 Irene did not please the publickj. Mr. 
 Garrick's zealcariled it tnrough for nine 
 
 night, so that the authour 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. Robert Dodsley, gave him one hun- 
 dred pounds for the copy, with the usual 
 reservation of the right of one edition. 
 
 I rene, considered as a poetri^js— en- 
 titled to the praise o Tsuperior excellence. 
 Analyzed into parts, it will furnish -it 
 ricTi store of noble sentiments, fine 
 imagery, andTieautifnl language ; but it 
 is dpfipjpnf in g.a.U»og, in that delicate 
 power of touching the human feelings, 
 which is the principal end of the drama !|. 
 Indeed Garrick has complained to me, 
 that Johnson not only had not the faculty 
 of producing the impressions of tragedy, 
 but that he had not the sensibility to 
 perceive them. His great friend, Mr. 
 Walmsley's prediction, that he would 
 
 t This shows how ready modern audiences 
 are to condemn in a new play what they have 
 frequently endured very quietly in an old one. 
 Rowe has made Moneses in Tamerlane die by 
 the bow-string widiout offence. M. 
 
 § 1 know not what Sir John Hawkins means 
 by the cold reception of Irene. [See note, p. 
 M8.] 1 was at the tirst representation, and 
 most of the subsequent, it was much ap- 
 plauded the first night, particularly the speech 
 on lo-morrow. It ran nine nights at least. 
 It did not indeed become a stock-play, hut 
 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 could not bear, though 
 a dramatic poet may stab or slay by hundreds. 
 The bow-string was not a Christian nor an 
 ancient Greek or Roman death. But this 
 offence was removed after die first night, and 
 Irene went off the stage to be strangled.— 
 Many stories were circulated, at the time, of 
 the authour's being observed at the represen- 
 tation to be dissatisfied with some of the 
 speeches and conduct of the play, himself; 
 and, liki! La Fontaine, expressing his disap- 
 probation aloud. B. 
 
 II Aaron Hill (Vol. II. p. 355), in a letter to 
 Mr. Mallet, gives the following account of 
 Irene after having seen it: '• I was at tlie 
 .inomalous Mr. Johnson's benefit, and found 
 the play his proper representative; strong' 
 sense ung raced by sweetness or decorum," 
 
THE LITE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 Wlien asked liow he felt upon the ill 
 success of his tragedy, he replied, " Like 
 the Monumejit ;" meaning that lie con- 
 tinued firm and unmoved as that column. 
 And let it be remembered, as an admo- 
 nition to the genus irritabile of drama- 
 tick writers, that this great man, instead 
 of peevishly complaining of the bad taste 
 of the town, submitted to its decision 
 without a murmur. He had, indeed, 
 upon all occasions, a great deference for 
 the general opinion : " A man (said he) 
 who writes a book thinks himself wiser 
 or wittier than the rest of mankind ; he 
 supposes that he can instruct or amuse 
 them, and the publick, to whom he ap- 
 peals, must, after all, be the judges of his 
 pretensions." 
 
 On occasion of this play being brought 
 upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that 
 as a dramatick authour 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 humor- 
 »)usly 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, indeed, we 
 must allow, has more effect even upon 
 strong minds than one should suppose, 
 withoOt having had the experience of it. 
 His necessary attendance while his play 
 was in rehearsal, and during its perfor- 
 mance, brought him acquainted with 
 many performers of both sexes, which 
 producetl a more favourable opinion of 
 their profession than he had harshly ex- 
 pressed in his Life of Savage. With 
 *()me of them he kept up an acquaintance 
 M-i long as he an<l they lived, and was 
 ever ready to show them acts of kindness. 
 He for a considerable time used to fre- 
 quent the Green Boom, 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 Irom 
 Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied 
 himself this amusement, from considera- 
 tions of rigid virtue; saying, " I'll come 
 no more behind your scenes, David ; for 
 the silk stockings and white bosoms of 
 your actresses excite my amorous pro- 
 pensities." 
 
 In 17-50, he came forth in the character 
 tV>r wh»<i4» lie wa& emiueully quaJiftedj^ a 
 majestick teacher of moral and religious 
 wisdom. The vehicle wliich he chose 
 
 was that of a p eriodical paper, which he 
 knew had been, upon tarmcr occasions, 
 employed with great success. The Tal- 
 ler, Spectator, and Guardian were the 
 last of the kind published 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 instruction would, in some 
 degree, have the advantage of novelty. 
 A few days before the first of his Essays 
 came out, there started another com- 
 petitor for fame in the same form, under 
 the titleof "TheTatler Revived," which, 
 I believe, was "born but to die." John- 
 son was, I think, not very happy in the 
 choice of his title, — " Tlie Rambler ;" 
 which certainly is not suited to a series 
 of grave and moral discourses ; which 
 the Italians have literally, but ludicrously, 
 translated by II Vagabondo ; and wliich 
 has been lately assumed as the denomi- 
 nation of a vehicle of licentious tale?, 
 " The Rambler's Magazine." He gave 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds the following ac- 
 count of its getting this name : ** What 
 must be done, sir, tcill be done. When 
 I was to begin publishing that paper, I 
 was at a loss how to name it. I sat 
 down at night npon my bedside, and 
 resolved that I would not go to sleep till 
 I had fixed its title. The Rambler seemed 
 the best that occurred, and I took it*." 
 
 With what devout and conscientious 
 sentiments this paper was undertaken, is 
 evidenced by the following prayer, which 
 he composed and otfered up on the occa- 
 sion : " Almighty God, the giver of all 
 good things, without whose help all 
 labour is inetFectual, and without whose 
 grace all wisdom is folly : grant, I be- 
 seech 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 : 
 grant this, O Lord, for the sake of thy 
 Son, Jesus Christ. Amen + ." 
 
 The first paper of the Rambler was 
 published on Tuesday the 20lh of March, 
 1749 50; and its authour was enabled to 
 continue it, without interruption, every 
 
 • I have iieanl Dr. Wharton in( ntion, that 
 lie was ar Mr. Kobei t Dndslcy's wiih the late 
 Mr. Moore, and several of his frienrls, coii- 
 si(lcrini>' what should be the name of the 
 pcriodu-al jiaier which Moore had iindei- 
 rakeu, fjarrick proposed the Sallad, whiili, 
 by a curious eoincidence, was afterward!) ap- 
 plied tohinirelfby Goldsmith: 
 
 " Our Garriok's a saliad, for hi him we fee 
 Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltncHs agree .'" 
 
 At last, the company having separated, with- 
 out any thins;: of winch they apfuoved having- 
 l)een offered, DodsUy himself ihouslit of I'he 
 World. 
 t Prayers and MedJtatioi:8, p. a. 
 
JEtm: 41. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 57 
 
 Tuesday and Saturday, till Saturday, the 
 17th of March, 1752*, on which day it 
 closed. Tliis is a strong confirmation of 
 the truth of a remark of his, which I have 
 had occasion to quote elsewhere t, that 
 ** a man may write at any time, if he will 
 set himself doggedly to it ;" for, notwith- 
 standing 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. Catharine Talbot ; No. 97, by Mr. 
 Samuel Richardson, whom he describes 
 in an introductory note as " an authour 
 who has enlarged the knowledge of human 
 nature, and taught the passions to move 
 at the command of virtue ;" and Num- 
 bers 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 .ill the slow attention of 
 literary leisure, were written in haste as 
 the moment pressed, without even being 
 Vpad over by him before they were 
 printed. It can be accounted for only 
 in this way, that b}- reading and medi- 
 tation, and a very close inspection of life, 
 he had accumulated a great fund of inis- 
 cellaneous knowledge, which, by a pecu- 
 liar promptitude of mind, was ever ready 
 at his call, and which he had constant- 
 ly^, accustomed himself to clothe in the 
 most apt and energetick expression. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds once asked him by 
 what means he had attained his extra- 
 ordin;uy accuracy and flow of language. 
 He told him, that he had early laid it 
 down as a tixed rule to do his best on 
 every occasion, and in every company : 
 to impart whatever he knew in the mostf 
 forcible language he could put it in ; and" 
 that by constant practice, and never suf- 
 fering any careless expressions to escape- 
 him, or attempting to deliver his thought^^ 
 without arranging them in the clearest 
 manner, it became habitual to him j. ' 
 
 * This is a mistake, into wliicli the authour 
 was very pardonably led by ilie inaccuracy of 
 Ihe original folio edition of tlie Rambler, in 
 which llic concluding paper of that work is; 
 dated on " Saturday, March 17." But Satur- 
 day was in fact Ihe/oiirleenth of Marcli. — Thif. 
 circumstance, tlioug'ii it may at first appear of 
 very little importance, is yet worth notice; 
 for Mrs. Johnson died on the seventeenth of 
 March. M. 
 
 t Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. 28. 
 
 X Tiie rule which Dr. Johnson observed is 
 sanctioned by tlie authority of the two great 
 writers of antiquity ; *• Ne id quideni lacen- 
 
 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 Jiook, a variety 
 of hints for essays on different subjects. 
 Ke has marked upon the first blank leaf 
 of it, " To the 128th page, collections for 
 the Rambler;" and in another place, 
 " In fifty-two there were seventeen pro- 
 vided ; in 97—21 ; in 190—25." At a 
 subsequent period (probably after the 
 work was finished), he added, ** In ail, 
 taken of provided 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 Spec- 
 tators, wherein he feigns to have dropped 
 his paper of natanda, consisting of a 
 diverting medley of broken sentences and 
 loose hints, which he tells us he had col- 
 lected, and meant to make use of. Much 
 of the same kind is Johnson's Adver- 
 saria^." But the truth is, that there is 
 no resemblance at all between them. 
 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 
 Johnson'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, 4c. 
 
 '* 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. 
 [business] to quiet ; from thoughtfulness 
 to reflect, to piety ; from dissipation to 
 domestic, by impercept. gradat. but the 
 change is certain. l)ial non progredi 
 progress, esse conspicimus. Lookback, 
 consider what was thought at some dist. 
 period. 
 
 ** Hope predom. in youth. Mind not 
 willingly indulges unpleasing thoughts. 
 The world lies all enamelled before him, 
 as a distant prospect sun-gilt |1; — inequa- 
 lities only found by coming to it. Love 
 is to be all joy — children excellent-^ 
 
 duni est, quod eidem Ciceroni placuif, nullum 
 nostrum iisquarn negliffentem es?e sermonem : 
 quicqnid loqucmHr, ubicungue, sit pro sua sci- 
 licet portione per/ectvm." Quinctil. X. 7. M. 
 
 § Ha«kins's Life of Johnson, p. 263. 
 
 I) This most beautiful ima^c of the enchant- 
 ing- delusion of youihfu! prospect has not been 
 used in any of Jahnsou's essays. 
 
58 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1750. 
 
 Fame to be constant — caresses of the 
 great— applauses of the learned — smiles 
 of beauty. 
 
 " Fear of disgrace— Bashfulness — 
 Finds things of less importance. Mis- 
 carriages forgot like excellences ;--if 
 remembered, of no import. Danger of 
 sinking into negligence of reputation; — 
 lest the fear of disgrace destroy activity. 
 
 " Confidence in himself. Long tract 
 of life before him. — No thought of sick- 
 ness. — Embarrassment of affairs. — Dis- 
 traction of family. Publick 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 o^Aers— unsuspecting 
 as unexperienced— imagining himself se- 
 cure against neglect, never imagines they 
 will venture to treat him ill. Ready to 
 trust; expecting to be trusted. Convinced 
 by time of the selfishness, 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 every 
 thing referred to riches — no having fame, 
 honour, influence, without subjection to 
 caprice. 
 
 ** Horace. 
 
 *' 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- 
 nevolence — 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 speci- 
 men : 
 
 ** 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's 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 
 
 * Lib. xil. 96. " Fn Tiircam semuhim om- 
 nium siiorum sttidiorum." M. 
 
 passions. Orb drawn by attraction, rep. 
 \repclled'\ by centrifugal. 
 
 *' Common danger unites by crushing 
 other passions- but they return. Equality 
 hinders compliance. Superiority pro- 
 duces insolence and envy. Too much 
 regard in each to private interest ; — loo 
 little. 
 
 " The mischiefs of private and exclu- 
 sive societies. — The fitness of social at- 
 traction diffused through the whole. The 
 mischiefs of too partial love of our coun- 
 try. Contraction of moral duties. — 0» 
 cJijXoj ou c}:jXof. 
 
 " Every man moves upon his own 
 centre, and therefore repels others from 
 too near a contact, though he may com- 
 ply with some general laws. 
 
 ** Of confederacy with superiours every 
 one knows the inconvenience. With 
 equals, no authority ; — every man his 
 own opinion — his own interest. 
 
 " Man and wife hardly united ; — scarce 
 ever without children. Computation, if 
 two to one against two, how many 
 against five 1 If confederacies were easy 
 — useless ; many oppresses many. If 
 possible only to some, dangerous. Prin- 
 cipum amicifias." 
 
 Here we see the embryo of Number 
 45 of the Adventurer ; and it is a confir- 
 mation of what I shall presently have 
 occasion to mention, 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 remark- 
 able, that those for which he had made 
 no preparation are as rich and as highly 
 finished as those for which the hints were 
 lying by him. It is also to be observed 
 that the papers formed from his hints are • 
 worked up with such strength and ele- 
 gance that we almost lose sight of the 
 liints, which become like " drops in the 
 bucket." Indeed, in several instances, 
 he has made a very slender use of them, 
 so that many of them remain still unap- 
 plied t. 
 
 t Sir John Hawkins has selected from lhi» 
 little collection ol tnateriais, wlial lie calls the 
 " Rudiments of two of the papers of ihe Ram- 
 bler." But he hatj not been able to read the 
 manuscript distinctly. Thus be writes, p. 266, 
 "Sailor's fate any mansioji:" whereas the 
 oripriiial is, " Sailor's life my aversion." He 
 has also transcribe<l the unappropriated hints 
 on fVriters (or bread, in which he deciphers 
 these notable passasres, one in Latin, fatui 
 nonfanim, instead o\ fnmi von fuvta ; Johnson 
 bavini; in bis mind what 1'huanus says of the 
 learned German antiquary and linpuist, Xy- 
 laniler, who, he tells u«. lived in such poverty 
 (bat he was supposed /ami nonfmna scribcrt ; 
 
i^TAT. 41. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 59 
 
 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 the charm of variety ; and the 
 grave and often solemn cast of thinking, 
 which distinguished it from other periodi- 
 cal papers, made it, for some time, not 
 generally liked. So slowly did this excel- 
 lent work, of which twelve editions have 
 now issued from the press, gain upon the 
 world at large, that even in the closing 
 number the anihour says, " I have never 
 been much a favourite of the public*." 
 
 Yet, very soon after its commence- 
 ment, there were who felt and acknow- 
 ledged its uncommon excellence. Verses 
 in its praise appeared in the newspapers; 
 and the editor of the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine mentions, in October, his having 
 received several letters to the same pur- 
 pose from the learned. "The Student, 
 or Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany," 
 
 and another in Frencli, Degente de fate et 
 affame d'argcnt, instevm of Degonte de fame 
 (an old word for revommej et affame d^argettt. 
 The manuscript, being: written in an exceed- 
 inarly small hand, is indeed very liard to read, 
 but it would have been belter to have left 
 blanks than to write nonsense. 
 
 * The Ramhiers certaiuly were little noticed 
 at first. Smart, the poet, first mentioned them 
 to me as excfcllent papers, before 1 had heard 
 any one else speak of them. When I went 
 into Norfolk, in the autumn of 1751, 1 fouiid 
 but one person (the Rev. Mr. Squires, a man 
 of learninar, and a general ^Durchaser of new 
 books), who knew any thing of them. But he 
 had been misinformed concerning the true 
 auihour, for he had been told ^hey were 
 written by a Mr. Johnson of Canterbury, the 
 son of a clergyman who had had a controversy 
 with Benlley ; and who had changed the read- 
 ings of the old ballad entitled Norton I'algate, 
 in lientley's bold style (meo pericnloj, 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, devoir! of boih, who said that the hard 
 words in the Rambler were used bv the 
 autliour tn render his Dictionary indispensa- 
 bly necessary. B. 
 
 [It may not he improper to correct a slight 
 errour in the preceding note, though it does 
 not at all affect the principal object of 
 Dr. Biirncy's remark. The clergyman above 
 alluded to was IMr. Richard Johnson, school- 
 master at Nottingham, who in I717 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 obsertes to me), he has 
 introduced four pages of Englisti 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 achievements of Tom 
 Bostock ; who in a seafight performed prodi- 
 gies of valour. The stanza on which this 
 ingenious writer has exercised his wit, is as 
 follows: 
 
 " Then old Tom Bostock fell to the work. 
 He pray'd like a Christian, but fought like a 
 
 Turk, 
 And cut 'em off all in a Jerk, 
 Wliich nobody can denyi" &c. M.] 
 
 in which Mr. Bonnell Thornton and 
 Mr. ColeiTian were the principal writers, 
 describes it as " a work that exceeds any 
 thing of the kind ever published in this 
 kingdom, some of the Spectators ex- 
 cepted, — if indeed they niay be ex- 
 cepted." And afterwards, *' May the 
 publick favours crown his merits, and 
 may not the English, under the aus- 
 picious reign of George the Second, neg- 
 lect 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 or 
 genius. 
 
 Johnson told me, with an amiable 
 fondness, a little pleasing circumstance 
 relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in 
 whose judgment and taste he had great 
 confidence, said to him, after a few num- 
 bers of the Rainbler had come out, " I 
 thought very well of you before ; but I 
 did not imagine you could have written 
 any thing equal to this." Distant praise, 
 from whatever quarter, is not so delight- 
 ful as that of a wife whom a man loves 
 and esteems. Her approbation may be 
 said to " come home to his bosom;" and 
 being so near, its effect is most sensible 
 and permanent. 
 
 Mr. James Elphinston, 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 
 papers at London. With a laudable zeal 
 at once for the improvement of his coun- 
 trymen, 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 f. 
 
 The following letter written at this 
 time, though not dated, will show how 
 much pleased Johnson was with this pub- 
 lication, and what kindness and regard 
 he had for Mr. Elphinston. 
 
 "to MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON. 
 "dear SIR, [So date.] 
 
 " 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. 
 
 t It was executed in the printing office of 
 Sands, Murray, and Cochran, with uncommon 
 elegance, 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 handsome volumes. It is, unquestion- 
 ablv, the most accurate and beautiful edition 
 of this work; and there being but a small im- 
 pression, it is now become scarce, and sells al 
 a very high price. 
 
60 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I am often, very often ill ; and when 
 I am well am obliged to work : and, 
 indeed, have never much used my- 
 self to punctuality. You, are, however, 
 not to make unkind inferences, when I 
 forbear to reply to your kindness ; for be 
 assured, I never receive a letter from 
 you without great pleasure, and a very 
 virarm sense of your generosity and friend- 
 ship, which I heartily blame myself for 
 not cultivating with 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 encou 
 ragement 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. Ruddiman*, of whom, I hear, 
 that his learning is not his highest excel- 
 lence. I have transcribed the mottos, 
 and returned them, I hope not too late, 
 of which I think many very happily 
 performed. Mr. Cave has put the last 
 in the magazine t> 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 i 
 think of you with regard, when I do not, 
 perhaps, give the proofs which I ought, 
 of being, sir, 
 
 " Your most obliged and 
 " Most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 This year he wrote to the same gen- 
 tleman another letter upon a mournful 
 occasion. 
 
 *'T0 MR. JAMES FXPIIINSTON j. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, September 2 >, 1723. 
 
 " You have, as I find by every kind of 
 
 evidence, lost an excellent mother ; and 
 
 I hope you will not think me incapable 
 
 * Mr. Thomas Riuldiraan, the learned /gram- 
 marian of Scotland, well known for his various 
 excellent works, and for his accurate editions 
 of several anthours. He was aUo a man of a 
 most wcrlhy private character. His zeal for 
 the Royal House of Stuart did not render him 
 less estimahle in Dr. Johnson's eye. 
 
 + If the Magazine here referred to be that 
 for October, 1752 (see Gent. Mapf. vol. xxii. 
 p. 468), then this letter heloners to a later 
 period. If it relates to the Magazine for Sept. 
 noofsee Gent. Mag. vol. xx. p. 406), then it 
 may ne ascribed to the month of October in 
 tliat year, and should have followed the swb- 
 seqiienl letter. M. 
 
 X Mr. James Elphinston, after an active life 
 
 of partaking of 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 I think I do myself 
 honour when I tell you that I read them 
 with tears ; but tears are neither to you 
 nor to mc 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 lament- 
 ing our deprivation. The greatest benefit 
 which one friend can confer upon another 
 is to guard, and excite, and elevate his 
 virtues. This your mother vvill 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 ex- 
 ample 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 con- 
 sider ourselves as acting under the eye of 
 God: yet, surely, there is something 
 pleasing in the belief, that our separation 
 from those whom we love is merely cor- 
 poreal ; 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 pre- 
 sence. 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 hints 
 of soothing recollection, when time shall 
 remove her yet farther from you, and 
 your grief shall be matured to veneration. 
 To this, however painful for the present, 
 I cannot but advise you, as to a source 
 of comfort and satisfaction in the time to 
 come ; for all comfort and all satisfaction 
 is sincerely wished you by, dkar sir, 
 
 " Your most obliged, most obedient, 
 '* And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 .The Rambler has increased in fame as 
 in..age. Soon after its first folio edition 
 was concluded, it was published in six 
 
 spent in the cause of relipion, learning, and 
 virtue, died on the 8lh of October, 1809, in the 
 8sih year of hi> ag^e. 
 
^TAT. 41. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 61 
 
 duodecimo volumes*; and its autliour 
 lived to see ten numerous editions of it 
 ia_l«oiid.on, beside those of Ireland and 
 Scotland. 
 
 ~r profess myself to have ever enter- 
 tained a profound veneration for the 
 astonishing force and vivacity of mind 
 which tlie Rambler exhibits. That John- 
 son had penetration enough to see, and 
 seeing, would not disguise the general 
 misery of man in this state of being, may 
 have given rise to the superficial notion 
 of his being too stern a philosopher. But 
 men of reflection will be sensible that he 
 has given a true representation of human 
 existence, and that he has, at the same 
 time, with a generous benevolence, dis- 
 played every consolation which our state 
 affords us ; not only those arising from 
 the hopes of futurity, but such as may be 
 attained in the immediate progress through 
 life. He has not depressed the soul to 
 despondency and inditference. He has 
 every where inculcated study, labour, 
 and exertion. Na)', he has shown, in a 
 very odious light, a man whose practice 
 is to go about darkening the views of 
 others by perpetual complaints of evil, 
 and awakening those considerations of 
 danger and distress which are, for the 
 most part, lulled into a quiet oblivion. 
 This he has done very strongly in his 
 character of Suspiriust,from which Gold- 
 smith took that of Croaker, in his comedy 
 of " The Good-natured Man," as Johnson 
 told me he acknowledged to him, and 
 which is, indeed, very obvious. 
 
 To point out the numerous subjects 
 which the Rambler treats, with a dignity 
 and perspicuity which are there united 
 in a manner which w-e shall in vain look 
 for any where else, would take up too 
 large a portion of my book, and would, 
 I trust, be superfluous, considering how 
 universally those volumes are now dis- 
 seminated. Even the most condensed 
 and brilliant sentences which they con- 
 tain, and which have very properly been 
 
 * This is not quite accurate. In the Gent. 
 Mag^. for Nov. I7al, while the work was yet 
 proceeding, is an advertisement, announcing 
 that four volumes of the Rambler would 
 speedily be published ; and it is believed that 
 they were published in the next month. The 
 fifth and sixth volumes, with tables of con- 
 tents and translations of the mottos, were 
 published in July 1752, by Payne (the original 
 publisher), three months after the close of the 
 work. 
 
 When the Rambler was collected into vo- 
 lumes, Johnson revised and corrected it 
 tliroughouf. The orijjinal octavo edition not 
 having fallen into Mr. Boswell's hands, he 
 w;is not aware of this circumstance, which has 
 lately been pointed out by Mr. Alexander 
 Chalmers in a new edition of these and various 
 other periodical Essays, under the title of the 
 British Essayists. M. 
 
 t No. 65. 
 
 selected under the name of" Beauties J," 
 are of considerable bulk. But I may V 
 shortly observe that the Rambler fur- / 
 nishes such an assemblage of discourses 
 on practical religion and moral duty, of 
 critical investigations, and allegorical and / 
 oriental tales, that no mind can be thought 
 very deficient that has, by constant study 
 and meditation, assimilated to itself all 
 that may be found there. No. 7, written 
 in Passion-week on abstraction and self- 
 examination, and No. 110, on penitence 
 and the placability of the Divine Nature, 
 cannot be too often read. No. 54, on 
 the effect which the death of a friend 
 should have upon us, though rather too 
 dispiriting, may be occasionally very me- 
 dicinal to the mind. Every one must 
 suppose the writer to have been deeply 
 impressed by a real scene ; but he told 
 me that was not the case ; which shows 
 how well his fancy could conduct him to 
 the " house of mourning." Some of these 
 more solemn papers, 1 doubt not, par- 
 ticularly attracted the notice of Dr. Young, 
 the authour of " The Night Thoughts," 
 of whom my estimation is such as to 
 reckon his applause an honour even to 
 Johnson. I have seen volumes of Dr. 
 Young's copy of the Rambler, in which 
 he has marked the passages which he 
 thought particularly excellent, by folding 
 down a corner of the page ; and such as 
 he rated in a supereminent degree are 
 marked by double folds. I am sorry that 
 some of the volumes are lost. Johnson 
 was pleased when told of the minute 
 attention with which Young had signified 
 his approbation of his Essays. 
 
 I will venture to say that in no writings 
 whatever can be found more barli and 
 steel for the mind, if I may use the 
 expression ; more that can brace and 
 invigorate every manly and noble sen- 
 timent. No. 32, on patience, even under 
 extreme misery, is wonderfully lofty, 
 and as much above the rant of stoicism 
 as the Sun of Revelation is brighter than 
 the twilight of Pagan philosophy. I never 
 read the following sentence without feel- 
 ing my frame thrill : " I think there is 
 some reason for questioning whether the 
 body and mind are not so proportioned 
 that the one can bear all which can be 
 inflicted on the other ; whether virtue 
 cannot stand its ground as long as life, 
 and whether a soul well principled will 
 not be sooner separated than subdued." 
 
 I Dr. Johnson was gratified by seeing this 
 selection, and wrote to Mr. Kearsley, book- 
 seller in Fleet street, the following note: 
 
 '♦ Mr. Johnson sends compliments to Mr. 
 Kearsley, and begs the favour of seeing him 
 as soon as he can. Mr. Kearsley is desired to 
 bring with him the last edition of what he has 
 honoured with the name of Beauties. 
 " May 20, I7e2." 
 
62 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Thoughiaatrncl ion be the predoDiinant 
 purpose of t he Uambler. vet it is en- 
 1 i vened with a-cousiderable.. poition q£ 
 aimisemeint. Nothing can be more er- 
 roneous than the notion which some per- 
 sons have entertained, that Johnson was 
 then a retired authour, ignorant of the 
 world ; and, of consequence, that he 
 wrote only from his imagination, when 
 he described characters and manners. 
 He said to me that before he wrote that 
 work, he had been " running about the 
 world," as he expressed it, more than 
 almost any body ; and I have heard hrm 
 relate, with much satisfaction, that se- 
 veral of the characters in the Rambler 
 were drawn so naturally that when it 
 first circulated in numbers, a club in one 
 of the towns in Essex imagined them- 
 selves to be severally exhibited in it, and 
 were much incensed against a person 
 who, they suspected, had thus made 
 them objects of publick notice : nor were 
 they quieted till authentick assurance was 
 given them that the Rambler was written 
 by a person who had never heard of any 
 one of them. Some of the charHctei:&-are 
 hpliovpfi tf> ><H^?i'~1 Teen ac tuitHy .draw n 
 froniike-iife, particularly that of Prospero 
 from Garj-ick*, v^ho never entirely for- 
 gave its pointed satire. For instances of 
 fertility of fancy, and accurate description 
 of real life, I appeal to No. 19, a man 
 who wanders from one profession to 
 another, with most plausible reasons for 
 every change : No. 34, female fastidious- 
 ness and timorous refinement : No. 82, 
 a virtuoso who has collected curiosities : 
 No. 88, petty modes of entertaining a 
 company, and conciliating kindness : 
 No. 182, fortune-hunting: No. 194, 195, 
 a tutor's account of the follies of his 
 pupil: No. 197, 198, legacy-hunting: 
 He has given a specimen of his nice 
 observation of the mere external appear- 
 ances of life in the following passage in 
 No. 179, against aftectation, that frequent 
 and most disgusting quality: "He that 
 stands to contemplate the crowds that fill 
 the streets of a populous city, will see 
 many passengers, whose air and motions 
 it will be djflicult to behold without con- 
 tempt and laughter; but if he examine 
 what are the appearances that thus pow- 
 erfully excite his risibility, he will find 
 among thetn neither poverty nor disease, 
 
   That of Geli<bis,iQ No. «4, from Professor 
 Coulson (see p. 25 of tliis vol.), and that of 
 Euphues in the same paper, which, with many 
 others, was doutnleRs drawn from the life. 
 EiiphucH, I nnre tliou^lit, might have been 
 intended to represen! either Lor<l Chestei field 
 or Sname Jeinns; but Mr. Bindley, with more 
 probability, rliinks, (bat C<eor(,'e Uiibb Dodiiig- 
 lon, who was remarkable for the bomeiiness 
 of bis person, ami tbe fiatty of his dress, was 
 the person meant under thai character. M. 
 
 nor any involuntary or painful defect. 
 The disposition to derision and insult is 
 awakened by the softness of foppery, the 
 swell of insolence, the liveliness of levity, 
 or the solemnity of grandeur ; by the 
 sprightly trip, the stately stalk, the formal 
 strut, and the lofty mien ; by gestures 
 intended to catch the eye, and by looks 
 elaborately formed as evidences of im- 
 portance." 
 
 Every page of the Rambler shows a 
 mind teeming with classical allusion and 
 poetical imagery : illustrations from other' 
 writers are, upon all occasions, so ready, 
 and mingle so easily in his periods, that 
 the whole appears of one uniform vivid 
 texture. 
 
 The style of this work has been cen- 
 sured by some shallow criticks as in- 
 volved and turgid, and abounding with 
 antiquated and hard words. So ill- 
 founded is the first part of this objection 
 that I will challenge all who may honour 
 this book with a perusal, to point out any 
 English writer whose language conveys 
 his meaning with equal force and per- 
 spicuity. It must, indeed, be allowed 
 that the structure of his sentences is ex- 
 panded, and often has somewhat of the 
 inversion of Latin ; and that he delighted 
 to express familiar thoughts in philoso- 
 phical language ; being in this the reverse 
 of Socrates, who, it is said, reduced phi- 
 losophy to the simplicity of common life. 
 But let us attend to what he himself says 
 in his concluding paper: "When com- 
 mon words were less pleasing to the eaj', 
 or less distinct in their signification, J 
 have familiarized the terms of philosophy, 
 by applying them to popular ideas f." 
 "And as to the second part of this objec- 
 tion, 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 characterized, 
 are actually to be found in it ; I am sure, 
 not the proportion of one to each paptr. 
 This idle charge has been echoed fronv 
 one babbler to another, who have con- 
 founded Johnson's Essays with John- 
 son's Dictionary ; and because he thought 
 it right in a Lexicon of our language 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 of them 
 have been adopted by him unnecessarily 
 may, perhaps, be allowe^l ; but in general 
 they are evidently au advantage, for 
 without them his stately ideas would be 
 confined and crajnped. " He that thinks 
 
 f Yet his style did not escape the barmlcrs 
 shafts of pleasaut bumnur: for die iufirenious 
 Bunnell Thornton publi.-<bed a mock Rimbibr 
 in the Drury-lane Join nal. 
 
^TAT. 41. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 63 
 
 with more extent than another will want 
 words of larger meaning*." He once 
 told me that he had formed his style upon 
 that of Sir William Temple, and upon 
 Chambers's Proposal for his Dictionary f. 
 He certainly was mistaken ; or if he 
 imagined at first that he was imitating 
 Temple, he was very unsuccessful; for 
 nothing can be more unlike than the 
 simplicity of Temple, and the richness 
 of Johnson. Their styles diflfer 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 cha- 
 racterized by a Great Personage, whose 
 authority, were I to name him, would 
 stamp a reverence on the opinion. 
 
 We may, with the utmost propriety, 
 apply to his learned style that passage of 
 Horace, a part of which he has taken as 
 the motto to his Dictionary : 
 " Cum lahulis animurn censoris sumet honesli ; 
 Audebit gucecumque parum spitndorts habe- 
 
 bnnl 
 Et sine pondere ernut, ct honore indigna 
 
 Verba movere loco, qnanivis invita recedant, 
 Et versentur aahuc intra penetralia Vcstce. 
 Obsctiruta din popnlo bonus ernet, atque 
 Proferet in Incem s/jeciosa vocabuta rernrn, 
 Q.ii<e priscis memorala Catonibus atque Ce- 
 
 thegis, 
 Nunc silns in/or mis prew it et descrtavetvslas : 
 Adiciscet nov'i, qnee genilor produxerit uaus : 
 Vehemens, et liqnidus, pnroque sintillimus 
 
 anini, 
 Fundet opes Latiumqiie beabit divile livgua%. " 
 To so great a master of thinking, to one 
 of such vast and various knowledge as 
 Johnson, might have been allowed a 
 liberal indulgence of that licence which 
 Horace claims in another place : 
 
 " Si forte necesse est 
 
 Indiciis monstrare recenlibus abdita rerttin, 
 Fivgere cinclutis non exaudita Cethegis 
 Conlinget, dabiturqne liccntia snmpta pu- 
 
 dentcr : 
 El novajictuque nuper habcbunt verba fideni, si 
 Grceeofonte cadant, parce delorla. Quid aulem 
 Cuecilio Plautoqut dabit lianianns, adetnptum 
 Virgilio Varioque? Ego cur, acqnirere pauca 
 Si possum, iuoidear ,• eum lingua Catonis et 
 
 Sermonem palrium ditaverit, et nova rerum 
 Nomina prolulerii .' Licnit, scmperqne licebit 
 Signnlujn pr<estnte nota producere nomeu §." 
 
 » Idler, No. 70. 
 
 t The paper here alluded to was, I believe, 
 Ciianibers's Proposal for a second and im- 
 proved edilioa of hi> Dictionary, which, I 
 think, appeared in 1738. This I'roposal was 
 
 Srobably niciiculation in 1737, when Johnson 
 rst ranie to London. M 
 ; Horat. IJpist. Lib. ii, Epist. 2. 
 § Herat. Ds Arte Foelica. 
 
 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 oflTended 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 diflerent from 
 their established meaning, and those fre- 
 quently very fantastical. 
 
 Sir Thomas Brown, whose life Johnson 
 wrote, was remarkably fond of Anglo- 
 Latin diction ; and to his example we 
 are to ascribe Johnson's sometimes in- 
 dulging himself in this kind of phraseo- 
 logy II . Johnson's com prehension of mind 
 was the mould for his language. Had 
 his conceptions been narrower, his ex- 
 pression would have been easier. His 
 sentences have a dignified march ; and, 
 it is certain that his example has given a 
 general elevation to the language of his 
 country, for many of our best writers 
 have approached very near to him ; and, 
 from the influence which he has had upon 
 our composition, scarcely any thing 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 : 
 
 " My nat ure's^iftsordain'd mankind to ru le , 
 He>-lik £ a 1 many torm'd Tiis Drilliant sch QpJ ; 
 And tang 111 congenial spirits to excel, 
 While fro in his iips impressive wisdom fell. 
 Our boasted Goldsmith felt the sovereign 
 
 sway; 
 From him derived the sweet, yet nervous lav. 
 To Fame's proud cliff he bade our RaffaeUe 
 
 rise : 
 Hence Re>nolds' pen with Reynolds' pencil 
 
 vies. 
 With Johnson's flame melodious Barney glows. 
 While the grand strain in smoother cadence 
 
 flows. 
 And you, Malone, to critick learning dear, 
 Correct and elegant, refined though clear. 
 By studying him, acquired tbat classick taste 
 Which higli in Shakspeare's fane thy statue 
 
 placed. 
 Near Johnson Sieevens stands, on scenick 
 
 ground, 
 Acute, laborious, fertile, and profound. 
 Ingenious Hawkesworth to this school weo^e. 
 And scarce the pupil from the tutor know. 
 
 II The observation of his having imitated 
 Sir Thomau brown has been made by many 
 people; and lately it has been insisted on, 
 and illustrated by a variety of qnotations^from 
 Brown, in one of the popular Essays written 
 by the Reverend Mr. Knox, master of Tun- 
 bridge school, whom i have set down in my 
 list of those who have sometimes not iiusuc- 
 cessfuUy imitattd Dr. Johnson's style. 
 
64 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1750. 
 
 Ht.MC eiirly parts accomplishM Jones sublimes, 
 And science blends with Asia's lofty rhymes: 
 Harmonious Jones ! who in his splendid strains 
 Sing-s Cimdeo's sports, on Agra's flowery 
 
 plains, 
 In Hindu fictions while we fondly trace 
 Love and the Mnses, deck'd with Attick grace. 
 Amiil these names can Bosweil be forgot, 
 Scarce by Norih Britons now esteem'd a 
 
 Scot * } 
 Who to the sage devoted from his youth. 
 Imbibed from him ilie sacred love of truth ; 
 The keen research, the exercise of mind, 
 And tiiat best art, the art to'know mankind.— 
 Nor ^"fl^ ^''^ Piipr^^v rnnflnpd alone 
 Tofneod&^roiimr^ throne; 
 
 lU.hi^ienceiimlElm£rove^ ^ir lettered id e, 
 
 As Nile's proiid waves, swoln from their oozy 
 
 bed, 
 First o'er the neighbouring meads majeslick 
 spread; ' [pand, 
 
 Till gathering' force, they more and more ex- 
 And with new virtue fertilise the land." 
 
 Johnson's language, however, must be 
 allowed to be too masculine for the deli- 
 cate gentleness of female writing. His 
 l adies, tlierefoi-e , seem strangelyjbrmal, 
 eveiiJL^jndicuT^}^ denomi- 
 
 nated by the names which he has given 
 them, as Misella, Zozima, Properantia, 
 Rhodoclia. 
 
 It has of late been the fashion to com- 
 pare 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 
 
 Sose may be balanced like the poetry of 
 ryden 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 com- 
 panion is talking to them ; so that he 
 insinuates his sentiments and taste into 
 their minds by an imperceptible influence. 
 J ^uison writt^^ like a teacher . He dic- 
 tates to his readers as it from an aca- 
 demical 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 tirst, but, by degrees, 
 
 * The following observation in Mr. Boswell's 
 Journal of a Tour to the. Hebrides may suf- 
 ficiently account for that g-fcn(l*-man's beinff 
 " now scarcely esteemed a Scot" by many of 
 his countrymen : •' If he [Ur. Johnson] was 
 particularly prejudiced against the Scots, it 
 was because they were more in his way ; be- 
 cause he thonsfht 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." iVJr. 
 Boswell, indeed, is so free from national pre- 
 judices that he might with equal propriety 
 have been de.-cribed as— 
 " Scarce by South Britons now esteem'd a 
 Scot." 
 
 COURTENAV. 
 
 is highly relislied ; and such is the melody 
 of his periods,*§"o much do they captivate 
 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 ex- 
 cellence. But let us not ungratefully 
 undervalue that beautiful style, which 
 has pleasingly conveyed to us much in- 
 struction and entertainment. Though 
 comparatively weak, opposed to John- 
 son's Herculean vigour, let us not call it 
 positively feeble. Let us remember the 
 character of his style, as given by John- 
 son himself: "What he attempted, he 
 performed ; he is never feeble, and he 
 did not wish to be energetick ; he is never 
 rapid, and he never stagnates. His sen- 
 tences have neither studied amplitude, 
 nor affected brevity : his periods, though 
 not diligently rounded, are voluble and 
 easy N 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 j." 
 
 Though the Ra mbler was got con cluded 
 ti ll the year ll^ ^l shall, under this year, 
 say all that 1 have to observe upon it. 
 Some of the translations of the mottoes 
 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 translated by a Mr. /'. 
 Lewis, of whom I never heard more, 
 except that Johnson thus described him 
 to Mr. Malone : " Sir, he lived in Lon- 
 don, and hung loose upon society §." The 
 
 t When Johnson showed me a proof sheet 
 of the character of Addison, in which lie so 
 highly extols his style, 1 could not help ob- 
 serving, that it had not been his own model, 
 as no two styles could difier more from each 
 other.— "Sir, Addison had his style, and I 
 have mine."— When 1 ventured to nsk him, 
 whether the difl'erenc.e did not consist in this, 
 that Addison's style was full of idioms, cullo- 
 quial phrases, and proverbs : and his own 
 more strictly grammatical, and free from such 
 phraseolo":y and modes of speech as can never 
 be literally translated or understood by fo- 
 reigners: he allowed the discrimination to be 
 just. Let any one who doubts it try to trans- 
 late one of Addison's Spectators into Latin, 
 French, or Italian; and though so easy, fami- 
 liar, 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 Ilambler, 
 Adventurer, or Idler of Johnson, would fall 
 into any classical or European language, as 
 easily as if it had been originally conceived 
 in it.— BuRNEY. 
 
 J I shall probably, in another work, maintain 
 the merit of Addison's poetry, which has been 
 very unjustly depreciated. 
 
 § In the Gentlem.in's Magazine for October, 
 1732, p. 4(56, he Is styled '* the llev. Francis 
 Lewis, of Chiswirk." Lord Macartney, at my 
 request, made some inquiry concerning him a"t 
 that place, but no intelligence was obtained. 
 
i^TAT. 41. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 G5 
 
 concluding paper of his Rambler is at 
 once dignified and patlietick. I cannot, 
 however, but wisli that he had not ended 
 it witli an unnecessary Greek verse, 
 translated also into an English couplet*. 
 It is too much like the conceit of those 
 draniatick poets, who used to conclude 
 each act with a rhyme ; and the expres- 
 sion in the first line of liis couplet, " Ce- 
 lestial powers," though proper in Pagan 
 poetry, is ill suited to Christianity, with 
 " a conformity " to which he consoles 
 himself. How much better would it 
 have been, to have ended with the prose 
 sentence " 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 en- 
 gaged in preparing anedition of Ralegh's 
 smaller pieces, Dr. Johnson wrote the 
 following letter to that gentleman : 
 
 " TO DR. BIKCH. 
 ** SIR, Gougli Square, May 19, 1730. 
 
 " Knowing that you are now preparing 
 ,to favour the publick with a new edition 
 " of Ralegh's miscellaneous pieces, 1 have 
 taken the liberty to send you a Manu- 
 script, 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 per- 
 son f, to recommend it to the booksellers. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam, Johnson." 
 His just abhojji:jice of Milton's poli- 
 tical notions was _ ever strono;^^ But this 
 did not prevent his w arm admiration of 
 M ilton's great poeticaE iD£iit^ to winch 
 h'Cnas none illustrious justice, beyond all 
 who have written upon the subject. And 
 this year he not only wrote a Prologue, 
 which was spoken by Mr. Garrick before 
 the acting of Comns 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 published 
 the following letter in the " General Ad- 
 vertiser," 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 
 
 * Not in the original edition, in folio. M. 
 t Mrs. Williams i» probably the person meant. 
 
 poet, many, who would, perhaps, have 
 contributed to starve him when alive, 
 have heaped expensive pageants upon 
 his grave J. 
 
 " It must, indeed, be confessed, that 
 this method of becoming known to pos- 
 terity with honour is peculiar to the great 
 or at least to the wealthy ; but an oppor- 
 tunity now offers for almost every indi- 
 vidual to secure the praise of paying a 
 just regard to the illustrious dead, united 
 with the pleasure of doing good to the 
 living. To assist industrious indigence, 
 struggling with distress and debilitated 
 by age, is a display of virtue, and au 
 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 enter- 
 tainment, for the benefit of his living 
 remains, for the exercise of their own 
 virtue, the increase of their reputation, 
 and the pleasing consciousness of doing 
 good, should appear at Drury Lane The- 
 atre to-morrow, April 5, when Comus 
 will be performed for the benefit of 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, granddaughter to 
 the authour§, and the only surviving 
 branch of his family. 
 
 " N. B. There will be a new prologue 
 on the occasion, written by the authour 
 of Irene, and spoken by Mr. Garrick : 
 and, by particular desire, there will be 
 added to the Masque a dramatick satire, 
 called Lethe, in which Mr. Garrick will 
 perform." 
 
 In 1751 we are to consider him as 
 carrying on both his Dictionary and 
 Rambler. But he also wrote " The T^j fc 
 of Cheyneli"(^aj in the miscellany called 
 ""The Student ;" and the Reverend Dr. 
 Douglas having with uncommon acute- 
 ness clearly detected a gross forgery and 
 imposition upon the publick 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. Douglas, acknowledging 
 his fraud in terms of suitable contrition ||. 
 
 X Alluding' probably to Mr. Auditor Benson. 
 See the Duiiciad, b. iv. M. 
 
 § Mrs. Elizabeth Foster died May 9, 1754. 
 
 II Lauder renewed his attempts on Milton's 
 rharacter, in 1754, in a pamphlet entitled, 
 " The Grand Impostor det«rled, or Milton 
 convicted of Forgery against King Charles I. j" 
 which was reviewed, probably by Johnson, in 
 the Gent. Mag. 1754, p. 97. A. C— Lauder 
 afterwards went toBarbadoes, where he died 
 very miserably about the year 1771. M. 
 
 Lest there should be any person, at any 
 F 
 
CG 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 This extraordinary attempt of Lauder 
 was no sudden eftort. He liad brooded 
 over it for many years : and to this liour 
 It is uncertain what liis principal motive 
 was, unless it were a vain notion of his 
 superiority, in being able, by whatever 
 means, to deceive mankind. To effect 
 this, he produced certain passages from 
 Grotius, Masenius, and others, which 
 had a faint resemblance to some parts of 
 the ** Paradise Lost." In these he inter- 
 polated some fragments of Hog's Latin 
 translation of that poem, alledging that 
 the mass thus fabricated was the archetype 
 from which Milton copied. These fabri- 
 cations he published from time to time 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine ; and, ex- 
 ulting in his fancied success, he in 1750 
 ventured to collect them iiUo a pamphlet, 
 entitled '* An Essay on Milton's Use and 
 Imitation 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 subscrip- 
 tion for the relief of a granddaughter of 
 Milton, of whom he thus speaks : " It is 
 yet in the power of a great people to 
 reward the poet whose name they boast, 
 and from their alliance to whose genius 
 they claim some kind of superiority to 
 every olhor nation of the earth ; that 
 poet, whose works may possibly be read 
 when every other monument of British 
 Lvcatness shall be obliterated ; to reward 
 him, not with pictures, or with medals, 
 which, if he 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 the argument ; 
 and seemed to exult in a persuasion, that 
 
 future period, ahsiinl enough to suspect that 
 Julinson was a partaker in Laudei's fraud, or 
 had any knowledge of it, when lie assisted 
 him with his masterly pen, it is proper i;eie 
 to quoie the words of Dr. Douglas, now Hisliop 
 of Salisbury, at the time when he deticted tlu; 
 imposition. '♦ It is to be hoped, nay ii is ex 
 jffcted, that the elegant and nervous writer, 
 vthose ,{udic:oiis seniinients and inimitable 
 style poMit out the authour of Lauder's Preface 
 and Po>t>-cript, will no longer allow one to 
 plume hiiusilf with his ft alherSf who appear- 
 eth so liitle to deserve'assistanre: an assist- 
 ance which I am persuaded would never have 
 been communicated, had therp been the least 
 suspicion of lho«e facts which 1 have been llie 
 innliunient of conveying to the world in ihe.<e 
 Pheeis." MiUon no Plagiary, 2d edit. p. 78. And 
 his Lord^hip lias been pleased now in authorize 
 me to say, in the strongest manner, iliat there 
 is no ground whatever for any untavour.tblc 
 reflection against Dr. Johnson, who exprcssi'd 
 llie strongest inditjnatioii against Lauder. 
 
 the reputation of Milton was likely to 
 suffer by this discovery. That he was not 
 privy to the imposture, I am well per- 
 suaded ; that he wished well to the argu- 
 ment may be inferred from the Preface, 
 which indubitably was written by John- 
 son." 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 per- 
 suasion that the great poet's reputation 
 was likely to suffer by it? This is an in- 
 consistency of which Johnson was inca- 
 pable ; nor can any thing more be fairly 
 inferred from the Preface than that John- 
 son, who was alike distinguished for 
 ardent curiosity and love of truth, was 
 pleased with an investigation by which 
 both were gratified. That he was actuated 
 by these motives, and certainly by no 
 unworthy desire to depreciate our great 
 epick poet, is evident from his ow n words : 
 for, after mentioning the general zeal of 
 men of genius and literature, '* to advance 
 the honour and distinguish the beauties 
 of Paradise Lost," he says, " An)ong the 
 inquiries to w hich this ardour of criticism 
 has naturally given occasion, none is 
 more obscure in itself, or more worthy of 
 rational curiosity, than a retrospect of the 
 progress of this mighty genius in the con- 
 struction of his work ; a view of the 
 fabrick gradually rising, perhaps, fiom 
 small beginnings, 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 wa« 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 lan- 
 guage of one who wished to blast the 
 laurels of Milton? • 
 
 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 pliysician, and a woman of more 
 than ordinary talents and literature, 
 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. Johnson lived ; and, 
 after her death, having come under his 
 
 * «' Proposals [written evidently hv JoJm- 
 son] for printing the Admnus Ixul of (."rotiiis, 
 with a Translation mid No'i-s by \Vm. Lau- 
 der, A. M." Gent. Mat. 1747, vo!. 17, p. 404. M. 
 
^fAT. 42. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 C7 
 
 roof in order to have an operation upon 
 her eyes performed with more comfort 
 to her than in lodgings, she had an apart- 
 ment from him during the rest of her life, 
 at all times when he had a house. 
 
 In 1752 he was almost entirely occupied 
 with his Dictionary. The last paper of 
 his Rambler was published March 2*, 
 this year ; after which, there was a ces- 
 sation for some time of any exertion of 
 his talents as an essayist. But, in the same 
 'year, Dr. Hawkesworth, who was his 
 warm admirer, and a studious imitator of 
 his style, and then lived in great intimacy 
 with him, began a periodical paper, en- 
 titled, " The Adventurer," in connection 
 with other gentlemen, one of whom was 
 Johnson's much loved friend. Dr. Ba- 
 thurst ; and, without doubt, they received 
 many valuable hints from his conversa- 
 tion, most of his friends having been so 
 assisted in the course of their works. 
 
 That there should be a suspension of 
 his literary labours during part of the 
 year 1752 will not seem strange, when it 
 is considered that soon after closing his 
 Rambler, he suffered a loss whieli, there 
 can be no donbt, atfected him with the 
 deepest distress. For on the 17th of 
 March, O. S. his wifo dJPd. Why Sir 
 John Hawkins should unwarrantably take 
 upon him even to suppose that Jolmson's 
 fondness for her was dissembled (meaning 
 simulated or assumed), aud to assert, that 
 if it was not the case, " it was a lesson 
 he had learned by rote," I cannot con- 
 ceive ; unless it proceeded from a want 
 of similar feelings in his own breast. To 
 argue from her being much older than 
 Johnson, or any other circumstances, that 
 he could not really love her, is absurd ; 
 for love is not a subject of reasoning, but 
 of feeling, and therefore there are no 
 common principles upon which one can 
 persuade another concerning it. Every 
 man feels for himself, and knows Low he 
 is affected by particular qualities in the 
 person he admires, the impressions of 
 which are too minute and delicate to be 
 substantiated in language. 
 
 The following very solemn and affect- 
 
 * Here the authour's memory failed him, 
 for, according to the account Riven him in a 
 former paj^e '(^ea p. 57;, we should here read 
 Marcli 17 ; hut in truth, as lias heen already 
 observed, the Ranihler closed on Saturday the 
 fourteenth of March ; at which time Mrs. John- 
 son was near htr end, for she died on the 
 following Tuesday, March 17. Had the con- 
 cluding' paper of that work been written on 
 tlie day of her death, it would have been still 
 nioie extraordinary than it is, considering the 
 extreme ifiief into which the aiithonr was 
 plunged by that event.— The melancholy cast 
 of that concluding essay is sufficiently ac 
 counted for by the situation of Mrs. Johnson 
 at the time it was written; and her death 
 three days afterwards put an end to this 
 paper. M, 
 
 ing prayer was found after Dr. Johnson's 
 decease, by his servant, Mr. Francis 
 Barber, who delivered it to my worthy 
 friend the Reverend Mr. Strahan, Vicar 
 of Islington, who at my earnest request 
 has obligingly favoured me with a copy 
 of it, which he and I compared with the 
 original. I present it to the world as an 
 undoubted proof of a circumstance in the 
 character of my illustrious friend, which, 
 though some, whose hard minds I never 
 shall envy, may attack as superstitious, 
 will, I am sure, endear him more to num- 
 bers of good men. I have an additional, 
 and that a personal motive for presenting 
 it, because it sanctions what I myself 
 have always maintained and am fond to 
 indulge : 
 
 ** O Lord ! Governour of heaven and 
 earth, in whose hands are embodied and 
 departed spirits, if thou hast ordained the 
 souls of the dead to minister to the living, 
 and appointed my departed wife to have 
 care of me, grant that I may enjoy the 
 good effects of her attention and minis- 
 tration, whether exercised by appearance, 
 impulses, dreams, or in any other manner 
 agreeable to thy Government. Forgive 
 my presumption, enlighten my igno- 
 rance, and, however meaner agents are 
 employed, grant me the blessed influences 
 of thy Holy Spirit, through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. Amen." 
 
 What actually followed upon this most 
 interesting piece of devotion by Johnson, 
 we are not informed ; but I, whom it has 
 pleased God to affiict in a similar' man- 
 ner to that which occasioned it, have 
 certain experience of benignant commu- 
 nication by dreams. 
 
 That his love for his wife was one of 
 the most ardent kind, and, during the 
 long period of fifty years, was unimpaired 
 by the lapse of time, is evident from 
 various passages in the series of his 
 Prayers and Meditations, published by 
 the Reverend Mr. Strahan, as well ae 
 from other memorials, two of which I 
 select, as strongly marking the tenderness 
 and sensibility of his mind. 
 
 " March 28, 1753. I keep this day as 
 the anniversary of my Tetty's death, with 
 prayer and tears in the morning. In the 
 evening I prayed for her conditionally, 
 if it were lawful." 
 
 ** April 23, 1753. I know not whether 
 I do not too much indulge the vain long- 
 ings of affection ; but 1 hope they in- 
 tenerate my heart, and that, when I die 
 like my Tetty, this affection will be ac- 
 knowledged in a happy interview, and 
 that in the mean time I am incited by it 
 to piety. I will, however, not deviate 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 too much from common and received 
 methods of devotion." 
 
 Her wedding ring, when she became 
 
 his wife, was, after her death, preserved 
 
 by him, as long as he lived, with an 
 
 affectionate care, in a little ronnd wooden 
 
 box, in the inside of which he pasted a 
 
 slip of paper, thus inscribed by him in 
 
 fair characters, as follows : 
 
 " Eheu > 
 
 Eliz, Johnson, 
 
 Nupta Jnl. 9° 1736. 
 
 Mortua ehiu! 
 
 Mart. 17° 1752. 
 
 After his death, Mr. Francis Barber, 
 his faithful servant, and residuary legatee, 
 offered this memorial of tenderness to 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter, Mrs. Johnson's daugh- 
 ter; but she having declined to accept of 
 it, he had it enameled as a mourning ring 
 for his old master, and presented it to his 
 wife, Mrs. Barber, who now has it. 
 
 The state of mind in which a man must 
 be upon the death of a woman he sincerely 
 loves, had been in his contemplation for 
 many years before. In his Irene, we find 
 the following fervent and tender speech 
 of Demetrius, addressed to his Aspasia : 
 
 ♦' From those bright regions of eternal day. 
 Where now thou shinesi among thy fellow 
 
 saints, 
 ArrayM in purer light, look down on me! 
 In pleasing visions and assuasive dreams, 
 O ! sooth my soul, and teach me how to lose 
 
 ihee." 
 
 I have, indeed, been told by Mrs. Des- 
 moulins, who, before her marriage, lived 
 for some time with Mrs. Johnson at 
 Hampstead, that she indulged herself in 
 country air and nice living, at an unsuit- 
 able expense, while her husband was 
 drudging in the smoke of London, and 
 that she by no means treated him with 
 that complacency which is the most en- 
 gaging quality in a wife. But all this is 
 perfectly compatible with his fondness 
 for her, especially when it is remembered 
 that he had a high opinion of her under- 
 standirfg, and that the impressions which 
 her beauty, real or imaginary, had ori- 
 ginally made upon his fancy, being con- 
 tinued by habit, had not been eifaced, 
 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, expressed grief 
 in the strongest manner he had ever read : 
 so that it is much to be regretted it has 
 not been preserved*. The letter was 
 
 * In ihe Gentleman's Magazine for Fe- 
 bruary, 1794 Cp. 100), was printed a letter 
 pretending to be that written by Johnson on 
 the death of his wife. But it \i merely a 
 transcript of the 4l8t number of" The Idler." 
 A Hclilious date, March 17, 17S1, O. S. was 
 
 '"^1 
 
 brought to Dr. Taylor, at his house in 
 the Cloisters, Westminster, about three 
 in the morning; and as it signified an 
 earnest desire to see him, he got up, and 
 went to Johnson as soon as he was dressed, 
 and found him in tears and in extreme 
 agitation. After being a little while to- 
 gether, Johnson requested him to join 
 with him in prayer. He then prayed 
 extempore, as did Dr. Taylor ; and thus 
 by means of that piety which was ever 
 his primary object, his troubled mind 
 was, in some degree, soothed and com- 
 posed. 
 The next day he wrote as follows : 
 
 '* TO THE REVEREND DR. TAYLOR. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Let me have yonr company and in- 
 struction. Do not live away from me. 
 My distress is great. 
 
 " Pray desire Mrs. Taylor to inform 
 me what mourning I should buy for my 
 mother and Miss Porter, and bring a note 
 in writing with yon. 
 
 ** Remember me in your prayers, for 
 vain is the help of man. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, &c. 
 
 *• Sam. Johnson.'* 
 
 " March 18, 1752.'' 
 
 That his sufferings upon the death .o£- 
 his wife were severe," t)ey'ona 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 ag- 
 gravated by the melancholy inherent in 
 his constitution ; and although he pro- 
 bably 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 
 
 added by some person, previously to this 
 paper's being sent to the publisher ofthat 
 miscellany, to give a colour to this decep- 
 tion. M. 
 
 t Francis Barber was bom in Jamaica, and 
 was brought to Enarland in 1750 by Colonel 
 Bathurst," father of Johnson's very intimate 
 friend. Dr. Baihurst. He 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, an<l 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 differ- 
 ence with his master, he went and served 
 an apothecary in Cheapside, but still visited 
 Dr. Johnson occasionally ; in anolher, 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 Northamptonshire, that he might 
 have the advantage of some learning. So 
 early, and so lasting a connection was there 
 between Dr. Johnson and this humble friend. 
 
Mr AT. 43. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOxV. 
 
 69 
 
 more painful to him than ever, he might 
 very naturally, after her death, be ten- 
 derly disposed to charge himself with 
 slight omissions and offences, the sense 
 of which would give him much uneasi- 
 ness*. Accordingly we find, about a year 
 after her decease, that he thus addressed 
 the supreme Being : '* O Lord, who 
 givest the grace of repentance, and 
 hearest the prayers of the penitent, grant 
 that by true contrition I may obtain for- 
 giveness of all the sins committed, and 
 of all duties neglected, in my union with 
 the wife whom thou hast taken from me : 
 for the neglect of joint devotion, patient 
 exhortation, and mild instruction f." The 
 kindness of his heart, notwithstanding the 
 impetuosity of his temper, is well known 
 to his friends ; and I cannot trace the 
 smallest foundation for the following dark 
 and uncharitable assertion by Sir John 
 Hawkins : " The apparition of his de- 
 parted wife was altogether of the terrifick 
 kind, and hardly afforded him a hope that 
 she was in a state of happiness j." That 
 he, in conformity with the opinions 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, ap- 
 pears, I think, unquestionably from his 
 devotions § : " And, O Lord, so far as it 
 may be lawful in me, I commend to thy 
 fatherly goodness the soul of my departed 
 wife; beseeching thee io grant her what- 
 ever is best in her present state, and 
 finally to receive her to eternal happi- 
 ness^," But this state has not been 
 looked upon with horrour, but only as 
 less gracious. 
 
 He deposited the remains of Mrs, John- 
 son in the church of Bromley in Kentif, 
 to which he was probably led by the 
 residence of his friend Hawkcsworth at 
 that place. The funeral sermon which 
 he composed for her, which was never 
 
 + Prayers and Meditations, p. 19. 
 X Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 316. 
 § II does not appear that Johnson was fully 
 persuaded that there was a middle stale : hi^ 
 pra\eis bein^only conditional, i. e. if such a 
 state existed. M. 
 II Prayers and Meditations, p. 20. 
 ^ The followint? epitaph was written by 
 Johnson, and inscribed on her tombstone, in 
 the church of Bromley : 
 
 Hie condunlur reliquise 
 
 ELIZABETHS 
 
 Antiqua Jarvisiorum gente, 
 
 Peatlingie, apud Leicestrienses, ortse; 
 
 lormosaej cultse, ingeniosae, piae; 
 
 Uxoris, primis nupiiis, Henrici Porter, 
 
 Secundis, Samuelis Johnson ; 
 
 Qui muUnm amatam, diuque detletam 
 
 Hoc lapide contexit. 
 
 Ohiit Londini, Mense Matt. 
 
 A D. MDCCLII. 
 
 preached, but having been given to Dr. 
 Taylor, has been published since his 
 death, is a performance 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 written in such an agitation of 
 mind, and in the short interval between 
 her death and burial, it cannot be read 
 without wonder. 
 
 From Mr. Francis Barber I have had 
 the following authentick and artless ac- 
 count 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 writ- 
 ten for him, used to come about him. 
 He had then little for himself, but fre- 
 quently 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 generally 
 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. 
 Havvkesworth, Mr. Ryland, merchant on 
 Tower Hill, Mrs. Masters, the poetess, 
 who lived with Mr. Cave, Mrs. Carter, 
 and sometimes Mrs. Macauley ; also 
 Mrs. Gardener, 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 Pa- 
 ternoster Row, booksellers; Mr. Strahan, 
 the printer ; the Earl of Orrery, Lord 
 Southwell, Mr. Garrick." 
 
 Many are, no doubt, omitted in this 
 catalogue of his friends, and in particular 
 his humble friend Mr. Robert Levet, an 
 obscure practiser in physick amongst the 
 lower people, his fees being sometimes 
 very small sums, sometimes whatever 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 Marylebone. It 
 appears from Johnson's diary that their 
 
 * Dr. Bathurst, though a physician of no 
 inconsi<lerable 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 ail who knew 
 him, fell a sacrifice to iFie destructive climate, 
 in the expedition against the Havannah. 
 Mr. Lans;ton recollects the following passage 
 in a letter from Dr. Johnson to Mr. LSeaurlerfe: 
 " The Havannah is taken ;— a conquest too 
 flearly obtained; for Bathurst died before it." 
 
 " Vix Priamns tanti totague Trojafuit.^* 
 
ro 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 175%' 
 
 acquaintance commenced about the year 
 1746; and such was Johnson's predilection 
 far him, and fanciful estimation of his 
 moderate abilities, that I have heard him 
 say he should not be satisfied, though at- 
 tended by all the college of physicians, 
 unless he had Mr. Levet 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. Levet 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 .sel- 
 dom said a word while any company 
 was present*. 
 
 The circle of his friends, indeed, at this 
 time was extensive and various, far be- 
 yond what has been generally imagined. 
 To trace his acquaintance with each par- 
 ticular person, if it could be done, would 
 be a task, of which the labour would not 
 be repaid by the advantage. But excep- 
 tions 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 unin- 
 terrupted 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, 
 as I have observed above, had, from the 
 first reading of his Life of Savage, con- 
 ceived a very high admiration of John- 
 -son's powers of writing. His conversation 
 no less delighted him ; and he cultivated 
 liis acquaintance with the laudable zeal 
 of one who was ambitious of general 
 improvement. Sir Joshua, indeed, was 
 lucky enough at their v^M-y first meeting 
 to make a remark, which was so much 
 above the common-place style of con- 
 versation 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 
 ereat 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 self- 
 ish ; 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 Rochefoucault. 
 The consequence was, that he went home 
 with Reynolds, and supped with him. 
 
 Sir Joshua told me a pleasant charac- 
 
 * See Gentleinau'K Mag. for Feb. 1785. 
 
 teristical anecdote of Johnson about the 
 time of their first acquaintance. When 
 they were one evening together at tf 
 Miss Cotterells', the then Duchess 
 Argyle and another lady of high rai 
 came in. Johnson thinking that th 
 Miss Cotterells were too much engrossed 
 by them, and that he and his friend were 
 neglected, as low^ company of whom they 
 weie somewhat ashamed, grew angry ; 
 and res«)lving to shock their supposed 
 pride, by making their great visiters 
 imagine that his 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 week, if we were to ivork as hard 
 as we could ?"— as if they had been 
 common mechanicks. 
 
 His acquaintance with Bennet Lang- 
 ton, Esq. of Langton, in Lincolnshire, 
 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 au- 
 thour. By a fortunate chance he hap- 
 pened to take lodgings in a house where 
 Mr. Levet frequently visited ; and havii.g 
 mentioned his wish to his landlady, she 
 introduced him to Mr. Levet, 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 \^ ho were properly rccom'- 
 mended, and even wished to see numbers 
 at his levee, as his morning 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 intima- 
 tion of his figure, dress, or manner. From 
 perusing his writings, he fancied he should 
 see a decent, well dressed, in short, a 
 remarkably decorous philosopher. In- 
 stead of which, down from his bedclTani- 
 ber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a 
 huge uncouth figure, with a little daik 
 wig which scarcely covered his head, ami 
 his clothes hanging loose about him. But 
 his conversation was so rich, so animated, 
 and so forcible, and his religious and p6- 
 litical notions so congenial with those in 
 which Langton had been educated, that 
 he conceived for him that veneration 
 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 Stephen Langton, 
 in King John's reign, was of this family." 
 
 Mr. Langton afterwards went to pursue 
 
 leii 
 
 1 
 
iETAT. 43. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOX. 
 
 71 
 
 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 life 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 discerned 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, parsed a considerable time at 
 Oxford. He at first thought it strange 
 that Langton should associate so much 
 with one who had the character of being 
 loose, both in his principles and practice : 
 but, by degrees, he himself was fascinated. 
 — Mr. Beauclerk's beingof the St. Alban's 
 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, <lissipated Beau- 
 clerk, were companions. " What a coa- 
 lition ! (said Garrick, when he heard of 
 this) : I shall have my old friend to bail 
 out of the Round-house." But I can 
 bear testimony that it was a very agree- 
 able association. Beauclerk was too 
 polite, and valued learning and wit too 
 much, to offend Johnson by sallies of 
 infidelity or licentiousness; and Johnson 
 delighted in the good qualities of Beau- 
 clerk, 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 l 
 ever saw him ; but, on the other hand, 
 Beauclerk was not spared by his respect- 
 able companion, when reproof was pro- 
 per. 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 apply- 
 ing 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 shows the one, and 
 every thing thou sayest 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- 
 pliment, Johnson said, " Nay, sir, Alex- 
 ander the Great, marching in triumph 
 into Babylon, could not have desired to 
 have had mpre 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 churchyard, 
 in the time of divine service, and Johnson 
 laid himself down at his ease upon one 
 of the tombstones. " Now, sir (said 
 Beauclerk), you are like Hogarth's Idle 
 Apprentice." W^hen Johnson got his 
 pension, Beauclerk said to him, in the 
 humorous phrase of Falstaff, " I hope 
 you'll now purge and live cleanly, like 
 a gentleman." 
 
 One night, when Beauclerk and Lang- 
 ton had supped at a tavern in London, 
 and sat till about three in the morning, 
 it came into their 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 door of his cham- 
 bers in the Temple, till at last he appeared 
 in his sliirt, with his little black wig on 
 the top of his head instead of a nightcap, 
 and a poker in his hand, imagining, pro- 
 bably, that some ruftians 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 : " W^hat, is it 
 you, you dogs ! I'll have a frisk with 
 you." He was soon dressed, and ihey 
 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 interference, 
 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 alwajs liked : whi?e 
 in joyous contempt of sleep, from which 
 he had been roused, he repeated the 
 festive lines, 
 
 " Shor^, O short then be thy reig'u. 
 And give us to the world again 1 1" 
 
 They did not stay long, but walked 
 down to the Thames, took a boat, and 
 rowed to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and 
 Johnson were so well pleased with their 
 amusement that they resolved to perse- 
 vere in dissipation for the rest of the 
 day: but Langton deserted them, beirg 
 
 * " Bishop, a cant v<ord for a mixture o 
 wine, oranaes, and sugar." R. 
 
 t Mr. Lanaton recollected, or Dr. Johnson 
 repeated the paFsaae wroner. The lines are 
 n Lord l.ausdovviie's Di inking Song to Sleep, 
 'ind run thus: 
 
 *♦ Short, very short he then thy reien. 
 For I'm in haste to laugh and drink again." 
 
72 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 engaged to breakfast with some young 
 ladies. Johnson scolded liini for " leav- 
 ing his social friends, to go and sit with 
 a set of wretched un-idea*d girls." Gar- 
 rick, being told of this ramble, said to 
 him smartly, " I heard of your frolick 
 t'other night. You'll be in the Chronicle." 
 Upon which Johnson afterwards observed, 
 '* He durst not do such a thing. His 
 ii-{fe would not let him !" 
 
 He entered upon this year, 1753, with 
 his usual piety, as appears from the fol- 
 lowing prayer, which I transcribed from 
 that part of his diary which he burnt a 
 few days before his death : 
 
 " Jan. 1, 1753, N. S. which I shall 
 use for the future. 
 
 " Almighty God, who hast continued 
 my life to this day, grant that, by the 
 assistance of thy Holy Spirit, I may im- 
 prove the time which thou shalt grant 
 me, to my eternal salvation. Make me 
 to remember, to thy glory, thy judgments 
 and thy mercies. Make me so to consider 
 the loss of my wife, whom thou hast taken 
 from me, that it may dispose me, by thy 
 grace, to lead the residue of my life in 
 thy fear. Grant this, O Lord, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake. Amen." 
 
 He now relieved the drudgery of his 
 Dictionary, and the melancholy of his 
 grief, by taking an active part in the 
 composition of ** The Adventurer," in 
 which he began to write April 10, mark- 
 ing his essays with the signature T, by 
 which most of his papers in that collection 
 are distinguished : those, however, which 
 have that signature, and also that of My- 
 sargirus, were not written by him, but, 
 as I suppose, by Dr. Bathurst. Indeed, 
 Johnson's energy of thought and riciiajiss.. 
 of language are still more decisive marks 
 than any signature. As a proof of this, 
 my readers, I imagine, will not doubt 
 that Number 39, on sleep, is his ; for it 
 not only has the general texture and 
 colour of his style, but the authours with 
 whom he was peculiarly conversant are 
 readily introduced in it in cursory allu- 
 sion. The translation of a passage in 
 Statins, 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 
 actually contributed to ** The Adven- 
 turer," cannot be known. Let me add, 
 that Hawkesworth's imitations of John- 
 son are sometimes so happy that it is 
 extremely difficult to distinguish them, 
 with certainty, from the composition of 
 his great archetype. Hawkesworth was 
 his closest imitator, a circumstance of 
 which that writer wordd once have been 
 proud to be told ; though, when he had 
 become elated by having risen into some 
 degree of consequence, he, in a conversa- 
 
 1753. 
 
 tion with me, had the provoking eflfrontery 
 to say he was not sensible of it. 
 
 Johnson was truly zealous for the suc- 
 cess of " The Adventurer ;" and very 
 soon after his engaging in it he wrote the 
 following letter : 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND DR. JOSEPH WARTON. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I OUGHT to have written to you before 
 now, but I ought to do many things which 
 I do not ; nor can I, indeed, claim any 
 merit from this letter; for, being desired 
 by the authours and proprietor of the 
 Adventurer to look out for another hand, 
 my thoughts necessarily hxed upon you, 
 whose fund of literature will enable you 
 to assist them, with very little 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 imagina- 
 tion is very well supplied, as you will 
 find when you read the paper ; for de- 
 scriptions of life, there is now a treaty 
 almost made with an authour and an 
 authouress ; and the province of criticism 
 and literature they are very desirous to 
 assign to the commentator on Virgil. 
 
 " I hope this proposal will not be re- 
 jected, and that 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 servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson.'* 
 
 " March 8, l7o3." 
 
 The consequence of this letter was. 
 Dr. Warton's enriching the colle<?lion 
 with several admirable essays. 
 
 Johnson's saying " I have no part in 
 the paper, beyond now and then a ntotto," 
 may seem inconsistent with his being the 
 authour 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. Wil- 
 liams told me that, " as he had yiven 
 those Essays to Dr. Bathurst, who sold 
 them at two guineas each, he never woidd 
 own them ; nay, he used to say, he did 
 not write them : but the fact was, that 
 he dictated them, w Idle Bathurst wrote." 
 I read to him Mrs. Williaujs's account; 
 he smiled, and said nothing. 
 
Er.vr. 44. 
 
 rHE LIFE OF 
 
 I am not qnitesatisfied with the casuistry 
 by which the productions of one person 
 are thus passed upon the world for the 
 productions of another. I allow that not 
 only knowledge, but powers and qualities 
 of mind may be communicated ; but the 
 actual etiect 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 Ro- 
 mans, or by the ancient Jewish mode of 
 a wife having children borne to her upon 
 her knees, by her handmaid. But these 
 were children in a difierent sense from 
 that of nature. It was clearly understood 
 that they were not of the blood of their 
 nominal parents. So in literary children, 
 an authour may give the profits and fame 
 of his composition to another man, but 
 cannot make that man the real authour. 
 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 was wil- 
 ling to sell it. I told him it was impos- 
 sible for him to acquire, by purchase, a 
 right to be a different person from what 
 he really was ; for that the right of Chief- 
 tainship attached to the blood of primo- 
 geniture, and, therefore, was incapable of 
 being transferred. I added, that though 
 Esau sold his birthright, 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 OflRce could not 
 admit of the metamorphosis, or with any 
 decency attest the younger was the elder; 
 but I did not convince the worthy gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Johnson's papers in the Adventurer are 
 vei-y similar to those of the Rambler; but 
 being rather more varied in their sub- 
 jects*, and being mixed with essays by 
 other writers, upon topicks 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 Ad- 
 Venturer, I must observe, that as the 
 value of the Rambler came, in the pro- 
 gress of time, to be better known, it grew 
 upon the publick 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 
 
 * Dr. Johnson lowered and somewhat dis- 
 guised Ills style, in writing the Adventurers, 
 in order that his Papers mi^ht pass for those 
 of Dr. Bathurst, to whom he consij^ned the 
 profits. This was Hawkesworth's opinion, 13. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 73 
 
 in the first for Preface, Grammar, and 
 History, none of them yet begun. 
 
 " O God, who hast hitherto supported 
 me, enable me to proceed in this 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 receive pardon, for the sake 
 of Jesus Christ. Amen." 
 
 He this year favoured Mrs. Lenox with 
 a Dedication (^aj to the Earl of Orrery, 
 of her " Shakspeare Illustrated f." 
 
 In 1754 I can trace nothing published 
 by him, except his numbers of the Ad- 
 venturer, and ** The Life of Edward 
 Cd\e,"(aJ in the Gentleman's Magazine 
 for February. In biography there can 
 be no question that he excelled, beyond 
 all who have attempted that species of 
 composition ; upon which, indeed, he set 
 the highest value. To the minute selec- 
 tion of characteristical circumstances, for 
 which the ancients were remarkable, he 
 added a philosophical research, and the 
 most perspicuous and energetick lan- 
 guage. Cave was certainly a man of 
 estimable qualities, and was eminently 
 diligent and successful in his own busi- 
 ness, which, doubtless, entitled him to 
 lespect. But he was peculiarly fortunate 
 in being recorded by Johnson; who, of 
 (he narrow life of a printer and publisher, 
 without any digressions or adventitious 
 circumstances, has made an interesting 
 and agreeable narrative. 
 
 The Dictionary, we may believe, af- 
 forded Johnson full occupation this year. 
 As it approached to its conclusion, he 
 probably worked with redoubled vigour, 
 as seamen increase their exertion and 
 alacrity when they have a near prospect 
 of their haven. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield, to whom Johnson 
 had paid the high compliment of ad- 
 dressing to his Lordship the Plan of his 
 Dictionary, had behaved to hin> in such 
 
 t Two of Johnson's Letters, addressed to 
 Samuel Richardson, authour of Clarissa, &c. 
 the former dated March 9, 1750-1, the other 
 September 26, 1753, are preserved in Richard- 
 son's Correspondence, 8vo. 1804, vol. v. pp. 
 281—284. In the latter of these letters Johnson 
 suggested to Richardson tlie propriety of 
 making an Index to his three works : " hut 
 while I am writing (he adds), an objection 
 arises; such an index to the three would look 
 like the preclusion of a fourth, to v\hich 1 will 
 never rontrihute; for if I cannot benefit man- 
 kind, I hope never to injure them." Richard- 
 son, however, adopted the 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 
 Giandison, digested under proper heads." 
 
 It J8 remarkable, that both to this book, and 
 to the first two volumes of Clarissa, is prefixed 
 a Preface, by afriend. The " friend," in tliie 
 latter instance, was the celebrated Dr. War- 
 burton. M. 
 
74 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOX. 
 
 a manner as to excite his contempt and 
 indignation. TUn vviiild hTis Utiell lor 
 Tnaiiy -ytroTS amused witli a story conti- 
 dently told, and as confidently repeated 
 with additional circumstances, that a 
 sudden disgust was taken by Johnson 
 upon occasion of liis having been one day 
 kept long in waiting in his Lordship's 
 antechamber, for whicli the reason as- 
 signed was, that he had company 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 re- 
 member having mentioned this story to 
 George Lord Lyttelton, ^^ho told me, he 
 was very intimate with Lord Chesterfield ; 
 and holding it as a well known truth, de- 
 fended Lord Chesterfield by saying, that 
 " Gibber, who had been introduced fa- 
 miliarly by the back-stairs, had probably 
 not been there above ten minutes." ]t 
 may seem strange even to entertain a 
 doubt concerning a story so long and so 
 widely current, and thus implicitly adopt- 
 efl, if not sanctioned, by the authority 
 which I have mentioned ; but Johnson 
 himself assured me, that there Avas not 
 the least foundation for it. He told me, 
 that there never was any particular in- 
 cident which produced a quarrel between 
 Lord Chesterfield and him ; but that his 
 Lordship's continued neglect was the 
 reason why he resolved to have no con- 
 nexion with him. When the Dictionary 
 was upon the eve of publication, Lord 
 Chesterfield, who, it is said, had flattered 
 himself vvilh expectations that Johnson 
 would dedicate the work to him, at- 
 tempted, in a courtly manner, to sooth 
 and insinuate himself with the Sage, con- 
 scions, as it should seem, of the cold in- 
 difference with which he had treated its 
 learned authour; and further attempted 
 to conciliate him, by writing two papers 
 jii "The World," in recommendation of 
 the work; and it must be confessed, that 
 they contain some studied compliments, 
 so finely turned, that if there liad been 
 no previous otfence, it is probable that 
 Johnson would have been highly delighted. 
 P raise, in gener aL_wasjpleasing to him ; 
 bi<t bypi aise from aj rnaii of. rank and 
 elegaju acco mpTTsFments, he was pecu- 
 I i a ri^Liiiia ITTTe d . ~~ 
 
 His lordship says, " I think the publick 
 in general, and the republick of letters 
 in particular, are greatly obliged to Mr. 
 Johnson, for having undertaken and ex- 
 ecuted so great and desirable a work. 
 Perfection is not to be expected from 
 man : but if we are to judge by the 
 various works of Johnson already pub- 
 lished, we have good reason to believe. 
 
 1751. 
 
 that he will bring this as near to perfectic)!i 
 as any man could do. The Plan of it. 
 which he published some years ago, 
 seems to me to be a proof of it. Nothiiii; 
 can be more rationally imagined, or mori' 
 accurately and elegantly expressed. I 
 therefore recommend the previous perusal 
 of it to all those who intend to buy tlv 
 Dictionary, and who, I suppose, are itM 
 those who can afford it." 
 
 " It must be owned, that our languae*^ 
 is, at present, in a state of anarchy, ar.'l 
 hitherto, perhaps, it may not have bet n 
 the worse for it. During our free ard 
 open trade, many words and expressions 
 have been imported, adopted, and natu- 
 ralized 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 <)ver- 
 whelmed and crushed by unnecessary 
 ornaments. The time for discrimination 
 seems to be now come. Toleration, 
 adoption, and naturalization have run 
 their lengths. Good order and a'.uhority 
 are now necessary. But where shall we 
 find them, and at the same time, the obe- 
 dience due to them ? We must have re- 
 course to the old Roman expedient in 
 times of confusion, and choose a dictator. 
 Upon this principle, I give my vote for 
 Mr. Johnson, to fill that great and arduous 
 post, and I hereby declare, that I maJkc 
 a total surrender of all rrry rights and 
 privileges in the English language, as a 
 freeborn 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 him to be infallible while 
 in the chair, but no longer. More than 
 this he cannot well recpiire ; for, I pre- 
 sume, that obedience can never be ex- 
 pected, when there is neither tertour to 
 enforce, nor interest to invite it." 
 ******** 
 
 " But a Grammar, a Dictionary, and 
 a History of our Language, through its 
 several stages, were still wanting at home, 
 and importunately calhd for from abroad. 
 Mr. Johnson's labours will now, I dare 
 say, very fully supply that want, and 
 greatly contribute to the farther spread- 
 ing of our language in other countries. 
 Learners were discouraged, by finding no 
 standard to resort to; and, consequently, 
 thought it incapable of jiny. 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 Cl'< 
 
iHTAT. 45. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Iferfield should, for a moment, imagine, 
 that he could be the dupe of such an 
 artifice. His expression to me concern- 
 ing 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, he fell 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 him." 
 
 This is that celebrated letter of which 
 so much has been said, and about which 
 curiosity has been so long excited, w ithout 
 being gratified. I for many years solicited 
 Johnson to favour me with a 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. Dillj's, at Soulhill, 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 
 cojrections, in his own handwriting. 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 
 kindness, I am enabled to enrich my 
 work with a perfect transcript of what the 
 world has so eagerly desired to see. 
 
 " TO THE HIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL 
 JSH/ CHESTERFIELD. , 
 
 '' MY LORD, February 7, 175.5. 
 
 , " I HAVE been lately informed, by the 
 proprietor of the World, that two papers, 
 in which my Dictionary is recommended 
 ^; to the publick, were written by your 
 ; Lordship. To be so distinguished is an 
 honour which, being very little accus- 
 tomed to favours from the great, I know 
 not well how to receive, or in what terms 
 to acknowledge. 
 
 " When, upon some slight encourage- 
 ment, I first visited your Lordship, I was 
 overpowered, like the rest of mankind, 
 by the enchantment of your address, and 
 could not forbear to wish that I might 
 boast myself X^e vainqueur du vainqueur 
 
 * Dr. Johnson appeared to iiave baJ a re- 
 markable delicacy witli respecl to the circu- 
 lation of tliis letter; for Dr. Douglas, Bishop 
 of Salisbury, informs me, that having many 
 years aijo pressed him to he allowed to read 
 It to the second Lord Hardwicke, who was 
 very desirous to hear it (promisinff at the same 
 time, tliat no copy of it should be taken), 
 Johnson seemed nuuh plpa>ed that it had 
 attracted the attention of a noMrman of such 
 a respectable ciiararter; but after pausing 
 some time, declined to comply with the re- 
 quest, sayinar, with a smile, " No, sir; I have 
 hurt the dni^ too much already ; " or words to 
 that purpose. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 75 
 
 de la terre ; — that I might obtain that 
 regard for which I saw the world con- 
 tending ; but I found my attendance i ^o 
 Httle encQiiragcd that neither pride r>br 
 modesty would suffer me to continue it. 
 When I had once addressed your Lord- 
 ship in publick, I hud exhausted all the 
 art of pleasing which a retired and un- 
 courtly 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, my Lord, have now 
 past, since I waited in your outward 
 rooms, or was repulsed from your door ; 
 during which time I have been pushing 
 on my work through difficulties, of which 
 it is useless to complain, and have brought 
 it, at last, to the_\;.jitgg^Lpublicati()n, 
 without one a'ct of assistance +, one word 
 of encouragement, or one smile of favour. 
 Such treatment 1 did not expect, for I 
 never had a Patron before. 
 
 " The shepherd in Virgil grew at last 
 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, encumbers 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 I am known, and 
 do not want it. I hope it is no very 
 cynical asperity not to confess obligations 
 where no benefit has been received, or to 
 be unwilling that the Publick should con- 
 sider me as owing that to a Patron w hich 
 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 
 
 + The following note is subjoined by Mr. 
 Langton. ** Dr. Johnson, when he gave me 
 this copy of his letter, desired that I wouhl 
 annex to it his information to me, that whereas 
 it is said in the letter that • no assistance has 
 been received,' he did once rec eive fiom Lord 
 Cliestertield the sum of ten pounds; hut as 
 that was so inconsiderable a sum, he thought 
 the mention of it could not properly find a 
 place in a letter of the kind that this was." 
 
 I Fn ihis passage Dr. Johnson evidently 
 alludes to the loss of his wife. We find the 
 same tendei recollection recurring to his mind 
 upon innumerable occasicms ; and, perhaps, 
 no man ever more forcibly i'e\t the truth of the 
 sentiment so elegantly expressed by my (riend 
 Mr. IVlalone, in his Prologue to Mr. Jejlison's 
 tragedy of Julia : 
 
 "Vain— wealth, and fame, and fortune's foster- 
 ing care, 
 If no fond"brea«t the splendid blessings share ; 
 And, each day's bustling pageantry once past, 
 There, only there our bliss fs found at last.'' 
 
76 
 
 possible, with less ; for I have been long I 
 wakened from that dream of l»ope, 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 letter to me), I 
 happened to visit Dr. Warbiirton, who, 
 finding that I was acquainted with John- 
 son, desired me earnestly to carry his 
 compliments to him, and to tell him, 
 that he honoured him for his manly be- 
 haviour in rejecting these condescensions 
 of Lord Chesterfield, and for resenting 
 the treatment he had received from him 
 with a proper spirit. Johnson was visibly 
 pleased with this compliment, for he had 
 always a high opinion of Warburton t-" 
 Indeed, theforceof mind which appeared 
 in this letter was congenial with that 
 which Warburton himself amply pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 There is a curious minute circumstance 
 which struck me, in comparing the vari 
 ous editions of Johnson's Imitations of 
 Juvenal. In the tenth Satire, one of the 
 couplets upon the vanity of vvishes even 
 for literary distinction stood thus : 
 " Yet tliink what ills the scholar's life assail. 
 Toil, envy, want, the garret, and the jail." 
 
 But after experiencing the uneasiness 
 which Lord Chesterfield's fallacious pa- 
 tronage 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 contempt, and 
 polite, yet keen, satire with which John- 
 son exhibited him to himself in this letter, 
 it is impossible to doubt. He, however, 
 with that glossy duplicity which was his 
 
 * Upon comparing this copy with that which 
 Dr. Johnson dictated to me from recollection, 
 fhe variations are found to be so slif^^l't that 
 this must be added to the many other proofs 
 wWich he pave of the wonderful extent and 
 accuracy of his memory. To if ratify ihc curi- 
 ous ia composition, I have deposited both the 
 copies in the British Museum. 
 
 + Soon after Edwards's " Canons of Criti- 
 cism came out, Johnson was dining at Tonson 
 the Bookseller's, with Havman the Fainter 
 and some more company. Haynian related to 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, that the conversation 
 having turned upon Edwards's book, the pen- 
 tlemeri praised it much, and Johnson allowed 
 its merit. But when they went farther, and 
 appeared to put that authour upon a level 
 w ith Warburton, " Nay (said Johnson), he has 
 given him some smart hits, to be sure; but 
 niere is no proportion between the two men; 
 they must not be named together. A fly, sir, 
 may sting a stately horse, and make him 
 wince: but one is but an insect, and the other 
 18 a horse still." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1751. . 
 
 constant study, affected to be quite uncon- 
 cerned. Dr. Adams mentioned to Mr. 
 Robert Dodsley that he was sorry John- 
 son had written his letter to Lord Ches- 
 terfield. Dodsley, with the true feelings 
 of trade, said, " he was very sorry too ; 
 for that he had a property in the Dic- 
 tionary, to which his Lordship's patronage 
 might have been of consequence." He 
 then told Dr. Adams, that Lord Chester- 
 field 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 I 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 indiffer- 
 ence, 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 con- 
 duct of life. His Lordship endeavoured 
 to justify himself to Dodsley from the 
 charges brought against him by Johnson ; 
 but we may judge of the flimsiness 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 snj| ilest diflH- 
 culty to inform himself ofi^Mt circum- 
 stance, by inquiring in thel9|||kiry circle 
 with which his Lordship was well ac- 
 quainted, 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 Dodsley, 
 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 easi- 
 ness of access, especially to literary men. 
 " Sir (said Johnson), that is not Lord 
 Chesterfield ; he is the pioudest man this 
 day existing." " No (said Dr. Adams), 
 there is one person, at least, as proud ; 
 I think, by your account, you are the 
 prouder man of the two." " But mine 
 (replied Jt)hnson instantly) was defensive 
 pride." This, as Dr. Adams well ob- 
 served, was one of those happy turns for 
 which he was so remaikably ready. 
 
 Johnson,having now explicitly avowed 
 his opinion of Lord Chesterfield, did not 
 refrain from expressing himself concern- 
 ing that nobleman with pointed freedom : 
 
^TAT. 45. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 77 
 
 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 publislied, 
 he observed, that " they teach the morals 
 of a whore, and the manners of a dancing 
 raastert." 
 
 The character of a " respectable Hot- 
 tentot," in Lord Chesterfield's Letters, 
 has been generally understood to be meant 
 for Johnson, and I have no doubt that it 
 was. But I remember when the Lite- 
 rary Property of those letters was con- 
 tested in the Court of Session in Scotland, 
 and Mr. Heniy Dundas J, one of the 
 coxmsel 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, distinguished for abstruse science. 
 I have heard Johnson himself talk of the 
 character, and say that it was meant for 
 George Lord Lyttellon, in which I could 
 by no means agree ; for his Lordship had 
 nothing of that violence which is a con- 
 spicuous feature in the composition. — 
 Finding that my illustrious friend could 
 bear to have it supposed that it might be 
 meant for him, 1 said, laughingly, that 
 there was one trait which unquestionably 
 
 * Johnson's character of Chesterfield seems 
 to be imitated from — inter doctos nohilissi- 
 mus, inter nobilen doclissitnus, inter ntrosqne 
 optitnus; ^jj^piileio. v, trasni,— Dedication 
 of AdagiQ^BBd.ord Monntjoy;) and from 
 
 Procliis d^mia. K. 
 
 t That collection of letters cannot he vin- 
 dicated from the serious charge of encou- 
 raging, in some passages, one of the vices 
 most destructive to the good order and com- 
 fort of society, which his Lordship represents 
 as mere fashionable gallantry; and, in others, 
 of inculcating the base practice of dissimula- 
 tion, and recommending, with disproportion- 
 ate anxiety, a perpetual attention to external 
 elegance of manners. But it must, at the same 
 time, he allowed, that they contain many good 
 precepts of conduct, and much genuine infor- 
 mation upon life and manners, very happily 
 expressed; and that there was considerable 
 merit in paying so much attention to the im- 
 provement 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 offsprin"^^ which is, 
 in effect, insulting the civil establishment of 
 OMr country, to look nohisrher; I cannot help 
 thinking it laudable to he~ kindly attentive to 
 those, of whose existence we have, in any 
 way, been (because. Mr. Stanhope'scharacter 
 '. has been unjustly represented as diametri- 
 i cally opposite to what Lord Chesterfield wished 
 ! him to be. He has been called dull, gross, 
 and awkward: but I knew him at Dresden, 
 when he was envoy to that court ; and though 
 he could not boast of the graces, he was, in 
 truth, a sensible, civil, well behaved man 
 
 X Now [1792] one of his Majesty's principal 
 Secretaries ofState. 
 
 did not belong to him ; ** he throws his 
 meat any where but down his throat." 
 " Sir (said he), Lord Chesterfield never 
 saw me eat in his life." 
 
 On the 6th of March came out Lord 
 Bglin gbroke's work s^ published by Mr. 
 Da y m Mai let. THe wild and pernicious 
 ravmgs, under the name of ".Philaso- 
 phy," which were thus ushered into the 
 'world, gave great offence to all well 
 principled men. Johnson, hearing of 
 their tendency, which nobody disputed, 
 was rous ed with adjust indignation, and 
 pronoim<*ed this memorable sentence 
 upon the noble authour 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 not resolution to fire it 
 oft' 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 writ- 
 ings 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. Pelham having died on 
 the very day on which Lord Boling- 
 broke's works came out, he wrote an 
 elegant Ode on his death, beginning 
 
 " Let others hail 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 fled to Heaven." 
 
 Johnson this year found an Interval of 
 leisure to make an excursion to Oxford, 
 for the purpose of consulting the libraries 
 there. Of 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 Rev. 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. 
 
 TO THK REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 
 " 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 caa 
 never deliberately show my disrespect to 
 
 § " Observations on Spenser's Fairy Queen, 
 the first edition of which was now published.'^ 
 
T8 
 
 THE LIFE OF DK. JOHNSON. 
 
 a man of your character : and 1 now pay 
 you a very honest acknowledgment, for 
 the advancement of the literature of our 
 native country. You have shown to all, 
 who shall hereafter attempt the study of 
 our ancient authours, the way to success ; 
 by directing them to the perusal of the 
 books which those authours had read. Of 
 this method, Hughes*, and men much 
 greater than Hughes, seem never to have 
 thought. The reason why the authours, 
 which are yet read, of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, are so little understood, is, that they 
 are read alone ; and no help is borrowed 
 from those who lived with them, or be- 
 fore them. Some part of this ignorance 
 I hope to remove by my bookf, which 
 liovv 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 j. 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." 
 " [London], July 16, 1754." 
 
 Of his conversation while at Oxford at 
 this time, Mr. Warton preserved and 
 communicated to me the following me- 
 morial, 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 publick eye, is so happily expressed 
 in an easy style that I should injure it by 
 any alteration : 
 
 " When Johnson came to Oxford in 
 1754, 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 satisfac- 
 tion at being recognised by them, and 
 conversed with them familiarly. He 
 waited on the master, Dr. Radclitfe, 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 
 Joimson to dine, nor even to visit him, 
 
 * " Hughes pubiii-lied an edition of Spen- 
 ser." 
 
 t " Hi* Dictionary." 
 
 X " He came to Oxford within a fortnight, 
 nnd stayed about five weeks. He lodged at a 
 house called Kettle Hall, near Trinity Col- 
 l-Ji^e. But during this visit at Oxford, he 
 lollecied nothing; in the libraries for his Dic- 
 tiou;iry." 
 
 1754. 
 
 while he stayed at Oxford. After we 
 had left the lodgings, Johnson said to 
 me, ' There lives a man, who lives by 
 the revenues of literature, and will not 
 inove a finger to support it. If I come 
 to live at Oxford, 1 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 
 think Meeke had excellent parts, when 
 we were boys together at the College : 
 but, alas! 
 
 * Lost in a convent's solitary gloom I' — 
 
 I remember, at the classical lecture in 
 the Hall, 1 could not bear Meeke's supe- 
 riority, and I tried to sit as far from him 
 as I could, that I might not hear him 
 construe.' 
 
 *' As we were leaving the College, he 
 said, * Here'I translated Pope's Messiah. 
 Which do you think is the best line in 
 it? — My own favourite is, 
 
 ' Vallis aromalicas fiindit Saronica nnhes.^ 
 
 I told him, I thought it a very sonorous 
 hexameter. I did not tell him, it was in 
 the Yirgitian style. He much regretted 
 that his Jirst tutor was dead ; for whom 
 he seemed to retain the greatest regard. 
 He said, * I once had been a whole morn- 
 ing sliding in Christ Church meadows, 
 and missed his lecture in logick. After 
 dinner he sent for me to Ij^ room. I 
 expected a sharp rebuke |||Ky idleness, 
 and went with a beatin^BBt. When 
 we were seated, he told ni^ro 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 (1754), 
 Johnson and I walked three or four times 
 to Ellsfield, a village beautifully situated 
 about three miles from Oxford, to sec 
 Mr. Wise, Radclivian librarian, with 
 whom Johnson was much pleased. At 
 this place, Mr. Wise had fitted up a 
 house and gardens, in a singular manner, 
 but with great taste. Here was an ex- 
 cellent library, particularly a valuabli; 
 collection of books in Is'orthern litera- 
 ture, 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 Chro- 
 
Etat. 45. THE LIFE OF 
 
 uology of the fabulous Ages.' Some old 
 divinities of Thrace, related to the Titans, 
 and called the Cabiii, made a very im- 
 portant part of the theory of this piece ; 
 and in conversation afterwards, Mr. Wise 
 talked much of his Cabiri. As we re- 
 turned to Oxford in the evening, I out- 
 walked Johnson, and he cried out Suffia- 
 mina, a Latin word, which came from 
 his mouth with peculiar grace, and was 
 as much as to say. Put on your drag 
 chain. Before we got home, I again 
 walked too fast for "him ; and he now 
 cried out, * Why, you walk as if you 
 were pursued by all the Cabiri 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 abbies 
 of Oseney and Rewley, near Oxford. 
 After at least half an hour's silence, 
 Johnson said, ' I viewed them with in- 
 dignation!' We had then a long con- 
 versation on Gothic buildings; and in 
 talking of the form of old hafls, he said, 
 ' In these halls, the fireplace was an- 
 ciently always in the middle of the room, 
 till the Whigs removed it on one side.'— 
 About this time there had been an exe- 
 cution of two or three criminals at Oxford 
 on a Monday. Soon afterwards, one day 
 at dniner, I was spying that Mr. Swin- 
 ton, the chaplain of the gaol, and also a 
 frequent preacher before the University, 
 a learned man, but often thoughtless and 
 absent, preached the condemnation ser- 
 mon on repentance, before the convicts, 
 on the precedfiigday, Sunday; and that 
 in the close he told his audience, that he 
 j-iiou!d give them the remainder of what 
 lie 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 offer- 
 ing an apolosry for Mr. Swinton, gravelv 
 remarked, that he had probably preached 
 the same sermon before the University : 
 • Yes. sir (says Johnson) but the Univer- 
 sity 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 diffe- 
 rence of our literary characters !" 
 
 The following letter wa,s written by 
 Dr. Johnson to Mr. Chambers, of Lin- 
 coln College, afterwards Sir Kobert 
 Chambers, one of the judges in India* : 
 
 '* TO MR. CHAMBERS, OF LINCOLN COLLEGE. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' The commission, which I delayed to 
 
 • romninnicate'l by the Reverend Mr. Tho- 
 mas \Varion, who had the ori_'inal. 
 
 DR. JOHNSOxN. 79 
 
 trouble you with at your departure, I am 
 now obliged to send you ; and beg that 
 you will be so kind as to carry it to Mr. 
 NVarton, of Trinity, to whom I should 
 have written immediately, but that I 
 know not if he be yet come back to 
 Oxford. 
 
 *• In the Catalogue of MSS. of Gr. 
 Brit, see vol. I. pag. 18. MSS. Eodl. 
 Martyrium xy martyrum sub Juliano, 
 auctore Theo-pJiylacto. 
 
 " It is desired that Mr. Warton will 
 inquire, and send word what will be the 
 cost of transcribing this manuscript. 
 ^/'^oL II. p. 32. Num. 1022. 58. 
 Coll. lSo\.—Commentaria in Acta 
 ApostoL— Comment, in Septem JEpis- 
 tolas Catholicas. 
 
 " 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 
 any body else ; or stay till he comes, 
 according to your own convenienccc It 
 is for an Italian Uterato. 
 
 " The answer is to be directed to hi& 
 Excellency Mr. Zon, Venetian Resident, 
 Soho Square. 
 
 " I hope, dear sir, that you do not 
 regret the change of London for Oxford. 
 Mr. Baretti is well, and Miss Williams t; 
 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." 
 
 " Nov. 21, 1754 " 
 
 The degree of Master of Arts, wliich, 
 it has been observed, could not be ob- 
 tained for him at an early period of his 
 life, was now considered as an honour of 
 considerable importance, iu order to grace 
 the title-page of his Dictionary ; and his 
 character in the literary worUl being by 
 this time deservedly high, his friends 
 
 '* I presume she was a relation of .Mr. Za- 
 oliariah V\iiliams, who died in his eiehcv-iliird 
 year, July 12, 1755. When Dr. Johnson was 
 witlj nie at Oxford, in 1755, he gave to the 
 Kodleian Library a thin quarto of twentv-one 
 paaes, a work in Italian, with an Eii>rlish 
 translation on the opposite pase. The Kn?lish 
 title-page is this: *• An Account of an Attempt 
 to ascertain the Longitude at Sea, by an c\,\ct 
 Variation of the Magaetical Needle, &c. Bv 
 Zarhariah Williams. London, printed I'o'r 
 Dodsley, 1755." The English translaiion, frora 
 the strongest internal maiks, is unquestionably 
 the work of Johnson. In a blank leaf, Johnson 
 has written the age, and time of death of the 
 authour, Z. Williams, as 1 have said above. 
 On another blank leaf is pasted a paragraph 
 from a newspaper, of the death and chaiacter 
 of Williams, which is plainly written by John- 
 son. He was very anxious iiboiit placing this 
 book in the Bodleian: and, for fear of any 
 omission or mistake, he entered, in the great 
 Catalogue, the title-page of it with his own 
 hand." 
 
80 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1754. 
 
 thought that, if proper exertions were 
 made, the University of Oxford would 
 pay him the compliment. 
 
 '* TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS VS'ARTON. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I AM extremely obliged to you, and to 
 Mr. Wise, for the uncommon care which 
 you have taken of my interest* : if you 
 can 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 aFinnick Dictionary, 
 the only copy, perhaps, in England, 
 which was presented me by a learned 
 Swede : but I keep it back that it maj' 
 make a set of my own books of the new 
 edition, with which I shall accompany 
 it, more welcome. You will assure him 
 of my gratitude. 
 
 " Poor dear Collins j! Would a letter 
 
 * " fn procuring' liini the des;ree of Master 
 of Arts by rliploma at Oxford." 
 
 t " Lately fellow of Trinity Colleg-e, and ai 
 this time Radclivian librarian, at Oxford. He 
 was a man of very considerable learnin'/, and 
 eminently skilled in Roman and Anglo-Saxon 
 antiquities. He died in \T67. 
 
 i " Collins (the poor) was at this time at 
 Oxford, on a visit to Mr. Warton ; but labour- 
 ing- under the most deplorable languor of 
 body, and dejection of mind. In a letter to 
 Dr. Jo-eph Warton, written some months be- 
 fore (March 8, 1754), Dr. Johnson thus speaks 
 of Collins: 
 
 " But how little can we venture to exult in 
 any intellectual powers or literary attainment?, 
 when we consi<ier the condition of poor Col- 
 lins. 1 knew him a few years ago full of hopes, 
 and full of projects, ver.-ed in many languages, 
 high in fancy, and strong in retention. This 
 busy and forcible mind is now under the 
 government of those who lately could not 
 have been able to comprehend the least and 
 most narrow of his 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 com- 
 plete consciousness of his calamity." 
 
 In a subsequent letter to the same irentleman 
 (Dec. 24. 1754), he thus feelingly alludes to 
 their unfortunate friend : 
 
 " Poor dear Collins I Let me know whether 
 you think it would give him pleasure if I 
 shoidd write to bin). I have often been near 
 his state, and therefore have it in great cotn- 
 miserafion." 
 
 Again— April 9, 1756: 
 
 "What becomes of poor dear Collins? I 
 wrote him a letter which he never answered. 
 I suppose writing is very troublesome to him. 
 That man is no common loss. The moralists 
 all talk of the uncertainty of fortune, an<l the 
 transitoriness of beauty: but it is yet more 
 dreadful to consider that the powers of the 
 mind are equally liable to change, that under- 
 standing mav make its appearance and depart, 
 that it may olaze and expire." 
 
 See Biographical Memoirs of the late Reve- 
 rend Dr. "Joseph Warton, by the Reverend 
 John Wool, A. M. 4to. IPOtt. 
 
 Mr. Collins, who was the son of a hatter at 
 Chichester, was born December 25, 1720, and 
 w;is released from the dismal state here so 
 pathetically described, in 1756. M. 
 
 give him any pleasure ? I have a mind t^ 
 write. 
 
 " I am glad of your hinderance 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 Servitourt transcribe the quo- 
 tations, and interleave them with refer- 
 ences, to save time. Tiiis will shorten 
 the work, and lessen the fatigue. 
 
 " Can I do any thing to promoting the 
 diploma ? I would not be wanting to co- 
 operate with your kindness ; of which, 
 whatever be the effect, I shall be, dear 
 
 SIR, 
 
 " Your most obliged, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' [London] Nov. 28. 1754. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I AM extremely sensible of the favour 
 done me, both by Mr. Wise and youiself. 
 The bookj cannot, 1 think, be printed 
 in less than six weeks, nor probably ?o 
 soon ; and I will keep back the title- 
 page for such an 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 con- 
 cerned. I have a notion that by very 
 great temperance, or more properly ab- 
 stinence, he may yet recover. 
 
 "There is an old English and Latin 
 book of poems by Barclay, called " The 
 Ship of Fools ;" at the end of which are 
 a number of Eylogues, — 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. * 
 
 " 1 shall be extremely glad to hear from 
 you again, toknowif the affair proceeds $. 
 I have mentioned it to none of my friends, 
 for fear of being laughed at for my dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 Cy^tot" T» V olfjioi ; fivyjTot yof •7rr7roy6a/u«y. 
 I have ever since seemed to myself 
 broken off from mankind; a kind of 
 solitary wanderer in the wild of life, 
 without any direction, or fixed point of 
 
   " Of publishing a volume of obscrvationson 
 the best of Spenser's works. It was hindered 
 by my taking pupils in this College." 
 
 t ♦'^ Young students of the lowest rank at 
 Oxford are so called. 
 
 I " His Dictionary." 
 
 I '• Of the degrce'at Oxford." 
 
/Etat. 4.5. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON . 
 
 view ; 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 atfectionately yours, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "[Loudon], Dec. 21, 1754." 
 
 In 1755 we behold him to great advan- 
 tage ; his degree of Master of Arts con- 
 ferred upon hiin, his Dictionary pub- 
 lished, his correspondence animated, his 
 benevolence exercised. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I WROTE to you some weeks ago, but 
 believe did not direct accurately, and 
 therefore know not whether you had my 
 letter. I would, likewise, write to your 
 brother, but know not where to find him. 
 1 now begin to see land, after having 
 wandered, according to Mr. Warburton's 
 phrase, in this vast sea of words. What 
 reception I shall meet with on the shore, 
 1 know not ; whether the sound of bells, 
 and acclamations of the people, which 
 Ariosto talks of in his last Canto, or a 
 general murmur of dislike, I know not : 
 whether I shall find upon the coast a 
 Calypso that will court, or a Polypheme 
 that will resist. But if Polypheme comes, 
 have at his eye. I hope, however, the 
 criticks will let me be at peace; for 
 tliough 1 do not much fear their skill and 
 strength, I am a little afraid of myself, 
 and would not willingly feel so much ill 
 will in my bosom as literary quarrels are 
 apt to excite. 
 
 " Mr. Baretti is about a work for which 
 he is in great want of Crescimbeni, which 
 you may have again when you please. 
 
 " There is nothing considerable done 
 or doing among us here. We are not, 
 perhaps, as innocent as villagers, but 
 most of us seem to be as idle. I hope, 
 however, you are busy ; and should be 
 glad to know what you are doing. 
 
 " I am, DEAREST SIR, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 " [London], Feb. 4, 1755." ' 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I RECEIVED your letter this day, with 
 great sense of the favour that has been 
 done me* ; for which 1 return my most 
 sincere thanks ; and entreat you to pay 
 to Mr. Wise such returns as I ought to 
 
 * " His degree had now past, according: to 
 the nsual form, the PiiflFrages of the heads of 
 College*; bal wvis not yet finally grrarited by 
 the University. It was carried without a single 
 dissentient voice." 
 
 81 
 
 little 
 
 make for so much kindness so 
 deserved. 
 
 " 1 sent Mr. Wise the Lexicon, and 
 afterwards wrote to him ; but know not 
 whether he had either the book or letter. 
 Be so good as to contrive to inquire. 
 
 " But Vr'hy does my dear Mr. Warton 
 tell me nothing of himself? Where hangs 
 the new volume* 1 Can I help? Let not 
 the past labour be lost for want of a little 
 more : but snatch what time you can from 
 the hall, and the pupils, and the cofi'ee- 
 house, and the parks, and complete your 
 design. I am, dear sir, i&c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " [London], Feb, 4, 1755." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " 1 HAD a letter last week from Mr. Wise, 
 but have yet heard nothing from you, nor 
 know in what state my affair + stands ; 
 of which I beg you to inform me, if you 
 can, to-morrow, by the return of the post. 
 
 " Mr. Wise sends me word that he has 
 not had the Finnick Lexicon yet, which 
 I sent some time ago ; and if he has it 
 not, you must inquire after it. However, 
 do not let your letter stay for that. 
 
 " Your brother, who is a better corres- 
 pondent than you, and not much better, 
 sends me word that your pupils keep >ou 
 in college : but do they keep you from 
 writing too? Let them, at least, give you 
 time to write to, dear sir, 
 
 " Your most affectionate, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " [London], Feb, 13, 1755." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Dr. King J was with me a few minutes 
 before your letter ; this, however, is the 
 first instance in which your kind inten- 
 tions to me have ever been frustrated §. 
 I have now the full effect of your care 
 and benevolence ; and am far from think- 
 ing it a slight honour, or a small advan- 
 tage ; since it will put the enjoyment of 
 your conversation more frequently in the 
 
 power of, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most obliged and affectionate, 
 *' Sam. Johnson. 
 " P. S. I have enclosed a letter to the 
 Vice-Chancellorjl, which you will read ; 
 and if you like it, seal and give him. 
 "[London], Feb. 1755." 
 
 * " On Spenser." t " Of the depree." 
 
 t " Principal oi Saint Mary Hall at Oxfonl. 
 He brought with him the diploma from Ox- 
 ford." 
 
 § " 1 suppose Johnson means that my kind 
 ivtenlion of being- the Jirst to give him lite 
 good news of the degree being granted was 
 /rHsfr^ffrf, because Dr. King brought it before 
 my intelligence arriveii." 
 
 II " Dr. Huddesford, President of Trniity 
 College." 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1755. 
 
 As the publick will doubtless be pleased 
 to see the whole progress of this well- 
 earned academical honour, I shall insert 
 the Chancellor of Oxford's letter to the 
 University*, the diploma, and Johnson's 
 letter of thanks to the Vice-Chancellor. 
 
 " To the Reverend Dr. Huddesford, 
 Vice-Chancellor of the University of 
 Oxford ; to he communicated to the 
 Heads of Houses, and proposed in 
 Convocation. 
 
 " MR. VII E-CHANCELLOR AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 ** Mr. Samuel Johnson, who was for- 
 merly of Pembroke College, having very 
 eminently distinguished himself by the 
 publication of a series of Essays, excel- 
 lently calculated to form the manners of 
 the people, and in which the cause of 
 religion and morality is every where 
 maintained by the strongest powers of 
 argument and language ; and who shortly 
 intends to publish a Dictionary of the 
 English Tongue, formed on a new plan, 
 and" executed with the greatest labour 
 and judgment; 1 persuade myself that I 
 shall act agreeably to the sentiments of 
 the whole University, in desiring that it 
 may be proposed in convocation to confer 
 on him the degree of Master of Arts by 
 diploma, to which I readily give my con- 
 sent ; and am, 
 
 " MR. VICE-CHANCEIJLOR AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " Your affectionate friend and servant, 
 " Arran." 
 " Grosvenor Street, Feb. 4, 1755." 
 
 Term. Scti. 
 
 Hilarii. 
 
 1755. 
 
 " CAISCELLARIUS, Magistri, et 
 Scholar es Universitatis Oxoniensis om- 
 nihus ad quos hoc presens scriptum 
 pervenerit, salutem in Domino sempi- 
 ternam. 
 
 " Cum, eum in finem gradvs acade- 
 mici ci majoribus nostris instituti fu- 
 erint, ut viri ingenio et doctrind prce- 
 stantes titulis quoque propter cceteros 
 insignirentur ; cumque vir doctissimus 
 Samuel Johnson h Collegio Pembrochi- 
 ensi, scriptis suis popularium mores 
 informantibus dudum literato orbi in- 
 notuerit ; quin et lingua patrite turn 
 ornandoi turn stabiliendte (Lexicon 
 scilicet Anglicanum summo studio, 
 summo (l se judicio congestum prope- 
 diem editurus) etiam nunc utilissimam 
 impendat operam ; Nos igitur Cancel- 
 larius, Magistri, et Scholares antedicti, 
 n'c virum de Uteris humanioribus optimh 
 meritum diutius inhonoratum prceter- 
 eamus, in solenni Convocatione Doc- 
 torum, Magistrorum, Regentium, et 
 non Regentium, decimo die Mensis 
 
 • " Extracted from the Convocation Regis- 
 ter, Oxford." 
 
 * DIPLOMA MAGISTRI JOHN- 
 SON. 
 
 Februarii Anno Domini Millesimo 
 Septingentesimo Quinquagesimo quinto 
 habitd, prcefatum, virum Samuelem 
 Johnson ( conspirantibus omnium siif- 
 fragiis) Magistrum in Artibus renun- 
 ciavimus et constituimus ; eumqne, vir- 
 tute prcBscntis diplomatis, singulis juri- 
 bus privilegiis et honoribus ad istum 
 gradum qudquu pertinentibus frui et 
 gaudere jussimus. 
 
 " In cujus rei testimonium sigiUum 
 Universitatis Oxoniensis proisentibus 
 apponi fecimu^. 
 
 '* Datum in Domo nostra; Convo- 
 cationis die 20° Mensis Feb. Anno 
 Dom. prcedicto. 
 
 " Diploma supra scriptum per Regis- 
 trarium lectum arat, et ex decreto 
 venerabilis Domus communi Universi- 
 tatis sigillo munitami." 
 
 ** Londini, Ato Cat. Mart, 1755. 
 
 " VIROREVERENDO HUDDESFORD. S.T.P. 
 
 UNIVERSITATIS OXONIENSIS VICE-CANCEL- 
 LARIO DIGNISSIMO, S. P. D. 
 "SAM. JOHNSON. 
 
 '' INGRATUS plank et tihi et wild 
 videar, nisi quanto me gaudio affece- 
 rint, quos nuper mihi honores (te, 
 credo, auctore), decrevit Senatus Aca- 
 demicus, literarum,, quo tamen nihil 
 levius, officio, signifcem ; ingratus 
 etiam, nisi comitatcm, quO, vir eximiuJS % 
 mihi vestri testimonium amoris in 
 manus tradidit, agnoscam et laudem. 
 Si quid est, unde rci tam grata accedat 
 gratia, hoc ipso magis mihi placet, 
 quod eo tempore in or dines Academicos 
 denub cooptatus sim, quo tuam immi- 
 nuere auctoritatem, famamque Oxonii 
 loidere, omnibus modis conantur homi- 
 nes vafri, nee tamen acuti : quibus ego, 
 prout viro umbratlco licuit, semper 
 restiti semper restiturus. Qui enim, 
 inter has rerum procellas, vel tibi vel 
 AcademicB defue7-it, ilium virtiiti et 
 Uteris, sibique et posteris, defuturum 
 existimo. Vale." 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " After 1 received my diploma, I wrote 
 you a letter of thanks, with a letter to 
 the Vice-Chancellor, and sent another to 
 Mr. Wise ; but have heard from nobody 
 since, and begin to think myselfforgotten. 
 It is true, I sent you a double letter, and 
 you may fear an expensive correspon- 
 dent ; but I would have taken it kindly, 
 if you had returned it treble : and what 
 
 + The original is in my possession. 
 
 i Wt; nr.iy conceive wli:»f a iiiuh uratification 
 ii must have hecn to Johnson to receive his 
 diploma from the hands of the ^freat Dr. Kinr, 
 whose principles were no congenial vtiih his 
 
JEtxt. 46. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 83 
 
 is a double letter to a petty king, that 
 having fellowship and fines, can sleep 
 without a Modus in his head* ? 
 
 *' Dear Mr. Warton, let me hear from 
 you, and tell me something, I care not 
 what, so I hear it but from you. Some- 
 thing I will tell you : — I hope to see my 
 Dictionary bound and lettered next week ; 
 — vastd mole superbus. And I have a 
 great mind to come to Oxford at Easter ; 
 but you will not invite me. Shall I come 
 uninvited, or stay here where nobody 
 perhaps would miss me if I went? A 
 hard choice ! But such is the world to, 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yours, &c. 
 
 Sam. Johnson." 
 '•fLondonJ, March 20, 1755." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' Though not to write, when a man can 
 write so well, is an offence sufficiently 
 heinous, yet I shall pass it by. I am 
 very glad that the Vice-Chancellor was 
 pleased with my note. I shall impatiently 
 expect you at London, that we may con- 
 sider what to do next. I intend in the 
 winter to open a Bihliotheque, and re- 
 member that you are to subscribe a sheet 
 a year : let us try, likewise, if we cannot 
 persuade your brother to subscribe ano- 
 ther. My book is now coming in luminis 
 eras. What will be its fate I know not, 
 nor think much, because thinking is to 
 no purpose. It must stand the censure 
 of the great vulgar and the small; of 
 those that understand it, and that under- 
 stand it not. But in all this 1 suffer not 
 alone ; every writer has the same diffi- 
 culties, and, perhaps, every writer talks 
 of them more than he thinks. 
 
 ** You will be pleased to make my 
 compliments to all ray friends; and be 
 so kind, at every idle houi", as to remem- 
 ber, DEAR SIR, 
 
 "Yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " [London], March 25, 1755." 
 
 Dr. Adams told me that this scheme of 
 a Bihliotheque was a serious one : for, 
 upon his visiting him one day, he found 
 his parlour floor covered with parcels of 
 foreign and English literary journals, and 
 he told Dr. Adams he meant to undertake 
 a Review. " How, sir (said Dr. Adams), 
 can you think of doing it alone ? All 
 branches of knowledge must be considered 
 in it. Do you know Mathematicks? Do 
 you know Natural History V Johnson 
 answered, ** Why, sir, I must do as well 
 as I can. My chief purpose is to give my 
 
 * " The words in Italicks are allusions to 
 passages in Mr. Warton's poem, called * The 
 Progress of Discontent,' now lately pub- 
 lished." 
 
 countrymen a vfew of what is doing in 
 literature upon the continent: and I shall 
 have, in a good measure, the choice of 
 my subject, for I shall select such books 
 as I best understand." Dr. Adams sug- 
 gested, that as Dr. Maty had just then 
 finished his Bihliotheque Britanniqve, 
 which was a well executed work, giving 
 foreigners an account of British publica- 
 tions, he might, with great advantage, 
 assume him as an assistant. " He (said 
 Johnson) the little black dog ! I'd throw 
 him into the Thames." The scheme how- 
 ever, was dropped. 
 
 In one of his little memorandum books 
 I find the following hints for his intended 
 Review or Literary Journal : ** l^he An- ' 
 nals of Literature, foreign as well as 
 domestick. Imitate Le Clerc — Bayle — 
 Barbeyrac. Infelicity of Journals in 
 England. * Works of the learned.' We 
 cannot take in all. Sometimes copy 
 from foreign Journalists. Always tell." 
 
 " TO DR. birch. 
 
 "sir, March 29, 1755. 
 
 " I HAVE sent some parts of my Dic- 
 tionary, such as were at hand, for your 
 inspection. The favour which I beg is, 
 that if you do not like them, you will say- 
 nothing. I am, SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** to mr. samuel johnson. 
 
 " SIR, Norfolk Street, April 23, 1755. 
 
 " The part of your Dictionary which you 
 have favoured me with the sight of has 
 given me such an idea of the whole, that 
 I most sincerely congratulate the publick 
 upon the acquisition of a work long 
 wanted, and now executed with an in- 
 dustry, accuracy, and judgment, equal to 
 the importance of the subject. You 
 might, perhaps, have chosen one in which 
 your genius would have appeared to more 
 advantage, but you could not have fixed 
 upon any other in which your labours 
 would have done such substantial service 
 to the present age and to posterity. I am 
 glad that your health has supported the 
 application necessary to the performance 
 of so vast a task ; and can undertake to 
 promise you as one (though perhaps the 
 only) reward of it, the approbation and 
 thanks of every well wisher to the honour 
 of the English language. I am, with the 
 greatest regard, sir, 
 
 " Your most faithful and 
 
 " Most affectionate humble servant, 
 
 "Tho. Birch." 
 
 Mr. Charles Burney, who has since 
 distinguished himself so much in tht^ 
 science of Musick, and obtained a Doctor's 
 degree from the University of Oxford, 
 had been driven from the capital by bad 
 
 
84 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irsaHl 
 
 health, and was now residing at Lynne 
 Regis in Norfolk. He had been so much 
 delighted with Johnson's Rambler, and 
 the plan of his Dictionary, that when the 
 great work was announced in the news- 
 papers as nearly finished, he wrote to 
 Dr. Johnson, begging to be informed 
 when and in what manner his Dictionary 
 would be published ; entreating, if it 
 should be by subscription, or he should 
 have any books at his own disposal, to be 
 favoured with six copies for himself and 
 friends. 
 
 In answer to this application Dr. John- 
 son wrote the following letter, of which 
 (to use Dr. Barney's own words), " if it 
 be remembered that it was written to an 
 obscure young man, who at this time had 
 not much distinguished himself even in 
 his own profession, but whose name could 
 never have reached the authour of * The 
 Rambler,' the politeness and urbanity 
 may be opposed to some of the stories 
 which have been lately circulated of 
 Dr. Johnson's natural rudeness and fero- 
 city." 
 
 " TO MR. BURNEY, IN LYNNE REGIS, 
 NORFOLK. 
 ** SIR, 
 
 " If you imagine that by delaying my 
 answer I intended to show any neglect 
 of the notice with which you have fa- 
 voured me, you will neither think justly 
 of yourself nor of me. Your civilities 
 were offered with too much elegance not 
 to engage attention ; and I have too much 
 pleasure in pleasing men like you not to 
 feel very sensibly the distinction which 
 you have bestowed upon me. 
 
 '* Few consequences of my endeavours 
 to please or to benefit mankind have 
 delighted me more than your friendship 
 thus voluntarily offered, which now I 
 have it I hope to keep, because I hope 
 to continue to deserve it. 
 
 " I have no Dictionaries to dispose of 
 for myself, but shall be glad to have you 
 direct your friends to Mr. Dodsley, be- 
 cause it was by his recommendation that 
 I was employed in the work. 
 
 ** When you have leisure to think again 
 upon me, let me be favoured with another 
 letter; and another yet, when you have 
 looked into my Dictionary. If yon find 
 faults, I shall endeavour to mend them ; 
 if you find none, I shall think you blinded 
 by kind partiality : but to have made you 
 partial in his favour will very much gratify 
 the ambition of, sir, 
 
 ** Your most obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Gougli Square, Fleet Street, 
 April 8, 1755." 
 
 Mr. Andrew Millar, bookseller in the 
 
 Strand, took the principal charge of con- 
 ducting the publication of Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary ; and as the patience of the pro- 
 prietors was repeatedly tried, and almost 
 exhausted, by their expecting that the 
 work would be completed within the time 
 which Johnson had sanguinely supposed, 
 the learned authour was often goaded to 
 despatch, more especially as he had re- 
 ceived all the copy money, by difiterent 
 drafts, a considerable time before he had 
 finished his task. When the messenger 
 who carried the last sheet to Millar re- 
 turned, Johnson asked him, " Well, what 
 did he say?" — •' Sir (answered the mes- 
 senger), he said. Thank God I have done 
 with him." " I am glad (replied John- 
 son, with a smile), that he thanks Gou 
 for any thing*." It is remarkable that 
 those with whom Johnson chiefly con- 
 tracted for his literary labours were 
 Scotchmen, Mr. Millar and Mr. Strahan. 
 Millar, though himself no great judge of 
 literature, had good sense enough to have 
 for his friends very able men, to give him 
 their opinion and advice in the purchase 
 of copyright ; the consequence of which 
 was his acquiring a very large fortune, 
 with great liberality. Johnson said of 
 him, ** I respect Millar, sir ; he has raised 
 the price of literature." The same praise 
 may be justly given to Panckoucke, 
 the eminent bookseller of Paris. Mr. 
 Strahan's liberality, judgment, and suc- 
 cess are well known. 
 
 " TO RENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT LANGTON, 
 NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " It has been long observed, that men 
 do not suspect faults which they do not 
 commit; your own elegance of manners 
 and punctuality of complaisance did not 
 suffer you to impute to me that^negligence 
 of which I was guilty, and which I have 
 not since atoned. I received both your 
 letters, and received them with pleasure 
 proportioned to the esteem which so short 
 an acquaintance strongly impressed, and 
 which I hope to confirm by nearer know- 
 ledge, though I am afraid that gratification 
 will be for a time withheld. 
 
 " 1 have, indeed, published my book +, 
 of which 1 beg to know your father's 
 judgment, and yours; and I have now 
 stai<l long enough to watch its progress 
 in the world. It has, you see, no patrons, 
 and, I think, has yet no opponents, ex- 
 cept the criticks of the coffee-house, whose 
 
 • SirJohii Hawkins, p. 341, iii^jrrts two notes 
 as hiivincr n,\-Jse»l formally l>etwt'en Andrew 
 iMillar auil Johnson, to the above effect. I am 
 assured this was not the case, in the way of 
 incidental remark it was a pieasant play of 
 raillery. To have deliberately written notes 
 in such terms would have becu inoro>e% 
 
 t His Dictioaary. 
 
JEtkt. 46. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 85 
 
 outcries are soon dispersed into the air, 
 and are thought on no more : from this, 
 ' therefore, I am at liberty, and think of 
 taking the opportunity of this interval to 
 make an excursion, and wliy not then 
 into Lincolnshire 1 or, to mention a 
 stronger attraction, why not to dear 
 Mr. Langton? I will give the true reason, 
 which I know you will approve: — 1 have 
 a mother more than eighty years old, who 
 has counted the days to tiie publication 
 of my book, in hopes of seeing me ; and 
 to her, if I can disengage myself here, I 
 resolve to go. 
 
 " As I know, dear sir, that to delay 
 my visit for a reason like this will not 
 deprive me of your esteem, I beg it may 
 not lessen your kindness. I have very 
 seldom received an offer of friendship 
 which I so earnestly desire to cultivate 
 and mature. I shall rejoice to hear from 
 you, till I can see you, and will see you 
 as soon as I can ; for, when the duty that 
 calls me to Lichfield is discharged, my 
 inclination will carry me to Langton. I 
 shall delight to hear the ocean roar, or 
 see the stars twinkle, in the company of 
 men to whom Nature does not spread her 
 volumes or utter her voice in vain. 
 
 " Do not, dear sir, make the slowness 
 of this letter a precedent for delay, or 
 imagine that I approved the incivility 
 that I have committed ; for I have known 
 you enough to love you, and sincerely to 
 wish a further knowledge ; and I assure 
 you, once more, that to live in a house 
 that contains such a father and such a son 
 will be accounted a very uncommon de- 
 gree of pleasure by, wear sir, 
 " Your most obliged, 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 
 " May 6, 1755." " Sam. Johnson," 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM grieved that you should think me 
 capable of neglecting your letters ; and 
 beg you will never admit any such sus- 
 picion again. I purpose to come down 
 next week, if you shall be there ; or any 
 other week that shall be more agreeable 
 to you. Therefore let me know. I can 
 . stay this visit but a week, but intend to 
 make preparations for a longer stay next 
 time ; being resolved not to lose sight of 
 the University. How goes * Apollonius * V 
 Don't let him be forgotten. Some things 
 of this kind must be done to keep us up. 
 Pay my compliments to Mr. Wise, and 
 all my other friends. I think to come to 
 Kettel-Hallf. I am, sir, 
 
 *' Your most affectionate, &c. 
 
 "Sam. Johnson." 
 '* [London], May 13, 1755." 
 
 * " A translation of Apollonius Rhotliiis was 
 BOW intended by Mr. Warion." 
 t Kettel-Hall is an ancient tenement buiit 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " It is Strange how many things will hap- 
 pen to intercept every pleasure, though 
 it [be] only that of two friends meeting 
 together. I have promised myself every 
 day to inform you when you might expect 
 me at Oxford, and have not been able to 
 fix a time. The time, however, is, 1 think, 
 at last come ; and I promise myself to 
 repose in Kettel-Hall one of the first 
 nights of the next week. I am afraid 
 my stay with you cannot be long ; but 
 what is the inference t We must endea- 
 vour to make it cheerful. I wish your 
 brother could meet us, that we might go 
 and drink tea with Mr. Wise in a body. 
 I hope he will be at Oxford, or at his 
 nest of British and Saxon antiquities j. 
 I shall expect to see Spenser finished, 
 and many other things begun. Dodsley 
 is gone to visit the Dutch. The Dictionary 
 sells well. The rest of the world goes on 
 as it did. Dear sir, 
 
 " Your most affectionate, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 ** [London], June 10, 1755." 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " To talk of coming to you, and not yet 
 to come, has an air of trifling which I 
 would not willingly have among you ; 
 and which, I believe, you will not wil- 
 lingly impute to me, when I have told 
 you that since my promise two of our 
 partners § are dead, and that I was so- 
 licited to suspend my excursion till we 
 could recover from our confusion. 
 
 *' I have not laid aside my purpose ; 
 for every day makes me more impatient 
 of staying from you. But death you 
 know, hears not supplications, nor pays 
 any regard to the convenience of mortals. 
 I hope now to see you next week ; but 
 next week is but another name for to- 
 morrow, which has been noted for pro- 
 mising and deceiving. I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " [London], June 24, 1755." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I TOLD you that among the manuscripts 
 are some things of Sir Thomas More. I 
 beg you to pass an hour in looking on 
 them, and procure a transcript of the ten 
 or twenty first lines of each, to be com- 
 pared with what I have ; that I may 
 
 about the year 1615, by Dr. Ralph Kettle, Pre- 
 sident of frinity Colleere, for the accommoda- 
 tion of Commoners of that Society. It adjoins 
 thecolleg;e; and was a few years ago converted 
 into a private house." M. 
 
 t " At Ellsfield, a village three miles from 
 Oxford." 
 
 § '■ Booksellers concerned in his Diction- 
 
86 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1755. 
 
 know whether they are yet published. 
 The manuscripts are these : 
 
 " Catalogue of Bodl. MS. pag. 122. 
 F. 3. Sir Thomas More. 
 
 "1. Fall of angels. 2. Creation and 
 fall of mankind. 3. Determination of 
 the Trinity for the rescue of mankind. 
 
 4. Five lectures of our Saviour's passion. 
 
 5. Of the Institution of the Sacrament, 
 three lectures. 6. How to receive the 
 blessed body of our Lord sacramentally. 
 7. Neomenia, the new moon. 8. De 
 tristitia tcedio, pavore, et oratione 
 Christi ante captionem ejus. 
 
 " Catalogue, pag. 154. Life of Sir 
 Thomas More. Qu. Whether Roper's? 
 Page 363. De Resignutlone Mayni Si- 
 (jilli in manus Regis per D. Thomam 
 Morum. Pag. 364. Mori Defensio 
 MoricB. 
 
 " If you procure the young gentlemen 
 in the library to write out what you think 
 fit to be written, I will send to Mr. Prince 
 the bookseller to pay him what you shall 
 think proper. 
 
 '* Be pleased to make my compliments 
 to Mr. Wise, and all my friends. 
 '* I am, SIR, 
 ** Your affectionate, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** [London], August 7, 1755." 
 
 The Dictionary, with a Grammar and 
 History of the English Language, being 
 now at length published, in two volumes 
 folio, the world contemplated with won- 
 der so stupendous a work achieved by one 
 man, while other countries had thought 
 such undertakings fit only for whole 
 academies. Vast as his powers were, I 
 cannot but think that his imagination 
 deceived him, when he supposed that by 
 constant application he might have per- 
 formed the task in three years. Let the 
 Preface be attentively perused, in which 
 is given, in a clear, strong, and glowing 
 .style, a comprehensive, yet particular 
 view of what he had done; and it will 
 be evident that the time he employed 
 upon it was comparatively short. I am 
 unwilling to swell my book with long 
 (juotations from what is in every body's 
 hands, and I believe there are few prose 
 compositions in the English language that 
 are read with more delight, or are more 
 impressed upon the memory than that 
 preliminary discourse. One of its excel- 
 lencies has always struck me with peculiar 
 admiration ; I mean the perspicuity with 
 which he has expressed abstract scientifick 
 notions. As an instance of this, I shall 
 (juote the following sentence : " When 
 the radical idea branches out into parallel 
 ramifications, how can a consecutive series 
 be formed of senses in their own nature 
 collateral 1" We have here an example 
 of what has been often said; and I believe 
 
 with justice, that there is for every thought 
 a certain nice adaptation of words which 
 none other could equal, and which, when 
 a man has been so fortunate as to hit, he 
 has attained, in that particular case, the 
 perfection of language. 
 
 The extensive reading which was ab- 
 solutely necessary for the accumulation 
 of authorities, and which alone may ac- 
 count for Johnson's retentive mind being 
 enriched with a very large and various 
 store of knowledge and imagery, must 
 have occupied several years. The Preface 
 furnishes an eminent instance of a double 
 talent, of which Johnson was fully con- 
 scious. Sir Joshua Reynolds heard him 
 say, " There are two things which I^m 
 confident I can do very well : one is an 
 introduction to any literary work, stating 
 what it is to contain, and how it sho.uId 
 be executed in the most perfect manner": 
 the other is a conclusion, showing from 
 various causes why the execution has nol 
 been equal to what the authour promised 
 to himself and to the publick." 
 
 How should puny scribblers be abashed 
 and disappointed, when they find him 
 displaying a perfect theory of lexicogra- 
 phical excellence, yet at the same time 
 candidly and modestly allowing that he 
 " had not satisfied his own expectations." 
 Here was a fair occasion for the exercise 
 of Johnson's modesty, when he was called 
 upon to compare his own arduous per- 
 formance, not with those of other indi- 
 viduals (in which case his inflexible regard 
 to truth would have been violated had he 
 affected diffidence), but with speculative 
 perfection ; as he, who can outstrip all 
 ins competitors in the race, may yet be 
 sensible of his deficiency when he runs 
 against time. Well mi^it he say, that 
 " the English Dictionary was written with 
 little assistance of the learned;" for he 
 told me that the only aid which he re- 
 ceived was a paper containing twenty 
 etymologies, sent to him by a person then 
 unknown, who he was afterwards in- 
 formed was Dr. Pearce, Bishop of Ro- 
 chester. The etymologies, though they 
 exhibit learning and judgment, are not, 
 I think, entitled to the first prai.se among«t 
 the various parts of this immense work. 
 The definitions have always appeared to 
 me such astonishing proofs of acutenesa 
 of intellect and precision of language, as 
 indicate a genius of the highest rank. 
 This it is which marks the superiour 
 excellence of Johnson's Dictionary over 
 others equally or even more voluminous, 
 and must have made it a work of much 
 greater mental labour than mere Lexicons, 
 or Jf ord Books, as the Dutch call them. 
 They, who will make the experiment of 
 trying how they can define a few words 
 of whatever nature, will soon be satisfied 
 of the unquestionable justice of this ob> 
 
^TAT. 4 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 87 
 
 servation, which I can assure my readers 
 is founded upon much study, and upon 
 communication with more minds than 
 my own. 
 
 A few of his definitions must be admit- 
 ted to be erroneous. Thus, Windward 
 and Leeward, though directly of opposite 
 meaning, are defined identically the same 
 way * : as to which inconsiderable specks 
 it is enough to observe, that his Preface 
 announces that he was aware there might 
 be many such in so immense a work ; 
 nor was he at all disconcerted when an 
 instance was pointed out to him. A lady 
 once asked him how he came to define 
 Pastern the knee of a horse : instead of 
 making an elaborate defence, as she ex- 
 pected, he at once answered, " Ignorance, 
 madam, pure ignorance." His definition 
 of Network has been often quoted with 
 sportive malignity, as obscuring a thing 
 in itself very plain. But to these frivolous 
 censures no other answer is necessary 
 than that with which we are furnished by 
 his own Preface. " To explain requires 
 the use of terms less abstruse than that 
 which is to be explained, and such terms 
 cannot always be found. For as nothing 
 can be proved but by supposing something 
 intuitively known, and evident without 
 proof, so nothing can be defined but by 
 the use of words too plain to admit of 
 definition. Sometimes easier words are 
 changed into harder ; as burial, into se- 
 pulture or interment ; drier, into desic- 
 cative ; dryness, into siccity, or aridity ; 
 Jit, into paroxysm ; for the easiest word, 
 whatever it be, can never be translated 
 into one more easy." 
 
 His introducing his own opinions, and 
 even prejudices, under general definitions 
 of words, while at the same time the 
 original meaning of the words is not ex- 
 plained, as his Tory, Whiff, Pension, 
 Oats, Excise i, and a few more, cannot 
 be fully defended, and must be placed to 
 the account of capricious and humorous 
 indulgence. Talking to me upon this 
 subject when we were at Ashbourne in 
 1777, he mentioned a still stronger in- 
 stance of the predominance of his private 
 
 * He owns in his preface the deficiency of 
 the technical part of his work ; and he said, 
 he should be much obliged tome for definitions 
 of musical terms for his next edition, which he 
 did not live to snptrintend. B. 
 
 t He thus defines Excise : * A hateful tax 
 levied upon commodities, and adjudged notby 
 the common judges of properly," but wretches 
 hired by those to whom Excise is paid.' The 
 Commissioners of Excise being offended by 
 this severe reflection, consulled Mr. Murray, 
 then Attorney General, to know whether re- 
 dress could be legally obtained. 1 wished to 
 have procured for my readers a copy of thf 
 opinion which he save, and which niay now 
 be justly considered as history : but the mys- 
 terious secrecy of office it seems would not 
 permit it, I am, however, informed, by very 
 
 feelings in the composition of this work, 
 than any now to be found in it. " You 
 know, sir. Lord Gower forsook the old 
 Jacobite interest. When I came to the 
 word Reneg ado, after telling that it meant 
 ' one who deserts to the enemy, a re- 
 volter,' 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 some- 
 times in playful allusion to the notions 
 commonly entertained of his own labo- 
 rious task. Thus : *' Grub Street, the 
 name of a street in London : much in- 
 habited by writers of small histories, dic- 
 tionaries, a.ndtempora.vy poems ; whence 
 any mean production is called Grub 
 Street." — " Lexicoffrapher, a writer of 
 dictionaries, a harmless drudffe." 
 
 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 splendid 
 thoughts which so highly distinguish that 
 performance. " I (says he) may surely 
 be contented without the praise of per- 
 fection, which if I could obtain in this 
 gloom of solitude, what would it avail 
 me? I have protracted my work till most 
 of those whom I wished to please have 
 sunk into the grave ; and success and 
 miscarriage are empty sounds. I there- 
 fore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, 
 having little to fear or hope from censure 
 or from praise." That this indifference 
 was rather a temporary than an habitual 
 feeling, appears, I think, from his letters 
 to Mr. Warton ; and however he may 
 have been affected for the moment, cer- 
 tain it is that the t ionours which his great 
 work proriirpd_i)imj poth-atJbLQm£ _ and 
 a Sro acK were very grate ful t^ lljjn. H i s 
 friend the Earl of Corke and Orrery, 
 being at Florence, presented it to the 
 A cademia della C'rusca. That Academy 
 sent Johnson their Vocabolario, and the 
 French Academy sent him their Dic- 
 
 good authority, that its import was, that the 
 passage 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," there is 
 the following very extraordinary paragraph : 
 " The authenticity of Clarendoii's history, 
 though printed with the sanction of the first 
 Universities of the world, had not an unex- 
 pected manuscript 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 Commissioner of Excise." The persons 
 to wlioni he alludes were Mr. John Oldmixon, 
 and George Ducket, Esq. 
 
88 
 
 tionnaire, which Mi 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1755. 
 
 Langton had the 
 pleasure to convey to him. 
 
 It must undoubtedly seem strange, that 
 the conchision of his preface should be 
 expressed in terms so desponding, when 
 it is considered that the autliour was then 
 only in his forty-sixth year. But we must 
 ascribe its gloom to that miserable de- 
 jection of spirits to which he was consti- 
 tutionally subject, and which was aggra- 
 vated by the death of his wife two years 
 before. I have heard it ingeniously ob- 
 served by a lady of rank and elegance, 
 that ** his melancholy was then at its 
 meridian." It pleased Gou 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 unhappy, unless the circle 
 of his friends was very narrow. I have 
 often thought, that as longevity is gene- 
 rally desired, and, I believe, generally 
 expected, it would be wise to be con- 
 tinually 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 required to make it 
 very mellow and pleasant. Warmth 
 will, no doubt, make a considerable dif- 
 ference. 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 sub- 
 sequent period of his life, the opinion of 
 Johnson himself. He said to Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, " If a man does not make 
 new acquaintance as he advances through 
 life, he will soon find himself left alone. 
 A man, sir, should keep his friendship 
 in constant repair." 
 
 The celebrated Mr. Wilkes, whose no- 
 tions and habits of life were very opposite 
 to his, but who was ever eminent for 
 literature and vivacity, sallied forth with 
 a little jeu cV esprit upon the following 
 passage in his Grammar of the English 
 Tongue, prefixed to the Dictionary : " // 
 seldom, perhaps never, begins any but 
 the first syllable." In an essay printed 
 in " the Publick Advertiser," this lively 
 writer enumerated many instances in 
 opposition to this remark ; for example, 
 
 " The authour of this observation must 
 be a man of quick appre-hension, and 
 of a most compre-hensive genius." The 
 position is undoubtedly expressed with 
 too thuch latitude. 
 
 This light sally, we may suppose, made 
 no great impres!-ion on our Lexicogra- 
 pher ; for we find that he did not alter the 
 passage till many years afterwards*. 
 
 He had the pleasure of being treated 
 in a very dififerent manner by his old 
 pupil Mr. Garrick, in the following com- 
 plimentary Epigram : 
 
 " On Johnson's Dictionary. 
 
 " Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly ad- 
 vance. 
 
 That one English soUlier will beat ten of France ; 
 
 Would we alter ihe boast from the swoid to 
 the pen, 
 
 Our odds are still {^reater, still greater our men : 
 
 In the deep mines of science though French- 
 men may toil, 
 
 Can their strength be compared to Locke, 
 Newton, 'and Boyle 1 
 
 Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their 
 powers, 
 
 Their verse men and prose men, then match 
 them with curs ! 
 
 First Shakspeare and Milton, like Gods in the 
 fieht, 
 
 Have put their whole drama and epick 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 !" 
 
 Johnson this year gave at once a proof 
 of his benevolence, quickness of appre- 
 hension, and admirable art of composi- 
 tion, in the assistance which he gave 
 Mr. Zachariah Williams, father of the 
 blind lady whom he had humanely re- 
 ceived under his roof* Mr. Williams 
 had followed the profession of physick in 
 Wales ; but, having a very strong pro- 
 pensity to the study of natural philosophy, 
 had made many ingenious advances to- 
 wards 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 Attenipt 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 1860. "^6^ 
 To diffuse it more extensively it was ac- 
 
 * In the third edition, published in 1773, he 
 left out the words perhaps ucver, and ij^dded 
 the followiner paragraph: 
 
 " It sometimes begins mid<lle or final syl- 
 lables in words compounded, Vih block- hca^ — 
 derived from tl|b LaJin, as (ompre-hnuM 
 
 t 1 he number of the Fnnnh Academ^ 
 ployed in settling their language. 
 
iE'iAT. 46. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 6d 
 
 companied 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 j'ears be- 
 fore, had been employed in the capacity 
 both of a language master and an authour, 
 and formed an intimacy with Dr. John- 
 son. This pamphlet Johnson presented 
 to the Bodleian Library. On a blank 
 I leaf of it is pasted a paragraph cut out 
   of a newspaper, containing an account 
 of the death and character of Williams, 
 plainly written by Johnson f. 
 
 In July this year he had formed some 
 scheme of mental improvement, the par- 
 ticular purpose of which docs not appear. 
 But we find in his " Prayers and Medi- 
 tations," 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 1 3th of the same month he wrote 
 in his Journal the following scheme of 
 lifAj fpr SnnHay ; " Having Hvcd (as he 
 with tenderness of conscience expresses 
 , himself) not without an habitual reve- 
 rence for the Sabbath, yet without that 
 attention to its religious 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 devo- 
 tion in the morning. 
 
 " 3. To examine the tenour of my life, 
 and particularly the last week ; and to 
 mark my advances in i-eligion, or reces- 
 sion from it. 
 
 ** 4. To read the Scripture methodically 
 with such helps as are at hand. 
 
 *' 5. 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 1756 Johnson found that the great 
 fame of his Dictionary had not set him 
 
 * This higenious foreigner, who was a native 
 of Piedmont, came to En.^land about the year 
 1753, and died in London, May 5, 1789. A very 
 candid and judicious account of him and his 
 works, beginning with the words, "So much 
 asperity," and written, it is beiieve(i, by a 
 distinguished dignitary in the church, may be 
 found in the Gentleman's Magazine, for that 
 year, p. 469- M. 
 
 f "On Saturday the 12th, about twelve at 
 night, died Mr. Zachariah Williams, in his 
 eighty-third year, afier an illness of eight 
 months, in full possession of his mental fa- 
 culties. He has been long known to philoso- 
 phers and seamen for his skill in magnetism, 
 and his proposal to ascertain the longitude by 
 a peculiar system of the variation of the com- 
 pass. He was a man of industry indefatigable, 
 of conversation inoffensive, patient of adver- 
 sity and disease, eminently sober, temperate, 
 and pious; and worthy to have ended life with 
 better fortune." 
 
 above the necessity of '' making provision 
 for the day that was passing over him J." 
 No royal or noble patron extended a 
 munificent hand to give independence to 
 the man who had conferred stability on 
 the language of his country. We may 
 feel indignant that there should have been 
 such unworthy neglect ; but we must, at 
 the same time, congratulate ourselves 
 when we consider that to this very neg- 
 lect, operating to rouse the natural indo- 
 lence of his constitution, we owe many 
 valuable productions, which otherwise, 
 perhaps, might never have appeared. 
 
 He had spent, during the progress of 
 the work, the money for which he had 
 contracted to write his Dictionary. We 
 have seen that the reward of his labour 
 was only fifteen hundred and seventy-five 
 pounds; and when the expense of ama- 
 nuenses and paper, and other articles are 
 deducted, his clear profit was very incon- 
 siderable. I once said to him, " I am 
 sorry sir, you did not get more for your 
 Dictionary." His answer was, " 1 am 
 sorry too. But it was very well. The 
 booksellers are generous liberal-minded 
 men." He, upon all occasions, did ample 
 justice to their character in this respect. 
 He considered them as the patrons of 
 literature ; and, indeed, although they 
 have eventually been considerable gainers 
 by his Dictionary, it is to them that we 
 owe its having been undertaken and car- 
 ried through at the risk of great expense, 
 for they were not absolutely sure of being 
 indemnified. 
 
 On the first day of this year§ we find 
 from his private devotions, that he had 
 then recovered from sickness, and in 
 February, that his eye was restored to 
 its use. The pious gratitude with which 
 he acknowledges mercies upon every oc- 
 casion 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 
 
 X 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 Richanlson, 
 became his surety. See a letter from Johnson 
 to him, on that subject, dated Feb. 19, 1756. 
 Richardson's Correspondence, vol. v. p. 263. 
 M. 
 
 § In April in this year, Johnson wrote a 
 letter to Dr. Joseph Warton, in consequence 
 of having read a few pages of that gentleman's 
 newly published " Essay on the Genius and 
 Writings of Pope." The only paragraph in it 
 that respects Johnson's personal history is this: 
 " 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 tilings with which I have 
 loner pleased and deceived myself" Memoirs 
 of Dr. J. Warton, &c. 4to. 1806. M. 
 
90 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1756. 
 
 the true effects of religious discipline, we 
 cannot but venerate in Johnson one of 
 the moiU. exercised ininds J.hat our holy 
 reli gion liatlfTv er formed.7. If there be 
 any th'ougluless enoHg{ri:o suppose such 
 exercise the weakness of a great under- 
 standing, let them look up to Johnson, 
 and be convinced that Avhat he so ear- 
 nestly practised must have a rational 
 foundation. 
 
 His works this year were an abstract 
 or epitome, in octavo, of his folio Dic- 
 tionary, 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 under- 
 takers of this miscellany ; and it was to 
 assist him that Johnson sometimes em- 
 ployed his pen. All the essays marked 
 with two asterisks have been ascribed to 
 him ; but I am confident, from internal 
 evidence, that of these, neither *' The 
 Life of Chaucer," ** Reflections on the 
 State of Portugal," nor an " Essay on 
 Architecture," were written by him. I 
 am equally confident, upon the same evi- 
 dence, that he wrote ** Further Thoughts 
 on Agriculture \^' (h) being the sequel of 
 a very inferiour essay on the same sub- 
 ject, and which, though carried on as if 
 by the same hand, is both in thinking 
 and expression so far above it, and so 
 strikingly peculiar, as to leave no doubt 
 of its true parent ; and that he also wrote 
 ** A Dissertation on the State of Literature 
 and Authours,"f&J and "A Dissertation 
 on the Epitaphs written by Pope."faJ 
 The last of these, indeed, he afterwards 
 added to his " Idler." Why the essays 
 truly written by him are marked in the 
 Bame 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 re- 
 jected, they want all the characteristical 
 marks of Johnsonian composition. / 
 
 He engaged also to sup ermt cncy and 
 contribute largely to a noHier "monthly 
 p uJ>licaUft iu.imiUled " Tlui_XUeiiiryJMa- 
 gazine, or Universal Review ;" (^«^ the 
 lirsTTrmtrbcr-trf 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 continued to write in 
 if, with intermissions, till the fifteenth 
 number ; and I think that he never 
 gave better proofs of the force, acute- 
 ness, and vivacity of his mind than in 
 thifl miscellany, whether we consider 
 his original essays, or his reviews of 
 the works of others. The ** Preliminary 
 Address" f'6J to the publick is a proof 
 how this great man could embellish, 
 with the graces of superiour composi- 
 
 tion, even so trite a thing as the plan 
 of a magazine. 
 
 His original essays are, ** An Introduc- 
 tion to the Political State of Great Bri- 
 tain ;"f 6^ "Remarks on the Militia 
 Bill;"(^&^ " Observations on his Britan- 
 nick Majesty's Treaties with the Empress 
 of Russia and the Landgrave of Hesse 
 Cassel '"(h) " Observations on the pre- 
 sent State of Affairs ;"(^6J and, '* Me- 
 moirs of Frederick III. King of Prus- 
 sia." (h) In all these he displays extensive 
 political knowledge and sagacity, ex- 
 pressed with uncommon energy and per- 
 spicuity, without any of those words 
 which he_som etimes t ook a ple^ &ure in 
 adopting, In~i m itat idn^of I*} i r i Th omas 
 Browne; of whose ** Christian Morals" 
 he this year gave an edition, with his 
 " Life" (aj 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 authour of the 
 " Memoirs of the King of Prussia." 
 Speaking of the pride which the old king, 
 the father of his hero, took in being mas- 
 ter of the tallest regiment in Europe, he 
 says, " To review this towering regiment 
 was his daily pleasure ; and to perpetuate 
 it was so much his care, that when he 
 met a tall woman, he immediately com- 
 manded one of his Titanian retinue to 
 marry her, that they might propagate 
 procerity." For this Anglo-Latian word 
 procerity, Johnson had, however, the 
 aushority of Addison. 
 
 His reviews are of the following 
 books : " Biix'h's Higtory of the Royal 
 Society ;" (^&>) "Murphy's Gray's-Inn 
 Journal ;"('&J " Warton's Essay on the 
 Writings and Genius of Pope, Vol. I." 
 (b) "Hampton's Translation of Poly- 
 bius '" (h) " Blackwell's Memoirs of the 
 Court of Augustus ;" (bj " Russel's Na- 
 tural History of Aleppo ;"(^6>) " Sir Isaac 
 Newton's Arguments in Proof of a 
 Deity ;" (bJ " Borlase's History of the 
 Isles of Scilly ^"(bj " Holme's Experi- 
 ments on Bleaching;" (^6^ " Browne's 
 Christian Morals ;"r6^ "Hales on Dis- 
 tilling Sea Water, Ventilators in Ships, 
 and Curing an ill Taste in Milk;"f6>» 
 "Lucas's Essay on Waters ;"r6 J "Keith's 
 Catalogue of the Scottish Bishops ;"{'6J 
 "Browne's History of Jamaica ;" ('6>^ 
 " Philosophical Transactions, Volunie 
 XL]X.;"(b) "Mrs. Lennox's Transla- 
 tion of Sully's Memoirs;" ('ay) "Mis- 
 cellanies by Elizabeth Harrison ;'Y/'^ 
 " Evans's Map and Account of the Mid- 
 dle Colonies in America;" ('fry) "Letter 
 on the Case of Admiral Byng;"r«>' 
 " Appeal to the People concerning Ad- 
 
Mr\T. 47. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 91 
 
 nnral Byng ;" CaJ *' Hanway's Eight 
 Days Journey, and Essay on Te^;"(aJ 
 "The Cadet, a Military Treatise ;" (6^ 
 ** Some further Particulars in Relation 
 to the Case of Admiral Byng, by a Gen- 
 tleman of Oxford -j'^CaJ "The Conduct 
 of the Ministry relating to the present 
 War impartially examined ;"f&J "A 
 Free Inquiry into the >iature and Origin 
 of Evil.'Y«y' AH these, from internal 
 evidence, were written by Johnson : some 
 of them I know he avowed, and have 
 marked them with an Italick (^aj accord- 
 ingly. Mr. Thomas Davies, indeed, as- 
 cribed to hira 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 John- 
 son's works : whereas it has no resem- 
 blance 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 submis- 
 sive to power, that his " Observations on 
 the present State of Affairs" glow with as 
 animated a spiritof 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 grati- 
 fied. For, whatever may be urged by 
 ministers, or those whom vanity or inte- 
 rest make the followers of ministers, con- 
 cerning the necessity of confidence in our 
 governours, and the presumption of pry- 
 ing with profane eyes into the recesses of 
 policy, it is evident that this reverence 
 can be claimed only 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 proper time to disentangle con- 
 fusion and illustrate obscurity ; to show 
 by what causes every event was produced, 
 and in what effects it is likely to termi- 
 nate ; to lay down with distinct particu- 
 larity what rumour always huddles in 
 general exclamation, or perplexes by 
 indigested narratives ; to show whence 
 happiness or calamity is derived, and 
 whence it may be expected ; and honestly 
 to lay before the people what inquiry can 
 gather of the past, and conjecture can 
 estimate of the future." 
 
 Here we have it assumed as an incon- 
 trovertible principle, that in this country 
 the people are the superintendents of the 
 conduct and measures of those by whom 
 I government is administered ; of the bene- 
 
 ficial eflfect of which the present reign 
 afforded an illustrious example, when 
 addresses from all parts of the kingdom 
 controuled an audacious attempt to intro- 
 duce a new power subversive of the 
 crown. 
 
 A still stronger proof of his patriotick 
 spirit appears in hisrevievv of an *' Essay 
 on Waters, by Dr. Lucas, of whom, after 
 describing 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 minis- 
 ters 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 irre- 
 sistible 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 no- 
 ticed, and I mention them only that Dr. 
 Johnson's opinion of the works may be 
 known ; bu^many of them arc examp les 
 of piahnrafp ^rifiojsm . in the most mas- 
 te rly_gC yJe. In his review of the " Me- 
 rnoirs of the Court of Augustus," he has 
 the resolution to think and speak from 
 his own mind, regardless of the cant 
 transmitted from age to age, in praise of 
 the ancient Romans. Thus : " I know 
 not why any one but a school boy in his 
 declamation should whine over the Com- 
 monwealth of Rome, which grew great 
 only by the misery of the rest of man- 
 kind. The Romans, like others, as soon 
 as they grew rich, grew corrupt ; and in 
 their corruption sold the lives and free- 
 doms of themselves and of one another." 
 Again, " A people, who while they were 
 poor robbed mankind ; and as soon as 
 they became rich robbed one another." 
 In his review of the Miscellanies in prose 
 and verse, published by Elizabeth Harri- 
 son, but written by many hands, he gives 
 an eminent proof at once of his orthodoxy 
 and candour. " The authours 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 em- 
 ploy the ornaments of romance in the 
 decoration of religion was, I think, first 
 
92 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1756. 
 
 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 tanght 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 in- 
 struct and do not weary. But to them 
 all human eulogies are vain, whom I 
 believe applauded by angels, and num- 
 bered with the just." 
 
 His defence of tea against Mr. Jonas 
 Hanway's violent attack upon that ele- 
 gant and popular beverage shows how 
 very well a man of genius can write 
 upontheslightestsubject, when he writes, 
 as the Italians say, con amove: I sup- 
 pose no person ever enjoyed with more 
 relish the infusion of that fragrant leaf 
 than Johnson. The quantities which he 
 drank of it at all liours was so great that 
 his nerves must have been uncommonly 
 strong not to have been extremely re- 
 laxed 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 believe, in the 
 whole course of his life, when he conde- 
 scended 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 senti- 
 ment of Ajax in Ovid : 
 
 " hte tulit pretiumjam nunc certaminis Imjns, 
 Qui, cutn victusertt, mtcum certasse fereturJ^ 
 
 But, indeed, the good Mr. Hanway laid 
 himself so open to ridicule 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 aflfects to be witty upon the 
 fate of that unfortunate officer, observing 
 that he was shot "pour encourager les 
 
 autres," the nation has long been satis- 
 fied that his life was sacrificed to the 
 political fervour of the times. In the 
 vault belonging to the Torrington family, 
 in the church of Southill, in Bedford- 
 shire, there is the following Epitaph upon 
 his monument, which I have transcribed ; 
 
 " To THE PERPETUAL DiSGRACE 
 
 OF PUBLIC Justice, 
 
 The Honourable John Byng, Esq. 
 
 Admiral oe the Blue, 
 
 Fell a Martyr to political 
 
 Persecution, 
 March 14, m the Year 1757 ; 
 WHEN Bravery and Loyalty 
 
 WERE insufficient SECURITIES 
 
 for the Life and Honour of 
 A Naval Officer." 
 
 Johnson's most exquisite critical essay 
 in the Literary Magazine, and indeed 
 any where, is his review of Soame 
 Jenyns's " Inquiry into the Origin of 
 Evil." Jenyns was possessed of lively 
 talents and a style eminenily pure and 
 easy, and could very happily play with 
 a light subject, either in prose or verse ; 
 but when he speculated on that most diffi- 
 cult and excruciating question, the Origin 
 of Evil, he " ventured far beyond his 
 depth," and, accordingly, was exposed 
 by Johnson both with acute argument 
 and brilliant wit. I remember when the 
 late Mr. Bicknell's humorous perform- 
 ance, 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 1 had given him enough of it." 
 
 His triumph over Jenyns is thus de- 
 scribed by my friend Mr. Courtenay in 
 his " Poetical R^iew of the literary and 
 moral Character of Dr. Johnson ;" a per- 
 formance 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 vainly hope 
 To rival St. John, and his scholnr Pope : 
 Though mataphysicks spread the gloom of 
 
 niglit, 
 IW reason^s star he .e:uidi's our aching sigiit; 
 The bounds of knowledge marks, and points 
 
 the way 
 To pathless wastes, where wiUler'd sages 
 
 stray; 
 Where, like a farthing link-boy, Jenyns stands, 
 And the dim torch drops from nis feeble 
 
 hands*." 
 
 * Sometime after Dr. Johnson's death, there 
 appeared in the newspapers and magazines 
 an illiberal and petulant attack upon him, in 
 the form of an Kpitaph, under the name of 
 Mr. Soame Jenyns, very unworthy of that gen- 
 tleman, who had quietly subniilted to the 
 
Etat. 47. 
 
 This year Mr. William Payne, brother 
 of the respectable bookseller of that name, 
 published " An Introduction to the Game 
 of Draughts," to which Johnson contri- 
 buted a Dedication to the Earl of Roch- 
 ford,CaJ and a Preface, fa^ 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 inno- 
 cent soothing relief from the melancholy 
 which distressed him so often. I have 
 JieardLluuv regrQt that he had not learned 
 t oplajy at cards ; and tlie game of draughts 
 we know is peculiarly calculated to fix 
 tlie"attention without straining it. There 
 is a composure and gravity in draughts 
 which insensibly tranquillizes 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 exer- 
 cise of the faculties; and, accordingly, 
 Johnson wishing to dignify the subject in 
 his Dedication with what is most esti- 
 mable in it, observes, " Triflers may find 
 or make any thing a trifle : but since it 
 is the great characteristick of a wise man 
 to see events in their causes, to obviate 
 consequences, and ascertain contingen- 
 cies, your Lordship will think nothing a 
 trifle by which the mind is inured to 
 caution, foresight, and circumspection." 
 
 critical lash wliile Johnson lived. It assumed, 
 as characteristicks of him, ail the vulvar cir- 
 cumstances of abuse which had circulated 
 amongst (he ignorant. It was an unbecoming 
 indulgence of puny resentment, at a time when 
 he hiinself was at a very advanced age, and 
 had a near prospect of descending" to the 
 grave. 1 was truly sorry for it; for he was 
 then become an avowed, and (as my Lord 
 l3ishop of London, who had a serious conver- 
 sation 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 stig- 
 matized by no mean pen, but that, at least, 
 one would be found to retort. Accordingly, 
 this unjust and sarcastick Epitaph was met in 
 the same public field by an answer, in terms 
 by no means soft, and such as wanton provo- 
 cation only could justify : 
 
 " EPITAPH, 
 « Prepared for a creature not quite dead yet, 
 " Here lies a little ugly nauseous elf. 
 Who, 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 critick grasp the urchin 
 
 squeezed. 
 For thirty years its coward spleen it kept, 
 Till in the dust the mighty Genius slept; 
 Then stunk and fieited in expiring snuff, 
 And blink'd at Johnson with its last poor 
 
 puff." 
 
 * Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. 48. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 03 
 
 As one of the little occasional advan- 
 tages which he did not disdain 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 sub- 
 sists, and from what I observed, when I 
 was abroad, has a more extensive circu^ 
 lation upon the Continent than any of the 
 English newspapers. It was constantly 
 read by Johnson himself; and 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 1 
 had known Dr. Madden, who was authour 
 of the premium-scheme t in L eland. On 
 my answering in the affit mative, 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. Madden's, called * Boulter's Monu- 
 ment j.' The reason (said he) why I wish 
 for it is this ; when Dr. Madden came to 
 London, he submitted 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 was to me at that 
 time a great sum." 
 
 t In the College of Dublin, four quartet ly 
 examinations of the students are held in eacti 
 year, in various prescribed branches of litera- 
 ture and science; and premiums, consistinsf 
 of books impressed with the College Arms, 
 are adjudged by examiners to those who ha\e 
 most distinguished themselves in the several 
 classes, after a very rigid trial, which lasts two 
 days. This regulation, which has subsisted 
 about seventy years, has been attended with 
 the most beneficial effects. 
 
 Dr. Samuel Madden was the first proposer 
 of premiums in that University. They were 
 instituted about the vear 17<4. He was also 
 one of the founders of the Dublin Society for 
 the encouragement of arts and agriculture, la 
 addition to the premiums which were and are 
 still annually given by that society for this 
 purpose, Dr. Madden gave others from his own 
 fund. Hence he was usually called " Premium 
 Madden." M. 
 
 I Dr. Hugh Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh, 
 and Primate of Ireland. He died Sept. 27, 
 1742, at which time he was, for the thirteenth 
 time, one of the Lords Justices of that king- 
 dom. Johnson speaks of him in hit;h terms of 
 ('ornmendation, in the Life of Ambrose Philips. 
 J. B.-O. 
 
 § Dr. Madden wrote very bad verses. V. 
 chose prefixed to Leland's Life of Piiilip of 
 Macedon, 4tn. 17-58. K. 
 
94 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1757. 
 
 He this year resumed his scheme of 
 giving an edition of Shakspeare with 
 notes. He issued Proposals of consider- 
 able length *, in which he showed that he 
 perfectly well knew what a variety of 
 research 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, 
 17o7. 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 despatch. 
 ".He for subscribers baits his hook, 
 An J takes your cash ; but wliere's the bonk? 
 No matter where; wise fear, you know. 
 Forbids the robbing: of a foe ; 
 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 Lincoln- 
 shire, 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 conscientious 
 ipotive, 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 life 
 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 in their full 
 force, may peruse the Adventurer, Num- 
 ber I2(>. 
 
 In 1757 it does not appear that he 
 published any thing, except some of 
 those articles in the Literary Magazine 
 which have been mentioned. That ma- 
 gazine, 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 pro- 
 bably 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 Rochfort, which 
 was delivered by one of his friends, I 
 know not in what publick meeting. It 
 is printed in the Gentleman's Magazine 
 
 • They have been reprinted by Mr. Malone 
 in the Preface to bis edition of Shakspeare, 
 
 for October, 1785, as his, and bears suffi- 
 cient marks of authenticity. 
 
 By the favour of Mr. Joseph Cooper 
 Walker of the Treasury, Dublin, I have 
 obtained a copy of the following letter 
 from Johnson to the venerable authour of 
 *' Dissertations on the History of Ire- 
 land." 
 
 " TO CHARLES O'CONNOR, ESQf. 
 ** SIR, 
 
 ** I HAVE lately, by the favour of Mr. 
 Faulkner, seen your account of Ireland, 
 and cannot forbear to solicit a prosecu- 
 tion of your design. Sir William Temple 
 complains that Ireland is less known than 
 any other country, as to its ancient state. 
 The natives have had little leisure, and 
 little encouragement for inquiry ; and 
 strangers, not knowing the language, 
 have had no ability. 
 
 " I have long wished that the Irish 
 literature were cultivated +. Ireland is 
 known by tradition to have been once 
 the seat of piety and learning ; and surely 
 it would be very acceptable to all those 
 who are curious either in the original of 
 nations, or the affinities of languages, to 
 be further informed of the revolution of 
 a people so ancient, and once so illus- 
 trious. 
 
 *' What relation there is between the 
 Welsh and Irish language, or between 
 the language of Ireland and that of Bis- 
 cay, deserves inqtiiry. Of these provin- 
 cial and unextended tongues it seldom 
 happens that more than one are under- 
 stood 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 
 
 t Of this gentleman, who died at his seat 
 at Ballinegare, in the county of Roscommon 
 in Ireland, July I, 179I, in his 82d year, some 
 account may be found in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine ot that date.— M. 
 
 t'The celebrated orator, Mr. Flood, has 
 shown himself to be of Dr. Johnson's opinion; 
 havinsp by his will bequeathed his estate, after 
 the death of bis wite Lady Frances, lo the 
 University of Dublin; " desirin.* that imme- 
 diately after the said estate shall come into 
 their possession, they shall appoint two pro- 
 fessors, one for the study of the native Erse or 
 Irish lan|:uae:e, and the other for the study of 
 Irish antiquities and Irish history, and for the 
 study of any other European language illus- 
 trative of, or auxiliary to, the study of Irish 
 antiquities or Irish history ; and that they t-hall 
 give yeaily two liberal premiums for two com- 
 positions, one in verse, and the other in prose, 
 in the Irish language. 
 
 fSiiice the above was written, Mr. Flood's 
 will has been set aside, after a trial at bar, in 
 the court of Exchequer in Ireland. M.] 
 
Mr XT. 48. 
 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." 
 " London, April 9, 1757." 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Dr. M ARSiLi of Padua, a learned gen- 
 tleman and good Latin poet, has a mind 
 to see Oxford. I have given him a letter 
 to Dr. Hiiddesford*, and shall be glad 
 if you will introduce him, and show him 
 any thing 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 any thing. But honor es\ mutant 
 mores. Professors forget their friends. I 
 shall certainly complain to Miss Jones j. 
 I am, 
 
 " Yours, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson. 
 
 " [London], June 21, 1757." 
 
 " Please to make my compliments to 
 Mr. Wise." 
 
 Mr. Burney having enclosed to him an 
 extract from the review of his Dictionary 
 in the Bibliothcqne des Savans§, and a 
 list of subscribers to his Shakspeare, 
 which Mr. Burney had procured in Nor- 
 folk, he wrote the following answer : 
 
 ** TO MR. BURNEY, IN LYNNE, NORFOLK. 
 *' 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 receipts, I waited till I 
 could find a convenient conveyance, and 
 day was passed after day, till other things 
 drove it from my thoughts; yet not so, 
 but that I remember with great pleasure 
 
 * " Now, or late Vice-Chancellor." 
 t *' Mr. Warton was elet-.ied Professor of 
 Poetry at Oxford in the preceding year." 
 
 I "• Miss Jones lived at Oxford, and was 
 often of our parties. She was a very injjenioiis 
 poetess, and published a volume of poems ; 
 and, on the whole, was a most sensible, 
 agreeable, and amiable woman. She was 
 sister to the Reverend River Jones, Chanter 
 of Christ Church Cathedral at Oxford, and 
 Johnson nsed to call her the Chantress. 1 have 
 heard him often address her in this passage 
 from ' 11 Penseroso:' 
 
 ' Thee, Chantress, oft the woods among 
 I woo,' &c. 
 She died unmarried. § Tom. iii. p. 482. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 95 
 
 your commendation of my Dictionary. 
 Your praise was welcome, not only be- 
 cause 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 the publi- 
 cation of my book did not endeavour to 
 depress me with threats of censure from 
 the publick, 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 received ; though, 
 indeed, I am promised something of that 
 sort from Sweden. 
 
 ** How my new edition jj will be re- 
 ceived, 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 favours 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/' 
 
 "Gough Square, Dec. 24, 1757." 
 
 In 1753 we find him, it should seem, 
 in as easy and pleasant a state of exist- 
 ence as constitutional unhappiness ever 
 permitted him to enjoy. 
 
 ** TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT LANGTON, 
 LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 
 " 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 confidence of 
 twenty-one, little did I suspect that I 
 should be at forty-nine what I now am. 
 " But you do not seem to need my 
 admonition. You are busy in acquiring 
 and in communicating knowledge; and 
 while you are studying enjoy the end of 
 study, by making others wiser and hap- 
 pier. I was much pleased with the tale 
 that you told me of being tutor to your 
 sisters. I, who have no sisters nor bro- 
 il Of Shakspeare. 
 
98 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1758. 
 
 thers, look with some degree of innocent 
 envy on those who may be said to be 
 born to friends : and cannot see, witliout 
 wonder, how rarely that native union is 
 afterwards regarded. It sometimes, in- 
 deed, happens, that some supervenient 
 cause of discord may overpower this 
 original amity; but it seems to me more 
 frequently tiirown away with levity, or 
 lost by negligence, than destroyed by 
 injury or violence. We tell the ladies 
 that good wives make good husbands ; I 
 believe it is a more certain position that 
 good brothers make good sisters. 
 
 " I am satisfied with your stay at home, 
 as Juvenal with his friend's retirement to 
 Cum-jc : I know that your absence is best, 
 though it be not best for me. 
 * Qnamvis digressu veleris confusns amici, 
 Laiido tamen vacnis quod sedem figere Cumis 
 Destinet, atque unujti civem donare SibyUce.'' 
 
 " Lanyton is a good CuincB, but who 
 must be Sibylla? Mrs. Langton is as 
 wise as Sibyl and as good ; and will live, 
 if my wishes can prolong life, till she 
 shall in time be as old. But she differs 
 in this, that she has not scattered her 
 precepts in the wind, at least not those 
 which she bestowed upon you. 
 
 " The two Wartons just looked into 
 the town, and were taken to see Cleone, 
 where David* says, they were starved 
 for want of company to keep them warm. 
 David and Doddy t have had a new quar- 
 rel, and, I think, cannot conveniently 
 quarrel any more. ' Cleone* was well 
 acted by all the characters, bat Bellamy 
 left nothing to be desired. I went the 
 first night, and supported it as well as I 
 might ; for Doddy, you know, is my 
 patron, and I would not desert him. The 
 play was very well received. Doddy, 
 after the danger was over, went every 
 night to the stage side, and cried at the 
 distress of poor Cleone. 
 
 '* I have left off housekeeping, and 
 therefore made presents of the game 
 which you were pleased to send me. 
 The pheasant I gave to Mr. Richardson j, 
 the bustard to Dr. Lawrence, and the pot 
 I placed with Miss Williams, to be eaten 
 by myself. She desires that her compli- 
 ments and good wishes may be accepted 
 by the family ; and I make the same 
 request for myself. 
 
 " Mr. Ri-ynolds has within these few 
 days raised his price to twenty guineas 
 a head, and Miss is much employed in 
 miniatures. I know not any body [else] 
 whose prosperity has increased since you 
 left them. 
 
 " Murphy is to have his ' Orphan of 
 
 • Mr. Giirrick. 
 
 t Mr. Dfxlslev, tlie aiuliotir of Cleone. 
 i Mr. S.imuel Richardson, authour of Cla- 
 (isiia. 
 
 China' acted next month ; and is there- 
 fore, I suppose, happy. 1 wish I could 
 tell you of any great good to which 1 was 
 approaching, but at present my prospects 
 do not much delight me ; however, I am 
 always pleased when I tind that you, 
 ui:\R SIR, remember 
 
 *• Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "Jan. 9, 1758." 
 
 " TO MR. BURNEY, AT LYNNE, NORFOLK. 
 '* 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 thii< 
 distinguished by you. 
 
 " I am ashamed to tell you that my 
 Shakspeare will not be out so soon as 1 
 promised my subscribers; but I did not 
 promise them more than I promised my- 
 self. It will, however, be published before 
 summer. 
 
 ** I have sent you a bundle of proposals, 
 which, I think, do not profess more than 
 I have hitherto performed. 1 have printed 
 many of the plays, and have hitherto left 
 very few passages unexplained ; where 1 
 am quite at loss, I confess my ignorance, 
 which is seldom done by commentators. 
 
 " I have, likewise, inclosed twelve re- 
 ceipts ; not that I mean to impose npon 
 yon 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 proposals 
 you will disseminate as there shall be 
 an opportunity. I once printed them at 
 length in the Chronicle, and some of my 
 friends (I believe Mr. Murphy, who for- 
 merly wrote the Gray's Inn Journal) 
 introduced them with a splendid enco- 
 mium. 
 
 " Since the Life of Browne, I have 
 been a little engaged, from lime 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 any thing 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." 
 
 " London, March 8, 1758." 
 Dr. Burney has kindly favoured me 
 with the following memorandum, which 
 
 () ThU letter w.is an answer to one in which 
 was inclosed a draft for the payment of some 
 siih-icriptioiiei to Ills Shakspeare. 
 
iETAT. 49. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 97 
 
 I take the liberty to insert in his own 
 i;enuine easy style. I love to exhibit 
 sketches of my illustrious friend by va- 
 rious 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. 
 Williams. After dinner, Mr. Johnson 
 proposed to Mr. Burney to go up with 
 him into his garret, which being accepted, 
 he there found about five or six Greek 
 folios, a deal writing desk, and a chair 
 and a half. Johnson, giving to his guest 
 the entire seat, tottered himself on one 
 with only three legs and one arm. Here 
 he gave Mr. Burney Mrs. Williams's 
 history, and showed him some volumes 
 of his Shakspeare already printed, to 
 prove that he was in earnest. Upon 
 Mr. Burner's opening the first volume, 
 at the Merchant of Venice, he observed 
 to him, that he seemed to be more severe 
 on Warburton than Theobald. * O poor 
 Tib. ! (said Johnson) he was ready knocked 
 down to my hands ; Warburton stands 
 between me and him.' * But, sir (said 
 Mr. Burney),yon'llhave 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 Warbur- 
 ton is a superiour critick to Theobald?' — 
 ' O, sir, he'd make two and fifty Theo- 
 balds 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 impu- 
 dent Man alive.' He answered in the 
 negative. Mr. Burney told him it was 
 supposed to be written by Mallet. The 
 controversy now raged between the two 
 friends of Pope and Bolingbroke ; and 
 Warburton and Mallet were the leaders 
 of the several parties. Mr. Burney asked 
 hiin then if he had seen Warburton's 
 book against Bolingbroke's Philosophy? 
 ' No, sir ; I liave never read Boling- 
 broke's impiety, and therefore am not 
 interested about its confutation.' " 
 
 On the 15th of April he began a 
 new periodical paper, entitled, " The 
 TdYeVf'Yci'J which came, out every Satur- 
 day in a weekly newspaper, called, " the 
 Universal Chronicle, or Weekly Ga- 
 zette," published by Newbery. These 
 essays w ere r,on^in^ ^ ed till ApiiJ_ fi, 1 T 60 , 
 07 onQ.^Jumdxt(L-.aud..-tlu;ee, tlieir total 
 number, twelve were contnbuted by his 
 friends ; of which. Numbers 33, 93, and 
 96 were written by Mr. Thomas Warton ; 
 No. 67 by Mr. Langton ; and No. 76, 79, 
 and 82 by Sir Joshua Reynolds ; the 
 
 concluding words of No. 82, *' and pollute 
 his canvass with deformity," being added 
 by Johnson ; as Sir Joshua informed me. 
 The Idler is evidently the work of the 
 same mind which produced the Rambler, 
 but has less body and more spirit. It 
 has more variety of real life, and greater 
 facility of language. He describes the 
 rhiseries of idleness, with the lively sen- 
 sations of one who has felt them ; and in 
 his private memorandums while engaged 
 in it, we find " This year I hope to learn 
 diligence *." Many of these, excellent 
 essajs were written as liastily as an or- 
 (Uaary. 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 Lon- 
 don the next day. Mr. Langton having 
 "• — ■'^ed a wish to read it, " Sir (said he), 
 ^^'1 not do more than I have done 
 He then folded it up, and sent 
 
 Yet there are in the Idler several papers 
 which show as much profundity of thought, 
 and laboiTr of language, as any of this 
 great man's writings. No. 14, *' Robbery 
 of time;" No. 24, " Thinking;" No. 41, 
 " Death of a friend ;" No. 43, " Flight 
 of time ;" No. 51, " Domestick 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 horrour of the last ;" will prove 
 this assertion. I know not why a motto, 
 the usual trapping of periodical papers, 
 is prefixed to very few of the Idlers, as I 
 have heard Johnson commend the cus- 
 tom ; and he never could be at a loss for 
 one, his memory being stored with innu- 
 merable passages of the classicks. In 
 this series of essays he-Cxhlbits adrnirable 
 i nstance s of grav<5uniQur,~ot wli'ch Tie 
 had an unconmioTl iJRHl'ti. " Nor on some 
 occasions has he repressed that power of 
 sophistry which he possessed in so eminent 
 a degree. In No. 11, he treats with the 
 utmost contempt the i;ipiDJi)n_J.hat_oi]i- 
 merital faculti es depend, in somelTp ^rfr^.- 
 upon^tne""" weather ; an_ iXpinion, which 
 th'ej^^wKohave never experienced its 
 truth are not to be envied, and of which 
 he himself could not but be sensible, as 
 the effects of weather upon him were 
 very visible. Yet thus he declaims : 
 *' Surely nothing is more reproachful to 
 a being endowed with reason than to 
 resign its powers to the influence of the 
 air, and live in dependence on the wea- 
 
 » Prayers and Meditations, p. 30. 
 H 
 
98 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tlier and the wind for the only blessings 
 which nature has put into our power, 
 tranquillity and benevolence. This dis- 
 tinction 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 superiour 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 irresistible. He might as well have 
 bid defiance to the ague, the palsy, and 
 all other bodily disorders. Such boasting 
 of the mind is false elevation. 
 
 " I think the Romans call it Stoicism." 
 But in this number of his Idler, his spirits 
 seem to run riot ; for in the wantonness 
 of his disquisition he forgets, for a mo- 
 ment, 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." 
 
 His unqualified ridicule of rhetorical 
 gesture or action is not, surely, a test of 
 truth ; yet we cannot help admiring how 
 well it is adapted to produce the effect 
 which he wishe<l. " Neither the judges 
 of our laws, nor the representatives of 
 our people, would be much aff^ected by 
 laboured gesticulations, or believe any 
 man the more because he rolled his eyes, 
 or putted his cheeks, or spread abroad 
 his arms, or stamped the ground, or 
 thumped his breast; or turned his eyes 
 sometimes to the ceiling, and sometimes 
 to the floor." 
 
 A casual coincidence with other writers, 
 or an adoption of a sentiment or image 
 which has been found in the writings of 
 another, and afterwards appears in the 
 mind as one's own, is not unfrequent. 
 The richness of Jolm &<>»^ fancy, which 
 coulcf supply his page abundantly on all 
 occasions, and the strength of his memory, 
 which at once detected the real owner of 
 any thought, made him less liable to the 
 imputation of plagiarism than, perhaps, 
 any of our writers. In the Idler, however, 
 there is a paper, in which conversation is 
 assimilated to a bowl of punch, where 
 there is the same train of comparison as 
 in a poem by Blacklock, in his collection 
 published in 175C; in which a parallel is 
 ingeniously drawn between human life 
 and that liquor. It ends, 
 " Shv then, physicians of each kind, 
 Who cuie tlie hotly or the mind. 
 What harm in drinking can there be. 
 Since punch and life «o well agree!" 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 1758. 
 
 To the Idler,when collected in volumes, 
 he added, beside the Essay on Epitaphs, 
 and the Dissertation on those of Pope, 
 an Essay on the Bravery of the English 
 common Soldiers. He, however, omitted 
 one of the original papers, which in the 
 folio copy is No, 22*. 
 
 ** TO THE REVERExVD MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your notes upon my poet were very 
 acceptable. I beg that you will be so 
 kind as to continue your searches. It 
 will be reputable to my work, and suit- 
 able to your professorship, to have some- 
 thing of yours in the notes. As you have 
 given no directions about your name, I 
 shall therefore put it. I wish your bro- 
 ther would take the same trouble. A 
 commentary must arise from the fortui- 
 tous discoveries of many men in devious 
 walks of literature. Some of your remarks 
 are on plays already printed : but I pro- 
 pose to add an Appendix of Notes, so 
 that nothing comes too late. 
 
 ** You give yourself too ranch uneasi- 
 ness, dear sir, about the loss of the 
 papers f. The loss is nothing, if nobody 
 has found them ; nor even then, perhaps, 
 if the numbers be known. You are not 
 the only friend that has had the same 
 mischance. You may repair your want 
 out of a stock, which is deposited with 
 Mr. Allen of Magdalen Hall ; or out of 
 a parcel which I have just sent to Mr. 
 Chambers j 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. 
 ^ "1 am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 '* [London], April l-l, H'iS." 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " 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 j; his 
 mind is as exalted as his stature. I am 
 
 * This paper may be found in Stockdale's 
 supplemental volume of Johnson's Miscella- 
 neous Pieces, 
 
 + " Receipts for Shakspeare." 
 
 X "Then of Lincoln College. Now Sir Ro- 
 bert Chambers, one of the Judges in India." 
 
 § ** Mr. Langton." 
 
.Etat. 49. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 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 
 University. He brings some of my 
 plays* with him, which he has my per- 
 il) i-sion to show you, on condition you 
 will hide them from every body else. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, &c. 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 "[London], June 1, 1758." 
 
 " TO BENNET LANG TON, ESQ. OF TRINITY 
 COLLEGE, OXFORD. 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Though I might have expected to hear 
 from you upon your entrance into a new 
 state of life at a new place, yet recollect- 
 ing (not without some 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. 
 1 ou have, at present, too many novelties 
 about you to need any help from me to 
 drive along your time. 
 
 " I know not any tiling more pleasant 
 or more instructive than to compare ex- 
 perience 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 let- 
 ters ; how they would choose their com- 
 panions, 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 hopes has vanished from your 
 mind. It is a rule never to be forgotten 
 that whatever strikes strongly should be 
 described while the first impression re- 
 mains 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 
 ine leave to do more than send my com- 
 pliments to Mr. Warton, and tell you 
 Uiat I am, dear sir, most affectionately, 
 ** Your very humble servant, 
 ^' June 28, 1758." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 • "Part of the impression of the Shakspeare, 
 ■u> 1 •'"''"son conducted alone, and pub- 
 '* 6 Hf subscription. This edition came out 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 99 
 
 ** TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT L.\NGTON, 
 NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 " 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 Duty t ; but his fate is 
 past, and nothing remains but to try what 
 reflection will suggest to mitigate the ter- 
 rours of a violent death, which is more 
 formidable at the first glance than on a 
 nearer and more steady view. A violent 
 death is never very painful ; the only 
 danger is, lest it should be unprovided. 
 But if a man can be supposed to make no 
 provision for death in war, what can be 
 the state that would have awakened him 
 to the care of futurity ? When would that 
 man have prepared himself to die, who 
 went to seek death without preparation ? 
 What then can be the reason why we 
 lament more him that dies of a wound 
 than him that dies of a fever ? A man 
 that languishes with disease ends his life 
 with more pain, but with less virtue ; he 
 leaves no example to his friends, nor be- 
 queaths any honour to his descendants. 
 The only reason why we lament a sol- 
 dier'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. 
 Th e truth is. t hat every death is violent 
 which IS the effec^t of "acH?^ every 
 
 death which is not gradually l)rought on 
 by the miseries of age, or when life is 
 extinguished for any other reason than 
 that it is burnt out. He that dies before 
 sixty, of a cold or consumption, dies in 
 reality by a violent death ; yet his death 
 is borne with patience, only because the 
 cause of his untimely end is silent and 
 invisible. Let us endeavour to see things 
 as they are, and then inquire whether we 
 ought to complain. Whether to see life 
 as it is will give us much consolation, I 
 know not ; but the consolation which is 
 drawn from truth, if any there be, is solid 
 and durable ; that which may be derived 
 from errour must be, like its original, fal- 
 lacious and fugitive. 
 
 " I am, dear, dear sir, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Sept. 21, 1758." 
 
 In 1759, in the month of January, his 
 mother died, at the great age of ninety, 
 an event which deeply affected him ; not 
 
 t Major General Alexander Diny,.of the first 
 res^inient of foot guards, who fell in the gallant 
 discharge of his duty, near St. Cas, in the well 
 known unfortunate expedition against France 
 in 1758. His lady and Mr. Langion's mother 
 were sisters. He left an only son. Lieutenant 
 Colonel Durv, who has a company in the same 
 regiment. 
 
100 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1750. 
 
 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 en- 
 gaged 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. 
 
 " TO MRS. JOHNSON, IN LICHFlELDf. 
 " HONOURED MADAM, 
 
 " The account which Miss [Porter] gives 
 me of your health pierces my heart. God 
 comfort, and preserve you, and save you, 
 for the sake of Jesus Christ. 
 
 *' I would have Miss read to you from 
 time to time, the Passion of our Saviour, 
 and sometimes the sentences in the Com- 
 munion Service, beginning — Come unto 
 me, 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 
 any thing else that you would direct, let 
 Miss put it down ; I shall endeavour to 
 obey you. 
 
 ** I have got twelve guineas to send 
 you j, but unhappily am at a loss how to 
 send it to-night. If I cannot send it to- 
 night, it will come by the next post. 
 
 •* Pray, do not omit any thing men- 
 tioned in this letter. God bless you for 
 ever and ever. 
 
 *' I am your dutiful son, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "Jan. 13, 1759." 
 
 " to miss porter, at MRS JOHNSON'S, 
 
 IN LICHFIELD. 
 ** MY DEAR MISS, 
 
 " I THINK myself obliged to you beyond 
 all expression of gratitude for your care 
 of my dear mother. God grant it may 
 
 * Hawkins's Life of Jolinson, p. 395. 
 
 t Since the publication of the third edition 
 of iliis work, the following letters of Dr. John- 
 son, occasioned by the last illness of hin 
 mother, were obligingly communicated to 
 Mr. Malone hy the Rev. Dr. Vyse. They are 
 placed here agreeably to the chronological 
 order almost uniformly observed by the au- 
 (hour; and so strongly evince Dr. Johnson's 
 piety and tenderness o? heart that every reader 
 must be gratified by their insertion. M. 
 
 J Six of these twelve guineas Johnson appears 
 •'■ have borrowed from Mr. Allen, the prniter. 
 
 * liawkins's Life of Johnson, p..366. n. M. 
 
 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 yon all. 
 " I am, MY dear, 
 *'* Your most obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 
 ♦* Sam. Johnson." 
 "Jan. 16, 175!)." 
 
 ** Over the leaf is a letter to my mo- 
 ther." 
 
 ** 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 know not how to bear the thought of 
 losing you. Endeavour to do all you 
 [can] for yourself. Eat as much as you 
 can. 
 
 ** I pray often for you ; do yon pray 
 for me. — I have nothing to add to my 
 last letter. 
 
 " I am, dear, dear mother, 
 
 " Your dutiful son, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "Jan. 16, 1759." 
 
 " TO MRS. JOHNSON, IN LICHFIELD. 
 " DEAR HONOURED MOTHER, 
 
 " I FEAR you are too ill for long letters; 
 therefore 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 sake. 
 Amen. 
 
 " Let Miss write to me every post, 
 however short. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 ** Your dutiful son, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "Jan. 18, 1759." 
 
 '* TO MISS PORTER, AT MRS. JOHNSON'S, 
 
 IN LICHFIELD. 
 **DEAR MISS, 
 
 " I WILL, if it be pos>il)le, come down 
 to you. God grant I may yet [find] iii} 
 dear mother breathing and sensible. Do 
 not tell her, lest I disappoint her. If I 
 
 § Catharine Chamber^, Mrs. Johnson's maid- 
 servant. She died in October, 1767. See Dr. 
 Johnson's Prayers and Meditations, p. 71 : 
 "Sunday, Oct. 18, I7<i7. Yesterday, Oct. 17, 
 [ took my leave for evei of my dear old frieiKl, 
 Catharine Chambers, who came to live with 
 my mother about 17'i4, and has been but little 
 parted from us since. She buried my father, 
 mv brother, and my mother." She is now 
 tirty-eight years old. M. 
 
JEr.\T. S'J. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHSi 
 
 101 
 
 miss to write next post, I am on the 
 road. " I am, my dearest miss, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 '* Sam. Johnson." 
 " Jan. 20, 1759. 
 
 " 071 the other side." 
 
 " DEAR HONOURED MOTHER, * 
 
 ** Neither your condition nor your cha- 
 racter make it tit for me to say much. 
 You have been the best mother, and I 
 believe the hpsf wom an in the world. J 
 thank you for your indulgence to me, and 
 beg forgiveness of all that I have done 
 ill, and all that I haveomitted to do wellf. 
 God grant you his Holy Spirit, and re- 
 ceive you to everlasting happiness, for 
 Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. Lord Jesus 
 receive your spirit. Amen. 
 
 " I am, dear, dear mother, 
 
 '* Your dutiful son, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Jan. 20, 1759." 
 
 ** to miss porter, in LICHFIELD. 
 
 ' You will conceive my sorrow for the 
 loss of my mother, of the best mother. 
 If she were to live again, surely I should 
 behave better to her. But she is happy, 
 and what is past is nothing to her ; and 
 for me, since I cannot repair my faults to 
 her, I hope repentance will eftace 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 advan- 
 tage. 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 
 I 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 humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "Jan. 23. 1759 J." 
 
 Soon after this event, he wrote his 
 *_* Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia ;"fa^ 
 concernmg the publication of which Sir 
 John Hawkins guesses vaguely and idly, 
 instead of having taken the trouble to 
 inform himself with authentick precision. 
 Not to trouble my readers with a repe- 
 
 » This letter was written on the second leaf 
 of the preceding, addressed to Miss Porter. M. 
 
 I So, in the Prayer which he composed on 
 riiis occasion; " Almighty God, merciful Fa- 
 ther, in whose hands are life and death, sanc- 
 tify unto me the sorrow which 1 now feel. 
 Forgive me w/iatever I have done unkindly to 
 viy mother, and whatever I have omitted to 
 do kindly. Mdke me to remember her good 
 
 Rrecepts and good example, and to reform my 
 fe according to thy holy word," &c. Prayers 
 and Meditations, p 31. M. 
 
 X Mrs. Johnson probably died on the 20th or 
 2l6t of January, and was buried on ihe day this 
 Jitter v,a,% written. M. 
 
 tition ^tfie-Knight's reverie^, I have to 
 mention '*tliat the late Mr. Strahaa the 
 printer told me that Johnson wrote it, "^ j 
 that with the profils he might defray the ^ 
 expense 'of Ills mother's funeral, attd pay 
 some little debts vvhicii she had left. He ', 
 told Sir Joslhia "Reynolds that he com- - 
 posed it in the evening s of one week^, 
 sent it To the press in portions as it was 
 written, and had never since read it over [j. 
 Mr. Strahan, Mr, Johnston, and Mr. 
 Dodsley purchased 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 fov c^m piki^ionr., and works 
 requiring not uiu_j;.fe , m.ore genius than, 
 compilations, we cannot bi^t vonder ai 
 the very h')w price which he was content 
 to recei\ e for this ao^irajDije pfeviojniaKCe   
 which, though, he had- 'Viitu.en Rotiiis^i, 
 else, would have' rendered his name im- 
 mortal in the world of literature. None 
 pf his writings has been so extensively 
 diffused over Europe ; for it has been 
 translated into most, if not all, of the 
 modern languages. This Tale, with all 
 the charms of oriental imagery, and all 
 the force and beauty of which the English 
 language is capable, leads us through the 
 most important scenes of humanJife^ aiui 
 snows us that tnis siage of our being is. 
 full of *' Vanity and vexatio n of sp iritjil. 
 To those who looE~hO fiifther 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. Vol- 
 taire's " Candide," written to refute the 
 system of Optimism, which it has accom- 
 plished with brilliant success, is wonder- 
 fully 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 imi- 
 tation, it would have been in vain to deny 
 that the scheme of that which came latest 
 was taken from the other. Though the 
 proposition illustrated by both these works 
 was the same, namely, that in our present 
 state there is more evil than good, the 
 intention of the writers was very different. 
 Voltaire, 1 am afraid, meant only by 
 wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive 
 victory over religion, and to discredit the 
 
 § Rasselas was published in March or April, 
 1759. 
 
 II See under June 2, 1781. Finding it then 
 accidentally in a cliaise with INIr. Boswell, he 
 read it eagerly.— This was doubtless long after 
 his declaration to Sir Joshua Reynolds. M. ' 
 
102 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 175^1 
 
 belief of a superintending Providence : 
 Johnson meant, by showing the unsatis- 
 factory nature of things temporal, to 
 direct t lip hop fg* } of man to things eternal. 
 Rasselas, as was observed to me by a 
 very accomplished lady, may be consi- 
 dered 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 success- 
 fully enforced in verse. 
 
 The fund of thinking which this work 
 contains is such that almost every sentence 
 df it may furnish a subject of long medi- 
 tation. I am not satisfied if a year passes 
 without my having read it through ; and 
 at every perusal, my admiration of the 
 rriiad which, produced it is so highly 
 raised tha,t 1 tan scarjieiy \Jelieve that I 
 had the honour of enjoying the- intimacy 
 of snr,h a ^an . 
 
 ' I restrain niyself nVom" quotiiig pas- 
 iagerf fVcm'this exGellfii-t work, or even 
 referring to them, because I should not 
 know what to select, or, rather, what to 
 omit. I shall, however, transcribe one, 
 as it shows how well he could state the 
 arguments of those who believe in the 
 appearance of departed spirits; a doc- 
 trine which it is a mistake to suppose that 
 he himself ever positively held : 
 
 " If all your fear be of apparitions (said 
 the Prince), I will promise you safety: 
 there is no danger from the dead ; he that 
 is once buried will be seen no more. 
 
 " That the dead are seen no more (said 
 Imlac), I will not undertake to maintain, 
 against the concurrent and unvaried tes- 
 timony 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 ge- 
 neral evidence ; and some who deny it 
 with their tongues confess it by their 
 fears." 
 
 Notwithstanding my high admiration 
 of Rasselas, I will not maintain that the 
 ** morbid melancholy " in Johnson's con- 
 stitution may not, perhaps, have made 
 life appear to him more insipid and un- 
 happy than it generally is ; for I am sure 
 that he had less enjoyment from it than 
 I Iiave. Yet, whatever additional shade 
 hi8"*own particular sensations may have 
 thrown on his representation of life, at- 
 tentive observation and close inquiry have 
 convinced me that there is too much 
 reality in the gloomy picture. The truth, 
 however, is, that we jud2;c of the happi- 
 
 ness and misery of life differently at dif" 
 ferent times, according to the state of our 
 changeable frame. I always remember 
 a remark made to me by a Turkish lady, 
 educated in France : " Mafoi, Monsieur, 
 notre bonheur depend de la fagon que 
 notre sang clrcule." This have I learnt 
 from a pretty hard course of experience, 
 and would, from sincere benevolence, 
 impress upon all who honour this hook 
 with a perusal, that until a steady con- 
 viction 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 improvement ; and 
 also that it is a part of the mysterious 
 plan of Providence that intellectual beings 
 must " be made perfect through suffer- 
 ing;" there will be a continual recurrence 
 of disappointment and uneasiness. But 
 if we walk with hope in the "midday 
 sun" of revelation, our temper and dis- 
 position will be such that the comforts 
 and enjoyments in our way will be re- 
 lished, while we patiently support the 
 inconveniences and pains. After much 
 speculation and various reasonings, I 
 acknowledge myself convinced o( the 
 truth of Voltaire's conclusion, " Apres 
 tout c'est tin monde passable." But we 
 must not think too deeply : 
 
 ** where ignorance is bliss 
 
 'Tis folly to be wise," 
 
 is, in many respects, more than poetically 
 just. Let us cultivate, under the command 
 of good principles, *' la theorie des sen- 
 sations ag r cables ;" and, as Mr. Burke 
 once admirably counseled a grave and 
 anxious gentleman, " live pleasant." 
 
 The ettect of Rasselas and of Johnson's 
 other moral tales is thus beautifully il- 
 lustrated by Mr. Courtenay : 
 
 " Impressive truth, in splendid fiction drest, 
 Cliecks the vain wish, and calms the troubled 
 
 brevist: 
 O'er the dark mind a light celestial throws. 
 And sooths the anKry passions to repose; 
 As oil diffused illumes and smooths the deep. 
 When round the bark the foaming surges 
 
 sweep*." 
 
 It will be recollected that during all 
 this year he carried on his ** Idler+," and, 
 
   Literary and Moral Character of Johnson. 
 
 t This paper was in such hiirh estimaiion 
 before ii was collfclcd into vohitiies that it was 
 seized on with avidity by various publishers 
 of newspapers and mat^azincs, to enrich their 
 publications. Johnson, to put a slop to this 
 unfair prooeedinjr, wrote for the Universal 
 Chronicle the fallowing: advertisement; in 
 which there is, peiliaps, more pomp of words 
 than the occasion demanded : 
 
 "l/)ndon,Jan. 5, l7.oy:— Advertisement. The 
 proprietors of the paper entitled 'The Idler,' 
 having found that those essays are inserted in 
 the newspapers and magazines wilb so little 
 regard to justice or decency that the Universal 
 Chronicle, in which they first appear, is not 
 always mentioned, think it necessary to dc* 
 
^TAT. 50. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHxMSON. 
 
 103 
 
 no doubt, was proceeding, though slowly, 
 in his edition of Shakspeare. He, how- 
 ever, from that liberality which never 
 failed, when called upon to assist other 
 labourers in literature, found time to 
 translate for Mrs. Lennox's English ver- 
 sion of Brumoy, ** A Dissertation on the 
 Greek Comedy," fb) and "The General 
 Conclusion of the Book."CbJ 
 
 An inquiry into the state of foreign 
 coyjotries was an object that seems at all 
 tfines to have interested Johnson. Hence 
 Mr. Newbery found no great difficulty 
 in persuading him to write the Introduc- 
 tion fa^ 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 fol- 
 lowing letter to a son of one of his early 
 friends at Lichfield, Mr. Joseph Simp- 
 son, Barrister, and authour of a tract en- 
 titled "Reflections on the Study of the 
 Law." 
 
 " TO JOSEPH SIMPSON, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your father's inexorability not only 
 grieves but amazes me : he is your father ; 
 he was always accounted a wise man ; 
 nor do I remember any thing to the dis- 
 advantage of his good nature ; but in his 
 refusal to assist you there is neither good 
 nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. It is 
 
 Clare to the publishers of those collections, 
 tliat however patiently they have hitherto en- 
 dured 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 compi- 
 lations, and their right, at least for the pre- 
 sent, 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 whom no tenderness hath 
 been shown. The past is without remedy, 
 and shall be without resentment. But those 
 who have been thus busy with their sickles in 
 the fields of their neighbours are henceforward 
 to take notice that the time of impunity isat an 
 end. Whoever shall, without our leave, lay 
 the hand of rapine upon our papers is to ex- 
 pect that we shall vindicate our due, by the 
 means which justice prescribes, and which are 
 warranted by the immemorial prescriptions of 
 honourable trade. We shall lav hold, in our 
 turn, on their copies, degrade them from the 
 pomp of wide margin and diffuse typography, 
 contract them into a narrow space, and sell 
 them at an humble price ; yet not with a view 
 of growing rich by 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 penitence nor 
 6h9ine." 
 
 the practice of good nature to overlook 
 faults which iiave already, by the conse- 
 quences, punished the delinquent. It is 
 natural for a father to think more favour- 
 ably 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 tlie man might not choose his 
 own wife, who has a right to plead before 
 the judges of his country. 
 
 " If your imprudence has ended in dif- 
 ficulties and inconveniences, you are 
 yourself to support them ; and, with the 
 help of a little better health, you would 
 support them and conquer them. — Surely 
 that want which accident and sickness 
 produces is to be supported in every re- 
 gion of humanity, though there were nei- 
 ther friends nor fathers in the world. 
 You have certainly from your father the 
 highest claim of charity, though none of 
 right : and therefore I would counsel you 
 to omit no decent nor manly degree of 
 importunity. Your debts in the whole 
 are not large, and of the whole but a 
 small part is troublesome. Small debts 
 are like small shot; they are rattling on 
 every side, and can scarcely be escaped 
 without a wound : great debts are like 
 cannon ; of loud noise, but little danger. 
 You must, therefore, be enabled to dis- 
 charge petty debts, that you may have 
 leisure, with security, to struggle with the 
 rest. Neither the great nor the little 
 debts disgrace you. I am sure you have 
 my esteem for the courage with which 
 you contracted them, and the spirit with 
 which you endure them. I wish my es- 
 teem could be of more use. I have been 
 invited, or have invited myself, to several 
 parts of the kingdom ; and will not in- 
 commode my dear Lucy by coming to 
 Lichfield, while her present lodging is of 
 any use to her. I hope, in a few days, 
 to be at leisure, and to make visits. Whi- 
 ther I shall fly is matter of no importance. 
 A man unconnected is at home 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 now refreshed himself by an ex- 
 cursion to Oxford, of which the following 
 short characteristical notice, in his own 
 
 words, is preserved: — " is now 
 
 making tea for me. I have been in my 
 gown ever since I came here. It was, 
 
104 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1759. 
 
 Ht my first coming, quite new and hand- 
 some. I have swum thrice, which I had 
 disused for many years. I have proposed 
 to Vansittart* climbing over the wail, 
 Init he has refused me. And I have 
 clapped my hands till they are sore, at 
 Dr. King's speech t-" 
 
 His negro servant, Francis Barber, 
 having left him, and been some time at 
 sea, not pressed, as has been supposed, 
 but with his own consent, it appears from 
 a letter to John Wilkes, Esq. from 
 Dr. Smollett, that his master kindly 
 interested himself in procuring his release 
 from a state of life of which Johnson 
 always expressed the utmost abhorrence. 
 He said, " No man will be a sailor who 
 has contrivance enough to get himself 
 into a gaol ; for being in a ship is being 
 in a gaol, with the chance of being 
 drowned j." And at another time, ** A 
 man in a gaol has more room, better 
 food, and commonly better company §." 
 — The letter was as follows : 
 
 *' DEAR SIR, Chelsea, March 16, 1759. 
 " I AM again your petitioner, in behalf of 
 that great Cham 1| of literature, Samuel 
 Johnson. His black servant, whose name 
 is Francis Barber, has been pressed on 
 board the Stag frigate. Captain Angel, 
 and our lexicographer is in great distress. 
 He says, the boy is a sickly lad, of a 
 delicate frame, and particularly subject 
 to a malady in his throat, which renders 
 him very unfit for his Majesty's service. 
 You know what matter of animosity the 
 said Johnson has against you : and 1 dare 
 
 * Dr. Robert Vansittart, of the ancient and 
 respectable family of Unit name in Berkshire. 
 He was eminent for learning and worth, and 
 much esteemed by Dr. Johnson. 
 
 t Gentleman's Masjazine, April, 17S5. 
 
 X Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit. 
 1>. I'i6. 
 
 § Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. -251. 
 
 II In my first edition this word was printed 
 C/mm, as it appears in one of Mr. Wilkes's 
 .Miscellanies, and [animadverted on Dr. Smol- 
 lett's ignorance; for which lei me propiti;ite 
 the manes of that in.^enious and benevolent 
 gentleman. Chum was certainly a mistaken 
 reading for Cham, the title of the Sovereign 
 of Tartary, which is well applied to Johnson, 
 5 he Monarch of Literature; and was an epithet 
 tAmiliar to Smollett. See "Roderick Random," 
 chap. 56. For this correction 1 am indebted 
 to Lord Palmerston, whose talents and literary 
 acouirements accord well with his respectable 
 pedigree of Temple. 
 
 After the publication of the second edition 
 of this work, the author was furnished by 
 Mr. Abercrombie, of Philadelphia, with the 
 copy of a letter written by Dr. Jolin Armstrong 
 the poet to Dr. Smollett at Leghorn, containing 
 ihe following paragraph: 
 
 " As to the K. Benili patriot, it is hard to 
 '-.ly from what motive he published a letter of 
 vours asking some trifling favour of him in 
 [)(:half of somebody for whom the great Cham 
 of literature, Mr^ Johnson, had interested 
 himself." M. 
 
 say you desire no other opportunity of 
 resenting it than that of laying him under 
 an obligation. He was humble enough 
 to desire my assistance on this occasion, 
 though he and I were never cater-cousins ; 
 and I gave him to understand that 1 
 would make my application to my friend 
 Mr. Wilkes, who perhaps, by his interest 
 with Dr. Hay and Mr. Elliot, might be 
 able to procure the discharge of his lac- 
 quey. It would be superfluous to say 
 more on the subject, which I leave to 
 your own consideration ; but I cannot 
 let slip this opportunity of declaring that 
 I am, with the most inviolable esteem 
 and attachment, dear sir, 
 
 ** Your affectionate obliged 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 " T. Smollett." 
 
 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 cham- 
 bers in tiie 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 de- 
 votions, in which we find* " the change 
 of outward things which I am now to 
 make ;" and, " Grant me the grace of 
 thy Holy Spirit, that the course which I 
 am now beginning may proceed accord- 
 ing to thy laws, and end in the enjoyment 
 of thy favour." But he did not, in fact, 
 make any external or visible change. 
 , At this time there being a competition 
 among the architects of London to be 
 employed in the building of Blackfriars 
 Bridge, a (jucstion was very warmly agi- 
 tated whether semicircular or elliptical 
 arches were preferable. In the design 
 offered by Mr. Mylne the elliptical form 
 was adopted, and therefore it was the 
 great object of his rivals to attack it. 
 Johnson's regard for his friend Mr. Gwyn 
 induced him to engage in this controversy 
 against Mr. Mylne t ; and after being at 
 
   Prayers and Meditations, pp. 30 and 40. 
 
 t Sir John Hawkins has given a long detail 
 of it, in that n>anner vulgarly, but significantly, 
 called rigmarole ; in wbich, amidst an osten- 
 tatious exhibition of arts and artists, ho talks 
 of" proportions of a column being taken from 
 that of the human figure, and adjmttd by 
 Nature — masculine and feminine — in a man, 
 sesquioctave of the head, and in a woman, 
 scsguhional;^^ nor has he failed to introduce 
 a jargon of musical itrms, which do not seem 
 much to correspond with the subject, but serve 
 to make up the heteroireiicous mass. Tofollow 
 the Knight through all th's would be a uselesa 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 106 
 
 considerable pains to study the subject, 
 he wrote three several letters to the Ga- 
 zetteer, 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 ob- 
 serve in lawyers, who, as Quicquid agunt 
 homines is the matter of law suits, are 
 sometimes obliged to pick up a temporary 
 
 fatigue to myself, and not. a little disgusting 
 to my readers. I shall, therefore, only make 
 a few remarks upon his ^taiemenl. He seems 
 to exult in having detected Johnson in pro- 
 curing " from a person eminently skilled in 
 mathematicks and the principles of architec- 
 ture, answers to a strinjf of questions drawn 
 up by himself, touching the comparative 
 strength of semicircular and elliptical arches." 
 Now 1 canaot conceive how Johnson could 
 have acted more wisely. Sir John complains 
 that the opinion of that excellent mathemati- 
 cian, Mr. Thomas Simpson, did not prepon- 
 derate in favour of the semicircular arch. But 
 he should have known, that however eminent 
 Mr. Simpson was in the higher parts of ab- 
 stract mathematical science, he was little 
 versed in mixed and practical mechanicks. 
 Mr. Muller, of Woolwich Academy, the scho- 
 lastick father of all the great engineers which 
 this country has employed for forty years, de- 
 cided the question by declaring clearly in 
 favour of the elliptical arch. 
 
 It is ungraciously suggested that Johnson's 
 motive for opposing Mr. Mylne's scheme may 
 have been his prejudice against him as a native 
 of North Britain ; when, in truth, as has been 
 stated, he gave the aid of his able pen to a 
 friend, who was one of the candidates; and 
 so far was he from having any illiberal anti- 
 pathy to Mr. Mylne, that lie afterwards lived 
 with that gentleman upon very agreeable 
 terms of acquaintance, and dined with him at 
 his house. Sir John Hawkins, indeed, gives 
 full vent to his own prejudice in abusing 
 Blackfriars Bridge, calling it " an edifice in 
 which beauty and symmetry are in vain sought 
 for; by which the citizens of London have 
 perpetuated their own disgrace, and subjected 
 a whole nation to the reproach of foreigners." 
 Whoever has contemplated, placido tumine, 
 this stately, elegant, and airy structure, which 
 has so fine an efl'ect, especially on approach- 
 ing the capital on that quarter, must wonder 
 at such unjust and ill tempered censure; and 
 I appeal to all foreigners of good taste, whe- 
 ther this bridge be not one of the most dis- 
 tinguished ornaments of London. As to the 
 stability of the fabrick, it is certain that the 
 city of London took every precaution to have 
 the best Portland stone for it; but as this is 
 to be found in the quarries belong'ing to the 
 publick, under the direction of the Lords of 
 the Treasury, it so happened that parlia- 
 mentary interest, which is often the bane of 
 fair pursuits, thwarted their endeavours. Not- 
 withstanding this disadvantage, it is well 
 known that not only has Blackfriars Bridge 
 never sunk either in its foundation or in us 
 arches, which were so ranch the subject of 
 contest, but any injuries which it has suffered 
 from the effects of severe frosts have been 
 already, in some measure, repaired with 
 sounder stone, and every necessary renewal 
 can be completed at a moderate expense. 
 
 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 occa- 
 sion. 
 
 In 1760 he wrote " An Address of the 
 Painters to George III. on his Accession 
 to the Throne of these Kingdoms,' Y^^' 
 which no monarch ever ascended with 
 more sincere congratulations' from his 
 people. Two generations of foreign 
 princes had prepared their minds to re- 
 joice in having again a King, who gloried 
 in being " born a Briton." He also wrote 
 for Mr.' Baretti the Dedication f&J of his 
 Italian and English Dictionary, to the 
 Marquis of Abreu, then Envoy Extraor- 
 dinary from Spain at the Court of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 Johnson was now either very idle, or 
 very busy with his Shakspeare ; for I 
 can find no other publick composition by 
 him except an Introduction to the pro- 
 ceedings of the Committee for Clothing 
 the French prisoneiT;Y«^ one of the 
 many proofs that he was ever awake to 
 the calls of humanity ; and an account' 
 which he gave in the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine of Mr. Tytler's acute and able 
 vindication of Mary, Queen of Scots. ('a^ 
 The generosity of Johnson's feelings shines 
 forth in the following sentence : " It ha& 
 now been fashionable, for near half a 
 century, to defame and vilify the house 
 of Stuart, and to exalt and magnify the 
 reign of Elizabeth. The Stuarts have 
 found few apologists, for the dead cannot 
 pay for praise ; and who will, without 
 reward, oppose the tide of popularity 1 
 Yet there remains still among us, not, 
 wholly extinguished, a zeal for truth, a 
 desire of establishing right in opposition 
 to fashion." 
 
 In this year I have not discovered a 
 single private letter written by him to 
 any of his friends. It should seem, how- 
 ever, 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 majestick 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^ 
 
106 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1760. 
 
 which a learned divine told me he once 
 seemed, in a conversation, jocularly to 
 allow to historians. "There are (said he) 
 inexcusable lies and consecrated lies. For 
 instance, we are told that on the arrival 
 of the news of the unfortunate battle of 
 Fonlenoy, every heart beat, and every 
 eye was in tears. Now we know that 
 no man eat his dinner the worse, but 
 there should have been all this concern; 
 and to say there was (smiling) may be 
 reckoned a consecrated lie." 
 
 This year Mr. Murphy, having thought 
 himself ill treated by the Reverend Dr. 
 Franklin, who was one of the writers of 
 *' The Critical Review," published an 
 indignant vindication in '* A Poetical 
 Epistle to Samuel Johnson, A. M." in 
 which he compliments Johnson in a just 
 and elegant manner : 
 
 "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 sacre<l 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 scest the dan- 
 gerous strife 
 In which some demon bids me plunge my life, 
 To the Aoniati fount direct my feet. 
 Say, where the Nine thy lonely musings meetl 
 Where warbles to thy ear the sacred throng, 
 Thy moral sense, thy dignity of song? 
 Tell, for you can, by what unerring art 
 Vou wake to finer feelings every heart ; 
 In each brightpagesome truth important give, 
 And bid to future times thy Rambler live." 
 
 I take this opportunity to relate the 
 manner in which an acquaintance first 
 commenced between Dr. Johnson and 
 Mr. Murphy. During the publication of 
 *' The Gray's Inn Journal," a periodical 
 paper, which was successfully carried on 
 by Mr. Murphy alone, when a very young 
 man, he happened to be in the country 
 with Mr. Foote ; and having mentioned 
 that he was obliged to go to London in 
 order to get ready for the press one of 
 the numbers of that Journal, Foote said 
 to him, " You need not go on that ac- 
 count. Here is a French magazine, in 
 which you will find a very pretty oriental 
 tale ; translate that, 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 
 ^0 town, this tale was pointed out to him 
 ii) ** The Rambler," from whence it had 
 
 been translated into the French magazine. 
 Mr. Murphy then waited upon Johnson to 
 explain this curious incident. His talents, 
 literature, and gentlemanlike manners 
 were soon perceived by Johnson, and a 
 friendship was formed which was never 
 broken*. 
 
 * When Mr. Murphy first became acquainted 
 with Dr. Johnson, he was about thirty-one 
 years old. He died at Knightsbridge, June 
 18, 1805, it is believed in his eighty-second 
 year. 
 
 In an accoimt of this gentleman, published 
 recently after bis death, he is reported to have 
 said, tliat '* he was but twenty-one when he 
 had the impudence to write a periodical paper, 
 during the time that Johnson was publishing 
 " The Rambler."— In a subsequent page, in 
 which Mr. Boswell gives an account of his 
 first introduction to Johnson, will be found 
 a strikinff instance of the incorrectness of Mr. 
 Murphy's memory ; and ihe assertion above- 
 mentioned, if indeed he made it, which is by 
 no means improbable, furnishes an additional 
 proof of his inaccuracy : for both the facts 
 asserted are unfoimded. He appears to have 
 been eight years older than tweniy-one when 
 he began the Gray's Inn Journal ; and that 
 paper, instead of funning a race with John- 
 son's production, did not appear till after the 
 closing of the Rambler, which ended March 
 14, 1752. The first number of the Gray's Inn 
 Journal made its appearance about seven 
 months afterwards, in a newspaper of the 
 time, called the Craftsman, October 28, 1752; 
 and in that form the first forty-nine numbers 
 were given to the publick. On Saturday, 
 Sept. 29, 17.W, it assumed a new form, and 
 was published as a distinct periodical paper; 
 and in that shape it continued to be published 
 till the 21st of Sept. 1754, when it finally closed; 
 forming, in the whole, one hundred and one 
 Essays, in the folio copy. The extraordinary 
 paper mentioned in the text is No. 38, of the 
 second series, published on June 15, 1754; 
 which is a retranslation from the French ver- 
 sion of Johnson's Rambler, No. 190. It was 
 omitted in the repnblication of these Essays 
 in two volimies 12mo. in which one hundred 
 and four are found, and in which the papers 
 are not always dated on the days when they 
 really appeared ; so that the motto prefixed 
 to this Anelo Gallick' Eastern Tale, obscuris 
 vera involvens, might verv properly have been 
 prefixed to this work when repuhhsbed. Mr. 
 Murphy did not, i believe, wait on Johnson 
 recently after the publication of this adum- 
 bration of one of his Ramblers, as seems to 
 be slated in the text ; for, in his concluding 
 Essay, Sept. 21, 1754, we find the following 
 paragraph: 
 
 ♦* Besides, why may not a person rather 
 choose an air of bold negligence than the 
 obscure diligence of pedaiits and writers of 
 aflfected phraseology \ For my part, I have 
 always thought an easy style more eligible 
 than a pompous diction, lilted up by meta- 
 phor, amplified bv epithet, and dignified by 
 too frequent insertions of the Latin idiom ?" 
 It is probable that the Rambler was here in- 
 tende«l to be censiiretl, and that the authour, 
 when he wrote it, was not acquainted with 
 Johnson, whom, from his first introduction, he 
 endeavoured to conciliate. Their acquaint- 
 ance, therefore, it may be presumed, did not 
 commence till towards the end of thi<J jear 
 
 1754. Murphy, however, had hierhly praised 
 Johnson in the preceding year. No. 14 of the 
 
 second series, Dec. 22, 1753. M. 
 
iEXAT. 51. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " TO BKNNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT LANGTON, 
 NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** You that travel about the world have 
 more materials for letters than I who 
 stay at home : and should, therefore, 
 write with frequency equal to your op- 
 portunities. 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 
 back. Chambers passed the vacation at 
 Oxford. 
 
 *' I am very sincerely solicitous for the 
 preservation or curing of Mr. Langton's 
 sight, and am glad that the chirurgeon 
 at Coventry gives him so much hope. 
 Mr. Sharpe is of opinion that the tedious 
 maturation of the cataract is a vulgar 
 errour, 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 inteiest 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 Rusticks\, 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 believe, a 
 good figure in the whole, though his faults 
 seem to be very many ; some of natural 
 deficience, and some of laborious affec- 
 tation. He has, (I think, no power of 
 assuming either that dignity or elegance 
 which some men, who have little of either 
 in common life, can exhibit on the stage. 
 His voice, when strained, is unpleasing, 
 and when low is not always heard. He 
 seems to think too much on the audience, 
 and turns his face too often to the galleries. 
 
 • Topham Beauclerk, Esq. 
 t Essays with that title, written about this 
 time by Mr. Langton, but not published. 
 
 lOT 
 
 However, I wish him well ; and 
 among other reasons, because I like his 
 wifej. 
 ** Make haste to write to, dear sir, 
 ** Your most affectionate servant, 
 " Oct. 18, 1700." " Sam. Johnson.'*" 
 
 In 1761 Johnson appj £arit,tQ ha_ye.jdfilie 
 Httlenie was stfll, no doubt, proceeding 
 n his edition of Shakspeare; but what 
 advances he made in it cannot be ascer- 
 tained. He certainly was at this time 
 not active ; for in his scrupulous exami- 
 nation of himself on Easter eve, he la- 
 ments, in his too rigorous mode of cen- 
 suring his own conduct, that his life, since 
 the communion of the preceding Easter, 
 had been " dissipated and useless." He, 
 however, contributed this year the Pre- 
 face (^a; to *' Rolfs Dictionary of Trade 
 and Commerce," in which he displays 
 such a clear and comprehensive know- 
 ledge of the subject as might lead the 
 reader to think that its authour had 
 devoted all his life to it. I asked him, 
 whether he knew much of Rolt, and of 
 his work? *' Sir (said he), I never saw 
 the man, and never read the book. The 
 booksellers wanted a Preface to a Dic- 
 tionary of Trade and Commerce. I knev(^ 
 very well what such a Dictionary should 
 be, and I wrote a Preface accordingly." 
 Rolt, who wrote a great deal for the 
 booksellers, was, as Johnson told me, a 
 singular character. Though not in the 
 least acquainted with him, he used to 
 say, " I am just come from Sam. John- 
 son." 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. Rolt went 
 over to Dublin, published an edition of 
 it, and put his own name to it. Upon 
 the fame of this he lived for several 
 months, being entertained at the best 
 tables as " the ingenious Mr. Rolt §." 
 His conversation, indeed, did not dis- 
 cover 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 
 
 t Mrs, Sheridan was authour of « Memoirs 
 of Miss Sydney Biddulph," a novel of great 
 merit, and of some other pieces. 
 
 § i have had inquiry made in Ireland as to 
 this story, but do not find it recollected there, 
 I eive it on the authority of Dr. Johnson, to 
 which may be added that of the" Biographical 
 Dictionary," and " Biographia Dramatica ;» 
 in both of which it has stood many years. 
 Mr. Malone observes, that the truth probably 
 is, not that an edition was published with 
 Rolfs name in the title page, but, that the 
 poem being then anonymous, Rolt acquiesceo 
 in its being attributed to him in conversation. 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 publishing tlie poem with its real authour's 
 name. Several instances of such literary 
 fraud have been detected. The Reverend 
 Dr. Campbell, of St. Andrew's, wrote 
 "An Inquiry into the Original of Moral 
 \irtue," the manuscript of which he sent 
 to Mr. Innes, a clergyman in England, 
 who was his countryman and acquaint- 
 ance. Innes published it with his own 
 name to it; and, before the imposition 
 was discovered, obtained considerable 
 promotion, as a reward of his merit*. 
 The celebrated Dr. Hugh Blair, and his 
 cousin Mr. George Bannatine, when stu- 
 dents 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 his own. Some 
 years ago a little novel, entitled " The 
 Man of Feeling," was assumed by Mr. 
 Eccles, a young Irish clergyman, who 
 was afterwards drowned near Bath. He 
 had been at the pains to transcribe the 
 whole, book, with blottings, interlinea- 
 tions, and corrections, that it might be 
 shown to several people as an original. 
 It was, in truth, the production of Mr. 
 Henry Mackenzie, an attorney in the 
 Exchequer at Edinburgh, who is the au- 
 thour of several other ingenious pieces ; 
 but the belief with regard to Mr. Eccles 
 became so general that it was thought 
 necessary for Messieurs Strahan and 
 Cadeil to publish an advertisement in 
 the newspapers, contradicting the report, 
 and mentioning that they purchased the 
 copyright of Mr. Mackenzie. I can con- 
 ceive this kind of fraud to be very easily 
 practised with successful eflTrontery. The 
 filiation of a literary performance is 
 difficult of proof; seldom is there any 
 witness present at its birth. A man, 
 either in confidence or by improper 
 means, obtains possession of a copy of 
 it in manuscript, and boldly publishes it 
 as his own. The true authour, in many 
 cases, may not be able to make his title 
 clear. Johnson, indeed, from the peculiar 
 features of his literary offspring, might 
 bid detiance to any attempt to appro- 
 priate them to others : 
 " liiitShakspeare'smasrick could not copied be, 
 Within tliai circle none durst walk but he." 
 
 He this year lent his friendly assistance 
 to correct and improve a pamphlet writ- 
 ten by Mr. Gwyn, the architect, entitled 
 *' Th<)ught8 on the Coronation of George 
 III."ra>' 
 
 Johnson had now for some years ad- 
 
   I have botli the books. Innes was the 
 cleroryman who hroutflil I'salmanazar to En^- 
 land, and was an accomplice in his extraor- 
 
 Jinary fiction. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1761. 
 
 mitted Mr. Baretti to his intimacy ; nor 
 did their friendship cease upon their being 
 separated by Baretti's revisiting his native 
 country, as appears from Johnson's letters 
 to him. 
 
 *' TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MIL.iN+. 
 
 ** You reproach me very often with par- 
 simony of writing ; but you may discover 
 by the extent of my paper that I design 
 to recompense rarity by length. A short 
 letter to a distant friend is, in my opinion, 
 an insult like that of a slight bow or cur- 
 sory salutation ; a proof of unwillingness 
 to do much, even where there is a neces- 
 sity of doing something. Yet it must be 
 remembered, that he who continues the 
 same course of life in the same place will 
 have little to tell. One week and one 
 year are very like one another. The 
 silent changes made by time 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 otiiers his com- 
 pany : and I am glad to have other 
 nations made acquainted with the cha- 
 racter 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 de- 
 parture 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 an- 
 swered 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 fami- 
 liarly, and without contaminating one by 
 the other, is very difficult ; and to use 
 more than two is hardly to be hoped. 
 The praises which some have received 
 for their multiplicity of languages may 
 be sufficient to excite industry, but can 
 hardU generate confidence. 
 
 ** I know not whether I can heartily 
 rejoice at the kind reception which yon 
 have found, or at the popularity to which 
 you are exalted. I am willing that your 
 merit should be distinguished ; but cannot 
 wish that your afleciions may be gained. 
 I would have you happy wherever you 
 are : yet I would have you wish to return 
 
 t Tlic originals of Dr. Johnson's ihree letters 
 to Mr. Uaietli, which are aniontf the veiy bt>i 
 he ever wrote, were ooniniunicated to the 
 proprietors uf that instructive and elegant 
 monthly miscellany, '• The European Maga 
 •iiiie,'.' in which they first appeared, 
 
^TAT. 52. 
 
 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 your 
 return : therefore do not let Italian aca- 
 demicians nor Italian ladies drive us from 
 your thoughts. You may find among us 
 what you will leave behind, soft smiles 
 and easy sonnets. Yet I shall not wonder 
 if all our invitations should be rejected : 
 for there is a pleasure in being consider- 
 able at home, which is not easily resisted. 
 
 " By conducting Mr. Southwell to Ve- 
 nice, you fulfilled, I know, the original 
 contract : yet I would wish you not 
 wholly to lose him from your notice, but 
 to recommend him to such acquaintance 
 as may best secure him from suffering; by 
 his own follies, and to take such general 
 care both of his safety and his interest 
 as may come 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 Fitzherbcrt 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. He has 
 been long in the hands of the Scots, and 
 has already favoured them more than the 
 English will contentedly endure. But, 
 perhaps, he scarcely knows whom he has 
 distinguished, or whom he has disgusted. 
 
 " The Artists have instituted a yearly 
 Exhibition of pictures and statues, in 
 imitation, as I am told, of foreign aca- 
 demies. 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, wliich he deserves, among 
 other excellences, by retaining his kind- 
 ness 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 arc forced to call iu the 
 assistance of so many trifles to rid us of 
 our time, of that time which never can 
 return. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 109 
 
 '* I know my Baretti will not be satisr 
 fied with a letter in which I give him no 
 account of myself; yet what account shall 
 I give him ? I have not, since the day of 
 our separation, suffered or done any thing 
 considerable. Tlie only change in my 
 way of life is that I have frequented the 
 theatre more than in former seasons. But 
 I have gone thitlier only to escape from 
 myself. We have had many new farces, 
 and the comedy called * The Jealou s 
 
 ^A£i£e^which, though not written with 
 much genius, was yet so ^^£U..a£U£ted_^o 
 
 ^ibiugta^, 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 
 plan must be filled with episodes. Of 
 myself I have nothing to say, but that I 
 have hitherto lived without the concur- 
 rence of my own judgment ; yet I con- 
 tinue to flatter myself, that, when yon 
 return, you will find me mended. 1 do 
 not wonder that, where the monastick life 
 is permitted, every order finds votaries, 
 and every monastery inhabitants. Men 
 vvill 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 iife 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 dis- 
 cernment must make amends for the 
 celerity of your motions. He that knows 
 which way to direct his view sees much 
 in a little time. 
 
 ** Write to me very often, and I will 
 not neglect to write to you ; and I may, 
 
110 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1762. 
 
 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 affectionate friend, 
 
 *' Sam. JohxNson." 
 •'[London], June 10, 1761." 
 
 In 1762 he wrote for the Reverend 
 Dr. Kennedy, Rector of Bradley in 
 Derbyshire, in a strain of very courtly 
 elegance, a Dedication to the K'mg CaJ 
 of that gentleman's work, entitled '* A 
 complete System of Astronomical Chro- 
 nology, unfolding the Scriptures." He 
 had certainly looked at this work before 
 it was printed ; for the concluding para- 
 graph is undoubtedly of his composition, 
 of which let my readers judge : 
 
 ** Thus have I endeavoured to free 
 Religion and History from the darkness 
 of a disputed and uncertain chronology ; 
 from difficulties which have hitherto ap- 
 peared insuperable, and darkness which 
 no luminary of learning has hitherto been 
 able to dissipate. I have established the 
 truth of the Mosaical account, by evi- 
 dence which no transcription can corrupt, 
 no negligence can lose, and no interest 
 can pervert. I have shown that the 
 universe bears witness to the inspiration 
 of its historian, by the revolution of its 
 orbs and the succession of its seasons ; 
 that the stars in their courses fight 
 against incredulity, that the works of 
 God give hourly confirmation to the law, 
 the prophets, and the gospel, of which 
 one day telleth another, and one night 
 certifieth another ; and that the validity 
 of the sacred writings never can be 
 denied, while the moon shall increase 
 and wane, and the sun shall know his 
 going down." 
 
 He this year wrote also the Dedica- 
 tion f 6 J to the Earl of Middlesex of 
 Mrs. Lennox's ** Female Quixote," and 
 the Preface to the ** Catalogue of the 
 Artists' Exhibition." f&>l 
 
 The following letter, which, on account 
 of its intrinsick merit, it would have been 
 unjust both to Johnson and the public 
 to have withheld, was obtained for me 
 by the solicitation of my friend Mr. 
 Seward : 
 
 ** TO DR. STAUNTON (nOW SIR GEORGE 
 STAUNTON, baronet). 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I MAKE haste to answer your kind 
 letter, in hope of hearing again from you 
 before you leave us. I cannot but regret 
 that a man of your qualifications should 
 find it necessary to seek an establishment 
 in Guadaloupe ; which if a peace should 
 restore to the French, I shall think it 
 some alleviation of the loss, that it must 
 
 restore likewise Dr. Staunton to the 
 English. 
 
 ** It is a melancholy consideration, 
 that so much of our time is necessarily to 
 be spent upon the care of living, and 
 that we can seldom obtain ease in one 
 respect but by resigning it in another : 
 yet I suppose we are by this dispensation 
 not less happy in the whole than if the 
 spontaneous bounty of Nature poured all 
 that we want into our hands. A few, if 
 they were left thus to themselves, would, 
 perhaps, spend their time in laudable 
 pursuits ; but the greater part would 
 prey upon the quiet of each other, or, in 
 the want of other 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 our place of residence, we may 
 in every place find rational amusements, 
 and possess in every place the comforts 
 of piety and a pure conscience. 
 
 ** In America there is little to be 
 observed except natural curiosities. The 
 new world must have many vegetables 
 and animals with which philosophers are 
 but little acquainted. I hope you will 
 furnish yourself with some books of na- 
 tural 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 per- 
 haps the Peruvian bark is not the only 
 specifick 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 that 
 you are happy will give pleasure to, 
 
 •* SIR, 
 " Your most affectionate humble servant, 
 "June 1, 1762." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 A lady having at this time solicited 
 him to obtain the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury's patronage to have her son sent to 
 the University, one of those solicitations 
 which are too frequent, where people, 
 anxious for a particular object, do not 
 consider propriety, or the 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 Reverend 
 Dr. Farmer, Master of Emanuel College, 
 Cambridge. 
 
 ** madam, 
 " I HOFK you will believe that my delay 
 in answering your letter could proceed 
 
JErfL-r. 53. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Ill 
 
 only from my unwillingness to destroy 
 any hope that you had formed. Hope is 
 itself a species of happiness, and perhaps 
 the chief happiness which this world 
 affords ; but, like all other pleasures 
 immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of 
 hope must be expiated by pain ; and 
 expectations improperly indulged must 
 end in disappointment. If it be asked, 
 what is the improper expectation which 
 it is dangerous to indulge? experience 
 will quickly answer that it is such expec- 
 tation as is dictated not by reason, but 
 by desire ; expectation raised, not by 
 the common occurrences of life, but by 
 the wants of the expectant ; an expecta- 
 tion 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 
 had 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 Arch- 
 bishop should choose your son. I know, 
 madam, how unwillingly conviction is 
 admitted when interest opposes it ; but 
 surely, madam, you must allow that 
 there is no reason why that should be 
 done by me which every other man may 
 do with equal reason, and which, indeed, 
 no man can do properly without some 
 very particular relation both to the Arch- 
 bishop and to you. If I could help you 
 in this exigence by any proper means, it 
 would give me pleasure ; but this pro- 
 posal is so very remote from usual 
 methods, that I cannot comply with it 
 but at the risk of such answer and suspi- 
 cions 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, MAj)AM, 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " June 8, 1762." 
 
 " TO MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN. 
 ** SIR, London, July 20, 1762. 
 
 " However justly you may accuse me 
 for want of punctuality in correspond- 
 ence, 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 which your 
 long residence in this unknown region 
 has supplied j'ou. 
 
 " 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 
 thousand a year. Levet is lately married, 
 not without much suspicion that he has 
 been wretchedly cheated in his match. 
 Mr. Chambers is gone this day, for the 
 first time, the circuit with the judges. 
 Mr. Richardson* is dead of an apoplexy, 
 and his second daughter has married a 
 merchant. 
 
 '* My vanity or my kindness makes 
 me flatter myself that you would rather 
 hear of me than of those whom I have 
 mentioned ; but of myself I have very 
 little which I care to tell. Last winter 
 I w^ent down to my native town, where 
 I found the streets much narrower and 
 shorter than I thought I had left them, 
 inhabited by a new race of people, to 
 whom I was very little known. My 
 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 
 daughter-in-law, from whom I expected 
 most, and whom I met with sincere 
 benevolence, has lost the beauty and 
 gaiety of youth, without having gained 
 much of the wisdom of age. I wandered 
 about for five days, and took the first 
 convenient opportunity of returning to a 
 place where, if there is not much happi- 
 ness, there is, at least, such a diversity 
 of good and evil, that slight vexations do 
 not fix upon the heart. 
 
 " I think in a few weeks to try another 
 excursion ; though to what end ? Let me 
 know, my Baretti, what has been the 
 result of your return to your own coun- 
 try : whether time has made any altera- 
 tion for the better, and whether, when 
 the first raptures of salutation were over, 
 you did not find your thoughts confessed 
 their disappointment. 
 
 *' Moral sentences appear ostentatious 
 and tumid when they have no greater 
 occasions than the journey of a wit to 
 his own town ; yet such pleasures and 
 such pains make up the general mass of 
 
 * Samuel Richardson, tJie authour of Cla- 
 rissa, Sir Charles (Tfandison, 6ic. He died 
 July 4, 1761, aged 72. M. 
 
112 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1762. 
 
 life; and as nothing is little to him that 
 feels it with great sensibility, a mind 
 able to see common incidents in their 
 real state is disposed by very common 
 incidents to very serious contemplations. 
 Let us trust that a time will come when 
 the present moment shall be no longer 
 irksome ; when we shall not borrow all 
 our happiness from hope, which at last 
 is to end in disappointment. 
 
 " I beg that you will show Mr. Beau- 
 clerk all the civilities which you have in 
 your power ; for he has always been 
 kind to rae. 
 
 *' I have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Pro- 
 fessor of Padua, who has told me of your 
 quarrel with an Abbot of the Celestine 
 order ; but had not the particulars very 
 ready in his memory. When you write 
 to Mr. Marsili, let him know that I 
 remember him with kindness. 
 
 " May you, my Baretti, be very happy 
 at Milan, or some other place nearer to, 
 
 " Your most affectionate humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 The accession of George the Third to 
 the throne of these kingdoms opened a 
 new and brighter prospect to men of 
 literary merit, who had been honoured 
 with no mark of royal favour in the 
 preceding reign. His present Majesty^s 
 education in this country, as well as his 
 taste and beneficence, prompted him to 
 be the patron of science and the arts ; 
 and early this year Johnson having been 
 represented to him as a very learned and 
 good man, without any certain provision, 
 ids Majesty was pleased to grant him a 
 pension of three hundred pounds a year. 
 The Earl of Bute, who was then Prime 
 Minister, had the honour to announce 
 this instance of his Sovereign's bounty, 
 concerning which many and various 
 stories, all equally erroneous, have been 
 propagated ; maliciously representing it 
 as a political bribe to Johnson, to desert 
 his avowed principles and become the 
 t{X)l 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 autlientick information. 
 Lord Bute told me that Mr. Weddcr- 
 burne, now Lord Loughborough, was the 
 person who tirst mentioned this subject 
 to him. Lord Loughborough told me 
 that the pension was granted to Johnson 
 solely as the reward of his literary merit, 
 wTthout any stipulation whatever, or even 
 tacit understanding that he should write 
 for administration. His lordship added, 
 tfliat 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 pension 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, and that it was perfectly 
 understood by all parties that the pension 
 was merely honorary. Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds told me that Johnson called on him 
 after his Majesty's intention had been 
 notilied to him, and said he wished to 
 consult his friends as to the propriety of 
 his accepting this mark of the royal favour 
 after the definitions which he had given 
 in his Dictionary of pension and pen- 
 sioners. He said he should not have 
 Sir Joshua's answer till next day, when 
 he would call again, and desired he might 
 think of it. Sir Joshua answered that 
 he was clear to give his opinion then, 
 that there could be no objection to his 
 receiving from the King a reward for 
 literary merit; and that certainly the 
 definitions in his Dictionary were not 
 applicable to him. Johnson, it should 
 seem, was satisfied, for he did not call 
 again till he had accepted the pension, 
 and 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 any thing you are to do, 
 but for what you have done*." His 
 Lordship, he said, behaved in the hand- 
 somest manner. He repeated the words 
 twice, that he might be sure Johnson 
 heard them, and thus set his mind per- 
 fectly at ease. This nobleman, who has 
 been so virulently abused, acted with 
 great honour in this instance, and dis- 
 played a mind truly liberal. A minister 
 of a more narrow and selfish disposition 
 would have availed himself of such an 
 opportunity to fix an implied obligation 
 on a man of Johnson's powerful talents 
 to give him his support. 
 
 Mr. Murphy and the late Mr. Sheridan 
 severally contended for the distinction of 
 having been the first who mentioned to 
 Mr. Wedderburne that Johnson ought to 
 have a pension. When I spoke of this 
 to Lord Loughborough, wishing to know 
 if he recollected the prime mover in the 
 business, he said, " All his friends as- 
 sisted :" and when I told him that Mr. 
 Sheridan 8trenu*>usly asserted his claim 
 to it, his Lordship said, " He rang the 
 bell." And it is but just to add, that 
 Mr. Sheridan told me that, when he 
 communicated to Dr. Johnson that a 
 
 * This was said by Lord Bute, as Dr. Bur- 
 ney was informed ;.y Johnson himself, in 
 answer to a question xvliich he put, previously 
 to his acceptance of the intended bounty : 
 " Pray, my lord, v^hat am I expected to do 
 for this pension V 
 
JEtat. 53. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 113 
 
 pension was to be granted liim, he re- 
 plied in a fervour of gratitude, " The 
 English language does not attbrd nie 
 terms adequate to my feelings on this 
 occasion. I must have recourse to the 
 French. I am pcnetre with his Majesty's 
 goodness." Wlien I repeated tiiis to 
 Dr. .Johnson, he did not contradict it. 
 
 His definitions of pension and pen- 
 sioner, partly founded on the satirical 
 verses of Pope, which he quotes, may be 
 generally true ; and yet every body must 
 allow that there may be and have been 
 instances of pensions given and received 
 upon liberal and honourable terms. Thus, 
 then, it is clear that there was nothing 
 inconsistent or humiliating in Johnson's 
 accepting of a pension so unconditionally 
 and so honourably ofiFered to him. 
 
 But I shall not detain my readers 
 longer by any words of my own, on a 
 subject on which I am happily enabled, 
 by the favour of the Earl of Bute, to 
 present them with what Johnson himself 
 wrote ; his lordship having been pleased 
 to communicate to me a copy of the fol- 
 lowing letter to his late father, which 
 does great honour both to the writer, 
 and to the noble person to whom it is 
 addressed : 
 
 " TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL 
 OF BUTE. 
 ** MY LORD, 
 
 "When the bills were yesterday deli- 
 vered to me by Mr. Wedderburne, I was 
 informed by him of the future favours 
 which his Majesty has, by your Lord- 
 ship's recommendation, been induced to 
 intend for me. 
 
 " Bounty always receives part of its 
 value from the manner in which it is 
 bestowed : your Lordship's kindjiess in- 
 cludes every circumstance that can gra- 
 tify delicacy or enforce obligation. You 
 have conferred your favours on a man 
 who has neither alliance nor interest, 
 who has not merited them by services, 
 nor courted them by ofFiciousness ; you 
 have spared him the shame of solicita- 
 tion, and the anxiety of suspense. 
 
 " What has been thus elegantly given 
 will, I hope, not be reproachfully en- 
 joyed ; 1 shall endeavour to give your 
 Lordship the only recompense which 
 generosity desires, — the gratification of 
 finding that your benefits are not impro- 
 perly bestowed. I am, my lord, 
 
 " Your lordship's most obliged, 
 " Most obedient, 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' July 20, 17f)2." 
 
 This year his friend, ^ip J,oshua Rey- 
 nolds, paid a visit of some weeks to his 
 native county, Devonshire, in which he 
 
 was accompanied by Johnson, who was 
 much pleased with this jaunt, and de- 
 clared he had derived from it a great 
 accession of new ideas. He was enter- 
 tained 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 magnifi- 
 cence of the navy, the ship-building, and 
 all its circumstances, aitbrded him a 
 grand subject of contemplation. The 
 commissioner of the Dockyard paid him 
 the compliment of ordering the yacht to 
 convey him and his friend to the Eddy- 
 stone, 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 sur- 
 geon, and now physician of that place, 
 not more distinguished for quickness of 
 parts and variety of knowledge, than 
 loved and esteemed for his amiable man- 
 ners ; and here Johnson formed an ac- 
 quaintance with Dr. Mudge's father, that 
 very eminent divine, the Reverend Za- 
 chariah Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, 
 who was idolized in the west, both for 
 his excellence as a preacher and the 
 uniform perfect propriety of his private 
 conduct. He preached a sermon pur- 
 posely that Johnson might hear him ; 
 and we shall see afterwards that JohnsoJi 
 honoured his memory by drawing his 
 character. While Johnson was at JPIy- 
 mouth, he saw a great many of its inha- 
 bitants, and was not sparing of his very 
 entertaining conversation. It was here 
 that he made that frank and truly original 
 confession that " ignorance, pure igno- 
 rance," was the cause of a wrong defi- 
 nition in his Dictionary of the word 
 pastern f, 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 suppose 
 him endowed with infallibility, expected 
 to hear an explanation (of wliat, to be 
 sure, seemed strange to a common reader) 
 drawn from some deep learned source 
 with which she was unacquainted. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom I was 
 obliged for my information concerning 
 this excursion, mentions a very charactir- 
 istical anecdote of Johnson while at Ply- 
 
 * At one of these seats Dr. Amjat, physician 
 in London, told me lie happened to meet him. 
 In order to amuse him till dinner should ]>e 
 leady, he was taken out to walk in the eaiden. 
 I he master of the house thinking it proper to 
 introduce something scienlifick' info the con- 
 \ersation, addressed him thus: "Are you a 
 l>otanist, Dr. Johnson?" — 'No, sir Cans\\tred 
 Johnston), I am not a botanist; and (alluding-, 
 no doubt, to his near sightedness), should I 
 wish to become a botanist, I must first turn 
 ntvself into a reptile." 
 
 t See p. 67. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 mouth. Having observed, that in conse- 
 qaence of the Dockyard a new town had 
 arisen about two miles off as a lival to 
 the old ; and knowins;, 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 con- 
 chided that this new and rising town 
 could not but excite the envy and jea- 
 lousy of the old, in which 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 
 u pon every occasion talked of the doc'Aers, 
 as the inhabitants of the new tovvn were 
 called, as upstarts and aliens. Plymouth 
 is very plentifully supplied with water 
 by a river brought into it from a great 
 distance, which is so abundant that it 
 runs to waste in the town. The Dock, 
 or New-town, being totally destitute of 
 water, petitioned Plymouth that a small 
 portion of the conduit might be permitted 
 to go to them, and this was now under 
 consideration. Johnson, affecting to en- 
 tertain 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 dockers/ I am a Ply- 
 mouth man. Rogues! let them die of 
 thirst. They shall not have a drop *." 
 
 Lord Macartney obligingly favoured 
 me with a copy of the following letter, 
 in his own handwriting, from the ori- 
 ginal, which was found by the present 
 Earl of Bute among his father's papers. 
 
 " TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL 
 OF BUTE. 
 •* MY LORD, 
 
 ** That generosity, by which I was recom- 
 mended 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 me 
 at Michaelmas 1 have not received, and 
 know not where or from whom 1 am to ask 
 it. I beg, therefore, that your Lordship 
 will be pleased to supply Mr. Wedder 
 burne with such directions as may be 
 necessary, which, I believe, his friend- 
 ship will make him think it no trouble 
 to convey to me. 
 
 " To interrupt your Lordship, at a time 
 like this, with such petty difliculties is 
 improper and unseasonable; but youi 
 knowledge of the world has long since 
 taught you that every man's affairs, how- 
 
 * A friend of mine onre lie;ird liiin, during 
 til is viait, exclaim witli the utmost vehemence, 
 '• i hate a Uoclier." J. b. 
 
 iiejljl 
 
 ever little, are important to himself. 
 Every man hopes that he shall escape 
 neglect ; and, with reason, may every 
 man whose vices do not preclude his 
 claim expect favour from that beneficence 
 which has been extended to, 
 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " Your Lordship's most obliged, 
 "And most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 " Temple Lane, Nov. 3, 1762." 
 
 " TO MR. JO&EPH BARETTl, AT MILAN. 
 
 " SIR, London, Dec. 21, 176-<>. 
 
 " You are not to suppose, with all your 
 conviction of my idleness, that I have 
 passed all this time without writing to 
 my Baretti. I gave a letter to Mr. Beau- 
 clerk, who in my opinion and in his own 
 was hastening to Naples for the recovery 
 of his health ; but he has stopped at Paris, 
 and I know not when he will proceed. 
 Langton is with him. 
 
 " 1 will not trouble yon with specula- 
 tions about peace and war. The good or 
 ill success of battles and embassies ex- 
 tends itself to a very small part of do- 
 mestick life: we all have good and evil, 
 which we feel more sensibly than our 
 petty part of publick miscarriage or pros- 
 perity. I am sorry for your disappoint- 
 ment, with which you seem more touched 
 than I should expect a man of your reso- 
 lution and experience to have been, did 
 1 not know that general truths are seldom 
 applied to particular occasions; and that 
 the fallacy or our self-love extends itself as 
 wide as our interest or affections. Every 
 man believes that mistresses are unfaith- 
 ful, and patrons capricious ; but he ex- 
 cepts 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 ap- 
 proaches greatness or glitters in a Court 
 imagines that destiny has at last exempted 
 him from the common lot. 
 
 *' Do not let such evils overwhelm j'oa 
 as thousands have suffered, and thousands 
 have surmounted ; but turn your thoughts 
 with vigour to some other plan of life, 
 and keep always in jour mind, that, 
 with due submission to Providencci n 
 man of genius has been seldom ruintu 
 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 nnich seduces reason from vigilance 
 as the thought of passing life with an 
 
JEtxt. 53. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 115 
 
 amiable woman ; and if all would happen 
 that a lover fancies, I know not wiiat 
 other terrestrial happiness would deserve 
 pursuit. But love and marriage are dif- 
 ferent states. Those who are to suffer 
 the evils [of life] together, and to suffer 
 often for the sake of one another, soon 
 lose that tenderness of look and that be- 
 nevolence of mind which arose from the 
 participation 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 discovered that 
 life has any thing more to be desired than 
 a prudent and virtuous marriage ; there- 
 fore know not what counsel to give you. 
 
 ** If you can quit your imagination of 
 love and greatness, and leave your hopes 
 of preferment and bridal raptures to try 
 once more the fortune of literature and 
 industrj^ the way through France is now 
 open. We flatter ourselves that we shall 
 cultivate, with great diligence, the arts of 
 peace ; and every man will be welcome 
 among us who can teach us any thing we 
 do not know. For your part, you will 
 find all your old friends willing to receive 
 you. 
 
 ** Reynolds still continues to increase 
 in reputation and in riches. Miss Wil- 
 liams, who very much loves you, goes on 
 in the old way. Miss Cotterel is still 
 with Mrs. Porter. Miss Charlotte is 
 married to Dean Lewis, and has three 
 children. Mr. Levet has'married a street- 
 walker. But the gazette of my narration 
 must now arrive to tell you, that Bathurst 
 went physician to the array, and died at 
 the Havannah. 
 
 " I know not whether I have not sent 
 you word that Huggins and Richardson 
 are both dead. When we see our ene- 
 mies 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 
 for ever. 
 
 " I pray God to bless you, and am, 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Write soon." 
 
 In 1763 he furnished to '*The Poetical 
 Calendar," published by Fawkes and 
 Woty, a character of Collins, f'a^ which 
 he afterwards ingrafted into his entire 
 life of that admirable poet, in the collec- 
 tion of lives which he wrote for the body 
 of English poetry, formed and published 
 by the booksellers of London. His ac- 
 count of the melancholy depression with 
 
 which Collins was severely afflicted, and 
 which brought him to his grave, is, I 
 think, one of the most tender and inte- 
 resting passages in the whole series of his 
 writings. He also favoured Mr. Hoole 
 with the Dedication of his translation of 
 Tasso to the Qniien,(aJ which is so hap- 
 pily conceived and elegantly expressed 
 that I cannot but point it out to the pecu- 
 liar notice of my readers y. 
 
 This is to me a memouHtle year ; for 
 in it I had the happiness to obtain the 
 acquaintance of that extraordinary man 
 whose memoirs I am now writing ; an 
 acquaintance which I shall ever esteem 
 as one of the most fortunate circumstances 
 in my life. Thongh then but two and 
 twenty, I had for several years read his 
 works with delight and instruction, and 
 had the highest reverence for their au- 
 thour, which had grown up in my fancy 
 into a kind of mysterious veneration, by 
 figuring to myself a state of solemn ele- 
 vated abstraction, in which I supposed 
 him to live in the immense metropolis of 
 London. Mr. Gentleman, a native of 
 Ireland, who passed some years in Scot- 
 land as a player, and as an instructor in 
 the English language, a man whose 
 talents and worth were depressed by 
 misfortunes, had given me a representa- 
 tion of the figure and marmer of Dic- 
 tionary Johnson ! as he was then gene- 
 . rally. called t : and during my first visit 
 
 * " Max>am, 
 
 " To approach Hie hi?h and illustrious 
 lias been in ail ages the privilege of poets; 
 and though translators cannot jus-lly claim the 
 same honour, yet they naturally follow their 
 aiithonrs as attendants; and I hope that, in 
 return for having enahled Tasso to diffuse his 
 fame through the British dominions, 1 may be 
 introduced by him to the presence of Your 
 Majesty. 
 
 " I Asso has a peculiar claim to Your Ma- 
 jesty'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 tiiat he had lived in a happier time, when 
 he nnght among the descendants of that iUns- 
 trious family have found a more liberal and 
 potent patronage. 
 
 " t cannot but observe. Madam, hovir une- 
 qually reward is proportioned to merit, when 
 I reflect that the happiness which was with- 
 held from Tasso is reserved for me; and that 
 tiie poetn which once hardly procured to its 
 anihour the countenance of the Princess of 
 Kcrrara has attracted to its translator the 
 favourable notice of a British Uueen. 
 
 " Had this been the fate ot Tasso. he would 
 have been able to have celebrated the con- 
 descen>iion of Your Majesty in nobler lan- 
 guage, but could not have felt it with more 
 ardent gratitude than, 
 
 *' Madam, 
 " Your Majesty's 
 "Most faithful and devoted servant.'* 
 
 t As great men of antiqiiitv, such as Scipio 
 Africaims, had an epidiet added to their 
 natnes in consequence of some celebrated 
 action, so my illustrious friend was otleii 
 
116 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 to London, which was for three months 
 in 1760, Mr. Derrick the poet, who was 
 Gentleman's friend and countryman, 
 flattered me with hopes that he would 
 introduce me to Johnson, an honour of 
 which I was very ambitions. Bnt he 
 never found an opportunity ; whicli 
 made me doubt that he had promised to 
 do what was not in his power ; till John- 
 son some years afterwards told me, 
 *' Derrick, sir, might very well have in- 
 troduced you. I had a kindness for Der- 
 rick, and am sorry he is dead." 
 
 In the summer of 1761 Mr. Thomas 
 Sheridan was at Edinburgh, and delivered 
 lectures upon the English Language and 
 Public Speaking to large and respectable 
 audiences. I was often in his company, 
 and heard him frequently expatiate upon 
 Johnson's extraordinary knowledge, ta- 
 lents, and virtues, repeat his pointed 
 sayings, describe his particularities, and 
 boast of his being his guest sometimes till 
 two or three in the morning. At his 
 house I hoped to have many opportunities 
 of seeing the sage, as Mr. Sheridan 
 obligingly assured me I should not be 
 disappointed. 
 
 When I returned to London in the end 
 of 1762, to my surprise and regret I found 
 an irreconcilable 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 
 hearing that he was also pensioned, ex- 
 claimed, "What! have they given him 
 a pension 1 Then it is time for me to 
 give up mine." W^hether this proceeded 
 from a momentary indignation, as if it 
 were an atfront to his exalted merit that 
 a player should be rewarded in the same 
 manner with him, or was the sudden 
 effect of a lit of peevishness, it was un- 
 luckily said, and indeed cannot be jus- 
 tified. Mr. Sheridan's pension was 
 granted to him not as a player but as a 
 sufferer in the cause of government, when 
 he was manager of the Theatre Royal in 
 Ireland, when parties ran high in 1753. 
 And it must also be allowed that he was 
 a man of literature, and had considerably 
 improved the arts of reading and speak- 
 ing with distinctness and propriety. 
 
 Besides, Johnson should have recol- 
 lected that Mr. Sheridan taught pronun- 
 ciation to Mr. Alexander Wedderbnrne, 
 whose sister was married to Sir Harry 
 Erskinc, an intimate friend of Lord Bute, 
 who was the favourite of the King ; and 
 
 railed Dictionary Johnson, frnin that won- 
 (lerfiil arhieverrniit of ueniiis and labour, his 
 " Dictifiniirv of the Eiijjiish l.anarnaee ;" ilie 
 nirrit of which I coiilcmplate with more and 
 more admiration. 
 
 surely the most outrageous Whig will not 
 maintain that, whatever ought to be the 
 principle in the disposal of offices, a 
 pension ought never to be granted from 
 any bias of court connexion. Mr. Mack- 
 lin, indeed, shared with Mr. Sheiidan 
 the honour of instructing Mr. Wedder- 
 bnrne ; and though it was too late in lift 
 for a Caledonian to acquire the genuin* 
 English cadence, yet so successful werr 
 Mr. Wedderburne's instructors, and his 
 own unabating endeavours, that he got 
 rid of the coarse part of his Scotch ac- 
 cent, retaining only as much of the " na- 
 tive wood-note wild" as to mark his 
 country; which if any Scotchman should 
 aff'ect to forget, I should heartily despise 
 him. Notwithstanding the difficulties 
 which are to be encountered by those who 
 have not had the advantage of an English 
 education, he by degrees formed a mode 
 of speaking to which 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 bad its fame and ample 
 reward in much higher spheres. When 
 I look back on this noble person at 
 Edinburgh, in situations so unworthy of 
 his brilliant powers, and behold Lord 
 Loughborough at London, the change 
 seems almost like one of the metamor- 
 phoses in Ovid ; and as his two precep- 
 tors, by refining his utterance, gave cur- 
 rency to his talents, we may say in the 
 words of that poet, " Nam vos mu- 
 tastis." 
 
 1 have dwelt the longer upon this re- 
 markable instance of successful parts and 
 assiduity, because it affords animating 
 encouragement to other gentlemen of 
 North Britain to try their fortunes in the 
 southern part of the island, where they 
 may hope to gratify their utmost ambi- 
 tion ; and now that we are one people 
 by the Union, it would surely be illiberal 
 to maintain that they have not an equal 
 title with the natives of any other part of 
 his Majesty's dominions. 
 
 Johnson complained that a man who 
 disliked him repeated his sarcasm to 
 Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what 
 followed, which was, that after a pause 
 he added, " However, I am glad that 
 Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a 
 very good man." Sheridan could never 
 forgive this hasty contemptuous expres- 
 sion. It rankled in his mind ; and 
 though 1 informed him of allthat Johnson 
 said, and that he would be very glad to 
 meet him amicably, he positively de- 
 clined repeated offers which I made, and 
 once went off abruptly from a house 
 where he and I were engaged to dine, 
 because he was told that Dr. Johnson 
 
^TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHxVSON. 
 
 Ill 19 
 
 was to be there. I have no sympathetlck 
 feeling with such perseverhig resentment. 
 It is painful when there is a breach be- 
 tween those who have lived so long toge- 
 ther socially and cordially ; and I wonder 
 that there is not, in all such cases, a 
 mutual 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 sooth 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 characterising him as " a writer of 
 gigantick 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 suf- 
 fered conversation to stagnate ; and Mrs. 
 Sheridan was a most agreeable companion 
 to an intellectual man. She was sensible, 
 ingenious, unassuming, yet communica- 
 tive. 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 Sidney 
 Biddulph," contains an excellent moral, 
 while it inculcates a future state of retri- 
 bution * ; and what it teaches is impressed 
 upon the mind by a series of as deep 
 distress as can aff"ect humanity, in the 
 
 • My position lias been verv wr-.U illustrated 
 bv Mr. Belslidiu of Bedford, "in liis Essay on 
 Dramatick Poetry. " The fashioHahle doc- 
 trine (says lie) both of moralists and criticks 
 in these times is that virtue and happiness are 
 constant concomitants; and it is regarded as 
 a kind of dramatick iinpiety to ntaintain that 
 virtue should not be rewarded, nor vice pu- 
 nished in the last scene of the last act of 
 every irae^edy. This conduct in our modern 
 
 f»oets is however, in my opinion, extremely 
 njudicioug; for it labours in vain to inculcate 
 a doctrine in theory, which every one knows 
 to be false in fact, viz. that virtue in real life 
 is always productive of happiness, and vice of 
 misery. Thus Conirreve concludes the tragedy 
 of 'The Mourning Bride' with the foUowinj,' 
 foolish couplet : 
 
 * For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds. 
 And, thoug-h a late, a sure reward succeeds.' 
 " When a man eminently virtuous, a Brutus, 
 a Cato, or a Socrates, finally sinks under the 
 pressure of accumulated misfortune, we are 
 not only led to entertain a more indignant 
 hatreil of vice lli.in if he rose from his distress, 
 but we are inevitably induced to cherish the 
 sublime idea that a day of future retribution 
 will arrive, when he shall receive not merely 
 
 Soetical, but real and substantial justice." — 
 ssavs, Philosophical, Historical, and Literary. 
 London, i79l. Vol. 11. 6vo. p. 3I7. 
 This js well re.isoned and well expressed. 
 
 amiable and pious heroine who goes to 't 
 her grave unrelieved, but resigned, and 
 full of hope of " heaven's mercy." John- 
 son paid her this high compliment upon 
 it : "I know not, madam, that you have 
 a right, upon moral principles, to make 
 your readers sutfer so much." 
 
 Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor, who 
 then kept a bookseller's shop in Russel 
 Street, Covent Garden +, told me that 
 Joimson was very much his friend, and 
 came frequently to his house, where he 
 more than once invited me to meet him ; 
 but by some unlucky accident or other 
 he was prevented from coming to us. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good 
 understanding and talents, with the ad- 
 vantage of a liberal education. Though 
 somewhat pompous, he was an enter- 
 taining 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 beauty), 
 though upon the stage for many year?, 
 maintained a uniform decency of cha- 
 racter : 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 increased my impatience more and 
 more to see the extraordinary man whose 
 works I highly valued, and whose con- 
 versation 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 
 
 I wish, indeed, that the ingenious aulhoiir 
 had not thought it necessary to introduce any 
 instance of ♦' a man eminently virtuous;" as 
 he would then have avoided mentioning' S'Uch 
 a ruffian as Brutus under that description. 
 Mr. Belsham discovers in his " Essays" so 
 much reading and thinking, and good com- 
 position, that I regret his not having been 
 fortunate enough to be educated a member of 
 our excellent national establishment. Had he 
 not been nursed innonconforaiity,he probably 
 w ould not have been tainted with those here- 
 sies cas I sincerely, and on no slight investi- 
 gation, think them), hoth in religion and 
 politicks, which while I read, I am sure, with 
 candour, 1 cannot read w ithout offence. 
 
 t No. 8— The very place where I was for- 
 tunate enough to be introduced to the illus- 
 trious subject of this work deserves to be 
 particul.iriy marked. I never pass by it with- 
 out feeling' reverence and regret. 
 
 t Mr. Murpiiv, in his " Essay on the Life 
 and Genius of Dr. Johnson," has given an 
 account of this meetinar considerably different 
 from mine, I am persuaded without any con- 
 sciousness of errour. His memory, at the end 
 of near thirty years, has undoubtedly deceived 
 him, aud he supposes himself, tojiav.e, been 
 
110 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irdlSil 
 
 •rceived him, through the glass 
 the room in which we were 
 advancing towards us, — he an- 
 i his awful approach to me, some- 
 what 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 
 x_ in deep meditation; which was the first 
 . picture his friend did for him, w hich Sir 
 jKI 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 
 s^^f recollecting his prejudice against the 
 -*- Scotch, of which I had heard much, I 
 ;^ said to Davies, " Don't tell where I come 
 from." — "From Scotland," cried Davies, 
 roguishly. ** Mr. Johnson (said I), I do 
 j>^. indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot 
 
 v-> 
 
 help it." I am willing to flatter myself 
 
 Y . that I meant this as light pleasantry .„ 
 *y_ sooth and conciliate him, and not as a 
 *-*. humiliating abasement at the expense of 
 ^^ my country. But however that might 
 -♦i^be, this speech was somewhat unlucky ; 
 for with that quickness of wit for which 
 he was so remarkable, he seized the ex- 
 pression " 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, 1 felt myself not a little 
 embarrassed, and apprehensive of what 
 might come next. He then addressed 
 himself to Davies ; ** What do you think 
 of Garrick 1 He has refused me an order 
 for the play for Miss Williams, because 
 he knows the house will be full, and that 
 an order would be worth three shillings." 
 Eager to take any opening to get into 
 conversation with him, I ventured to say, 
 " O, sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick 
 would grudge such a trifle to you." " Sir 
 (said he, with a stern look), I have known 
 David Garrick longer than you have 
 done ; and I know no right you have to 
 
 present at a scene, which he has probably 
 heard inacmrately described by others. In 
 my note, (aki:)i on the very day, in which I 
 am confident I marked every tiling niateriiil 
 that passed, no mention is made or this gen- 
 tleman: and I am sure that I should not have 
 omiUe(i one »o well known in the literaiy 
 world. It may easily l>e imairined that tbis 
 my first interview with Dr. Jclm-on. with ail 
 its cir(,umstiince», n)ade a strong' impression 
 on my mind, and would he registered wilh 
 peculiar atieution. 
 
 talk to me on the subject." Perhaps I 
 deserved this check ; for it w as rather 
 presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, 
 to express any doubt of the justice of his 
 animadversion upon his old acquaintance 
 and pupil*. I now felt myself much 
 mortified, and began to think that the 
 hope which I had long indulged of ob- 
 taining his acquaintance was blasted. 
 And, in truth, had not my ardour been 
 uncommonly strong, and my resolution 
 uncommonly persevering, so rough a re- 
 ception might have deterred me for ever 
 from making any further attempts. For- 
 tunately, however, I remained upon the 
 field not wholly discomfited ; and was 
 soon rewarded by hearing some of his 
 conversation, of which I preserved the 
 following short minute, without marking 
 the questions and observations by which 
 ^ was produced. 
 
 '' " People (he remarked) may be taken 
 in once, who imagine that an authour is 
 greater in private life than other men. 
 Uncommon parts require uncommon op- 
 portunities for their exertion. 
 
 " In barbarous society superiority of 
 parts is of real consequence. Great 
 strength or great wisdom is of much 
 value to an individual. But in more 
 polished times there are people to do 
 every thing for money ; 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 per- 
 sonal and intellectual 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 estimation, though much of it is 
 chimerical." 
 
 Speaking of one who with more than 
 ordinary boldness attacked publick mea- 
 sures and the royal family, he said, " I 
 think he is safe from the law, but he is 
 an abusive scoundrel ; and instead of 
 applying to njy Lord Chief Justice to 
 purysh hiin, 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 tcediuvi vitw. When a butcher 
 tells you that his heart bleeds for his 
 
 * That this was a momentary sally afrainst 
 Garriek tliere can be no doubt; for at John- 
 son's desire lie had, some yea^^ befoie, given 
 a benefit nifilit at bis theatre to tliis very per- 
 son, by wbii'hshe bad p:ot two hundred poiin<ls. 
 Jojuison. indeed, upon all other occasions, 
 when i was in his company, praised the very 
 liberal charily ot Garrick. I once mentioned 
 to him, " It IS observed, sir, that you attack 
 GarricK yonrself, but will siifier nobody elsp 
 to do it." Johnson (smiling), " VI hy, sir, that 
 is true," 
 
iExAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 119 
 
 country, he has, in fact, no uneasy feel- 
 ing." 
 
 " Sheridan will not succeed at Bath 
 with his oratory. Ridicule has gone 
 down before him, and, I doubt. Derrick 
 is his enemy *. 
 
 *' Derrick may do very well, as long 
 as he can outrun his character ; 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 
 liim 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 extra- 
 ordinary vigour of his conversation, and 
 ) egretted that I was drawn away from it 
 by an engagement at another place. I 
 had, for a part of the evening, been left 
 alone with him, and had ventured to 
 make an observation now and then, 
 which he received very civilly ; so that 
 I was satisfied that though there was a 
 roughness in his manner, there was no ill 
 nature in his disposition. Davies followed 
 nie to the door, and when I complained 
 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 on 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 re- 
 paired to Johnson. His chambers were 
 on the lirst floor of No. 1, Inner Temple 
 Lane, and I entered them with an im- 
 pression given me by the Reverend Dr. 
 Blair, of Edinburgh, who had been in 
 troduced to him 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 Fordyce. At this 
 time the controversy concerning the pieces 
 published by Mr. James Macpherson, as 
 translations of Ossian, was at its height. 
 Johnson had all along denied their au- 
 thenticity ; and, what was still more 
 provoking to their admirers, maintained 
 
 * Mr. Sheridan was then reading' lectures 
 upon Oratory at Bulli, where Derii( k was 
 Ma-trr of the Ceremonies; or, as the phrase 
 i.>, King, 
 
 that they had no merit. The subject 
 having been introduced by Dr. Fordyce, 
 Dr. Blair, relying on the internal evidence 
 of their antiquity, asked Dr. Johnson 
 whether he thought any man of a modern 
 age could have written such poems. 
 Johnson replied, " Yes, sir, many men, 
 many women, and many children." 
 Johnson, at this time, did not know that 
 Dr. Blair had just published a Disserta- 
 tion, not only defending their authenticity, 
 but seriouslyrankingthem with the poems 
 of Homer and Virgil ; and when he was 
 afterwards informed of this circumstance, 
 he expressed some displeasure at Dr. 
 Fordyce's having suggested the topick, 
 and said, " I am not sorry that they got 
 thus much for their pains. Sir, it was 
 like leading one to talk of a book when the 
 authour 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 shriveled unpowdered wig, 
 which was too small for his head ; his 
 shirtneck 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 particularities were for- ^. 
 gotten the moment that he began to talk^ 
 Some gentlemen, whom I do not recol- 
 lect, were sitting with him ; and when 
 they went away, I also rose ; but he said 
 to me, " Nay, don't go." — " Sir (said I), 
 1 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 auswered, " 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 deviation from 
 the usual modes of the world. My poor 
 friend Smart showed the disturbance of 
 his mind, by falling upon his knees, and 
 saying his prayers in the street, or in 
 any other unusual place. Now although, 
 rationally speaking, it is greater madness 
 not to pray at all than to pray as Smart 
 did, I am afraid there are so many who 
 do not pray that their understanding is 
 not called in question." 
 
 Concerning this unfortunate poet, Chris- 
 topher Smart, who was confined in a 
 madhouse, he had, at another time, the 
 following conversation with Dr. Burney. 
 — BuRJNEY. " How does poor Smart do, 
 ir ; is he likely to recover?" Johnson. 
 ' It seems as if his mind had ceased to 
 struggle with the disease; for he grows 
 fat upon it." Burney. " Perhaps, sir, 
 
120 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 that may be from want of exercise." 
 Johnson. " No, sir ; he has partly as 
 much exercise as he used to have, for 
 lie digs in the garden. Indeed, before 
 his confinement he used for exercise to 
 walk to the alehouse ; but he was carried 
 back again. I did not think he ought to 
 be shut up. His infirmities were not 
 noxious to society. He insisted on people 
 praying with him ; and I'd as lief pray 
 with Kit Smart as any one else. Another 
 charge was, that he did not love clean 
 linen ; and I have no passion for it." 
 
 Johnson continued. " Mankind have 
 a great aversion to intellectual labour ; 
 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 1 
 fling half a crown to a beggar with in- 
 tention to break his head, and he picks 
 it up and buys victuals with it, the phy- 
 sical etfect is good ; but, with respect to 
 me, the action is very wrong. So reli- 
 gious exercises, if not performed with an 
 intention to please God, avail us nothing. 
 As our Saviour says of those who perform 
 them from other motives, ' Verily they 
 have their reward.' 
 
 " The Christian religion has very strong 
 evidences. It, indeed, appears in some 
 degree strange to reason ; but in History 
 we have undoubted facts, against which, 
 in reasoning d. priori, we have more 
 arguments than we have for them ; but 
 then, testimony has great weight, and 
 casts the balance. I would recommend 
 to every man whose faith is yet imseltled 
 Grotius, Dr. Pearson, and Dr. Clarke." 
 Talking of Garrick, he said, " He is 
 the first man in the world for sprightly 
 conversation." 
 
 When I rose a second time, he again 
 pressed me to stay, which I did. 
 
 He told me, that he generally went 
 abroad at four in the afternoon, and sel- 
 dom came home till two in the morning. 
 I took the liberty to ask if he did nbt 
 think it wrong to live thus, and not make 
 more use of his great talents. He owned 
 it was a bad habit. On reviewing, at tlie 
 distance of many years, my journal of 
 this period , I wonder how, at my first visit, 
 I ventured to talk to him so freely, and 
 that he bore it with so much indulgence. 
 Before we parted, he was so good as 
 to promise to favour me with his com- 
 pany 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 circumstantial, 
 when it is considered that the acquaint- 
 ance of Dr. Johnson was to me a most 
 valuable acquisition, and laid the foun- 
 dation of whatever instruction and enter- 
 tainment they may receive from my col- 
 lections concerning the great subject of 
 the work which they are now perusing. 
 
 I did not visit him again till Monday, 
 June 13, at which time I recollect no part 
 of his conversation, except that when I 
 told him I had been to see Johnson ride 
 upon three horses, he said, " Such a man 
 sir, should be encouraged ; for his per- 
 formances show the extent of the human 
 powers in one instance, and thus tend to 
 raise our opinions of the faculties of man. 
 He shows what may be attained by per- 
 severing application, so that every man 
 may hope that by giving as much appli- 
 cation, 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 encou- 
 ragement, and reminded him of the check 
 I iiad received from him at our first in- 
 terview. " Poll, 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 learned that his place of frequent 
 resort was the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet 
 Street, where he loved to sit up late, 
 and I begged I might be allowed to pass 
 an evening with him there soon, which 
 he promised I should. A few days after- 
 wards I met him near Temple Bar, about 
 one o'clock in the morning, and asked if 
 he would Ihen go to the Mitre. " Sir 
 (said he), it is too late : they 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 incli- 
 nation, I had, in compliance with my 
 father's wishes, agreed to study the law, 
 and was soon to set out for Utrecht, to 
 hear the lectures of an excellent Civilian 
 in that university, and then to proceed 
 on my travels. Though very desirous of 
 obtainijig Dr. Johnson's advice and in- 
 structions on the mode of pursuing my 
 studies, I was at this time so occupied, 
 shall I call it? or so dissipated, by the 
 amusements of London, that our next 
 meeting was not till Satuiday, June 25, 
 when happening to dine at Clifton's eating- 
 house, in Butcher Bow, 1 was surprised 
 
/Etat. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 121 
 
 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 Or- 
 dinary, or united company, but each 
 person has his own mess, and is under 
 no obligation to hold any intercourse with 
 any one. A liberal and full minded man, 
 however, who loves to talk, will break 
 through this churlish and unsocial re- 
 straint. 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 cer 
 tain issue." What the Irishman said is 
 totally obliterated from my mind ; but 
 remember that he became very warm 
 and intemperate in his expressions: upon 
 which Johnson rose and quietly walked 
 away. When he had retired, his an- 
 tagonist took his revenge, as he thought, 
 by saying, " He has a most ungainly 
 figure, and an affectation of pomposity, 
 unworthy of a man of genius." 
 
 Johnson had not observed that I was 
 in the room. I followed him, however, 
 and he agreed to meet me in the evening 
 at the Mitre. I called on him, and we 
 went thither at nine. We had a good 
 supper, and port wine, of which he then 
 sometimes drank a bottle. The orthodox 
 high church sound of the Mitre, — the 
 figure and manner of the celebrated 
 Samuel Johnson, — -the extraordinary 
 power and precision of his conversation, 
 and the pride arising from finding myself 
 admitted as his companion, produced a 
 variety of sensations and a pleasing ele- 
 vation of mind beyond what I had ever 
 before experienced. I find in my journal 
 the following minute of our conversation, 
 which, though it will give but a very 
 faint notion of what passed, is in some 
 degree a valuable record ; and it will be 
 curious in this view, as showing how 
 habitual to his mind were some opinions 
 which appear in his works. 
 
 " Colley Gibber, sir, was by no means 
 a blockhead ; but by arrogating to him- 
 self 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 birthday Odes should be 
 bad : but that was not the case, sir ; for 
 he kept them many months by him, and 
 a few years before he died he showed 
 
 me one of them, with great solicitude to 
 render it as perfect as might be, and I 
 made some corrections, to which he was 
 not very willing to submit. I remember 
 the following couplet in allusion to the 
 King and himself: 
 
 ' FerchM on the eagle's soarini? wing 
 The lowly linnet loves to sing.' 
 Sir, he had heard something of the fabu- 
 lous tale of the wren sitting upon the 
 eagle's wing, and he had applied it to n 
 linnet. Cibbei-'s familiar style, however, 
 was better than that which Whitehead 
 has assumed. Grand nonsense is insup- 
 portable. 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 dramatick poet 
 might with propriety pay a compliment 
 to an eminent performer, as Whitehead 
 has very happily done in his verses to 
 Mr. Garrick. 
 
 " Sir, I do not think Gray a first-rate 
 poet. He has not a bold imagination, 
 nor much command of words. The ob- 
 scurity in which he has involved himself 
 will not persuade us that he is sublime. 
 His Elegy in a Churchyard has a happy 
 selection of images, but 1 don't like what 
 are called his great things. His ode which 
 begins 
 
 * Ruin seize thee, rntliless King-, 
 Confusion on thy banners wait !' 
 has been celebrated for its abruptness, 
 and plunging into the subject all at once. 
 But such arts as these have no merit, 
 unless when they are original. We ad- 
 mire 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 : 
 * (s 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 previous narration 
 to lead you to it. — The two next lines in 
 that Ode are, I think, very good : 
 ' Though frtnn'<l by conquest's crimson 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 cer- 
 tainly much absurdity in the clamour 
 which has been raised, as if he had been 
 culpably injurious to the merit of that 
 
 * My friend, Mr. Malone, in his valuable 
 comments on Shakspeare, has traced in that 
 great poet the disjecta membra of thege lines. 
 
122 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 „J 
 
 bard, and had been actuated by envy. 
 Alas I ye little short-sighted criticks, 
 could Johnson be envious of the talents 
 of any of his contemporaries? That his 
 opinion on this subject was what in pri- 
 vate and in publick he uniformly ex- 
 pressed, 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 myselfof the opportunity 
 which I fortunately had of consulting a 
 sage, to hear whose wisdom I conceived, 
 in the ardour of youthful imagination, 
 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 attention. 
 
 I acknowledged, that though educated 
 very strictly in the principles of religion, 
 I had for some time been misled into a 
 certain degree of infidelity ; but that I 
 was come now to a better way of think- 
 ing, and was fully satisfied of the truth 
 of the Christian revelation, though I was 
 not clear as to every point considered to 
 be orthodox. Being at all times a curious 
 examiner of the human mind, and pleased 
 with an undisguised display of what had 
 passed in it, he called to me with warmth, 
 *' Give me your hand ; I have taken a 
 liking to you." He then began to descant 
 upon the force of testimony, and the little 
 we could know of final causes; so that 
 the objections of, why was it so? or why 
 was it not so ? ought not to disturb us : 
 adding, that he himself had at one period 
 been guilty of a temporary neglect of 
 religion, but that it was not the result of 
 argument, but mere absence of thought. 
 
 After having given credit to reports of 
 his bigotry, 1 was agreeably surprised 
 when he expressed the following very 
 liberal sentiment, which has the addi- 
 tional value of obviating an objection to 
 our holy religion, founded upon the dis- 
 cordant tenets of Christians themselves : 
 *' For my part, sir, I think all Christians, 
 whether Papists or Protestants, agree in 
 the essential articles, and that their dif- 
 ferences are trivial, and rather political 
 than religious." 
 
 We talked of belief in ghosts. He 
 said, *' Sir, I make a distinction between 
 what a man may experience by the mere 
 strength of his imagination and what 
 imagination cannot possibly produce. 
 Thus, suppose I should think that I saw 
 a form, and heard a voice cry ' Johnson, 
 jou are a very wicked fellow, and unless 
 ) ou repent you will certainly be punish- 
 
 ed ;' my own unworthiness is so deeply 
 impressed upon my mind that I might 
 imagine I thus saw and heard, and there- 
 fore I should not believe that an external 
 communication 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 apprehension 
 of, nor any means of knowing, and this 
 fact with all 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, whe- 
 ther 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 cre- 
 dulous upon that subject; and, therefore, 
 though I feel an inclination to disdain 
 and treat with silent contempt so foolish 
 a notion concerning my illustrious friend, 
 yet as I find it has gained ground, it is 
 necessary to refute it. The real fact then 
 is, that Johnson had a very philosophical 
 mind, and such a rational "respect for 
 testimony as to make him submit his 
 understanding to what was 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 supernatual agency, a 
 general belief of which has prevailed in 
 all nations and ages. But so far was he 
 from being the dupe of implicit faith that 
 he examined the matter with a jealous 
 attention, and no man was more ready 
 to refute its falsehood when he had dis- 
 covered it. Churchill, in his poem en- 
 titled ** The Ghost," availed himself of 
 the absurd credulity imputed to Johnson, 
 and drew a caricature of him under the 
 name of " Pomposo," representing him 
 as one of the believers of the story of a 
 ghost in Cock Lane, which, in the year 
 1762, had gained very general credit in 
 London. Many of my readers, I am 
 convinced, are to this hour under an im- 
 pression that Johnson was thus foolishly 
 deceived. It will therefore surprise them 
 a good deal when they are informed upon 
 undoubted authority that Johnson was 
 one of those by whom the imposture was 
 detected. The story had become t<o 
 popular that he thought it should be in- 
 vestigated ; and in this research he was 
 assisted by the Reverend Dr. Douglas, 
 now Bishop of Salisbury, the great de- 
 tector 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 pre- 
 
.Etat. 54. 
 sence an account of it, which was pub- 
 lished in the newspapers and Gentleman's 
 Magazine, and undeceived the world*. 
 
 Our conversation proceeded, 
 (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 tirst men 
 we now have as an autlionr, and he is a 
 very worthy man too. He has been loose 
 in liis principles, but he is coming right," 
 
 I mentioned Mallet's tragedy of " El- 
 vira," which had been acted the preced- 
 ing winter at Drury Lane, and that the 
 Honourable Andrew Erskine, Mr. Demp- 
 ster, and myself had joined in writing a 
 pamphlet, entitled *' Critical Strictures" 
 
 * The account was as follows : " On tlie 
 night of the first of Fehruary, many gentienien 
 eminent for their rank and char?.cter were, by 
 the invitation of the Reverend Mr. Aldrich ot 
 Clerkenweli, assembled at his house, for the 
 examination of tlie noises supposed to be 
 made by a departed spirit, for the detection 
 of some enormous crime. 
 
 "About ten at night the pentlemen met in 
 the chamber in which die eirl, supposed to 
 be disturbed by a spirit, had with proper 
 caution been put to bed by seveial ladies. 
 They sat rather more than an hour, and hear- 
 ing iiothinir, went down stairs, wht n ihey in- 
 tenog-ated ihe father of the girl, who denied 
 in the stron,:?est terms any kuov^ ledge or belief 
 of fraud. 
 
 " riie supposed spirit had before piiblickly 
 promised, b> an affirmative knock,tliat it would 
 attend one of the g»ntlemen into the vault 
 under the church of St. John, Clerkenweli, 
 where ihe body is deposited, and pive a token 
 of her piresence 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 delibe- 
 rating, they were summoned into the girl's? 
 chamber bv 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 
 hack, and was required to hold her hands out 
 of bed. From that time, though the sj>irit was 
 very solemnly required to manifest its exis- 
 tence by appearance, by impression on the 
 hand or body of any present, by scratches, 
 knocks, or any other agency, no evidence oi 
 any preternatural power was exhibited. 
 
 " The spirit was then verv seriously adver- 
 tised that the person to whom the promise 
 vv.is made of strikimr the coffin was then about 
 to visit the vault, and that the performance of 
 the promise was then claimed. Thecomj)any 
 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, 
 buf nothing more than silence ensued : the 
 person suppo?ed to be accused by the spirit 
 then went <lown with several others, but no 
 »,ffect was perceived. Upon their return they 
 examined the girl, but could draw no confes- 
 sion from her. Between two and three she 
 desired and was permitted to go home with 
 her father. 
 
 " It is therefore the opinion of the whole 
 assembly, that the child has some art of making 
 > or counterfeiting a particular noise, and that 
 there is no agency of any higher cause." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 123 
 
 against itf. That the mildness of Demp- 
 ster's disposition had, ho>\ ever, relented ; 
 and he had candidly said, " We have 
 hardly a right to abuse this tragedy ; for, 
 bad as it is, how vain should either of us 
 be to write one not near so good." 
 JoH^sON. "Why, no, sir; this is not 
 just reasoning. You may abuse a tra- 
 gedy, though you cannot w rite 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 land- 
 lord, where you have a number of fami- 
 lies dependent upon you and attached to 
 you, is, perhaps, 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 con- 
 sider themselves as under his patriarchal 
 care, and who will follow him to the 
 field upon an emergency." 
 
 His notion of the dignity of a Scotch 
 landlord had been formed upon what he 
 had heard of the Highland Chiefs ; for it 
 is long since a lowland landlord has been 
 so curtailed in his feudal authority that 
 he has little more influence over his 
 tenants than an English landlord ; and of 
 late years most of the Highland Chiefs 
 have destroyed, by means too well known, 
 the princely power which they once en- 
 joyed. 
 
 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 inferiour talents 
 to yours may furnish us with useful 
 observations upon that country." His 
 supposing me, at that period of life, 
 capable of writing an account of my tra- 
 vels thatwould deserve to be read, elated 
 me not a little. 
 
 I appeal to every impartial reader, 
 whether this faithful detail of his frank- 
 ness, complacency, and kindness to a 
 young man, a stranger, and a Scotch- 
 man, does not refute the unjust opinion 
 of the harshness of his general demeanour. 
 His occasional reproofs of folly, impu- 
 dence, or impiety, and even the sudden 
 sallies of his constitutional irritability of 
 
 t The Critical Review, in which Mallet 
 himself sometimes wrote, characterized this 
 pamphlet as " the crude efforts of envy, petii- 
 lance, and self-conceit." There being thus 
 three epithets, we the three authours bad a 
 humourous contention how each should be 
 ppropriated. 
 
121 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 temper, which have been preserved for 
 
 the poignancy of their wit, have pro- 
 duced that opinion among tliose who 
 
 have not considered that such instances, 
 
 though collected by Mrs. Piozzi into a 
 
 small volume, and read over in a few 
 
 hours, were, in fact, scattered through a 
 
 long series of years : 3'ears, in which his 
 
 time was chiefly spent in instructing and 
 
 delighting mankind by his writings and 
 
 conversation, in acts of piety to God, 
 
 and good will to men. 
 
 I complained to him that I had not 
 
 yet acquired much knowledge, and asked 
 
 his advice as to my studies. He said, 
 
 " Don't talk of study now. I 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 authour of ' The Ram- 
 bler,* how should I have exulted!" What 
 I then expressed was sincerely from the 
 heart. He was satisfied that it was, and 
 
 cordially answered, " Sir, I am glad we 
 have met. I hope we shall pass many 
 evenings, and mornings too, together." 
 We finished a couple of bottles of port, 
 and sat till between one and two in the 
 morning. 
 
 He wrote this year, in the Critical 
 Review, the account of " Telemachus, a 
 Mask," by the Reverend George Graham, 
 of Eton College. The subject of this 
 beautiful poem was particularly interest- 
 ing to Johnson, who had much experience 
 of " the conflict of opposite principles," 
 which he describes as "The contention 
 between pleasure and virtue, a struggle 
 which will always be continued while 
 the present system of nature shall sub- 
 sist ; nor can history or poetry exhibit 
 more than pleasure triumphing over vir- 
 tue, and virtue subjugating pleasure." 
 
 As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will fre- 
 quently appear in this narrative, I shall 
 endeavour to make my readers in some 
 degree acquainted with his singular cha- 
 racter. He was a native of Ireland, and 
 a contemporary with Mr. Burke, at Tri- 
 nity College, Dublin, but did not then 
 give much promise of future celebrity *. 
 
 1763. 
 
 He, however, observed to Mr. Malonc, 
 that '* though he made no great figure in 
 mathem:iticks, which was a study in much 
 repute there, he could turn an Ode of 
 Horace into English better than any of 
 them." He afterwards studied physick 
 at Edinburgh, and upon the Continent; 
 and, I have been informtid, was enabled 
 to pursue his travels on foot, partly by 
 demanding at Universities to enter the 
 list as a disputant, by which, according 
 to the custom of many of them, he was 
 entitled to the premium of a crown, 
 when luckily for him his challenge was 
 not accepted ; so that, as I once observed 
 to Dr. Johnson, he disputed his passage 
 through Europe. He then came to Eng- 
 land, and was employed successively in 
 the capacities of an usher to an academy, 
 a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and 
 a writer for a newspaper. He had saga- 
 city enough to cultivate assiduously the 
 acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties 
 were gradually enlarged by the contem- 
 plation of such a model. To me and 
 many others it appeared that he studi- 
 ously copied the manner of Johnson, 
 though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. 
 I At this time I think he had published 
 (lothing with his name, though it was 
 pretty generally known that one Dr. 
 Goldsmith was the authour of " An In- 
 quiry into the present State of polite 
 Learning in Europe," and of" The Citi- 
 zen of the World," a series of letters 
 supposed to be written from London by 
 a Chinese f. No man had the art of 
 displaying with more advantage, as a 
 writer, whatever literary acquisitions he 
 made. " Nihil quod tetitjit nan orna- 
 vitj." His mind resembled a fertile, but 
 thin soil. There was a quick, but not a 
 strong vegetation, of whatever chanced 
 to be thrown upon it. No deep root 
 could be struck. The oak of the forest 
 did not grow there ; but the elegant 
 shrubbery and the fragrant parterre ap- 
 peared 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 exagger- 
 ated. He had, no doubt, a more than 
 common share of that hurry of ideas 
 
   [(ioldsniith yot a premium at a CliristmrtP 
 examuration in Trinity College, Dublin, 
 which I have «een. K.] 
 
 [A premium ohiained at liie Christmas exa- 
 ininaiion Ik generally more honourable than 
 any other, becauiie it ascertains the person 
 who receives it to lie the first in Inerary 
 merit. At the other examinations, the person 
 thus distinguinlied may be only the second in 
 merit; he who has previously obtained the 
 same honorary reward, sometimes receiving a 
 written certificate that he was the best an- 
 swerer, it b«;ing a rule that not more than one 
 premUini should he adjudged to the same 
 peisoii in oijc year. M.J 
 
 t [He also published, in 17.59, "The Hee, 
 heinir Kssays on the most interesting Siib- 
 j.ctV M.] 
 
 t See his F.pitapb in Westminster Abbey, 
 written by Dr. Johnson. 
 
 § In allusion to this, Mr. Horace Wal pole, 
 who admired his writiiiaB. said he was " an 
 inspired idiot;" and Garrick described him 
 as one 
 
 «« . for shortness callM Noll, 
 
 Who wrote like an angel, and lalk'd like poor 
 
 Poll." 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned to me that he 
 frequently heard Goldsmith talk warmly of 
 
JEt.kt. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 which we often find in his countrymen, 
 and which sometimes produces a laiich- 
 able confusion in expressing them. He 
 was very much what the French call un 
 etourdi; and from vanity, and an eager 
 desire of being conspicuous wherever he 
 was, he frequently talked carelessly with- 
 out knowledge of the subject, or even 
 without thought. His person was short, 
 his countenance coarse and vulgar, his 
 deportment that of a scholar awkwardly 
 affecting the easy gentleman. Those who 
 were in any way distinguished, excited 
 envy in him to so ridiculous an ex'cess, 
 that the instances of it are hardly credi- 
 ble. When accompanying two beautiful 
 young ladies* with their mother on a 
 tour in France, he was seriously angry 
 that more attention was paid to them 
 than to him ; and once at the exhibition 
 of the Fantoccini in London, when 
 those who sat next him observed with 
 what dexterity a puppet was made to 
 toss a pike, he could not bear that it 
 should have such praise, and exclaimed 
 with some warmth, " Pshaw! I can do 
 it better myself+." 
 
 He, I am afraid, had no settled system 
 of any sort, so that his conduct must not 
 be strictly scrutinized ; but his affections 
 were social and generous, and when he 
 had money he gave it away very libe- 
 rally. His desire of imaginary conse- 
 quence predominated over his attention 
 to truth. When he began to rise into 
 notice, he said he had a brother who was 
 Dean of Durham J; a fiction so easily 
 detected, that it is wonderful how he 
 should have been so inconsiderate as to 
 hazard it. He boasted to me at this time 
 of the povver of his pen in commanding 
 "money, which I believe was true in a 
 certain degree, though in the instance he 
 gave he was by no means correct. He 
 told me that he had sold a novel for four 
 hundred pounds. This was his '* Vicar 
 the pleasure of heinsr liked, and observe how 
 hard ii would be if literary excellence should 
 preclude a man from that saiisfaclion, which 
 he perceived it often did, from the envy which 
 attended it ; and therefore Sir Joshua was 
 convinced that he was intentionally more 
 aijsurd, in order to lessen himself in social 
 intercourse, trusting that his character would 
 he sufficienily supported by his work. If it 
 indeed was his intention to appear absurd in 
 company, he was often ^ery successhil. But 
 with due deference to Sir Joshua's ingenuity, 
 I think the conjecture too refined. 
 
 * Miss Hornecks, one of whom is now mar- 
 ried to Henry Bunbury, Esq. and the other to 
 Colonel Gwyn. 
 
 t He went home with Mr. Burke to supper; 
 and broke his shin by attempting to exhibit 
 to the company how much better he could 
 jump over a slick than the puppets. 
 
 t I am willing to hope that there may have 
 been some mistake as to this anecdote, 
 though I had it from a dignitary of the 
 rliurch. Dr. Isaac Goldsmith, his near rela- 
 tion, was Dean of Cloyne in 1747. 
 
 125 
 
 of Wakefield." But Johnson informed 
 me, that he had made the bargain for 
 Goldsmith, and the price was sixty 
 pounds. " And, sir (said he), a sufficient 
 price too, when it was sold; for then the 
 fame of Goldsmith had not been elevated, 
 as it afterwards was, by his * Traveller;' 
 and the bookseller had such faint hopes 
 of profit by his bargain, that he kept the 
 manuscript by him a long time, and 
 did not publish it till after the * Travel- 
 ler' had appeared. Then, to be sure, it 
 was accidentally worth more money." 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi* and Sir John Hawkins f 
 have strangely misstated the history of 
 Goldsmith's situation and Johnson's 
 friendly interference, when this novel 
 was sold. I shall give it authentically 
 from Johnson's own exact narration : 
 
 *' I received one morning a message 
 from poor Goldsmith that he was in great 
 distress, and as it was not in his power 
 to come to me, begging that I would 
 come to him as soon as possible. I sent 
 him a guinea, and promised to come to 
 him directly. I accordingly went as 
 soon as I was drest, and found that his 
 landlady had arrested him for his rent, 
 at which he was in a violent passion. I 
 perceived that he had already changed 
 my guinea, and had got a bottle of Ma- 
 deira and a glass before him. I put the 
 cork into the bottle, desired he would be 
 calm, and began to talk to him of the 
 means by which he might be extricated. 
 He then told me that he had a novel 
 ready for the press, which he produced 
 to me. I looked into it, and saw its 
 merit ; told the landlady I should soon 
 return ; and, having gone to a bookseller, 
 sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Gold- 
 smith the money, and he discharged his 
 rent, not with,out rating his landlady in a 
 high tone for having used him so ill J." 
 
 * Anecdotes of Johnson, p. 119. 
 
 t Life of Johnson, 420. 
 
 t It may not be improper to annex here 
 Mrs Piozzi's account of this transaction, in 
 her own words, as a specimen of the extreme 
 inaccuracy with which all her anecdotes of 
 Dr. Johnson are related, or rather discoloured 
 and distorted. " I have forgotten the year, 
 but it could scarcely, I think, be later than 
 176> or 1766, that he was called abrvplly from 
 onr house after dinner, and returning iu about 
 three hours, said he had been with an enraged 
 authoiir, whose landlady pressed him for pay- 
 ment within doors, while the bailiffs beset 
 him without; that he was drinkivg himself 
 drunk with Madeira, to drown care, and fret- 
 ting over a novel, which, whenfinished, was 
 to be his whole fortune, but he could not get 
 it dove for distraction, nor could he step out 
 of doors to offer it for sale. Mr. Johnson, 
 therefore, sent away the bottle, and went to 
 the bookseller, recommending the perform- 
 ance, and desiiivg some immediate relief; 
 which when he brought back to the writer, he 
 called the icovian of the house directly to 
 partake of punch and pass their time in nier' 
 rinuiit.^' Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, p. 119. 
 
126 THE LIFE OF 
 
 My next meeting with Jolinson was on 
 Friday the 1st of July, when he and I 
 and Dr. Goldsmith sapped at the Mitre. 
 I was before this time pretty well ac- 
 qnainted with Goldsmith, who was one 
 of the brightest ornaments of the John- 
 sonian school. Goldsmith's respectful 
 attachment to Johnson was then at its 
 height; for his own literary reputation 
 had not yet distinguished him so much 
 as to excite a vain desire of competition 
 with his great mister. He had increased 
 my admiration of the goodness of John- 
 son's heart, by incidental remarks in the 
 course of conversation, such as, when I 
 mentioned Mr. Levet, whom he enter- 
 tained under his roof, " He is poor and 
 honest, which is recommendation enough 
 to Johnson ;" and when I wondered that 
 he was very kind to a man of whom I 
 had heard a very bad character, " He is 
 now become miserable, and that ensures 
 tlie protection of Johnson." 
 
 Goldsmith attempting this evening to 
 maintain, I suppose from an affectation 
 of paradox, *' that knowledge was not 
 desirable on its own account, for it often 
 was a source of unhappiness." John- 
 son. " Why, sir, that knowledge may in 
 some cases produce unhappiness, I allow. 
 But, upon the whole, knowledge, per se, 
 is certainly an object which every man 
 would wish to attain, although, perhaps, 
 he may not take the trouble necessary for 
 attaining it." 
 
 Dr. John Campbell, the celebrated 
 political and biographical writer, being 
 mentioned, Johnson said, ** Campbell is 
 a man of much knowledge, and has a 
 good share of imagination. His ' Her- 
 mippus Redivivus' is very entertaining, 
 as an account of the Hermetick philoso- 
 phy, and as furnishing a curious history 
 of the extravagances of the human mind. 
 If it were merely imaginary, it would be 
 nothing at all. Campbell is not always 
 rigidly careftd of truth in his conversa- 
 tion ; but I do not believe there is any 
 thing of this carelessness in his books. 
 Canipbell is a good man, a pious man. 
 I am afraid he has not been in the inside 
 of a church for many years*; but he 
 never passes a church without pulling off 
 his hat. This shows that he has good 
 principles. I used to go pretty often to 
 Campbell's on a Sunday evening, till 1 
 
 * I am Hiclined to think that he was misin- 
 formed as to this circumsiance. I own I am 
 jealous for my w^rihy friend Dr. Jolui Camp- 
 nell. For tliod^li Milton could widiout re^lor^e 
 ahsent liimsclr from pulilic wors!ii|>, I cannot. 
 On Jhe contrary, I have the same liahitnal 
 impressions npon my mind wiih those of a 
 truly ve ier.il)le Jiuli^e, wlio said lo Mr. I.an?- 
 toD, " Friend l.anglon, it I have noi been at 
 ch'irch on Sunday, I do not foel myself ea^y." 
 Dr. Cainpliell was a sincerely reliifinns man. 
 Lord Macartney, who is eminent for his variety 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 began to consider that the shoals of 
 Scotchmen who flocked about him might 
 probably say, when any thing of mine 
 was well done, * Ay, ay, he has learnt 
 this of Cawmell!' " 
 
 He talked very contemptuously of 
 Churchill's poetry, observing, that " it 
 had a temporary currency, only from its 
 audacity of abuse, and being filled with 
 living names, and that it would sink into 
 oblivion." I ventured to hint that he 
 was not quite a fair judge, as 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 con- 
 tinuing to say what I think of him, from 
 an apprehension that it may be ascribed 
 to resentment. No, sir, I called the iVllow 
 a blockhead at first, and I will call'hirr 
 a blockhead still. However, I will ac- 
 knowledge that 1 have a better opinion 
 of him now than I once had ; for he has 
 shown more fertility than I expected., lo 
 be sure, he is a tree that cannot puii- ' r 
 good fruit: he only bears crabs. <^ 
 sir, a tree that produces a great nra*;; 
 crabs is better than a tree which produce.^ 
 only a few." 
 
 In this depreciation of Churchill's 
 poetry, I could not agree with him. It 
 is very true that the greatest part of it is 
 upon the topicks of the day, on which 
 account, as it brought him great fame and 
 profit at the time, it must proportionably 
 slide out of the publick attention as other 
 occasional objects succeed. But Churchill 
 had extraordinary vigour both of thought 
 and expression. His portraits of the 
 players will ever be valuable to the true 
 lovers of the drama ; and his strong ca- 
 ricatures 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 " Prophecy of Famine" 
 is a poem of no ordinary merit. It is, 
 indeed, falsely injurious to Scotland ; 
 but therefore may be allowed a greater 
 share of invention. 
 
 Bonnell Thornton had just published 
 a burlesque" Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," 
 adapted to the ancient British nuisick, 
 viz. the salt-box, the jews-harp, the mar- 
 row bones and cleaver, the hnmstrum or 
 
 of knowledge, an.l attention to men of talent.--, 
 anl knew him well, told nie that when lu 
 called on him in a iiioniinG;, lie found hin 
 reading a chapter in the Greek Ntw Testa 
 ineni, which he informed hib Lordship was hi; 
 constant prartice. The quantity of Dr. Canifi 
 hell's composition is almost incredibU', am 
 his labours hroiifjlit liim larjje profits. Dr. Jo 
 seph Warlon told me that Johnson said r 
 him, " He is the richest authour that eve 
 jyrazed the common of literature." 
 
y^TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 127 
 
 hurJygurdy, &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 clappin? 
 
 combine ; 
 With a rap and a tap whiie the hollow side 
 
 sounds, 
 \ip and down leaps the flap, and with rattling 
 
 rebomids*." 
 
 T mentioned the periodical paper called 
 •'he Connoisseur." He said it wanted 
 matter. — No doubt it had not the deep 
 thinking of Johnson's writings. But 
 surely it lias just views of the surface of 
 life, and a very sprightly manner. His 
 ••pinion of "Tlie World" was not much 
 higher than of " The Connoisseur." 
 
 Let me here apologize for the imperfect 
 
 'n inner ni which I am obliged to exhibit 
 
 «isoi.'s conversation at this period. In 
 
 t . early part of my acquaintance with 
 
 him, 1 was so wrapt in admiration of his 
 
 extraordinary colloquial talents, and so 
 
 little accustomed to his peculiar mode of 
 
 exp- on, that I found it extremely dif- 
 
 recollect and record his conver- 
 
 -. »vith its genuine vigour and viva- 
 
 y. In progress of time, when my mind 
 
 was, as it were, stroncjly impregnated 
 
 •nth the Johnsonian oither, I could 
 
 .vith much more facility and exactness 
 
 carry in my memory and commit to paper 
 
 the exuberant variety of his wisdom and 
 
 wit. 
 
 At this time Miss Williams f, as she 
 
 was then called, though she did not reside 
 
 with him in the Temple under his roof, 
 
 ^iit had lodgings in Bolt Court, Fleet 
 
 ^'.reet, had so much of his attention that 
 
 e every night drank tea with her before 
 
 e went home, however late it might be, 
 
 ind she always sat up for him. This, it 
 
 may fairly be conjectured, was not alone 
 
 I proof of his regard for her, but of his 
 
 .vn unwillingness to go into solitude 
 
 efore that unseasonable hour at which 
 
 * [In 1769 I set, for Smart and Newbery, 
 Thornton's burlesque Ode on St. Cecilia's 
 Day. It was performed at Raaelaeh in masks, 
 -) a very crowded audience, as~l was told , 
 - 1 then resided in Norfolk. Beard sung the 
 t-box song, which was admirably accom- 
 nied on that iiisirumeut by Brent, the fenc- 
 ing master, and failier of Miss Brent, the 
 •jelebrated singer} Skegsrs on the broomstick, 
 bassoon; and a remarkable performer on 
 3 iews-harp.— *' Buzzing twangs the iron 
 •e." Cleavers were cast in bell metal for 
 lis entertainment. All the performers of the 
 Jld Woman's Or.tlory, employed by Foote, 
 were, I believe, employed at Ranelagh, on ibis 
 rcasion. B.] 
 
 t [See p. 66. This lady resided in Dr. John- 
 
 in's bouse in G'ough Square from about 1753 
 
 1738: and in that year, on his removing to 
 
 ■y's Inn, she went into lodginirs. At a sub 
 
 •^qiient period, she asain became an inmate 
 
 •■ iih Johhson, in Johnson's Court. ftl.J 
 
 he had habituated himself to expect the 
 oblivion of repose. Dr. Goldsmith, being 
 a privileged man, went with him thi» 
 night, strutting away, and calling to me 
 with an air of superiority, like that of an 
 esoterick over an exoterick disciple of a 
 sage of antiquity, " I go to Miss Wil- 
 liams." 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. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 5th of July, 1 again 
 visited Johnson. He told me he had 
 looked into the poems of a pretty vo- 
 luminous writer, Mr. (now Dr.) John . 
 Ogilvie,one of the Presbyterian ministers 
 of Scotland, which had lately come out, 
 but could find no thinking in them. Bos- 
 well. " Is there not imagination in them ,. 
 sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, there is ia 
 them what was imagination, but it is no 
 more imagination in him than sound is 
 sound in the echo. And his diction too 
 is not his own. We have long ago seen 
 white-robed innocence, and Jiower- 
 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 together, that the wonderful 
 immensity of London consists." — I have 
 often amused myself with thinking how 
 diflerent a place London is to different 
 people. They, whose narrow minds are 
 contracted to the consideration of some 
 one particular pursuit, view it only 
 through that medium. A politician thinks 
 of it merely as the seat of government it> 
 its difterent 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 dra- 
 malick enthusiast, as the grand scene of 
 theatrical entertainments : a man of plea- 
 sure, as an assemblage of taverns, and the 
 great emporium for ladies of easy virtue. 
 But the intellectual man is struck with 
 it, as comprehending the whole of human 
 life in all its variety, the contemplation 
 of which is inexhaustible. 
 
 On Wednesday, July 6,he was engaged 
 to sup with me at my lodgings in Down- 
 ing Street, Westminster. But on the- 
 preceding night my landlord having be- 
 liaved 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 1 supposed 1 should make ta 
 Johnson and the other gentlemen whom 
 I had invited, not being able to receive 
 
128 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I7c: 
 
 them at home, and being obliged to order 
 Slipper 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 insigniticant this 
 will appear a twelvemonth hence." — 
 Were this consideration to be applied to 
 most of the little vexatious incidents of 
 life, by which our quiet is too often dis- 
 turbed, it would prevent many painful 
 sensations. I have tried it frequently 
 with good effect. " There is nothing 
 (continued he) in this mighty misfortune; 
 nay, we shall be better at the Mitre." I 
 told him that I had been at Sir John 
 Fielding's otTice, complaining of my land- 
 lord, 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 
 nndej- 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 yon 
 think fit. So, sir, you may quarter two 
 lifeguardsmen 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. Gold- 
 smith, Mr. Thomas Davies, Mr. Eccles, 
 an Irish gentleman, for whose agreeable 
 company J was obliged to Mr. Davies, 
 and the Reverend Mr. John Ogilvie*, 
 who was desirous of being in company 
 with my illustrious friend, while I, in 
 my turn, was proud to have the honour 
 of showing one of my countrymen upon 
 what easy terms Johnson permitted me 
 to live with him. 
 
 Goldsmith, as usual, endeavoured, with 
 too much eagerness, to sM7ie, and dis- 
 puted very warmly with Johnson against 
 the well known 'maxim of the British 
 constitution, " the King can do no 
 wrong;" affirming, that what was mo- 
 rally false could not be politically true: 
 
 * Tlie Northern bard mentione«l page 127. 
 Wlieii I at>ke(l Dr. Johnson's permission to 
 introduce hirn, he obligingly agreed; addinar, 
 however, with a sly peasantry, "but lie nmsi 
 arive u» none of his poetry." 'If is remarkable 
 that Johnson and Churchill, however much 
 they differed in other points, agreed on this 
 subject. Sfe Churchill's "Journey." It is, 
 however, buijustice to Dr. Ogilvie lo observe 
 ttiat his '* Day of Jmlgnient" has no incon- 
 siderable ebare of merit. 
 
 and as the King might, in the exercise 
 his regal power, cominand and cause t 
 doing of what was wrong, it certaii 
 inight be said, in sense and in reasc 
 that he could do wrong." Johnsc 
 " Sir, you are to consider that in c 
 constitution, according to its true prin 
 pies, the King is the head, he is supreirj 
 he is above every thing, and there is 
 power by which he can be tried. Thei 
 fore it is, sir, that we hold the King c 
 do no wrong ; that whatever may happ 
 to be wrong in government may not 
 above our reach, by being ascribed 
 Majesty. Redress is always to be h; 
 against oppression, by punishing the ii 
 mediate agents. The King, though 
 should command, cannot force a Jud 
 to condemn a man unjustly; therefore 
 is the Judge whom we prosecute ai 
 punish. Political institutions are form 
 upon the consideration of what will m( 
 frequently tend to the good of the who 
 although now and then exceptions m 
 occur. Thus it is better in general tl 
 a nation should have a supreme legis 
 five power, although it may at times 
 abused. And then, sir, there is this cc 
 sideration,that if the abuse be enormoi 
 Nature will rise up, and claiviing h 
 original rights overturn a corrupt j 
 litical system." I mark this animal 
 sentence with peculiar pleasure, as 
 noble instance of that truly dignified spi 
 of freedom which ever glowed in I 
 heart, though he was charged with slavi 
 tenets by superficial observers ; bccar 
 he was at all times indignant against tl 
 false patriotism, that pretended love 
 freedom, that unruly restlessness whicl 
 inconsistent with the stable authority 
 any good government. 
 
 This generous sentiment, wliich 
 uttered with great fervour, struck ] 
 exceedingly, and stirred my blood to t 
 pitch of fancied resistance, the possibil 
 of which I am glad to keep in mind, 
 to which I trust I never shall be force 
 
 " Great abilities (said he) are not 
 quisite for an historian ; for in histor: 
 composition ail the greatest powers 
 the human mind are quiescent. He 
 facts ready to his hand ; so there is 
 exercise of invention. Imagination 
 not required in any high degree ; oi 
 about as much as is used in the \o^ 
 kinds of poetry. Some penetration, 
 curacy, and colouring will fit a man 
 the task, if he can give the applicat 
 which is necessary." 
 
 " Bayle's Dicti'onary is a very U8< 
 work for those to constdt who love 
 biographical part of literature, which 
 what I love most." 
 
 Talking of the eminent writers 
 Queen Anne's reign, he observed, * 
 
^TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 129 
 
 think Dr. Arbnthnot the first man among 
 them. He was the most universal genius, 
 being an excellent physician, a man of 
 deep learning, and a man of mucli hu- 
 mour. Mr. Addison was, to be sure, a 
 great man ; his learning was not pro- 
 found ; but his morality, his humour, and 
 his elegance of writing set him very 
 high." 
 
 "Mr. Ogilvie was unlucky enough to 
 choose for the topick of his conversation 
 the praises of his native country. He 
 began with saying, that there was very 
 rich land around Edinburgh. Goldsmith, 
 who had studied physick there, contra- 
 dicted this, very untruly, with a sneering 
 laugh. Disconcerted a little by this, 
 Mr. Ogilvie then took new ground, 
 where, I suppose, he thought himself per- 
 fectly safe ; for he observed that Scotland 
 had a great many noble wild prospects. 
 Johnson. " I believe, sir, you have a 
 great many. Norway, too, has noble 
 wild prospects ; and Lapland is remark- 
 able for prodigious noble wild prospects. 
 But, sir, let me tell you, the noblest pros- 
 pect which a Scotchman ever sees is the 
 liigh road that leads him to England I" 
 'J his unexpected and pointed sally pro- 
 duced a roar of applause. After all, 
 iKMvever, those who admire the rude 
 grandeur of Nature cannot deny it to 
 tJaledonia. 
 I On Saturday, July 9, I found Johnson 
 ) surrounded with a numerous levee, but 
 I have not preserved any part of his con- 
 versation. On the 14th we had another 
 evening by ourselves at the Mitre. It 
 happening to be a very rainy night, I 
 made some commonplace observations 
 on the relaxation of nerves and depressiun 
 of spirits which such weather occa- 
 sioned* ; adding, however, that it was 
 good for the vegetable creation. Johnson, 
 who, as we have already seen, denied 
 that the temperature of the air had any 
 influence on the human frame, answered, 
 with a smile of ridicule, " Why, yes, sir, 
 it is good for vegetables, and for the 
 animals who eat those vegetables, and for 
 the animals who eat those animals." This 
 observation of his aptly enough intro- 
 duced a good supper; and I soon forgot, 
 in Johnson's company, the influence of a 
 moist atmosphere. 
 
 Feeling myself now quite at ease as his 
 -companion, though I had all possible 
 reverence for him, I expressed a regret 
 that I could not be so easy with niy 
 father, though he was not much older 
 than Johnson, and certainly, however 
 respectable, had not more learning and 
 
 ^L * [Johnson would suffer none of his friends 
 ^Bnfill up chasms in conversation with reinariss 
 ^Mn ihe weather : " Let us not talk of the wea- 
 Mbcr." B.] 
 
 I 
 
 greater abilities to depress me. I asked 
 him the reason of this. Johnson. "Why, 
 sir, I am a man of the world. I live in 
 the world, and I take, in some degree, 
 the colour of the world as it moves along. 
 Your father is a Judge in a remote part 
 of the island, and all his notions are taken 
 from the old world. Besides, sir, there 
 must always be a struggle between a 
 father and son, while one aims at power 
 and the other at independence." I said 
 I was afraid my father would force me 
 to be a lawyer. Johnson. " Sir, you 
 need not be afraid of his forcing you to 
 be a laborious practising lawyer ; that is 
 not in his povver. For as the proverb 
 says, * One man may lead a horse to the 
 water, but twenty cannot make him 
 drink.' He may be displeased that you 
 are not what he wishes you to be ; but 
 that displeasure will not go far. If he 
 insists only on your having as much law 
 as is necessary for a man of property, 
 and then endeavours to get you into Par- 
 liament, he is quite in the right." 
 
 He enlarged very convincingly upon 
 the excellence of rhyme over blank verse 
 in English poetry. I mentioned to him 
 that Dr. Adam Smith, in his lectures 
 upon composition, when I studied under 
 him in the College of Glasgow, had main- 
 tained the same opinion strenuously, and 
 I repeated some of his arguments. John- 
 son. *' Sir, I was once in company 
 with Smith, and we did not take to each 
 other; but had I known that he loved 
 rhyme as much as you tell me he does, 
 I should have huggbd him." 
 
 Talking of those who denied the truth 
 of Christianity, he said, " It is always 
 easy to be on the negative side. If a 
 man were now to deny that there is salt 
 upon the table, you could not reduce 
 him to an absurdity. Come, let us try 
 this a little further. I deny that Canada 
 is taken, and I can support my denial 
 by pretty good arguments. The French 
 are a much more numerous people than 
 we ; and it is not likely that they would 
 allow us to take it. ' But the ministry 
 have assured us, in all the formality of 
 the Gazette, that it is taken.'— Very true. 
 But the ministry have put us to an enor- 
 mous expense by the war in America, 
 and it is their interest to persuade us that 
 we have got something for our money. — 
 ' But the fact is confirmed by thousands 
 of men who were at the taking of it.' — 
 Ay, but these men have still more interest 
 in deceiving us. They don't want that 
 you should think the French have beat 
 them, but that they have beat the French. 
 Now suppose you should go over and 
 find that it is really taken, that would 
 only satisfy yourself; for when you 
 come home we will not believe you. We 
 K 
 
130 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17(53. 
 
 will say, you have been bribed. — Yet, 
 sir, notwithstanding all these plausible 
 objections, we have no doubt that Canada 
 is really ours. Such is the weight of 
 common testimony. How much stronger 
 arte the evidences of the Christian reli- 
 gion \" 
 
 " Idleness is a disease which must be 
 combated ; but 1 would not advise a 
 rigid adherence to a particular plan of 
 study. 1 myself have never persisted in 
 any plan for tvi'o days together. A man 
 ought to read just as inclination leads 
 him ; for what he reads as a task will do 
 him little good. A young man should 
 read five hours in a day, and so may 
 acquire a great deal of knowledge." 
 
 To a man of vigorous intellect and 
 ardent curiosity like his own, reading 
 without a regular plan may be beneficial ; 
 though even such a man must submit to 
 it, if he would attain a full understanding 
 of any of the sciences. 
 
 To such a degree of unrestrained frank- 
 ness had he now accustomed me, that in 
 the course of this evening I talked of 
 the numerous reflections which had been 
 thrown out against him on account of his 
 having accepted a pension from his pre- 
 sent Majesty. " Why, sir (said he, with 
 a hearty laugh), it is a mighty foolish 
 noise that they make*. I have accepted 
 of a pension as a reward which has been 
 thought due to my literary merit; and 
 now that I have this pension, I am the 
 same man in every respect that 1 have 
 ever been ; I retain the same principles. 
 It is true, that I cannot now curse 
 (smiling) the House of Hanover ; nor 
 would it be decent for me to drink King 
 James's health in the wine that King 
 George gives me money to pay for. But, 
 sir, I think that the pleasure of cursing 
 the House of Hanover and drinking 
 King James's health are amply over- 
 balanced by three hundred pounds a 
 year." 
 
 There was here, most certainly, an 
 affectation of more Jacobilism than he 
 really had ; and indeed an intention of 
 admitting, for the moment, in a much 
 greater extent than it really existed, the 
 charge of disaftection imputed to him by 
 the world, merely for the purpose of 
 showing how dexterously he could repel 
 an attack, even though he were placed 
 in the most disadvantageous position ; 
 for 1 have heard him declare, that if 
 holding up his right hand would have 
 secured victory at Culloden to Prince 
 Charles's army, he was not sure he 
 
 • When 1 mentioned the same idle clani< 
 to him several ^eais afitrwurds, he said, wilh 
 a >*niile " I with my I'tiision weie twice a> 
 i'.irgc, that they might make twice as much 
 noise," 
 
 would have held it up ; so little confi- 
 dence had he in the right claimed by the 
 house of Stuart, and so fearful was he of 
 the consequences of another revolution 
 on the throne of Great Britain ; and 
 Mr. Topham Beauclerk assured me, he 
 had heard him say this before he had his 
 pension. At another time he said to 
 Mr. Langton, " Nothing has ever otiered 
 that has made it worth my while to con- 
 sider the question fully." He, however, 
 also said to the same gentleman, talking 
 of King James the Second, '* It was 
 become impossible for him to reign any 
 longer in this country." He no doubt 
 had an early attachment to the House of 
 Stuart ; but his zeal had cooled as his 
 reason strengthened. Indeed, 1 heard 
 him once say, " that after the dea:>'' of a 
 violent Whig, with whom he us (i .■■> 
 contend with great eagerness, he t'< '■■ hiy 
 Toryism much abated f." I suppo t; he 
 meant Mr. Walmsley. 
 
 Yet there is no doubt that at earU< r 
 periods he was wont often to exercise 
 both his pleasantry and ingenuity in 
 talking Jacobitism, My much respected 
 friend, Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salis- 
 bury, has favoured me with the following 
 admirable instance from his Lordship's 
 own recollection. One day when dining 
 at old Mr. Langton's, where Miss Ro- 
 berts, his niece, was one of the company, 
 Johnson, with his usual complacent atten- 
 tion to the fair sex, took her by the hand 
 and said, " My dear, I hope you are 
 a Jacobite." Old Mr. Langton, who, 
 though a high and steady Tory, was 
 attached to the present Royal Family, 
 seemed oftended, and asked Johnson, 
 with great warmth, what he could mean 
 by putting such a question to his niece 1 
 " Why, sir (said Johnson), I meant no 
 offence to your niece, I meant her a 
 great compliment. A Jacobite, sir, be- 
 lieves in the divine right of Kings. He 
 that believes in the divine right of Kings 
 believes in a Divinity. A Jacobite be- 
 lieves in the divine right of Bishops. 
 He that believes in the divine right of 
 Bishops believes in the divine authority 
 of the Christian religion. Therefore, sir, 
 a Jacobite is neither an Atheist nor a 
 Deist. That cannot be said of a Whig ; 
 for IVhiyyism is a negation of all prin- 
 ciple +." 
 
 t Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. H20. 
 
 X He used to tell, with it:rcat humour, from 
 uiv relation lo liim, the follow iuir little tloiy 
 ot mv early years, uliich was literally true: 
 " Boswell, in the year 1745, was a fine boy, 
 wore a white cnrkade, and r>rayfd for Kintf 
 Janice, till one of his uncles (Uemral Cocliraa) 
 ^ave him a shillinu on condition that he would 
 pray for Kin? Gtorg:e, which he accordingly 
 did. So you 8te (says Hoswtll) that H'higs of 
 all ugci art madt the same way.*' 
 
MixT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 131 
 
 He advised me, when abroad, to be as 
 much as I could with the Professors in 
 the Universities, and with the Clergy ; 
 for from their conversation I might ex- 
 pect the best accounts of every thing in 
 whatever country I should be, with the 
 additional advantage of keeping my 
 learning alive. 
 
 It will be observed, that when giving 
 me advice as to my travels. Dr. Johnson 
 did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, 
 and pictures, and shows, and Arcadian 
 scenes. He was of Lord Essex's opinion, 
 who advises his kini<man, Roger Earl of 
 Rutland, " rather to go a hundred miles 
 to speak with one wise man than five 
 miles to see a fair town *." 
 ^"described to liim an impudent fellow 
 froni Scotland, who affected to be a 
 savage, and railed at all established sys- 
 tems. Johnson. " There is nothing 
 surprising in this, sir. He wants to make 
 himself conspicuous. He would tumble 
 in a hogsty as long as you looked at him 
 and called to him to come out. But let 
 him alone, never mind him, and he'll 
 soon give it over." 
 
 I added that the same person main- 
 tained that there was no distinction be- 
 tween virtue and vice. Johnson. "Why, 
 sir, if the fellow does not think as he 
 speaks, he is lying : and I see not what 
 honour he can propose to himself from 
 having the character of a liar. But if he 
 does really think that there is no distinc- 
 tion between virtue and vice, why, sir, 
 when he leaves our houses let us count 
 our spoons." 
 
 Sir David Dalrymple, now one of the 
 judges of Scotland by the title of Lord 
 Haiies, had contributed much to increase 
 my high opinion of Johnson, on account 
 of his writings, long before 1 attained to 
 a personal acquaintance with him ; I, in 
 return, had informed Johnson of Sir 
 David's eminent character for learning 
 and religion; and Johnson was so much 
 pleased that, at one of our evening meet- 
 ings, he gave him for his toast. I at this 
 time kept up a very frequent correspond- 
 ence with Sir David ; and I read to 
 Dr. Johnson to-night the following pas- 
 sage from the letter which I bad last 
 received from him : 
 
 "It gives me pleasure to think that 
 you have obtaiued,_the friendship of 
 Mr. Samuel Johnson. He is one of the 
 Dest moral writers which England has 
 produced. At the same time, 1 envy 
 you the free and undisguised converse 
 with such a man» May I beg you to 
 present my best respects to him, and to 
 assure him of the veneratioa which I 
 entertain for the autbour of the Rambler 
 
 » Letter to Rutland on Travel, 16mo. 1596. 
 
 and of Rasselas? Let me recommend 
 this last work to you ; with the Rambler 
 you certainly are acquainted. In Ras- 
 selas you will see a tender-hearted ope- 
 rator, who probes the wound only to 
 heal it. Swift, on the contrary, mangles 
 human nature. He cuts and slashes, as 
 if he took pleasure in the operation, like 
 the tyrant who said, " Jta feri utse 
 sentiat emori." Johnson seemed to be 
 much gratified by this just and well 
 turned compliment. 
 
 He recommended to me to keep a 
 journal of my life, full and unreserved. 
 He said it would be a very good exer- 
 cise, and would yield me great satisfac- 
 tion when the particulars were faded 
 from my remembrance. I was uncom- 
 monly fortunate in having had a previous 
 coincidence of opinion with him upon 
 this subject, for I had kept such a journal 
 for some time ; and it was no small 
 pleasure to me to have this to tell him, 
 and to receive his approbation. He 
 counseled me to keep it private, and 
 said I might surely have a friend who 
 would burn it in case of my death. From 
 this habit I have been enabled to give 
 the world so many anecdotes which 
 would otherwise have been lost to pos- 
 terity. I mentioned that I was afraid I 
 put into my journal too many little inci- 
 dents. Johnson. " There is nothing, 
 sir, too little foi- so little a creature as 
 man. It is by studying little things that 
 we attain the great art of having as little 
 misery and as much happiness as pos- 
 sible.'* 
 
 Next morning Mr. Dempster happened 
 to call on me, and was so much struck 
 even with the imperfect account which 
 I gave him of Dr. Johnson's conversa- 
 tion, that, to his honour be it recorded, 
 when I complained that drinking port 
 and sitting up late with him affected my 
 nerves for some time after, he said, 
 " One had better be palsied at eighteen 
 than not keep company with such a 
 >nan." 
 
 On Tuesday, July 18, I found tall Sir 
 Thomas Robinson sitting with Johnson. 
 Sir Thomas said, that the King of Prussia 
 valued himself upon three things : — upon 
 being a hero, a musician, and an authour. 
 Johnson. " Pretty well, sir, for one 
 man. As to his being an authour, I have 
 not looked at his poetry ; but his prose 
 is poor stuff. He writes just as you may 
 suppose Voltaire's footboy to do, wha 
 has been his amanuensis. He has such 
 parts as the valet might have, and about 
 as much of the colouring of the style as 
 might be got by transcribing his works." 
 When I was at Ferney, I repeated this 
 to Voltaire, in order to reconcile him. 
 somewhat to Johnson, Avhom he^in affect- 
 
132 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 ing the English mode of expression, had 
 previously characterized as *' a super- 
 stitious dog ;" but after hearing such a 
 criticism on Frederick the Great, with 
 whom he was then on bad terms, he 
 exclaimed, " An honest fellow I" 
 
 But I think the criticism much too 
 severe; for the " Memoirs of the House 
 of Brandenburgh" are written as well 
 as many works of that kind. His poetry, 
 for the style of which he himself makes 
 a frank apology, " Jargonnant un 
 Frangois barbare," though frauglit with 
 pernicious ravings of infidelity, has, in 
 many places, great animation, and in 
 some a pathetick tenderness. 
 
 Upon this contemptuous animadversion 
 on the King of Prussia, I observed to 
 Johnson, " It would seem then, sir, that 
 much less parts are necessary to make a 
 King than to make an Authour : for the 
 Kingof Prussia is confessedly the greatest 
 King now in Europe, yet you think he 
 makes a very poor figure as an Authour." 
 
 Mr. Levet this day showed me Dr. 
 Johnson's library, which was contained 
 in two garrets over his chambers, where 
 Lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller 
 of that name, had formerly his ware- 
 house. I found a number of good books, 
 but very dusty and in great confusion. 
 The floor was strevved with manuscript 
 leaves in Johnson's own handwriting, 
 which I beheld with a degree of vene- 
 ration, supposing they perhaps might 
 contain portions of the Rambler or of 
 Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for 
 chymical experiments, of which Johnson 
 was all his life very fond. The place 
 seemed to be very favourable for retire- 
 ment and meditation. Johnson told me, 
 that he went up thither, without men- 
 tioning it to his servant when he wanted 
 to study, secure from interruption ; for 
 lie would not allow his servant to say he 
 was not at home when he really was. 
 ** A servant's strict regard for truth (said 
 he) must be weakened by such a prac- 
 tice, A philosopher may know that it is 
 merely a form of denial ; but few ser- 
 vants are such nice distinguishers. If I 
 accustom a servant to tell a lie for mc, 
 have I not reason to apprehend that he 
 will tell xn-Any Yxes ior himself ?" I am, 
 however, satisfied that every servant, of 
 any degree of intelligence, understands 
 saying his master is not at home, not at 
 all as the affirmation of a fact but as 
 customary words, intimating that his 
 master wishes not to be seen ; so that 
 there can be no bad effect from it. 
 
 Mr. Temple, now vicar of St. Gluvias, 
 Cornwall, who had been my intimate 
 friend for many years, had at this time 
 chambers in Farrar's Buildings, at the 
 bottom of Inner Temple Lane, which he 
 
 kindly lent me upon my quitting my 
 lodgings, he being to return to Trinity 
 Hall, Cambridge. I found them parti- 
 cularly convenient for me, as they were 
 so near Dr. Johnson's, 
 
 On Wednesday, July 20, Dr. Johnson, 
 Mr. Dempster, and my uncle Dr. Bos- 
 well, who happened to be now in Lon- 
 don, supped with me at these chambers. 
 Johnson. ** Pity is not natural to man. 
 Children are always cruel. Savages ar« 
 always cruel. Pity is acquired and nv 
 proved by the cultivation of reason. V 
 may have uneasy sensations from see"; 
 a creature in distress, without pity ; iV.> 
 we have not pity unless we wish t( 
 relieve them. When I am on my wa\ 
 to dine with a friend, and, finding it 
 late, have bid the coachman make \v\<u 
 if I happen to attend when he whips hi. 
 horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the 
 animals are put to pain, but I do not 
 wish him to desist. No, sir, I wish him 
 to drive on." 
 
 Mr. Alexander Donaldson, bookseller, 
 of Edinburgh, had for some time opened 
 a shop in London, and sold his cheap 
 editions of the most popular English 
 books, in defiance of the supposed com- 
 mon law right of Literary Property. 
 Johnson, though he concurred in the 
 opinion which was afterwards sanctioned 
 by a judgment of the House of Lords, 
 that there was no such right, was at this 
 time very angry that the booksellers of 
 London, for whom he uniformly pro- 
 fessed much regard, should suffer from 
 an invasion of what they had ever con- 
 sidered to be secure ; and he was loud 
 and violent against Mr. Donaldson. ** He 
 is a fellow who takes advantage of the 
 law to injure his brethren; for notwith- 
 standing that the statute secures only 
 fourteen years of exclusive right, it has 
 always been understood by the trade, 
 that he who buys the copyright of a book 
 from the authour obtains a perpetual 
 property ; and upon that belief number- 
 less bargains are made to transfer that 
 property after the expiration of the sta- 
 tutory term. Now Donaldson, I say, 
 takes advantage here of people who have 
 really an equitable title from usage; and 
 if we consider how few of the books, of 
 which they buy the property, succeed so 
 well as to bring profit, we should be of 
 opinion that the term of fourteen years 
 is too short; it should be sixty years." 
 De.mpstkr. " Donaldson, sir, is anxious 
 for the encouragement of literature. He 
 reduces the price of books, so that poor 
 students may buy them." Johnson 
 (laughing). " Well, sir, allowing that 
 to be his motive, he is no better than 
 Robin Hood, who robbed the rich in 
 order to give to the poor." 
 
 I 
 
/Etat. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 133 
 
 It is remarkable that when the great 
 question concerning Literary Property 
 came to be ultimately tried before the 
 supreme tribunal of this country, in con- 
 sequence of the very spirited exertions 
 of Mr. Donaldson, Dr. Johnson was 
 zealous against a perpetuity ; but he 
 thought that the term of the exclusive 
 right of authours should be considerably 
 enlarged. He was then for granting a 
 hundred years. 
 "v The conversation now turned upon 
 *Mr. David Hume's style. Johnson. 
 ** Why, sir, his style is not English ; the 
 structure of his sentences is French. Now 
 * the French structure and the English 
 structure may, in tlie nature of things, 
 be equally good. But if you allow that 
 the English language is established, he is 
 wrong. My name might originally have 
 been Nicholson, as well as Johnson ; but 
 were you to call me Nicholson now, you 
 would call me very absurdly." 
 
 Rousseau's treatise on the inequality of 
 mankind was at this time a fashionable 
 topick. It gave rise to an observation 
 by Mr. Dempster, that the advantages of 
 fortune and rank were nothing to a wise 
 man, who ought to value only merit. 
 Johnson. *' If man were a savage, living 
 in the woods by himself, this might be 
 true ; but in civilized society we all de- 
 pend upon each other, and our happiness 
 is very much owing to the good opinion 
 of mankind. Now, sir, in civilized so- 
 ciety, external advantages make us more 
 respected. A man with a good coat upon 
 his back meets with a better reception 
 than he who has a bad one. Sir, you 
 may analyze this, and say, what is there 
 in it 1 But that will avail you nothing, 
 for it is a part of a general system. — 
 Pound St. Paul's church into atoms, and 
 consider any single atom ; it is, to be 
 sure, good for nothing: but, put all these 
 atoms together, and you have St. Paul's 
 church. So it is with human felicity, 
 which is made up of many ingredients, 
 each of which may be shown to be very 
 insignificant. In civilized society, per- 
 sonal merit will not serve you so much 
 as money will. Sir, you may make the 
 experiment. Go into the street, and give 
 one man a lecture on morality, and ano- 
 ther a shilling, and see which will respect 
 you most. If you wish only to support 
 nature. Sir William Petty fixes your 
 allowance at three pounds a year; but 
 as times are much altered, let us call it 
 six pounds. This sum will fill your belly, 
 shelter you from the weather, and even 
 get you a strong lasting coat, supposing 
 it to be made of good bull's hide. Now, 
 sir, all beyond this is artificial, and is 
 desired in order to obtain a greater de- 
 gree of respect from our fellow creatures. 
 
 And, sir, if six hundred pounds a year 
 procure a man more consequence, and, 
 of course, more happiness than six pounds 
 a year, the same proportion will hold as 
 to six thousand, and so on, as far as 
 opulence can be carried. Perhaps he 
 who has a large fortune may not be so 
 happy as he who has a small one ; but 
 that must proceed from other causes than 
 from his having the large fortune : for, 
 cceteris paribus, he who is rich in a 
 civilized society must be happier than 
 he who is poor ; as riches, if properly 
 used (and it is a man's own fault if they 
 are not), must be productive of the highest 
 advantages. Money, to be sure, of itself 
 is of no use ; for its only use is to part 
 with it. Rousseau and all those who deal 
 in paradoxes are led away by a childish 
 desire of novelty *. When I was a boy 
 I used always to choose the wrong side 
 of a debate, because most ingenious things, 
 that is to say, most new things, could be 
 said upon it. Sir, there is nothing for 
 which you may not muster up more 
 plausible arguments than those which are 
 urged against wealth and other external 
 advantages. Why, now, there is stealing ; 
 why should it be thought a crime? When 
 we consider by what unjust methods 
 property has been often acquired, and 
 tliat what was unjustly got it must be 
 unjust to keep, where is the harm in one 
 man's taking the property of another 
 from him ? Besides, sir, when we con- 
 sider the bad use that many people make 
 of their property, and how much better 
 use the thief may make of it, it may be 
 defended as a very allowable practice. 
 Yet, sir, the experience of mankind has 
 discovered stealing to be so very bad a 
 thing that they make no scruple to hang 
 a man for it. When I was running about 
 this town a very poor fellow, I was a 
 great arguer for the advantages of poverty ; 
 but I was, at the same time, very sorry 
 to be poor. Sir, all the arguments which 
 are brought to represent poverty as no 
 evil show it to be evidently a great evil. 
 You never find people labouring to con- 
 vince you that you may live very happily 
 upon a plentiful fortune. — So you hear 
 people talking how miserable a King 
 must be ; and yet they all wish to be in 
 his place." 
 
 It was suggested that Kings must be 
 unhappy, because they are deprived of 
 the greatest of all satisfactions, easy and 
 unreserved society. Johnson. " That is 
 an ill founded notion. Being a King 
 
 * [Johns-«n tolJ Dr. Buiney that Goldsniitii 
 said, when lie first bt-gau to write, he deler- 
 mined to commit to paper nothing hut wiiat 
 was new; but he afterwards found that what 
 was new was generally false, and from that 
 time was no iongt^r solicitous about novclt).— 
 B] 
 
134 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 docs not exclude a man from such society. 
 Great Kings have always been social. 
 The King of Prussia, the only great King 
 at present, is very social. Charles the 
 Second, the last King of England who 
 was a man of parts, was social ; and our 
 Henries and Edwards were all social." 
 
 Mr. Dempster having endeavoured to 
 maintain that intrinsick merit ought to 
 make the only distinction amongst man- 
 kind. Johnson. ** Why, sir, mankind 
 have found that this cannot be. — How 
 shall we determine the proportion of in- 
 trinsick merit ? Were that to be the only 
 distinction amongst mankind, we should 
 soon quarrel about the degrees of it. Were 
 all distinctions abolished, the strongest 
 would not long acquiesce, but would en- 
 deavour to obtain a superiority by their 
 bodily strength. But, sir, as subordination 
 is very necessary for society, and conten- 
 tions for superiority very dangerous, man- 
 kind, that is to say, all civilized nations, 
 have settled it upon a plain invariable 
 principle. A man is born to hereditary 
 rank ; or his being appointed to certain 
 offices gives him a certain rank. Subor- 
 dination tends greatly to human happi- 
 ness. Were we all upon an equality, we 
 should have no other enjoyment than 
 mere animal pleasure." 
 
 I said, I considered distinction or rank 
 to be of so much importance in civilized 
 society that if I were asked on the same 
 day to dine with the first Duke in Eng- 
 land, and with the first man in Britain 
 for genius, I should hesitate which to 
 prefer. Johnson. ** To be sure, sir, if 
 you were to dine only once, and it were 
 never to be known where you dined, you 
 would choose rather to dine with the tirst 
 man for genius ; but to gain most respect 
 you should dine with the first Duke in 
 England. For nine people in ten that 
 you meet with would have a higher 
 opinion of you for having dined with a 
 Duke ; and the great genius himself would 
 receive you better because you had been 
 with the great Duke." 
 
 He took care to guard himself against 
 any possible suspicion that his settled 
 principles of reverence for rank and 
 respect for wealth were at all owing to 
 mean or interested motives; for he as- 
 serted his own independence as a literary 
 man. " No man (said he) who ever lived 
 by literaturehaslivcd more independently 
 than 1 have done." He said he had taken 
 longer time than he needed to have done 
 in composing his Dictionary. He re- 
 ceived our compliments upon that great 
 work with complacency, and told us that 
 the Academy dclln Crusca could scarcely 
 believe that it was done by one man. 
 
 Next morning I found him alone, and 
 have preserved the following fragments 
 
 of his conversation. Of a gentleman who 
 was mentioned, he said, " I have not 
 met with any man for a long time who 
 has given me such general displeasure. 
 He is totally unfixed in his principles, 
 and wants to puzzle other people." I 
 said his principles had been poisoned by 
 a noted infidel writer, but that he was, 
 nevertheless, a benevolent good man. 
 Johnson. " We can have no dependence 
 upon that instinctive, that constitutional 
 goodness which is not founded upon 
 principle. I grant you that such a man 
 may be avery amiable member of society. 
 I can conceive him placed in such a 
 situation that he is not much tempted to 
 deviate from what is right; and as every 
 man prefers virtue, when there is not 
 some strong incitement to transgress its 
 precepts, I can conceive him doing no- 
 thing wrong. But if such a man stood 
 in need of money, I should not like to 
 trust him ; and I should certainly not 
 trust him with young ladies, for there 
 there is always temptation. Hume and 
 other sceptical innovators are vain men, 
 and will gratify themselves at any ex- 
 pense. Truth will not afford suflTicient 
 food to their vanity ; so they have betaken 
 themselves to errour. Truth, sir, is a cow 
 which will yield such people no more 
 milk, and so they are gone to milk the 
 bull. If I could have allowed myself to 
 gratify my vanity at the expense of truth, 
 w hat fame might I have acquired. Every 
 thing which Hume has advanced against 
 Christianity had passed through my mind 
 long before he wrote. Always remembei 
 this, that after a system is well settled 
 upon positive evidence, a few partial ob- 
 jections ought not to shake it. The human 
 mind is so limited that it cannot take in 
 all the parts of a subject, so that there 
 may be objections raised against any 
 thing. — There are objections against a 
 plenum, and objections against a vacu- 
 um ; yet one of them must certainly be 
 true." 
 
 I mentioned Hume's argument against 
 the belief of miracles, that it is more 
 probable that the witnesses to the truth 
 of them are mistaken, or speak falsely, 
 than that the miracles should be true. 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, the great difficulty 
 of proving miracles shotdd make us very 
 cautious in believing them. But let us 
 consider; although Gou has made Nature 
 to operate by certain fixed laws, yet it is 
 not unreasonable to think that he may 
 suspend those laws, in order to establish 
 a system highly advantageous to mankind. 
 Now the Christian Religion is a most 
 beneficial system, as it gives us light and 
 certainty where we were before in dark- 
 ness and doubt. The miracles which 
 prove it are attested by men who had 
 
^.TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 135 
 
 no interest in deceiving us; but who, on 
 the contrary, were told that they should 
 suffer persecution, and did actually lay 
 down their lives in confirmation of the 
 truth of the facts which they asserted. 
 Indeed, for some centuries the heathens 
 did not pretend to deny the miracles; 
 but said they were performed by the aid 
 of evil spirits. This is a circumstance of 
 great weight. Then, sir, when we take 
 the proofs derived from prophecies which 
 have been so exactly fulfilled, we have 
 most satisfactory evidence. Supposing a 
 miracle possible, as to which, in my 
 opinion, there can be no doubt, we have 
 as strong evidence for the miracles in 
 support of Christianity as the nature of 
 the thing admits." 
 
 At night, Mr. Johnson and I supped 
 in a private room at the Turk's Head 
 Coffee-house, in the Strand. " I encou- 
 rage this house (said he) ; for the mistress 
 of it is a good civil woman, and has not 
 much business." 
 
 " Sir, I love the acquaintance of young 
 people ; because, in the first place, 1 
 don't like to think myself growing old. 
 In the next place, young acquaintances 
 must last longest, if they do last ; and 
 then, sir, young men have more virtue 
 than old men ; they have more generous 
 sentiments in every respect. I love the 
 young dogs of this age ; they have more 
 wit and humour and knowledge of life than 
 we had ; bnt then the dogs are not so good 
 scholars. Sir, in my early years I read 
 very hard. It is a sad reflection, but a 
 •true one, that I knew almost as much at 
 eighteen as I do now. My judgment, to 
 be sure, was not so good ; but 1 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 find that poring upon books 
 will be but an irksome task.'" 
 
 This account of his reading, given by 
 himself in plain words, sufliciently con- 
 firms what 1 have already advanced upon 
 the disputed question as to his application. 
 It reconciles any seeming inconsistency 
 in his way of talking upon it at dif- 
 ferent 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 comparison 
 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 ex- 
 pressing his genuine sentiments; whereas 
 at other times he might be induced from 
 his spirit of contradiction, or more pro- 
 perly from his love of argumentative 
 contest, to speak lightly of his own ap- 
 
 plication to study. It is pleasing to 
 consider that the old gentleman's gloomy 
 prophecy as to the irksomeness of books 
 to men of an advanced age, which is too 
 often fulfilled, w^as so far from being 
 verified in Johnson that his ardour for 
 literature never failed, and his last wri- 
 tings had more ease and vivacity than 
 any of his earlier productions. 
 
 He mentioned to me now, for the first 
 time, that he had been distressed by me- 
 lancholy, 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 exer- 
 cise, 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 main- 
 taining subordination of rank. " Sir, I 
 would no more deprive a nobleman of 
 his respect than of his money. I consider 
 myself as acting a part in the great sys- 
 tem of society, and 1 do to others as I 
 would have them to do to me. I would 
 behave to a nobleman as I should expect 
 he would behave to me, were I a noble- 
 man and he Sam. 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 be- 
 come a convert to your way of thinking. 
 I am convinced that aM mankind are 
 upon an equal footing; 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 he may be allovved 
 to sit down and dine with us.' I thus, 
 sir, showed her the absurdity of the level- 
 ing doctrine. She has never liked me 
 since. Sir, your levellers wish to level 
 down as far as themselves ; but they 
 cannot bear leveling up to themselves. 
 They would all have some people under 
 them ; why not then have some people 
 above them?" I mentioned a certain 
 authour who disgusted me by his for- 
 wardness, and by showing no deference 
 to noblemen into whose company he was 
 admitted. Johnson. " Suppose a shoe- 
 maker should claim an equality with 
 him, as he does with a Lord : how he 
 would stare! ' Why, sir, do you stare? 
 (says the shoemaker) ; I do great service 
 
 * This one Mrs. Macaulay was the same 
 personage who afterwards ina<le he^^elf so 
 much known as ** the celebrated female his- 
 torian." 
 
136 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1703. 
 
 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 sometliing not so necessary. For 
 mankind could do better witliout your 
 books tlian witliout my shoes.' Thus, 
 sir, there would be a perpetual struggle 
 for precedence, were there no fixed in- 
 variable rules for the distinction of rank, 
 which creates no jealousy, as it is allowed 
 to be accidental." 
 
 He said. Dr. Joseph Warton 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 continua- 
 tion of it. Johnson. '* Why, sir, I sup- 
 pose he finds himself a little disappointed 
 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 which, to use a 
 parliamentary expression, he has ex- 
 plained, so as not to appear quite so 
 adverse to the opinion of the world, con- 
 cerning Pope, as was at first thought ; 
 and we must all agree, that his work is 
 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 every way of talking that is prac- 
 tised cannot be esteemed." 
 
 I spoke of a Sir James Macdonald as 
 a young man of most distinguished merit, 
 who united the highest reputation at Eton 
 and Oxford with the patriarchal spirit of 
 a great Highland Chieftain. 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 time it was mixed with some degree 
 of terrour. Johnson. " Sir, if he were 
 to be acquainted with me, it might lessen 
 both." 
 
 The mention of this gentleman led us 
 to talk of the Western Islands of Scot- 
 land, to visit which he expressed a wish 
 that then appeared to me a very romantic 
 fancy, which I little thought would be 
 afterwards realized. He told me that his 
 father had put Martin's account of those 
 islands into his hands when he was very 
 young, and that he was highly pleased 
 with it ; that he was particularly struck 
 with the St. Kilda man's notion that the 
 high church of (ilasgow had been hol- 
 lowed out of a rock ; a circumstance to 
 
 which old Mr. Johnson had directed his 
 attention. He said, he would go to the 
 Hebrides with me, when I returned from 
 my travels, unless some very good com- 
 panion should offer when I was absent, 
 which he did not think probable ; adding, 
 '* There are few people 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 again." — 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 sup- 
 ported 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 I 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 confident 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 hirn know my opinion of 
 him ; for as he does not show himself 
 much in the world, he should have the 
 praise of the few who hear of him." 
 
 On Tuesday, July 26, 1 found Mr. John- 
 son alone. It was a very wet day, and 
 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 lisli 
 lives in water; so that if the atmosphere 
 press heavy from above, there is an equal 
 resistance from below. To be sure, bad 
 weather is hard upon people who are 
 obliged to be abroad ; and men cannot 
 labour 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 rainy weather 
 as in fair. Some very delicate frames, 
 indeed, may be affected by wet weather ; 
 but jiot common constitutions." 
 
^TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 137 
 
 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 yon 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 two things you should teach 
 your child first, another boy has learnt 
 them both." 
 
 OnThursday, July 28, we again supped 
 in private at the Turk's Head CofJee- 
 house. Johnson. " Swift has a higher 
 reputation than he deserves. His excel- 
 lence 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*." 
 
 " Thomson, I think, had as much of 
 the poet about him as most writers. 
 Every thing 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 attempting 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 pleasure to circulate. " Why, 
 sir. Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it 
 must have taken him a great deal of pains 
 to become what we now see him. Such 
 an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in Na- 
 ture." — "■ So (said he), I allowed him 
 all his own merit." 
 
 He now added, " Sheridan cannot 
 bear me. I bring his declamation 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 burn- 
 ing a farthing candle at Dover, to show 
 light at Calais." 
 
 Talking of a young man who was un- 
 easy from thinking that he was very 
 deficient in learning and knowledge, he 
 said, ** A man has no reason to complain 
 who holds a middle place, and has many 
 below him ; and perhaps he has not six 
 of his years above him ; — perhaps not 
 one. Though he may not know any thing 
 perfectly, the general mass of knowledge 
 
 * This opinion was given by him more at 
 lar^e at a subsequent period. See "Journal 
 of a Tour to the Hebrides," 3d edit, p. 32. 
 
 that he has acquired is considerable. Time 
 will do for him all that is wanting. 
 
 The conversation then took a philoso- 
 phical turn. Johnson. " Human expe- 
 rience, which is constantly contradicting 
 theory, is the great test of truth. A 
 system, built upon the discoveries of a 
 great many minds, is always of more 
 strength than what is produced by the 
 mere workings of any one mind, which 
 of itself can do little. There is not so 
 poor a book in the world that would not 
 be a prodigious etfort 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 number of great men who have 
 been convinced of its truth, after a serious 
 consideration of the question. Grotius 
 was an acute man, a lawyer, a man 
 accustomed to examine evidence, and 
 he was convinced. Grotius was not a 
 recluse, but a man of the world, who 
 certainly had no bias to the side of reli- 
 gion. Sir Isaac Newton set out an infidel, 
 and came to be a very firm believer.'^ 
 
 He this evening again recommended 
 to me to perambulate Spainf. I said it 
 would amuse him to get a letter from me 
 dated at Salamanca. 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 Salainanca 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 the 
 Spanish encroachment. 
 
 I expressed my opinion of my friend 
 Derrick as but 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 him.«elf 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 every body 
 that passed." 
 
 In justice, however, to the memory of 
 Mr. Derrick, who was my first tutor in 
 the ways of London, and showed me the 
 town in all its variety of departments, 
 t 1 fullv intended to have followed advice of 
 such weight ; but havintr stayed much longer 
 both in Germanv and Italy Ihan 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 
 homewards. 
 
138 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 both literary and sportive, the particulars 
 of which Dr. Johnson advised me to put 
 in writing, it is proper to mention what 
 Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of 
 him both as a writer and an editor : 
 '* Sir, 1 have often said, that if Derrick's 
 letters had been written by one of a more 
 established name, they would have been 
 thought very pretty letters*." And, ** I 
 sent Derrick to Dryden's relations to 
 gather materials for his life; and I be- 
 lieve he got all that I myself should have 
 gott." 
 
 Poor Derrick ! I remember him with 
 kindness. Yet I cannot withhold from 
 my readers a pleasant humorous sally 
 which Gould not have hurt him had he 
 been alive, and now is perfectly harm- 
 less. In his collection of poems there is 
 one upon entering the harbour of Dublin, 
 his native city, after a long absence. It 
 begins thus : 
 
 " Ehlana ! much loved city, hail; 
 Wiiere first. I saw the light of day." 
 
 And after a solemn reflection on his 
 being " numbered with forgotten dead," 
 there is the following stanza : 
 
 " Unless my lines protract my fame, 
 
 And those, who chance to read them, cry, 
 
 I knew him ! Derrick was his name, 
 Fn yonder tomb his ashes lie." 
 
 Which was thus happily parodied by 
 Mr. John Home, to whom we owe the 
 beautiful and pathetick tragedy of ** Dou- 
 glas :" 
 
 " Unless my deeds protract my fame, 
 And he iv/io passes sadly sings, 
 
 I knew him ! Derrick was his name, 
 On yonder tree his carcass swings P^ 
 
 I doubt much whether the amiable 
 and ingenious authour of these burlesque 
 lines will recollect them ; for they were 
 produced extempore one evening while 
 he and I were walking together in the 
 dining-room at Eglingtonne Castle, in 
 17fi0, and I have never mentioned them 
 to him since. 
 
 Johnson once said to me, " Sir, I 
 honour Derrick for his presence of mind. 
 One night, when Floyd j, another poor 
 authour, was wandering 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 sec you in this destitute 
 state ; will you go home with me to my 
 lodyinys?' " 
 
 I again begged his advice as to my 
 method of study at Utrecht. " Come 
 
 * Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, ad edit, 
 p. 104. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 142. 
 
 X He published a biographical work, con- 
 taininar »" account of eminent wriJers, in 
 3 vols. 8vo. 
 
 (said he), let us make a day of it. Let 
 us go down to Greenwich and dine, and 
 talk of it there." The following Satur- 
 day was tixed for this excursion. 
 
 As we walked along the Strand to- 
 night, arm in arm, a woman of the town 
 accosted ns, in the usual enticing man- 
 ner. ** No, no, my girl (said Johnson), 
 it won't do." He, however, did not 
 treat her with harshness ; and we talked 
 of the vi'retched life of such women, and 
 agreed, that much more misery than hap- 
 piness, 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. John- 
 son. " Most certainly, sir ; for those 
 who know them have a very great advan- 
 tage over those who do not. Nay, sir, 
 it is wonderful what a difference learning 
 makes upon people even in the common 
 intercourse of life, which does not appear 
 to be much connected with it." " And 
 yet (said I) people go through the world 
 very well, and carry on the business of 
 life to good advantage without learning." 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, that may be true 
 in cases where learning cannot possibly 
 be of any use ; for instance, this boy 
 rows us as well without learning as if he 
 could sing the song of Orpheus to the 
 Argonauts, who were the first sailors." 
 He then called to the boy, ** What would 
 you give, my lad, to know about the 
 Argonauts?" *' Sir (said the boy), I 
 would give what I have." Johnson was 
 much pleased with his answer, and we 
 gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson 
 then turning to me, *' Sir (said he), a 
 desire of knowledge is the natural feeling 
 of mankind ; and every human being, 
 whose mind is not debauched, will be 
 willing to give all that he has to get 
 knowledge." 
 
 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 inimense num- 
 ber 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 
 
 § All who are acqnainted with the history 
 of reliarion (the most important, surely, that 
 concerns the luunan mind), know (hat the 
 ap|)ellalion of Methodists was (iriit c^iven to a 
 society of 8tii<len(s in the University of Ox- 
 ford, who, about the year 173(), were distin- 
 
JEt\t, 54. 
 
 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 vsense. To insist against 
 drunkenness as a crime, because it de- 
 bases 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 tit 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. 
 I was much pleased to find myself with 
 Johnson at Greenwich, which he cele- 
 brates in his " London" as a favourite 
 scene. I had the poem in my pocket, and 
 read the lines aloud with enthusiasm : 
 
 " On Tiiames's banks in silent thouglit we 
 
 stood, 
 Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver 
 
 flood: 
 Pleased with the seat which gave Eliza birth, 
 We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 He remarked that 
 
 139 
 
 guished by an earnest and >«e/Aorfica/ 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 diarnified manner, a Metho- 
 dist. In liis Rambler, No. IIO, he mentions 
 with respect " the whole discipline of reiiu- 
 lated piety:" and in his " Prayers and Medi- 
 tations," many instances occur of his anxious 
 examination into his spiritual slate. That this 
 religious earnestness, and in particul-tr an 
 observation of the influence of the Holy Spirit, 
 has sometimes degenerated into folly, and 
 sometimes been counterfeited for base pur- 
 poses, cannot be denied. But it is not, there- 
 fore, fair to decry it when genuine. The 
 principal argument in reason and good sense 
 against methodisra is that it tends to del)a^e 
 human nature, and prevent the generous 
 exertions of goodness, by an unworthy suppo- 
 sition that God will pay no reitard to them : 
 although it is positively said in the Scriptures, 
 that he " will reward 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 1 can do by quoting a 
 passage from one of their best apologists, 
 Mr. Milner, who thus expresses their doctrine 
 upon this subject: "Justified by faith, renewed 
 in his faculties, and constrained by the love of 
 Christ, their believer moves in the sphere of 
 love and gratitude, and alt his duties flow- 
 more or less from this principle. And though 
 they are accumulalivg for him in heaven a 
 treasure of bliss proportioned to his faithful 
 ness and activity, and it is by no means incon- 
 sistent with his principles to feel the force of 
 this consideration, yet love itself sweetens 
 every duty to his mind ; and he thinks there 
 is no absuri4ity in his feeling the love of God 
 a.s the grand commanding principle of his 
 life." Essays on several religions Subjects, <^c. 
 by Joseph Milner, A. M. Master of the Gram- 
 77mr School of Kingston-upon-Hnll, 1789, p. 11. 
 
 the structure of 
 Greenwich Hospital was too magnificent 
 for a place of charity, and that its parts 
 were too much detached to make one 
 great whole. 
 
 Buchanan, he said, was a very fine 
 poet ; and observed, that he was the first 
 who complimented a lady, by ascribing 
 to her the different perfections of the 
 heathen goddesses * ; but that Johnston 
 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 
 CaledonicE, &c. and spoke with enthu- 
 siasin of the beauty of Latin verse. " All 
 the modern languages (said he) cannot 
 furnish so melodious a line as 
 Formosam resonare doces Amarillida silvas.^* 
 
 Afterwards he entered upon the busi- 
 ness of the day, which was to give me 
 his advice as to a course of study. And 
 here I am to mention with much regret, 
 that my record of what he said is miser- 
 ably 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 
 preserve 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 sub- 
 ject, which he favoured me with after I 
 had been some time at Utrecht, and 
 which my readers will have the pleasure 
 to peruse in its proper place. 
 
 We walked in the evening in Green- 
 wich 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. " John- 
 son. " 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 autho- 
 rity of a very fashionable Baronet f in 
 
 * [Epigram. Lib. If. " In Elizabeth. Angliae 
 Reg." I suspect that the authour's memory 
 here deceived him, and that Johnson saitJ, 
 " the first modern poet;" for there is a well 
 known Epigram in the Anthologia, containing 
 this kind of eulogv. M.] 
 
 + My friend Sir "Michael Le Fleming. This 
 gentleman, with all hisexperienceof sprightly 
 and elegant life, inherits, with the beautiful 
 family domain, no inconsiderable share of 
 that love of literature which distiniruished bis 
 venerable grandfather, the Bishop of Carlisle. 
 He one day obseived to me, of Dr. Johnson, 
 
140 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 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 stayed so long at Greenwich that 
 our sail up the river, in our return to 
 London, was by no means so pleasant as 
 in the morning; for the night air was so 
 cold that it made me shiver. I was the 
 more sensible of it from having sat up 
 all the night before, recollecting and 
 writing in my journal what I thought 
 worthy of preservation ; an exertion, 
 which, during the first part of my ac- 
 quaintance with Johnson, I frequently 
 made. 1 remember having sat up four 
 nights in one week, without being much 
 incommoded in the daytin)e. 
 
 Johnson, whose robust frame was not 
 in the least affected by the cold, scolded 
 me, as if my shivering had been a pal- 
 try eflfeminacy, saying, " Why do you 
 shiver?" Sir William Scott, of the 
 Commons, told me, that when he com- 
 plained of a headach in the postchaise, 
 as they were travelling together to Scot- 
 land, Johnson treated him in the same 
 manner: "At your age, sir, I had no 
 headach." It is not easy to make allow- 
 ance for sensations in others, which we 
 ourselves have not at the time. We must 
 all have experienced how very differently 
 we are affected by the complaints of our 
 neighbours, when we are well and when 
 we are ill. In full health we can scarcely 
 believe that they suffer much ; so faint 
 is the image of pain upon our imagi- 
 nation: when softened by sickness, we 
 readily sympathize with the sufferings of 
 others. 
 
 We concluded the day at the Turk's 
 Head Coffee-house very socially. He 
 was pleased to listen to a particular 
 account which I gave him of my family, 
 and of its hereditary estate, as to the 
 extent and population of which he asked 
 questions, and made calculations ; recom- 
 mending, at the same time, a liberal 
 kindness to the tenantry, as people over 
 whom the proprietor was placed by Pro- 
 vidence. He took delight in hearing my 
 description of the romantick seat of my 
 ancestors. " I must be there, sir (said 
 he), and we will live in the old castle ; 
 and if there is not a room in it remain- 
 ing, we will build one." I was highly 
 flattered, but could scarcely indulge a 
 hope that Auchinleck would indeed be 
 honoured by his presence, and celebrated 
 
 ill a felicity of phrase, " There Is a blunt di;?- 
 nity ahout him on every occafiion." 
 
 [Sir Michael i.e Fleiuins: died of an apoplec- 
 tick fit, while convorsin? at the Admiralty 
 with Lord Howick, May I'J, l«06. M.J 
 
 by a description, as it afterwards was, in 
 his '* Journey to the Western Islands." 
 
 After we had again talked of my set- 
 ting out for Holland, he said, ** I must 
 see thee out of England ; I will accom- 
 pany 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, 1 told him 
 I had been that morning at a meeting of '. 
 the people called Quakers, where I had 
 heard a woman preach. Johnson. " Sir, 
 a woman's preaching is like a dog's walk- 
 ing on his hind legs. It is not done 
 well ; but you are surprised to find it 
 (lone at all." 
 
 On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my 
 departure from London having been fixed 
 for the fifth). Dr. Johnson did me the 
 honour to pass a part of the morning with 
 me at my chambers. He said that " he 
 always felt an inclination to do nothing." 
 I observed tiiat it was strange to think 
 that the most indolent man in Britain 
 had written the most laborious work. 
 The English Dictionary. 
 
 I mentioned an imprudent publication 
 by a certain friend of his, at an early 
 period of life, and asked him if he thought 
 it would hurt him. Johnson. "No, sir; 
 not much. It may, perhaps, be men- 
 tioned at an election." 
 
 I had now made good my title to a 
 privileged man, and was carried by him 
 in the evening to drink tea with Miss |i 
 Williams*, whoin, though under the mis- 1 
 
 » [A lady, who appears to have been well 
 acquainted with Mrs. VViltianiS, thus speaks 
 of her : 
 
 " Mrs. Williams was a person extremely 
 interesting. She had an uncommon firmness 
 of niin I, a boundless curiosity, retentive me- 
 niorv, and strone judgment. She had \arious 
 powers of picasuis:. Her personal afflictions 
 und sleniler fortune sh« seemed to fori^el w hen 
 she had the power of doinsr an act of kind- 
 ness : >lie was social, cheerful, and active, in 
 a state of bodv that was trnly deplorable. 
 Her regard to lOr. Johnson was formed with 
 such strenarth of judgment and firm esteem, 
 tiiat Iier voire never hesitated when she re- 
 pealed his mavims, or recited his good deeds: 
 tUough upon many other occasions her want 
 of siifht lr<i<l led her to make so nuich use of 
 her ear as to affecl her speech. 
 
 *• Mrs. Williams was blind before she was 
 acquainted with Dr. Johnson.— She bad many 
 resource*, ihou.<h none very great. With the 
 Miss Wilkinsons she ceneralTy passed a part 
 of the year, and receiveil from tht-m presents, 
 and from the first who died, a lepacy of cioiheg 
 and money. The last of ihem, Mrs. Jane, left 
 her an annual rent ; but from the blund«'ring 
 manner of the will, I fear she never reaped 
 ihe benrfil of it. That lady left mon< y to 
 rreot an hospital for ancient maids: but the 
 number slu- had allottiil b» inar too grt ai f.>r 
 tlu- donation, the Doctor [Johnson] said, it 
 would be better to expunse Ihe word main- 
 (nin, an«l put in to starve such a numb* r of 
 old maiils. They asked hira, What name 
 
/El AT. 54. THE LIFE OF 
 
 fortune of having lost her sight, I found 
 to be agreeable in conversation ; for she 
 had a variety of literature, and expressed 
 herself well ; but her peculiar value was 
 the intimacy in which she had long lived 
 with Johnson, by which she was well 
 acquainted with his habits, and knew how 
 to lead him on to talk. 
 After tea he carried me to what he 
 ailed his w^alk, which was a long narrow 
 paved court in the neighbourhood, over- 
 iiiadowed by some trees. There we 
 sauntered a considerable time ; and I 
 complained to him that my love of Lon- 
 don 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. He 
 roused me by manly and spirited con- 
 versation. 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 p^irts. I had the misfortune, 
 before we parted, to irritate him uninten- 
 tionally. I mentioned to him how com- 
 mon it was in the world to tell absurd 
 stories of him, and to ascribe to him very 
 strange sayings. Johnson. " What do 
 tliey make me say, sir?" Boswell. 
 " Why, sir, as an instance very strange 
 -uleed (laughing heartily as 1 spoke), 
 Javid Hume told me, you said that you 
 • ould stand before a battery of cannon 
 to restore the Convocation to its full 
 powers." — Little did I apprehend that 
 he had actually said this : but I was soon 
 convinced of my errour ; for, witii a 
 
 should be given to it? he replied, * Let it he 
 cilled Jenny's Whim.' [The name of a well 
 known tavern near Chelsea, in former days.] 
 " Lady Phillips made her a small annual 
 allowance, and some other Welch ladies, to 
 all of whom she was related. Mrs. Montagu, 
 on the death of Mr. Montagu, 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 furni- 
 tiiie she used [in her apartment in Dr. John- 
 -fiii's house] was her own ; her expenses were 
 siusill, tea and bread and butter bein» 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 
 iiHlu^trious. I have frequently seen her at 
 work. Upon remarking one day her facility 
 ill moving about the house, searching into 
 drawers, and finding books, without the help 
 of sight,   Believe me (said she), persons who 
 cannot do those common offices without siuht 
 (lid but little while they enjoyed that bless- 
 ing.'— Scanty circumstances, bad health, and 
 blindness are surely a sufficient apology for 
 lur being sometimes impatient: her natural 
 <iisposition was good, friendly, and humane.'' 
 M.j 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 141 
 
 determined look, he thundered out ** And 
 would I not, sir? Shall the Presbyterian 
 Kirk of Scotland have its General As- 
 sembly, and the Church of England be 
 denied its Convocation '?" He was walk- 
 ing up and down the room while 1 told 
 him the anecdote ; but when he uttered 
 this explosion of high-church zeal, he 
 had coine close to my chair, and his eyes 
 trashed with indignation. I bowed to the 
 storm, and diverted the force of it by 
 leading him to expatiate on the influence 
 which religion derived from maintaining 
 the church with great external respecta- 
 bility. 
 
 I must not omit to mention that he this 
 year wrote " The Life of Ascham,"(^&J 
 and the Dedication to the Earl of Shaftes- 
 bury, (^&^ piefixed 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 Harwich stage 
 coach. A fat elderly gentlewoman and 
 a young Dutchman seemed the most in- 
 clined among us to conversation. At the 
 inn where we dined, the gentlewoman 
 said that she had done her best to educate 
 her children; and, particularly, that she 
 had never sulfered 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 Glas- 
 gow, where he continued to be idle. He 
 then came to London, where he has been 
 very idle ; and now he is going to Utrecht, 
 where he will be as idle as ever." I 
 asked him privately how he could expose 
 me so? Johnson. "Poh, poh! (said he) 
 they knew nothing about you, and will 
 think of it no more." In the afternoon 
 the gentlewoman talked violently against 
 the Roman Catholicks, and of the hor- 
 rours 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 attack the established reli- 
 gion, and that such only were punished 
 by the Inquisition." He had in his 
 pocket " Pomponius Mela de Situ Or- 
 bis," in which he read occasionally, and 
 seemed very intent upon ancient geogra- 
 phy. 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 
 
142 
 
 THE I-IFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 gave a shilling to the coachman, when 
 lUe 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 atiy 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 au- 
 thour had the misfortune to be blind, we 
 may be absolutely sure that such passages 
 are combinations of what he has remem- 
 bered of the works of other writers who 
 could see. That foolish fellow, Spence, 
 has laboured to explain philosophically 
 how Blacklock may have done, by means 
 of his own faculties, what it is impossible 
 he should do. The solution, as I have 
 given it, is plain. Suppose I know a 
 man to be so lame that he is absolutely 
 incapable to move himself, and I find 
 him in a different room from that in 
 which I left him ; shall I puzzle myself 
 with idle conjectures that, perhaps, his 
 nerves have by some unknown change 
 all at once become effective? No, sir, it 
 is clear how he got into a different room : 
 he was carried." 
 
 Having stopped a night at Colchester, 
 Johnson talked of that town with vene- 
 ration, for having stood a siege for Charles 
 the First. The Dutchman alone now 
 remained with us. He spoke English 
 tolerably well ; and thinking to recom- 
 mend 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 fcjrce a confession. But Johnson was 
 as ready for this as for the Inquisition. 
 '* Why, sir, you do not, 1 find, under- 
 stand the law of your own country. To 
 ' torture, in Holland, is considered as a 
 favour to an accused person ; for no njan 
 is put to the torture there, unless there is 
 as much evidence against him as would 
 amount to conviction in England. An 
 accused person among you, iherefo^e, 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 1 look upon it that he who 
 does not mind his belly will hardly mind 
 
 any thing else." He now appeared to 
 me Jean EuTt 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 cast- 
 ing the balance of his different opinions 
 upon this subject ; for I never knew any 
 man who relished good eating more tlian 
 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 ia- 
 tenseness that, while in the act of eating, 
 the veins of his forehead swelled, and 
 generally a strong perspiration was visi- 
 ble. To those whose sensations were 
 delicate, this could not but be disgusting ; 
 and it was doubtless not very suitable to 
 the character of a philosopher, who should 
 be distinguished by self-command. But 
 it must be owned that Johnson, though 
 he could be rigidly abstemious, was not 
 a temperate man either in eating or 
 drinking. He could refrain, but he could 
 not use moderately. He told me that he 
 had fasted two days without inconveni- 
 ence, and that he had never been hungry 
 but once. They who beheld with wonder 
 how much he eat upon all occasions when 
 his dinner was to his taste, could not 
 easily conceive what he must have meant 
 by hunger ; and not only was he remark- 
 able for the extraordinary quantity which 
 he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a 
 man of very nice discernment in the 
 science of cookery. He used to descant 
 critically on the dishes which had been 
 at table where he had dined or supped, 
 and to recollect very minutely what he 
 had liked. I remember when he was 
 in Scotland, his praising " Cordon's 
 palates" (a dish of palates at the Ho- 
 nourable Alexander Gordon's), with a 
 warmth of expression which might have 
 done honour to more important subjects. 
 " As for Maclaurin's imitation of ■dmad& 
 dish, it was a wretched attempt." He 
 about the same time was so much dis- 
 pleased with the performances of a noble- 
 man's French cook, tlrat he exclaimed 
 with vehemence, •' I'd throw such a 
 rascal into the river;" and he then pro- 
 ceeded to alarm a lady at whose house 
 he was to sup, by the following mani- 
 festo of his skill : " 1, madam, who live 
 at a variety of good tables, am a much 
 better judge of cookery than any persoa 
 
^TAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 143 
 
 who has a very tolerable cook, but lives 
 much at home ; for his palate is gradu- 
 ally 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 inti- 
 mate friend, he was not pleased if some- 
 thing better than a plain dinner was not 
 prepared for him. I liave heard him say 
 on such an occasion, " This was a good 
 dinner enough, to be suie ; 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 every thing, he pro- 
 nounced this eulogy ; " Sir, we could 
 not have had a belter dinner had there 
 been a Synod of Cooks." 
 
 While we were left by ourselves, after 
 the Dutchman had gone to bed, Dr. John- 
 sou talked of that studied behaviour which 
 many have recommended and practised. 
 He disapproved of it : and said, " I never 
 considered whether I should be a grave 
 man, or a merry man, but just let incli- 
 nation, 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 apprehen- 
 sions of unhappiness. A moth having 
 fluttered round the candle, and burnt 
 itself, he laid hold of this little incident 
 to admonish me ; saying, with a sly look, 
 and in a solemn but 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 
 baggage put on board, we dined at our 
 inn by ourselves. I happened to say it 
 would be terrible if he should not lind a 
 speedy opportunity of returning to Lon- 
 don, and be confined in so dull a place. 
 Johnson. " Don't, sir, accustom yourself 
 lo use big words for little matters. It 
 would not be terrible, though I were to 
 be detained some time here." The prac- 
 tice of using words of disproportionate 
 magnitude is, no doubt, too frequent every 
 where ; but I think most remarkable 
 among the French, of which, all who 
 have travelled in France must have been 
 struck with innumerable instances. 
 
 We went and looked at the church, 
 and having gone into it and walked up 
 to the altar, Johnson, whose piety was 
 constant and fervent, sent me to my 
 knees, saying, " Now that you are going 
 
 to leave your native country, recommend 
 yourself to the protection of your Creator 
 and Redeemer." 
 
 After we came out of the church, we 
 stood talking for some time together of 
 Bishop Berkeley's ingenious sophistry to 
 prove the nonexistence 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 re- 
 bounded from it, " I refute it thus *." 
 This was a stout exemplification of the 
 first truths of Pere Boujfier, or the 
 oriyinal principles of Reid and of Beat- 
 tie ; without admitting which, we can no 
 more argue in metaphysicks than we can 
 argue in mathematicks without axioms. 
 To me it is not conceivable how Berkeley 
 can be answered by pure reasoning ; but 
 I know that the nice and difficult task 
 was to have been undertaken by one of 
 the most luminous minds of the present 
 age, had not politicks " turned him from 
 calm philosophy aside." What an ad- 
 mirable display of subtilty, united with 
 brilliance, might his contending with 
 Berkeley h.ave atforded us ! How must 
 we, when we reflect on the loss of such 
 an intellectual feast, regret that he should 
 be characterized as the man 
 '* Who, boiii for the universe, narrow'd his 
 
 mind, 
 And lo party save up what was meant for 
 mankind." 
 
 My revered friend walked down with 
 me to the beach, where we embraced 
 and parted with tenderness, and engaged 
 to correspond by letters. I said, ** I 
 hope, sir, you will not forget me in my 
 absence." Johnson. " Nay, sir, it is 
 more likely you should foreet me than 
 that I should forget you." As the vessel 
 put out to sea, I kept my eyes upon him 
 for a considerable time, while he remained 
 rolling his majestick frame in his usual 
 manner ; and at last I perceived him walk 
 back into the town, and he disappeared. " 
 
 Utrecht seeming at first very dull to 
 me, after the animated scenes of London, 
 my spirits were grievously attected ; and 
 I wrote to Johnson a plaintive and de- 
 sponding letter, to which he paid no re- 
 
 * [Dr. Johnson seems to liave been imper- 
 fectly acquainted with Berkeley's doctrine; 
 as his experiment only proves that we have 
 the sensaiion of solidity, which Berkeley did 
 not deny. — lie admitted that we had sensations 
 or ideas that are usually called sensible qua- 
 lities, one of which is solidity : he only denied 
 the existence of vialter, i. e. an inert sense- 
 less substance, in which ihey are supposed to 
 subsist. — Johnson's exemplification concurs 
 with the vulgar notion, that solidity is matter. 
 K.J 
 
144 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gard. Afterwards, wlieq 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. 
 
 A Mr. Mr. Boswell, ct, la Cour de 
 VEmpereur, Utrecht. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' You are not to think yourself forgotten, 
 or criminally neglected, that you have 
 had yet no letter from me. I love to see 
 my friends, to hear from them, to talk 
 to them, and to talk of them ; but it is 
 not without a considerable effort of reso- 
 lution that I prevail upon myself to write. 
 I would not, however, gratify my own 
 indolence by the omission of any impor- 
 tant 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 kindness, topicks 
 with which those letters are commonly 
 filled which are written only for the sake 
 of writing, I seldom shall think worth 
 communicating; but if I can have it in 
 my power to calm any harassing disquiet, 
 to excite any virtuous desire, to rectify 
 any important opinion, or fortify any 
 generous resolution, you need not doubt 
 but I shall at least wish to prefer the 
 pleasure of gratifying a friend much less 
 esteemed than yourself, before tlie gloomy 
 calm of idle vacancy. Whether I shall 
 easily arrive at an exact punctuality of 
 correspondence, I cannot tell. I shall, 
 at present, expect that you will receive 
 this in return for two which I have had 
 fiom you. The first, indeed, gave me 
 an account so hopeless of the state of 
 your mind that it hardly admitted or 
 deserved an answer ; by the second I 
 was much better pleased ; and the plea- 
 sure will still be increased by such a 
 narrative of the progress of your studies 
 as may evince the continuance of an 
 equal and rational application of your 
 mind to some useful 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 as a question whether 
 you shall endeavour to know the will of 
 God. 
 
 ** I shall, therefore, consider only such 
 studies as we are at liberty to pursue or 
 to neglect; and of these I know not how 
 you will make a better choice than by 
 studying the civil law as your father ad- 
 vises, and the ancient languages, as you 
 had determined for yourself; at least 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 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 vacil- 
 lation of a mind suspended between dif- 
 ferent 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 pre- 
 dominant any wish for some particular 
 excellence or attainment, the gusts of 
 imagination will break away, without 
 any effect upon your conduct, and com- 
 monly without any traces left upon the 
 memory. 
 
 " There lurks, perhaps, in every human 
 heart a desire of distinction, which in- 
 clines every man first to hope, and then 
 to believe, that nature has given him 
 something peculiar to himself. This 
 vanity makes one mind nurse aversion, 
 and another actuate desires, till they rise 
 by art much above their original state of 
 power ; and as affectation in time im- 
 proves to habit, they at last tyrannise 
 over him who at first encouraged them 
 only for show. Every desire is a viper 
 in the bosom, who, while he was chill, 
 was harmless ; but when warmth gave 
 him strength, exerted it in poison. You 
 know a gentleman, who, when first he 
 set his foot in the gay world, as he pre- 
 pared 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 tenjper 
 and a quick apprehension. Vacant to 
 every object, and sensible of every im- 
 pulse, he thought that all appearance of 
 diligence would deduct something from 
 the reputation of genius ; and hoped that 
 he should appear to attain, amidst all the 
 ease of carelessness, and all the tumult 
 of diversion, that knowledge and those 
 accomplishments which mortals of the 
 common fabrick obtain only by mute 
 abstraction and solitary drudgery. He 
 tried this scheme of life awhile, was 
 made weary of it by his sense and his 
 virtue ; he then wished to return to his 
 studies : and finding long habits of idle- 
 ness and pleasure harder to be cured than 
 he expected, still willing to retain his 
 claim to some extraordinary prerogatives, 
 resolved the common consequences of 
 irregularity into an unalterable decree of 
 destiny, and concluded that Nature had 
 originally formed him incapable of ra- 
 tional employment. 
 
 " Let all such fancies, illusive and de- 
 structive, be banished henceforward from 
 your thoughts for ever. Resolve, and 
 keep your resolution ; choose, and pursue 
 your choice. If you spend this day in 
 
iilTAT. 54. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 145 
 
 study, you will find yourself still'more able 
 to study to-morrow ; not that you are to 
 expect that you shall at once obtain a 
 complete victory. Depravity is not very 
 easily overcome. Resolution will some- 
 times relax, and diligence will sometimes 
 be interrupted ; but let no accidental sur- 
 prise or deviation, whether short or long, 
 dispose you to despondency. Consider 
 these failings as incident to all man- 
 kind. Begin again where you left off, 
 and endeavour to avoid the seducements 
 that prevailed over you before. 
 
 " This, my dear Boswell, is advice 
 which, perhaps, has been often given 
 you, and given you without effect. But 
 this advice, if you will not take from 
 others, you must take from your own 
 reflections, if you propose to do the 
 duties of the station to which the bounty 
 of Providence has called you. 
 
 ** Let me have a long letter from you 
 as soon as you can. I hope you continue 
 your journal, and enrich it with many 
 observations upon the country in which 
 you reside. It will be a favour if you 
 can get me any books in the Frisick 
 language, and can inquire how the poor 
 are maintained in the Seven Provinces. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Dec. 8, 1763." 
 
 I am sorry to observe, that neither in 
 my own minutes, nor in my letters to 
 Johnson which have been preserved by 
 him, can I tind 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 
 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 certain 
 
 groofofwhich is their deficiency of books. 
 >f the old Frisick there are no remains, 
 except some ancient laws preserved by 
 Schotanus in his ' Beschryvinye van 
 die Heerlykheid van Friesland ;* and 
 his * Historia Frisica.' I have not yet 
 been able to find these books. Professor 
 Trotz, who formerly was of the University 
 of Vranyken in Friesland, and is at pre- 
 sent 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 
 specimen. It is * Gisbert Japix's Ey- 
 melerie,' 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 
 to country people. You shall have Jairix 
 
 by the first convenient opportunity. I 
 doubt not to pick up Schotanus. Myti- 
 heer Trotz has promised me his assist- 
 ance." 
 
 Early in 1764 Johnson paid a visit to 
 the Langton family, at their seat of Lang- 
 ton in Lincolnshire, where he passed 
 some time much to his satisfaction. His 
 friend Bennet Langton, it will not be 
 doubted, did every thing in his power to 
 make the place agreeable to so illustrious 
 a guest ; and the elder Mr. Langton and 
 his lady, being fully capable of under- 
 standing his value, were not wanting in 
 attention. He, however, told me, that 
 old Mr. Langton, though a man of con- 
 siderable learning, had so little allowance 
 to make for his occasional *' laxity of 
 talk," that because in the course of dis- - 
 cussion 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 neighbour- 
 hood. 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 respect- 
 able clergyman in Lincolnshire, he ob- 
 served, " This man, sir, tills 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 for neglecting social 
 attention to worthy neighbours, by saying 
 " I would go to them if it would do them 
 any good ;" he said, *' What good, ma- 
 dam, do you expect to have in your 
 power to do them? It is showing them 
 respect, and that is doing them good." 
 
 So socially accommodating was he that 
 once when Mr. Langton and he were 
 driving together in a coach, and Mr. 
 Langton complained of being sick, he 
 insisted that they should go out, and sit 
 on the back of it in the open air, which 
 they did. And being sensible how strange 
 the appearance must be, observed, that 
 a countryman whom they saw in a field 
 would probably be thinking, " If these 
 two madmen should come down, what 
 would become of me 1" 
 
 Soon after his return to London, which 
 was in February, was founded that Club 
 which existed long without a name, but 
 at Mr. Ganick's funeral became distin- > 
 gnishod by the title of The Literary Club. — \ 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds had the merit of 
 being the first proposer of it, to which 
 Johnson acceded, and the original mem- 
 bers were. Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. 
 Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burke, Dr. Nu- 
 
146 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17Cvl. 
 
 gent, Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Dr. 
 Goldsmith, Mr. Chamier, and Sir JoKli 
 Hawkins. They met at the Turk's Head, 
 in Gerrard Street, Soho, one evening in 
 every week, at seven, and generally con- 
 tinued their conversation till a pretty late 
 hour. This club has been gradually in- 
 creased to its present number, thirty-five. 
 After about ten years, instead of supping 
 weekly, it was resolved to dine together 
 once a fortnight during the meeting of 
 Parliament. Their original tavern having 
 been converted into a private house, they 
 moved first to Prince's in Sackville Street, 
 then to Le Teliei^'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 fol- 
 lowing persons, now dead, were members 
 of it : Mr. Dunning (afterwards Lord 
 Ashburton), Mr. Samuel Dyer, Mr. Gar- 
 rick, Dr. Shipley Bishop of St. Asaph, 
 Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas Warton, and 
 Dr. Adam Smith. The present mem- 
 bers are Mr. Burke, Mr. Langton, Lord 
 Charlemont, Sir Robert Chambers, Dr. 
 Percy Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Barnard 
 Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Marlay Bishop 
 of Clonfert, Mr. Fox, Dr. George For- 
 dyce, Sir William Scott, Sir Joseph 
 Banks, Sir Charles Bunbury, Mr. Wind- 
 ham of Norfolk, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. 
 Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colman, 
 Mr. Steevens, Dr. Burney, Dr. Joseph 
 Warton, Mr, Malone, Lord Ossory, Lord 
 Spencer, Lord Lucan, Lord Palmerston, 
 Lord Eliot, Lord Macartney, Mr. Richard 
 Burke, junior, Sir William Hamilton, 
 Dr. Warren, Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hinch- 
 cliff'e Bishop of Peterborough, the Duke 
 of Leeds, Dr. Douglas Bishop of Salis- 
 bury, and the writer of this account f. 
 
 * [The second e<lition is here spoken of. M.J 
 + [The Literary Club has since heen de- 
 prived by death of tlie authoiir of this work, 
 iNlr. Biirke, iiis son Mr. Richard Burke, Mr. 
 Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colman, Dr. 
 Warren, Dr. Hinchliffc Bishop of Peierbo- 
 roufih, the Duke of Leeds, the Earl of Lucan, 
 James Enrl of Charlemont, Mr. Steeven*, Dr. 
 Warion, Mr. L^in^ion, Lord Palmerston, Dr. 
 Fordyce, Dr. Marlay Bisiiop of Waterford, 
 Sir William Hamilton, Sir Robtrt Chambers, 
 Lord Eliot, Lord Macartney, the Kev. Dr. 
 Farmer, and the Marquis of Bath. The t«o 
 persons last named were chosen members of 
 It after the above Hccount was written. It has 
 since that lime acquired Sir Charles Blaifden, 
 Al.ijor Reniifl, the Honourable Frederick 
 North, the Riirhi Honourable George Canning, 
 Mr. Mursdcn, the Right Honourable J. H. 
 I'rere, the Ri^ht Honourable Thomas Gren- 
 ville, the Reverend Dr. Vincent Dean of West- 
 minster, Mr. William Locke, jun. Mr. George 
 Ellis, Lord Miiito, Dr. French Lawrence, the 
 Ri^ht Honourable Sir William Grant Master 
 Ml the Rolls, Sir Georffe Staunton, Bart, Ur. 
 Ilorsl.-y Bishop of St. Asaph. Mr. Charles 
 Wilkiiis, the Riirht HonourableWilliam Druni- 
 i:)..ii'l, an. I llci.rv Vatiijliaii, M. D. M ] 
 
 Sir John Hawkins* represents himself 
 as a " seceder" from this society, and 
 assigns as the reason of his " withdraw- 
 iny" himself from it, that its late hours 
 were inconsistent with his domestick ar- 
 rangements. 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 dis- 
 pleasure ; and at the next meeting their 
 reception was such that he never came 
 againf. 
 
 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 butfoonery ;' — and after- 
 wards so managed matters that he was 
 never formally proposed, and, by conse- 
 quence, never admitted j." 
 
 In justice both to Mr. Garrick and 
 Dr. Johnson, I think it necessary ta 
 rectify this misstatement. The truth is, 
 that not very long after the institution 
 of our club, Sir Joshua Reynolds was 
 speaking of it to Garrick. " I like it 
 much (said he); I think I shall be of 
 you." When Sir Joshua mentioned this 
 to Dr. Johnson, he was much displeased 
 with the actor's conceit. " He'll be of 
 us (said Johnson), how does he know 
 we will permit him? The first Duke in 
 England has no right to hold such lan- 
 guage." However, when Garrick was 
 regularly proposed soiTie time afterwards, 
 Johnson, though he had taken a momen- 
 tary offence at his arrogance, warmly 
 and kindly supported him, and he was 
 accordingly elected §, was a most agree- 
 able member, and continued to attend 
 our meetings to the time of his death. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzijl, has also given a similar 
 misrepresentation of Johnson's treatment 
 of Garrick in this particular, as if he had 
 used these contemptuous expressions : 
 " If Garrick does apply, I'll black-ball 
 him. — Surely one ought to sit in a society 
 like ours, 
 ' Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.* ^ 
 
 I am happy to be enabled by such 
 unquestionable authority as that of Sir 
 
 * Life of Johnson, p. 423. 
 
 t iToni Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 [The Knipfht havina; refused to pay his por- 
 tion of the reckoning for sH|)per, because he 
 U'^iially eat no sujipir at home, Ji hnson ob- 
 served, " Sir John, sir, is a. very xniclububle 
 man." B.J 
 
 t Life of Johnson, p. 425. 
 
 \ [Mr. Ganick was elected in March, 1773. 
 
 \\ Letters lo and from Dr. Johnson. VoU ii. 
 
 p.a78. 
 
/Etat. 55. THE LIFE OF 
 
 Joshua Reynolds, as well as from my 
 own knowledge, to vindicate at once the 
 heart of Johnson and the social merit of 
 Garrick. 
 
 In this year, except what he may have 
 done in revising Shakspeare, we do not 
 find that he laboured much in literature. 
 He wrote a review of Grainger's " Sugar 
 Cane," a poem, in the London Chronicle. 
 He told me that Dr. Percy wrote the 
 greatest part of this review ; but, I ima- 
 gine, he did not recollect it distinctly, 
 for it appears to be mostly, if not alto- 
 gether his own. He also wrote in the 
 Critical Review an account f6j of Gold- 
 smith's excellent poem, " The Traveller." 
 
 The ease and independence to which 
 ^he had at last attained by royal munifi- 
 cence increased his natural indolence. 
 In his " Meditations" he thus accuses 
 himself: " Good Friday, April 20, 1764. 
 I have made no reformation ; I have 
 lived totally useless, more sensual in 
 thought, and more addicted to wine and 
 meat *." 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 negli- 
 gence. My thoughts have been clouded 
 with sensuality ; and, except that from 
 the beginning of this year I have, in 
 some measure, forborne excess of strong 
 drink, my appetites have predominated 
 over my reason. A kind of strange 
 oblivion has overspread me, so that I 
 know not what has become of the last 
 year; and perceive that incidents and 
 intelligence pass over me without leaving 
 any impression." He then solemnly says, 
 •* This is not the life to which heaven is 
 promised t;" and he earnestly resolves 
 an amendment. 
 
 It was his custom to observe certain 
 days with a pious abstraction : viz. New- 
 year's day, the day of his wife's death. 
 Good Friday, Easter-day, and his own 
 birthday. He this year says, " I have 
 now spent fifty-five years in resolving; 
 having, from the earliest time almost that 
 I can remember, been forming schemes 
 of a better life. I have done nothing. 
 The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, 
 since the time of doing is short. O God, 
 grant me to resolve aright, and to keep 
 my resolutions, for Jesus Christ's sake. 
 Amenj." Such a tenderness of con- 
 scieiice, such a fervent desire of improve- 
 ment Will rarely be found. It is, surely, 
 not decent in those who are hardened in 
 indifference to spiritual improvement, to 
 treat this pious anxiety of Johnson with 
 contempt. 
 
 About this time he was afflicted with 
 a very severe return of the hypochon- 
 * Prayers and Meditations, p. 53. 
 t Ibid. p. .51. ; Ibid. p. 584. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 147 
 
 driack disorder, which was ever lurking 
 about him. He was so ill as, notwith- 
 standing 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, groan- 
 ing, talking to himself, and restlessly- 
 walking from room to room. He then 
 used this emphatical expression of the" 
 misery which he felt : " I would consent 
 to have a limb amputated to recover my 
 spirits." 
 
 Talking to himself was, indeed, one of 
 his singularities ever since I knew him. 
 I was certain that he was frequently ut- 
 tering pious ejaculations ; for fragments 
 of the Lord's Prayer have been distinctly 
 overheard §. His friend Mr. Thomas 
 Davies, of whom Churchill says, 
 
 " That Davies hath a very pretty wife,—" 
 when Dr. Johnson muttered " lead us 
 not into temptation," used with waggish W 
 and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. Da- 
 vies, " You, my dear, are the cause of 
 this." 
 
 He had another particularity, of which 
 none of his friends even ventured to ask 
 an explanation. It appeared to me some 
 superstitious habit which he had con- 
 tracted early, and from which he had 
 never called upon his reason to disen- 
 tangle him. This was his anxious care 
 to go out or in at a door or passage, by a. 
 certain number of steps from a certain ' 
 point, or at least so as that either his 
 right or his left foot (I am not certain 
 which), should constantly make the first 
 actual movement when he came close to 
 the door or passage. Thus I conjecture : 
 for I have, upon innumerable occasions, 
 observed him suddenly stop, and then 
 seem to count his steps with a deep 
 earnestness; and when he had neglected 
 or gone wrong in this sort of magical 
 movement I have seen him go back again, 
 put himself in a proper posture to begin 
 the ceremony, and, having gone through 
 it, break from his abstraction, walk 
 briskly on, and join his companion. A 
 strange instance of something of this 
 
 § [It used to be imagined at Mr. Thrale's, 
 wiieu Johnson retired to a window or corner 
 of the room, by perceiving his lips in motion, 
 iind hearing a raiirmnr without amlibie arti- 
 culation, that he was praying; but this was 
 nor ahcays the case, for 1 was once, perhaps 
 unperoeived by him, writing at a table, so 
 near the place of his retreat that I heard him 
 repeating some lines in an ode of Horace, 
 over and over again, as if by iteration, to 
 exerci!?e the organs of speech and fix the ode 
 in his memory : 
 
 Audiet cives acuisse ferrnm 
 
 Quo graces Fersa; melius perireiit 
 
 Audiet pugnas 
 
 , It was during the American War. B J 
 
148 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1765. 
 
 nature, even when on horseback, hap- 
 pened when he was in the isle of Sky*. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds has observed him 
 to go a good way about rather tiian cross 
 a particular alley in Leicester Fields; 
 but this Sir Joshua imputed to his having 
 had some disagreeable recollection asso- 
 ciated with it. 
 
 That the most minute singularities 
 which belonged to him, and made very 
 observable parts of his appearance and 
 manner, may not be omitted, it is requi- 
 site to mention that while talking or even 
 musing as he sat in his chair, he com- 
 monly held his head to one side towards 
 his right shoulder, and shook it in a tre- 
 mulous manner, moving his body back- 
 wards and forwards, and rubbing his left 
 knee in the same direction with the palm 
 of his hand. In the intervals of articu- 
 lating 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 protruding it against his upper 
 gums in front, as if pronouncing quickly 
 under his breath, too, too, too ; all this 
 accompanied sometimes with a thought- 
 ful look, but more frequently with a 
 smile. Generally when he had concluded 
 a period, in the course of a dispute, by 
 which time he was a good deal exhausted 
 by violence and vociferation, he used to 
 blow out his breath like a whale. This 
 I 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 opponent fly like 
 chaff before the wind. 
 
 I am fully aware how very obvious an 
 occasion I here give for the sneering jo- 
 cularity of such as have no relish of an 
 exact likeness ; which to render com- 
 plete, he who draws it must not disdain 
 the slightest strokes. But if witlings 
 should be inclined to attack this account, 
 let them have the candour to quote what 
 I have offered in my defence. 
 
 He was for some time in the summer 
 at Easton Mandit, Northamptonshire, on 
 a visit to the Reverend Dr. Percy, now 
 Jiishop of Dromore. Whatever dissatis- 
 faction he felt at what he considered as 
 a slow progress in intellectual improve- 
 ment, we find that his heart was tender 
 and his attections warm, as appears from 
 the following very kind letter: 
 
 " TO JOSHUA REYNOLDS, ESg. IN LEICESTER 
 FIELLS, LOMX>N. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I DID not hear of your sickness till I 
 lieard likewise of your recovery, and 
 
 * Journal of a Tour to tlieHehrides, 3d edit. 
 p. 3i6. 
 
 therefore escape that part of your pain 
 which every man must feel to whom you 
 are known as you are known to me. 
 
 " Having had no particular account of 
 your disorder, I know not in what state 
 it has left you. If the amusement of my 
 company can exhilarate the languor of a 
 slow recovery, I will not delay a day to 
 come to you ; for I know not how I can 
 so efifectually 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 your- 
 self, or from dear Miss Reynolds f. Make 
 my compliments to Mr. Mudge. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 ** And most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 '< At ilie Rev. Mr. Percy's, at Easton 
 Maudit, Northamptonshire (by Castle 
 Ashby), Aug. 19, 1764." 
 
 Early in the year 1765 he paid a short 
 visit to the University of Cambridge, 
 with his friend Mr. Beauclerk. There 
 is a lively picturesque account of his 
 behaviour on this visit, in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine for March, 1785, being an ex- 
 tract of a letter from the late Dr. John 
 Sharpe. The two following sentences 
 are very characteristical : " He drank 
 his large potations of tea with me, inter- 
 rupted by many an indignant contradic- 
 tion 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. Macauley to the very 
 skin, then gave her for his toast, and 
 drank her in two bumpers." 
 
 The strictness of his self-examination 
 and scrupulous Christian humility appear 
 in his pious meditations on Easter-day 
 this year. — " I purpose again to partake 
 of the blessed sacrament ; yet when I 
 consider how vainly I have hitherto re- 
 solved, at this annual commemoration of 
 my Saviour's death, to regulate my life 
 by his laws, I am almost afraid to renew 
 my resolutions." 
 
 The concluding words arc very remark- 
 able, and show that he laboured under a 
 severe depression of spirits. ** Since the 
 last Easter I have reformed no evil habit ; 
 my time has been unprofitable spent, and 
 seems as a dream that has left nothing 
 behind. My nionory grows confused, 
 and J know not how the days pass over 
 me. Good Lord, deliver mej!" 
 
 + Sir Joshuii'fi sister, for whom Johnson hart 
 a particular affection, and to whom ht; wrote 
 many letters which I have seen, and which I 
 am sorry her too iiiee delicacy will not pei- 
 mit to be published. 
 
 t Prayers an<l Meditations, p. 61. 
 
;Etat. 56. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 No man was more gratefully sensible 
 of any kindness done to him than John- 
 son. There is a little circumstance in his 
 diary this year, which shows 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 an 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-live 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 prcesentes 
 litercB pervenerint, salutem. ]Vos Prce- 
 positus et Socii Seniores Collegii sacro- 
 sanctce et individuce Trinitatis Regince 
 ElizahethcB juxta Dublin, testamur, 
 Samueli Johnson, Armigero, oh egre- 
 glam scriptorum elegantium et utili- 
 tatem, gratiam concessam fuisse pro 
 gradu Doctoratiis in utroque Jure, 
 octavo die Julii, Anno Domini mille- 
 simo septingentesimo sexagesimo quinto. 
 In cujus rei testimonium, singulorum 
 manus et sigillum quo in hisce utimur 
 apposuimus ; vicesimo tertio die Julii, 
 Anno Domini millesimo septingentesi- 
 mo sexagesimo quinto. 
 GuL. Clement. Fran. An- R. Murray. 
 Tho. Wilson. drews. RoBtns Law. 
 Tho. I.eland. Praps. Mich. Kearney." 
 
 This unsolicited mark of distinction, 
 conferred on so great a literary character, 
 did much honour to the judgment and 
 liberal spirit of that learned body. John- 
 son acknowledged the favour in a letter 
 to Dr. Leland, one of their number; but 
 I have not been able to obtain a copy of 
 it*. 
 
 * [Since the publication of the edition in 
 1804, a copy of this letter has been obliginsrly 
 communicated to me by John Leland, Esq. 
 son to the learned Historian to whom it is 
 atklressed : 
 
 " TO THE REV. DR. LELAND. 
 " SIR, 
 
 "Among the names subscribed to the degree 
 which I have had the honour of receivina^ from 
 the university ot Dublin, I find none ofvvhich 
 I have -.my personal knowledge but tho^e 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 1 flatter 
 
 149 
 
 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 politicks. His" Prayer 
 before the Study of Law" is truly ad- 
 mirable : 
 
 " Sept. 26, 1765. 
 
 "Almighty God, the giver of wisdom, 
 without whose help resolutions are vain, 
 without whose blessing study is ineffec- 
 tual ; 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 contentions ; and grant that I 
 may use that knowledge which I shall 
 attain to thy glory and my own salvation, 
 for Jesus Christ's sake. Amenf." 
 
 His prayer in the view of becoming a 
 politician is entitled, ** Engaging in Po- 
 liticks with H n." No doubt, his 
 
 friend, the Right Honourable 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 un- 
 willing 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 
 what particular department he intended 
 to engage does not appear, nor can 
 Mr. Hamilton explain. His prayer is 
 in general terms : " Enlighten my un- 
 derstanding with knowledge of right, and 
 govern my will by thy laws, that no de- 
 ceit may mislead me, nor temptation 
 corrupt me; that I may always endeavour 
 to do good, and hinder evil J." There is 
 nothing upon the subject in his diary. 
 
 This year was distinguished by his 
 being introduced into the family of Mr. 
 Tlirale, one of the most eniinenf 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 considerable consequence. In this 
 
 nivself that I owe much of the pleasure which 
 th'is distim-tion gives me to your concurrence 
 with Dr. Andrews in recommending me to 
 the learned society. 
 
 " Having desired the Provost to return my 
 general thanks to the University, 1 beg that 
 you, sir, will accept my particular and imme- 
 diate acknowledgments. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 '* Your most obedient and humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 London, Oct. 17, 1765." 
 
 I have not been able to recover the letter 
 which Johnson wrote to Dr. Andrews on this 
 occasion. M.] 
 
 t Prayers and Meditations, p. 66, 
 
 I Ibid. p. 67. 
 
150 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1765. 
 
 great commercial country it is natural 
 that a situation which produces much 
 wealth should be considered as very re- 
 spectable ; 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 dis- 
 tinction by birth and gentility which has 
 ever been found beneficial to the grand 
 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 a 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, 
 H sensible, active, and honest man, who 
 had been employed in the house, and to 
 transfer the whole to him for thirty thou- 
 sand pounds, security being taken upon 
 the property. This was accordingly set- 
 tled. In eleven years Thrale paid the 
 purchase money. He acquired a large 
 fortune, and lived to be a member of 
 Parliament for South vvarkf. 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 pro- 
 cured him from the nobleman who had 
 married his master's daughter made him 
 be treated with much attention ; and his 
 son, both at school and at the University 
 of Oxford, associated with young men of 
 the first rank. His allowance from his 
 father, after he left college, 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 
 
 * [The predecessor of old Tiiraie was Ed- 
 mund Halsey, Esq. the nobleman who married 
 his dauehter was Lord Cobham, gre-At uncle 
 of the Marquis of Buckingham. But. I believe, 
 Dr. Johnson was mistaken in assipninp so very 
 low an origin to Mr. Thrale. The clerk of 
 St. Albans, a very aired man. told nie tlmt he 
 (the elder Thrale) married a sister of Mr. 
 flalsey. It is at least certain ihat the family 
 of Thrale was of some consideration in that 
 town : in the abbey church is a handsome 
 monument to the memory of Mr. John Thrale, 
 late of London, Merchant, who died in 1704, 
 a^ed 54, Margaret, his wife, and ihreeof tluMr 
 children who died young between the years 
 1676 and ir,90. The arms upon this monument 
 are paly of eight, gules and or, impaling, er- 
 mine, on a chief indented vert, three wolves' 
 (or gryphons') heads, or, couped at the neck : 
 —Crest on a ducal coronet, a tree, vert. J. B.J 
 
 t rin 1733 he served the office of HiRh Sheriff" 
 for Surrey ; and died April 9, 1758. A. C] 
 
 am gone as he expects, let him remember 
 that he has had a great deal in my own 
 time.' " 
 
 The son, though in affluent circum- 
 stances, 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 be done by fair trade 
 in a long period of time. 
 
 There may be some who think that a 
 new system of gentility j might be esta- 
 blished 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 founded upon fero- 
 cious 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 
 connected with elevation and precedency, 
 would obtain the same dignity in our 
 imagination? Why should not the know- 
 ledge, the skill, the expertness, the as- 
 siduity, and the spirited hazards of trade 
 and commerce, when crowned with suc- 
 cess, be entitled to give those flattering 
 distinctions by which mankind are so 
 universally captivated? 
 
 Such are the specious, but false, argu- 
 ments 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 yentiUiomme est toujours gentil- 
 hommc." 
 
 Mr. Thrale had married Miss Hesther 
 Lynch Salusbury,of good Welsh extrac- 
 tion, a lady of lively talents, improved 
 by education. That Johnson's introduc- 
 tion into Mr. Thrale's family, which 
 
 t Mrs. Burney informs me that she heard 
 Dr. Johnson say, " An English Merchant is a 
 new species of Gentlemaji." FJe, perhaps, had 
 in his mind die following ingenious passage 
 in "The Conscious Lovers," Act iv. Scene li. 
 where Mr. Sealand thus addresses Sir John 
 Bevil ; "Give me leave to say tiiat we mer- 
 chants are aspeciesof gentry that havegiown 
 into the world tliis last century, and iire as 
 honourable, and almost as useful as you landed 
 folks that have always thought yourselves so 
 much above us ; for your trading forsooth is 
 extended no farther than a load of hay. or a 
 fat ox.— You are pleasant people indeed ! be- 
 cause you arc generally bred up to be lazy ; 
 therefore. 1 warrant jou, industry is disho- 
 nourable.'' 
 
JEiXT. 56. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 151 
 
 contributed so much to the happiness of 
 his life, was owiiig 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. aiKl Mrs. Thraile, and they so 
 much pleased with him, that his invita- 
 tions to their house were more and more 
 frequent, till at last he became one of the 
 family, and an apartment was appropri- 
 ated to him, both in their house at South- 
 wark and in their villa at Streatham. 
 
 Johnson had a very sincere esteem for 
 Mr. Thrale, as a man of excellent prin- 
 ciples, a good scholar, well skilled in 
 trade, of a sound understanding, and of 
 manners such as presented the character 
 of a plain independent English squire. 
 As this family will frequently be men- 
 tioned in the course of the following 
 pages, and as a false notion has prevailed 
 that Mr. Thrale was inferiour, and in 
 some degree insignificant, 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 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 attainments. 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 representa- 
 tion of the figures of this couple. Mr. 
 Thraie was tiill, well proportioned, and 
 stately. As for Madam, or mt/ Mistress, 
 by which epithets Johnson used to men- 
 tion 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 : 
 **_Yon little creatures should never wear 
 those sort of clothes, however ; they are 
 unsuitable in every way. What ! have 
 not all insects gay colours * 1" 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 Johnson without 
 rem^sion, from their first acquaintance 
 to th)p 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 ho- 
 noured with the attention of so celebrated 
 a man. 
 
 * Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, p. 279. 
 
 Nothing could be more fortunate for 
 Johnson than this connection. He had 
 at Mr. Thrale's all the comforts and even 
 luxuries of life ; his melancholy was 
 diverted, and his irregular habits lessened 
 by association 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 ex- 
 ertion, 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 enjoyment, 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 his 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 can- 
 didly 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 considered, and im- 
 partial opinion of the judge, which falls 
 from his lips with weight, and is received 
 with reverence. What he did as a com- 
 mentator 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 criticks who have followed him. 
 He has enriched his edition with a concise 
 account of each play, and of its charac- 
 teristick excellence. Many of his notes 
 
 t [From a letter written by Dr. Jolmson to 
 Dr. Joseph Waiton, the day after the publi- 
 cation oi" his Sliakspeaie- Oct. 9, 1765, (See 
 Wool's Memoirs of Dr. Warton, 4to. 1606) it 
 appears that Johnson spent some time with 
 that gentleman at Winchester in this year. 
 In a letter written by Dr. Warton to Mr. 
 Thomas Warton, not lone; afterwards (January 
 28, 1706), is a paragraph which may throw 
 some lightonvariouspassagesin Dr. Warion's 
 edition of Pope, relative to Johnson: — " I 
 only dined with Johnson, who seemed cold 
 and indifferent, and srarce said any thing; 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." The letter 
 here alluded to, it is believed, has not been 
 |)reserved : at least, it does not apoear in the 
 collection above referred to. M.] 
 
152 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1765. 
 
 have illustrated obscurities in the text, 
 and placed passages eminent for beauty 
 in a more conspicuous light; and he has, 
 ill general, exhibited such a mode of an- 
 notation as may be beneficial to all sub- 
 .sequent editors. 
 
 His Shakspearewas 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 so little regard to 
 decency, and principles, and decorum, 
 and in so hasty a manner that his repu- 
 tation 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. Johnson observed, " Sir, he 
 is one of the many who have made them- 
 selves publick 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 intention, he kindly noticed him, 
 and probably would have done more had 
 not the young man died. 
 
 In his Preface to Shakspeare Johnson 
 treated Voltaire very contemptuously, 
 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 nu- 
 merous literary sallies which I remember 
 to have read ; but there being no general 
 index to his voluminous works I have 
 searched in vain, and therefore cannot 
 quote it. 
 
 Voltaire was an antagonist with whom 
 I thought Johnson should not disdain to 
 contend. I pressed him to answer. He 
 said, he perhaps might ; but he never did. 
 
 Mr. Burney having occasion to write 
 to Johnson for some receipts for subscrip- 
 tions to his Shakspeare, which Johnson 
 had omitted tq deliver when the money 
 was paid, he availed himself of that op- 
 portunity of thanking Johnson for the 
 great pleasure which he had received 
 from the perusal of his Preface to Shak- 
 speare; which, although it excited much 
 clamour against him at first, is now 
 justly ranked among the most excellent 
 of his writings. To this letter Johnson 
 returned the following answer : 
 
 " TO CHARLES BURNEY, ESQ. IN POLAND 
 STREET. 
 ''SIR, 
 
 " I AM sorry that your kindness to me 
 tias 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 excel- 
 lences. He that claims, either in himself 
 or for another, the honours of perfection 
 will surely injure the reputation which 
 he designs to assist. 
 
 " Be pleased to make my compliments 
 to your family. I am, siu, 
 ** Your most obliged, 
 
 *' And most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Oct. 16, 1765. 
 
 From one of his Journals I transcribed 
 what follows: 
 
 " At church, Oct. — 65. 
 
 ** To avoid all singularity ; Bonaven- 
 tura *. 
 
 '* To come in before service, and com- 
 pose my mind by meditation, or by read- 
 ing some portions of Scripture. Tetty. 
 
 " If I can hear the sermon, to attend 
 it, unless attention be more troublesome 
 than useful. 
 
 " To consider the act of prayer as a 
 reposal of myself upon God, and a resig- 
 nation of all into his holy hand." 
 
 In 1764 and 1765 it should seem that 
 Dr. Johnson was so busily employed with 
 his edition of Shakspeare as to have had 
 little leisure for any other literary exer- 
 tion, or, indeed, even for private corres- 
 pondence. He did not favour me with a 
 single letter for more than two years, for 
 which it will appear that he afterwards 
 apologized. 
 
 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. John- 
 son. — 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 men- 
 tioned, 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 be- 
 stowed, have escaped my inquiries. He 
 told me, a great many years ago, " he 
 believed he had dedicated to all the 
 Royal Family round; and it was indif- 
 ferent to him what was the subject of the 
 work dedicated, provided it were inno- 
 cent. He once dedicated some Musick 
 for the German Flute to Edward, Duke 
 of York. In writing many dedications 
 
   He wa« probably proposing: to himself 
 ihe model of this excf-llenl person, who for 
 his piely was named The Seraphick Doctor. 
 
.^TAT. 56. 
 
 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 any thing worthy of communicating. 
 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 ; and a short time before his 
 death was attentive enough to seal them 
 up in bundles, and order them to be 
 delivered to me, which was accordingly 
 done. Amongst them I found one, of 
 which I 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 enthusi'ism. 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 an- 
 swer, which I found on my arrival at 
 Paris. 
 
 A Mr. Mr. Boswell, cTiez Mr, Wa- 
 ters, Banquiery d, Paris. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Apologies are seldom of any 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 hear 
 you ; and hope that we shall not be so 
 long separated again. Come 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 wil- 
 lingly lessen the pleasure that any novelty 
 may give you at your return. I am afraid 
 we shall find it difficult to keep among us 
 a mind which has been so long feasted 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 153 
 
 with variety. But let us try what esteem 
 and kindness can effect. 
 
 " As your father's liberality has in- 
 dulged 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 much 
 who enters life with the expectation of 
 finding many friends. Upon some mo- 
 tive, 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." 
 ** Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 January 14, 17G6. 
 
 I returned to London in February, and 
 found Dr. Johnson in a good house iu 
 Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, in which 
 he had accommodated Miss Williams 
 with an apartment on the ground floor, 
 while Mr. Levett occupied his post in 
 the garret: his faithful Francis was still 
 attending upon him. He received me 
 with much kindness. The fragments of 
 our first conversation, which I have pre- 
 served, are these : I told him that Voltaire, 
 in a conversation with me, had distin- 
 guished Pope and Dryden thus : — " Pope 
 drives a handsome chariot, with a couple 
 of neat trim nags ; Dryden a 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 Gold- 
 smitii's " Traveller," which had been 
 published in my absence, ** There has 
 not been so fine a poem since Pope's 
 time." 
 
 And here it is proper to settle, with 
 authentick precision, what has long floated 
 in publick report, as to Johnson's being 
 himself the authour of a considerable part 
 of that poem. Much, no doubt, both of 
 the sentiments and expression were de- 
 rived from conversation with him ; and 
 it was certainly submitted to his friendly 
 
 * It is remarkable that Mr. Gray has era- 
 ployed somewhat the same image to charac- 
 terize Dryden. He, indeed, furnishes his car 
 with but two horses J but they are of " ethe- 
 real race ;" 
 " Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous 
 
 car. 
 Wide o'er the fields of srlory bear 
 Two coursers of ethereal rare, 
 With necks in thunder clothed, and lonjf 
 resoundin": pace." 
 
 Ode on the Progress of Poesy. 
 
15 i 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1706. 
 
 revision : but in the year 1783, 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 Aiint to ^o; 
 and the concluding ten lines, except the 
 last couplet but one, which I distinguish 
 by the Italick character : 
 
 " Flow 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 domestick joy : 
 I fte Itfied axe, the ngonizhig wheel, 
 Luke^s iron crown, and Damien^s bed of sled. 
 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 hun- 
 dred and thirty-eight verses. Goldsmith, 
 in the couplet which he inserted, men- 
 tions Luke as a person well known, and 
 superficial readers have passed it over 
 quite smootlily ; while those of more 
 attention have been as much perplexed 
 by Luke as by Lydiat in " The Vanity 
 of Human Wishes." The truth is that 
 Goldsmith himself was in a mistake. In 
 the " Respuhlica Hungarica," there is 
 an account of a desperate rebellion in the 
 year 1514, headed 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 : " corond 
 candescente ferred coronatur." The 
 same severity of torture was exercised 
 on the Earl of Athol, one of the mur- 
 derers of King James \. of Scotland *. 
 
 Dr. Johnson at the same time favoured 
 me by marking the lines which he fur- 
 nished to Goldsmith's " Deserted Vil- 
 lage," which are only the last four : 
 
 " That trade's proud empire hastes to swift 
 
 decay, 
 As ocean sweeps the lahour'd mole away: 
 While self dependent power can lime defy, 
 As rocks resist the billows and the sky." 
 
 Talking of education, '* People have 
 nowadays (said he) got a strange opinion 
 that every tiling sliould be taught by lec- 
 tures. Now, 1 cannot see tiiat lectures 
 can do so much good as reading the books 
 from which the lectures are taken. I 
 know nothing that can be best taught by 
 Jectures, except where experiments are 
 to be . shown . Vou may teach chyhilstry 
 
 * [On the iron crown, see Mr. Steevens's 
 note 7, on Act iv. Sc. i. of Richard III. It 
 seems to be alluded to in Macbeth, Act iv. 
 Sc. i. " Thy crown does sear," iic. See also 
 Gou^h's Camden, vol. iii. p. 396, 1. 13.] 
 
 by lectures. You might teach making 
 of shoes by lectures!" 
 
 At night I supped with him at the 
 Mitre Tavern, that we might renewLom: 
 social intimacy at the original place of 
 meeting. But there was now a consider- 
 able 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." John- 
 son. " 7/lie dies like a dog, let him lie 
 like a dog." I added, that this man said 
 to me, " I hate mankind, for 1 think 
 myself one of the best of them, and I 
 know how bad I am." Johnson. " Sir, 
 he must be very singular in his opinion, 
 if he thinks himself one of the best of 
 men ; for none of his friends think him 
 so." — He said, " No honest man could 
 be a Deist ; for no man could be so after 
 a fair examination of the proofs of Chris- 
 tianity." I named Hume. Johnson. 
 " No, sir ; Hume owned to a clergyman 
 in the bishoprick of Durham, that he 
 had never read the New Testament with 
 attention."— I mentioned Hume's notion, 
 tliatall 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 eloquent 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 
 liappy. Happiness consists in the multi- 
 plicity of agreeable consciousness. A 
 |)easant has not capacity for having equal 
 happiness with a philosopher." I remem- 
 ber this very question very happily illus- 
 trated in opposition to Hume, by the 
 Reverend Mr. Robert Brown, at lUrecht. 
 " A small drinking glass and a large 
 one (said he) may be equally full; but 
 the large one holds more than the 
 small t" 
 
 Dr. Johnson was very kind this even- 
 ing, 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 
 1 know mathcmaticks 1 Do I know law ?" 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir, though you may 
 
 t [Bishop Hall, in discussing this subject, 
 has the same iniase : ** Yet so conceive of 
 these heavenly dettrees, that the least is glo- 
 rious. So do theic vessels diff'tr that all arc 
 full.** Epistles, Dec. iil. cp. 6. " Of the diffe- 
 rent degrees of heavenly fflory," &c, M.] 
 
i^TAT. 57. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 155 
 
 know no science so well as to be able to 
 leach it, and no profession so well as to 
 be able to follow it, your general mass of 
 knowledge of books and men renxlers 
 you very capable to make yourself master 
 of any science, or fit yourself for any 
 profession." 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 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 inde- 
 pendent. You are not to do what you 
 think wrong; and, sir, you are to calcu- 
 late, 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 al- 
 lowed at all, they should only be retreats 
 for persons unable to serve the publick, 
 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 youthful 
 passion for abstracted devotion should 
 not be encouraged." 
 
 I introduced the subject of second sight, 
 and other mysterious manifestations ; the 
 fulfilment of which, I suggested, might 
 liappen by chance. Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir, but they have happened so often 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 encou- 
 raged 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 mogt inti- 
 mate friend, the Reverend Mr. Temple, 
 then of Cambridge. I having mentioned 
 that I had passed some time with Rous- 
 seau in his wild retreat, and having quoted 
 some remark niade by Mr. Wilkes, with 
 whom I had spent many pleasant hours 
 in Italy, Johnson said (sarcastically), " It 
 seems, sir, you have kept very good com- 
 pany abroad, Rousseau 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 com- 
 pany 1 Do you really think him a bad 
 man?" Johnson. "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 hunted 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." Boswell. 
 " I don't deny, sir, but that his novel 
 may, perhaps, do harm ; but I cannot 
 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 edification ; 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 under- 
 standing than of any depravity in his 
 heart. And notwithstanding the unfa- 
 vourable opinion which many worthy 
 men have expressed of his " Profession 
 de Foi du Flcaire Savoyard," I can- 
 not help admiring it as the performance 
 of a man full of sincere reverential sub- 
 mission to Divine Mystery, though beset 
 with perplexing doubts : a state of mind 
 to be viewed w'ith pity rather than with 
 anger. 
 
 On his favourite subject of subordina- 
 tion, 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 evident 
 superiority over the other." 
 
 I mentioned the advice given us by 
 philosophers, to console ourselves, when 
 distressed or embarrassed, by thinking 
 of those who are in a worse situation 
 than ourselves. This, I observed, could 
 
156 
 
 not apply to all, for there must be some 
 who have nobody worse than they are. 
 Johnson. ** 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 many opportunities 
 of being with Dr. Johnson ; but I felt 
 my veneration for him in no degree 
 lessened, by my having seen multorem 
 hominum mores et urbes. On the con- 
 trary, by having it in my power to com- 
 pare 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 some- 
 times 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 account of the infi- 
 delity 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 learned." — Johnson. 
 ** To be sure, sir. The vulgar are the 
 children of the State, and must be taught 
 like children." — Boswfxl. " Then, sir, 
 a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just 
 as a poor Englishman must be a Chris- 
 tian?" — Johnson. " Why, yes, sir; and 
 what then? This now is such stutf 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 prevail- 
 ing 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 concern about a new play than if 
 you had never had any thing to do with 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1766. 
 
 the stage." Johnson. " Why, 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." John- 
 son. ** Sir, I do not think she was. But 
 as we advance in the journey of life we 
 drop some of the things which have 
 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." Bos- 
 well. " But, sir, why don't you give us 
 something in some other way?" Gold- 
 smith. " Ay, sir, we have a claim upon 
 you." Johnson. " No, sir, I am not 
 obliged to do 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 soldier has fought a good many cam- 
 paigns, he is not to be blamed if he 
 retires to ease and tranquillity. A phy- 
 sician, 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 con- 
 versation 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 writ- 
 ing than in not writing." Johnson. 
 *' Sir, you map wonder." 
 
 He talked of making verses, and ob- 
 served, " The great ditticulty 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 I made no more." 
 Goldsmith. " Let us hear it; we'll put 
 a bad one to it." Johnson. ** No, sir ; 
 I have forgot it." 
 
 Such specimens of the easy and play- 
 ful conversation of the great Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson 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. 
 
 ** to BENNET LANGTON, esq. at LANG ion, 
 NEAR SIMLSBY, LINCOLNSHIKE. 
 
 ** UKAIl SIR, 
 
 " What your friends have done, that 
 from your departure till now nothing has 
 
JEr.\T. 57. 
 
 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 complaint. 
 
 " 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 yourself, 
 had been all ill, but that you were all 
 recovered. 
 
 "That sickness should suspend your 
 correspondence, 1 did not wonder; but 
 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 any thing of 
 ns. However, I will tell you that the 
 Club subsists; but we have the loss of 
 Burke's company since he has been en- 
 gaged in public business, in which he has 
 gained more reputation than perhaps any 
 man at his [first] appearance ever gained 
 before. He made two speeches in the 
 House for repealing the Stamp Act, 
 which were publicly commended by 
 Mr. Pitt, and have filled the town with 
 wonder. 
 
 " Burke is a great man by nature, and 
 is expected soon to attain civil greatness. 
 I am grown greater too, for I have main- 
 tained the newspapers these many weeks ; 
 and what is greater still, 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 consciousness 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- 
 gent. Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, and 
 Mr. Reynolds are very constant. Mr. 
 Lye 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." 
 " March 9, 1766, 
 
 "Johnson's Court, Fleet Street.'' 
 
 * [Samuel Dyer, Esq. a most learned and 
 ingenious nien>ber of tiie Literary Club, for 
 whose understanding and attainments Dr. 
 Johnson had great respect. He died Sept. 14, 
 1772. A more particular account of this gen- 
 tleman raav be found in a note on the Life of 
 Drvden, p,' 186, prefixed to the edition of that 
 gfe'at writer's Pro^e Works, in four volumes, 
 8vo. 1800: in which his character is vindicated, 
 and the very unfavourable representation of 
 it, given by' Sir John Hawkins in his Life of 
 Johnson, pp. ^22— 232, is minutely examined. 
 M.] 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 157 
 
 ** TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT LANGTON, 
 NEAR SPILSBV, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " In supposing that I should be more 
 than commonly affected by the death of 
 Peregrine Langton f, you were not mis- 
 taken ; he was one of those whom I loved 
 at once by instinct and by reason. I 
 have seldom indulged more hope of any 
 thing than of being able to improve our 
 acquaintance to friendship. Many a time 
 have 1 placed myself again at Langton, 
 and imagined the pleasure with which I 
 should walk to Partneyj 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 dis- 
 tinguish domestick characters are soon 
 forgotten : if you delay to inquire, you 
 will have no information ; if you neglect 
 to write, information will be vain§. 
 
 f Mr. Langton's uncle. 
 
 X The place of residence of Mr. Peregrine 
 Langton. 
 
 § Mr. Langton did not disregard this coun- 
 sel, but wrote the following account, which lie 
 has been pleased to communicate to me : 
 
 " The circumstances of Mr. Peregrine Lang- 
 ton were these. He had an annuity for life of 
 iwo hundred pounds per annum. He resided 
 in a village in Lincolnshire: the rent of bis 
 house, with two or three small fields, was 
 twenty-eight pounds; the county he lived in 
 was not more than moderately cheap; bis 
 family consisted of a sister, who paid him 
 eighteen pounds annually for her board, and 
 a niece. The servants were two maiiis and 
 two men in livery. His common vvay of living, 
 at his table, was three or four dishes: the 
 appurtenances to his table were neat and 
 handsome; he frequently entertained com- 
 pany at dinner, and then his table was well 
 served with as many dishes as were usual at 
 the tables of the other gentlemen in the r«figh- 
 bourhood. His own appearance, as to clothes, 
 was genteelly neat and plain. He had always 
 a postchaise, and kept three horses. 
 
 " Such, with the resources I have men- 
 tioned, was his way of living, which he did 
 not suffer to employ his whole income : for he 
 had always a sum of money lying by him for 
 any extraordinary expenses that might arise. 
 Some money he put into the stocks ; at his 
 death, the sum he had there amounted to one 
 hundred and fifty pounds. He purchased out 
 of his income his household furniture and 
 linen, of which latter he had a very ample 
 store; and, as I am assured by those that had 
 very good means of knowing, not less than 
 the tenth part of his income was set apart for 
 charity : at the time of his death the sum of 
 twenty-five pounds was found, with a direction 
 to be emploved in such uses. 
 
 " He had laid down a plan of living propor- 
 tioned to his income, and did not practise any 
 extraordinary degree of parsimony, but en- 
 deavoured that in his family there should be 
 plenty without waste. As an instance that tins 
 was his endeavour, it may be worth while to 
 mention a method he took in regulating a 
 proper allowance of malt liquor to be drunk 
 in his familv, that there might not be a defi- 
 ciency or any intemperate profusion: On a 
 
158 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1766. 
 
 " His 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. 
 
 " Tiie loss is, I hope, the only misfor- 
 tune 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 Mrs. 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 Lang- 
 ton, and Miss Di, and Miss Juliet, and to 
 every body else. 
 
 " The Club holds very well together. 
 
 complaint made that his allowance of a hogs- 
 head in a month was nol enough for his own 
 family, he ordered the quantity of a hogshead 
 to be put into bottles, had it locked up from 
 tlie servants, and distributed out, every day, 
 eight quarts, wliicli is the quantity each dav 
 at one hogshead in a month : and told his 
 servants, that if that did not suffice, he would 
 allow them more ; hut, by this method, it 
 appeared at once that the allowance was 
 much more than sufficient for his small family : 
 and this proved a clear conviction, that could 
 not be answered, and saved all future dispute. 
 He was, in general, very diligently and punc- 
 tually attemled and obeyed by his servants: 
 he was very considerate as to the injunctions 
 he gave, and explained them distinctly; and, 
 at their first coming to his service, steadily 
 exacted a close compliance with them, with- 
 out any remission: and the servants, finding 
 this to be the case, soon grew habitually ac- 
 customed to the practice of their business, 
 and then very little farther attention was 
 necessary. On extraordinary instances of 
 good behaviour, or diligent service, he was 
 not wanting in particular encouragements 
 and presents above their wages: it is remark- 
 able that he would permit their relations to 
 visit them, and stay at his house two or three 
 days at a time. 
 
 ** The wonder, with most that hear an ac- 
 count of his economy, will be, how he was 
 able, with such an income, to do so much, 
 especially when it is considered that he paia 
 for every thing he had. He had no land except 
 the two or three small fields which I have said 
 he rented; and, instead of gaining any thing 
 by their produce, I have reason to think he 
 lost by them ; however, they furnished him 
 with no further assistance towards his house- 
 keeping than grass for his horses (not hay, 
 for that I know he bought), and for two cows. 
 Every Monday morning he settled his fantily 
 accounts, and so kept up a constant attention 
 to the confining his expenses within his 
 income; anri, to do it more exactly, com- 
 pared those expenses with a computation he 
 had made, how much that income would 
 afford him every week an I day of the year. 
 Oue of his economical practices was, as soon 
 
 Monday is my night*. I continue to 
 rise tolerably well, and read more than I 
 did. I hope something will yet come 
 on it. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most aflFectionate servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." , 
 May 10, 1766, / 
 
 " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street." •/ 
 
 After I had been some time in Scot- 
 land, 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 acquaint- 
 ance who were all gone to the land of 
 forgetfulness, and I found myself like a 
 man stalking over a field of battle, who 
 every moment perceives 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 inclolence ; nor did 1 hear from him. 
 till he had received a copy of my inaugu- 
 ral 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 : 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The reception of your Thesis put me iii. 
 mind of my debt to you. Why did yoa 
 
 as any repair was wanting in or about his 
 house, to have it immediately performed. 
 When be had money to spare, he chose to lay 
 in a provision of linen or clothes, or any other 
 necessaries; as then, he said, he could afford 
 it, which he might not be so well able to do 
 when the actual" want came ; in consequence 
 of which method, lie had a considerable sup- 
 ply of necessary articles lying by him, beside 
 what was in use. 
 
 " But the main particular that seems to 
 have enabled him to do so much with his 
 income was, that he paid for every thing as 
 soon as he had it, except, alone, what were 
 current accounts, such as rent for his house 
 and servants' wages : and these he paid at 
 the stated times with the utmost exactness^ 
 He gave notice to the tradesmen of the neigh- 
 bouring market-toxins, that they should no 
 longer have his custom if they let any of his 
 servants have any tiling without their paying 
 for if. Thus he put it out of his power to 
 commit those imprudences to which those are 
 liable that defer their payments by using their 
 money some other way tlian where it ought 
 to go. And whatever money he had by hiin, 
 he knew that it was not demanded elsewhere, 
 but that he might safely employ it as he 
 pleased. 
 
 '• His example was confined, by the seques- 
 tered place or his abode, to the oDservation of 
 few, though his prudence and virtue would 
 have made it valuable to all who could have 
 known it.— These few particulars, which I 
 knew myself, or have obtained from those 
 who lived with him, may afford instruction, 
 and he an incentive to that wise art of living 
 which he so successfully practised." 
 
 » Of his being in the chair of the Literary 
 Club, which at this time met once a week iti 
 the evening. 
 
^TAT. 57. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 159 
 
 punish you for it, by telling you that 
 your Latin wants correction j. In the 
 beginning, Spei alterce, not to urge that 
 it sliouid be primes, is not grammatical : 
 alterce should be alteri. In the next 
 line you seem to use genus absolutely, 
 for what we call family, that is, for 
 illustrious extraction, I doubt without 
 authority. Homines nullius originis, 
 for NuUis orti m,ajoribus, or Nullo loco 
 nati, is, as I am afraid, barbarous. — 
 Ruddiman is dead. 
 
 ** I have now vexed you enough, and 
 will try to please you. Your resolution 
 to obey your father I sincerely approve ; 
 but do not accustom yourself to enchain 
 your volatility by vows ; they will some- 
 time leave a thorn in your mind, which 
 you will, perhaps, never be able to 
 extract or eject. Take this warning : it 
 is of great importance. 
 
 ** The study of the law is what you 
 very justly term it, copious and gener- 
 ous $ ; and, in adding your name to its 
 professors, you have done exactly what 
 I always wished, when I wished you 
 btst. I hope that you will continue to 
 pursue it vigorously and constantly. You 
 gain, at least, what is no small advan- 
 tage, security from those troublesome 
 and wearisome discontents which are 
 
 + The passage omitted alluded to a private 
 transaction. 
 
 X This censure of my Latin relates to the 
 Dedication, which vas as follows: 
 
 VIRO NOBILISSIMO, ORNATISSIMO, 
 
 JOANNL 
 VICECOMITI MOUNTSTUART, 
 
 ATAVIS EDITO REGIBUS, 
 
 EXCELS^; FAMILI.E I>E BUTE SPEI ALTERA; 
 
 [ LABENTE SECULO, 
 
 r QUUM HOMINES NULLUJS ORIGINIS 
 
 I GENUS SQUARE OPIBUS AGGREIUUNTUR, 
 
 I SANGUINIS ANTIQUI ET ILLUSTRIS 
 
 SEMPER MEMORI, 
 
 N ATALIUM SPLENDOREM VIRTUTIBUS AUGENTI ; 
 
 AD PUBLICA POPULI COMITIA 
 
 JAM LEGATO; 
 
 IN OPTIMATIUM VERO MAGN^ BRITANNIA 
 
 SENATU, 
 
 JURE H«REDITARIO, 
 
 OLIM CONCESSURO : 
 
 VIM INSITAM VARIA DOCTRINA PROMOYENTE, 
 
 NEC TAMEN SE VENDITANTE 
 
 PR^DITO 
 
 PRISCA yjDE, ANIMO LIBERRIMO> 
 
 ET MORUM ELEGANTIA 
 
 INSIGNI ; 
 
 IN ITALIC VISITAND^ ITINERE. 
 
 SOCIO SUO HONORATISSIMO, 
 
 HASCE JURISPRUDENT!^ PRIMITIAS, 
 
 DEVINCTISSIMi*; AMiCITI^ ET OBSERVANTI^ 
 
 MONUMENTUM, 
 
 § This alludes to the 
 
 entence of tlu 
 
 studio nullum nsrrins, nnllum gencrosius : in 
 If'gibus enirn agilavdis, populorum mores 
 variasque fortuncB vices, ex quibus leges ori- 
 untur, conttmplari simul solemus.^* 
 
 always obtruding themselves upon a mind 
 vacant, unemployed, and undetermined. 
 
 " You ought to think it no small in- 
 ducement 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 continue 
 it by subtilty, must, after long expense 
 of thought, conclude by chance. To 
 prefer one future mode of life to another, 
 upon j ust reasons, requires facu Ities which 
 it has not pleased our Creator to give us. 
 
 " If, therefore, the profession you have 
 chosen has some unexpected inconveni- 
 ences, console yourself by reflecting that 
 no profession is vvithout them ; and that 
 all the importunities and perplexities of 
 business are softness and luxury com- 
 pared with the incessant cravings of 
 vacancy, and the unsatisfactory expe- 
 dients of idleness. 
 
 * Hcec sunt quce nostra potui te voce monere ; 
 Vude, age.' 
 
 " As to your History of Corsica, yoa 
 have no materials which others have not, 
 or may not have. You have, somehow 
 or other, warmed your imagination. I 
 wish there were some cure, like the 
 lover's leap, for all heads of which some 
 single idea has obtained an unreasonable 
 and irregular possession. Mind your own- 
 affairs, and leave the Corsicans to theirs. 
 
 I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Aug. 21, 1766." 
 
 ** TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Aucliinleck, Nov. 6, 1766. 
 
 *' MUCH ESTEEMED AND DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I PLEAD not guilty to **»**»»«*»« 
 
 ******»*«**«»»» 11 
 
 " Having thus, I hope, cleared myself 
 of the charge brought against me, I pre- 
 sume you will not be displeased if I 
 escape the punishment which you have 
 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. 
 
 p The passage omitted explained the trans- 
 action to which the preceding letter had 
 
ICO 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1766. 
 
 *' You think I should have used spei 
 primcB instead of spei alterce. Spes is, 
 indeed, often used to express something 
 on which we have a future dependence, 
 as in Virg. Eclog. i. 1. 14. 
 
 modo namque gemcllos. 
 
 Spem gregis, ah.' silice in nuda connixa reli- 
 
 and in Geor. iii. 1. 473. 
 
 * Spemque gregemque simuV 
 for the lambs and the sheep. Yet it is 
 also used to express any thing on which 
 we have a present dependence, and is 
 well applied to a man of distinguished 
 influence,— our support, our refuge, our 
 prcESidiumy as Horace calls Maecenas. 
 So, in ^Eneid xii. 1. 57, Queen Amata 
 addresses her son-in-law, Turnus : — 
 
 * Spes tu nunc una:' and he was then 
 no future hope, for she adds, 
 
 * decus imperiumque Latini 
 
 Te penes.' 
 
 which might have been said of my Lord 
 Bute some years ago. Now I consider 
 the present Earl of Bute to be ' Excelsce 
 familice de Bute spes prima ;' and my 
 Lord Mountstuart, as his eldest son, to 
 be ' spes altera.' So, in ^neid xii. 
 1. 168, after having mentioned * Pater 
 iEneas,' who was the present * spes,' 
 the reigning * spes,' as my German 
 friends would say, the spes prima, the 
 poet adds, 
 
 * Et juxta AscaniuSy magnce spes altera 
 
 RomcB,' 
 
 " You think alterce ungrammatical, 
 and you tell me it should have been 
 alteri. You must recollect, that in old 
 times alter was declined regularly ; and 
 when the ancient fragments preserved in 
 the Juris Civilis Fontes were written, 
 it was certainly declined in the way that 
 I use it. This, I should think, may pro- 
 tect a lawyer, who writes alteram 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 accu- 
 rate 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, 
 « Sam hide allerae patria qua sit profecto 
 nescioJ' 
 
 Plautus is, to be sure, an old comick 
 writer; but in the days of Scipio and 
 Lelius, we find Terent. Heautontim. 
 act ii. scene 3, 
 
 « hoc ipsa in ilinerc alteree 
 
 Dum narrat, forte audivi.' 
 
 " You doubt my having authority for 
 using genus absolutely, for what we call 
 family, that is, for illustrious extrac- 
 
 tion. Now I take genus in Latin to have 
 much the same signification with hirth 
 in English ; both in their primary mean- 
 ing expressing simply descent, but both 
 made to stand xar' l^ox*iv, for noble de- 
 scent. Genus is thus used in Hor. lib. ii. 
 Sat. v. 1.8. 
 
 And in lib. 1. Epist. vi. 1. 37. 
 
 * Et genus etformam Regina Fecunia donat.' 
 And in the celebrated contest between 
 Ajax and Ulysses, Ovid's Metamorph. 
 lib. xiii. 1. 140. 
 
 ' Nam g'erius et proavos, et qnce non fecimus 
 
 ipst, 
 Fix ea nostra voco.' 
 
 " Homines nullius originis, for nullis 
 orti majoribus, or nullo loco nati, is, 
 
 * you are afraid, barbarous.' 
 
 ** Origo is used to signify extraction, 
 as in Virg. ^neid i. 286. 
 
 * Nascetur pnlchra Trojanus origine Casar,' 
 and in vEneid x. 1. 618. 
 
 * llle tamen nostra 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 ex- 
 traction? 
 
 " I have defended myself as well as I 
 conld. 
 
 *' Might I venture to differ from you 
 with regard to the utility of vows? I am 
 sensible that it would be very dangerous 
 to make vows rashly, and without a due 
 consideration. But I cannot help think- 
 ing that they may often be of great advan- 
 tage to one of a variable judgment and 
 irregular inclinations. I always remem- 
 ber a passage in one of your letters to 
 our Italian friend Baretti ; where, talk- 
 ing of the raonastick life, you say you 
 do not wonder that serious men should 
 put themselves under the protection of a 
 religious order, when they have found 
 how unable they are to take care of 
 themselves. For my own part, without 
 att'ecting to be a Socrates, 1 am sure I 
 have a more than ordinary struggle to 
 maintain with the Evil Principle ; and 
 all the methods I can devise are little 
 enough to keep me tolerably steady in 
 the paths of rectitude. 
 
 *' I am ever, with the highest venera- 
 tion, 
 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 It appears 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 
 
^TAT. 57. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 161 
 
 great intimacy witli 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 (a) 
 to the King, of Gwyn's " London and 
 Westminster Improved," was written by 
 him; and he furnished the Preface, (^&^ 
 and several of the pieces which compose 
 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 ;" (a) 
 " Translation of a Latin Epitaph on Sir 
 Thomas Hanmer ;" fbj " Friendship, an 
 Ode ;" (aj and," The Ant,' Y«^ a para- 
 phrase from the Proverbs, of which I 
 have a copy in his own handwriting; 
 and, from internal evidence, I ascribe to 
 
 him, " To Miss on her giving the 
 
 Authour a gold and silk network Purse 
 of her own wenxing; fbJ and " The 
 happy Life." (bj — ?Jost of the pieces in 
 this volume have evidently received ad- 
 ditions from his superiour pen, particu- 
 larly '/ Verses to Mr. Richardson, on his 
 Sir Charles Grand ison ;" " The Excur- 
 sion ;" " Reflections on a Grave digging 
 in Westminster Abbey." There is inthis 
 collection a poem, " On the Death of 
 Stephen Grey, the Electrician ;" CaJ 
 which, on reading it, appeared to me to 
 be undoubtedly 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, how- 
 ever, 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 acquainted with me ; but 
 she has not told you that I wrote it all 
 over again, except two lines." " The 
 
 * [Tlie following account of this publication 
 is given by a lady well acqudinteU with Mrs. 
 Williams: 
 
 •' As to her poems, slie many years attempte<l 
 to publish them; the half-crowns she had <.'ot 
 towards the publication, she confessed to me, 
 went for necessaries, and that the greatest 
 pain she ever felt was from the appearance of 
 deiVaudinsif her subscribers: 'but what can I 
 do? ihe Doctor [Johnson] alwavs puts me oft' 
 with 'Well, we'll think about it,' and Gold- 
 smith says, ' Leave it to me.' However, two 
 of her friends, under her directions, made a 
 new subscription 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 kindness, procured a lona: 
 list of names. At leni^th the work was pub- 
 lished, in which is a fine written but eloomy 
 tale of Dr. Johnson. Tl:e money Mrs. Williams 
 had various uses for, and a part of it was 
 funded." 
 
 By this publication Mrs. Williams got \50l. 
 
 Fountains," f&J a beautiful little Fairy 
 tale in prose, written with exquisite sim- 
 plicity, is one of Johnson's productions ; 
 and 1 cannot withhold from Mrs. Thrale 
 the praise of being the authour of that 
 a<lmirable 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, book- 
 seller in Edinburgh, a gentleman of good 
 family, but small estate, who took arms 
 for the house of Stuart in 1745 ; and 
 during his concealment in London till 
 the act of general pardon came out, ob- 
 tained 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 Gaelick language, from 
 political considerations of the disadvan- 
 tage of keeping up the distinction between 
 the Highlanders and the other inhabitants 
 of North Britain. Dr. Johnson being 
 informed of this, I suppose by Mr. Drum- 
 mond, wrote with a generous inrlignation 
 as follows : 
 
 " TO MU. WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 
 *' SIU, 
 
 " 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 receive instruction, or 
 whether that instruction should be imr 
 parted to them by a translation of the 
 holy books in their own language. If 
 obedience to the will of God be necessary 
 to happiness, and knowledge of his will 
 be necessary to obedience, I know not 
 how he that withholds this knowledge, 
 or delays it, can be said to love his neigh- 
 bour as himself. He that voluntarily 
 continues ignorance is guilty of all the 
 crimes which ignorance produces ; as to 
 him that should extinguish ihe tapers of 
 a lighthouse might justly be imputed the 
 calamities of sliipwrecks. Christianity 
 is the highest perfection of humanity ; 
 and as no man is good 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 
 purposes that terminate on this side of 
 the grave, is a crime of which I know 
 not that the world has yet had an ex- 
 ample, except in the practice of the 
 M 
 
162 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 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 ar- 
 guments which have for their foundation 
 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 mid- 
 night of popery is meridian sunshine to 
 such a reformation. I am not very wil- 
 ling that any language should be totally 
 extinguished, the similitude and de- 
 rivation of languages afford the most 
 indubitable proof of the traduction of 
 nations, and the 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 ages 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 overheated, 
 even to those by whom I desire to be 
 well esteemed. To those who have no- 
 thing in their thoughts but trade or policy, 
 present power or piesent money, I should 
 not think it necessary to defend my opi- 
 nions; but with men of letters I would 
 not unwillingly compound, by wishing 
 tlie continuance of every language, how- 
 ever narrow in its extent, or however 
 incommodious for common purposes, till 
 it is reposited in some version of a known 
 book, that it may be always hereafter 
 examined and compared with other lan- 
 
 fuages, and then permitting its disuse, 
 ^or 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 
 purpose 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 language by 
 which that desire can be gratified; and 
 one will tell another that if he would 
 attain knowledge, he must learn English. 
 ** This speculation may, perhaps, be 
 thought more subtle than the grossness 
 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 con8>:qnence 
 
 1766. 
 
 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 Oxford 
 I can be of any use, that I shall think it 
 more than honour to promote his underr 
 taking. 
 
 " I am sorry that I delayed so long to 
 write. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 Aug-. 13, 17G6." 
 
 The opponents of this pious scheme 
 being made ashamed of their conduct, 
 the benevolent undertaking was allowed 
 to go on. 
 
 The following letters, though not writ- 
 ten till the year after, being chiefly upon 
 the same subject, are here inserted. 
 
 ** TO MR. WILLIAM URUMMONU. 
 " 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 persuaded to change 
 their opinion show such modesty and 
 candour as deserve great praise. 
 
 ' I hope the worthy translator goes 
 diligently forward. He has a higher 
 reward in prospect than any honours 
 which this world can bestow. I wish I 
 could be useful to him. 
 
 " 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 
 printing and distributing a very small 
 number, you may not attain all that you 
 propose ; and, what perhaps 1 should 
 
   The Rev. Mr. John Campbell, minister of 
 ihe |>arish of Kippen, near Stirlinsf, who lias 
 lately favoured me with a long, intelligent, 
 and very obiiaring letter upon ibis work, makes 
 tiie folbiwing remark: " Ur. Johnson has al- 
 luded to tlie worlliy man employed in the 
 translation of tbe New Testament. Migbt not 
 this have afforded you an opportunity of pay- 
 ing a proper tribute of respect to the memory 
 of the Rev. Mr. James Stuart, late minister of 
 Killin, distinguished by his eminent piety, 
 learning, and taste? The amiable simplicity 
 of his lite, his warm benevolence, his indefa- 
 tigable and successful exertions for civilizing 
 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 ceriainly would 
 be a pity, if such a oliaracter should be per- 
 mitted to sink into oblivion." 
 
^TAT. 57. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 iC3 
 
 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 a little known, I shall be 
 satisfied about 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. Drummond, whom I hope you will 
 live to see such as you desire him. 
 
 " I have not lately seen Mr. Elphin- 
 ston, 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. Johnson." 
 
 "Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 April 21, 1767." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 *' SIR, 
 
 " I RETURNED this Week from the country, 
 after an absence of near six months, and 
 found your letter with many others, 
 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 
 relation, 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, and will 
 transmit you such a sum, if upon exami- 
 nation you find it likely to be of use. If 
 they are in immediate want, advance 
 them what you think proper. What I 
 could do, 1 would do for the woman, 
 
 * This paragfraph shows Johnson's real esti- 
 mation of the chaiacrer and abilities of the 
 celebrated Scottish Historian, however lig^htiy, 
 in a moment of caprice, he may have spoken 
 of his works. 
 
 having no great reason to pay much 
 regard to Heely himself f. 
 
 " I believe you may receive some in- 
 telligence 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 Hie 
 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 
 wholly to your judgment. 
 " I am, SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 Oct. 24, 1767 " 
 
 Mr. Cuthbert Shawj, alike distin- 
 guished by his genius, misfortunes, and 
 misconduct, published this year a poem, 
 called " The Race, by Mercurius Spur, 
 Esq." in which he whimsically made the 
 living poets of England contend for pre- 
 eminence of fame by running : 
 " 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 
 
 grac«, 
 His rigid morals stamp'd upon his face. 
 While'strong concepiions struggle in his brain 
 (For even wir, is brought to-be"d with pain); 
 To view him, porters with their loads would 
 
 rest, 
 And babes cling frighted to the nurse's breast. 
 With looks convulsed he roars in pompous 
 
 strain, 
 And, like an angry lion, shakes his mane. 
 The Nine, with lerrour struck, who ne'er had 
 
 seen 
 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 warns him now to yield, 
 Nor stain his glories in the doubtful field ; 
 But wrapt in conscious worth, content sit 
 
 rapt in 
 down, 
 
 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 I'ime shall first expire, 
 Erp Johnson stay, when Virtue bids retire." 
 
 / The Honourable Thomas Hervey§and 
 his lady having unhappily disagreed, and 
 being about to separate, Johnson inter- 
 fered as their friend, and wrote him a 
 letter of expostulation, which I have not 
 been able to find ; but the substance of 
 
 t This is the person concerning whom Sir 
 John Hawkins has thrown out very unwar- 
 rantable reflections both against Dr. Johnson 
 and Mr. Francis Barber. 
 
 X See an account of him in the European 
 Magazine, Jan. 1786. 
 
 § [The Honourable Thomas Hervcy, whose 
 letter to Sir Thomas Hanmer in 1742 *vas much 
 read at that time. He was the second son of 
 John, the first Earl of Bristol, and one of the 
 brothers of Johnson's early friend, Henry 
 Hervey. He married, in 174 4, Anne, daughter 
 of l-rancis Coiighlan, Esq. and died Jan. 20, 
 1773. M.] 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irer. 
 
 ii is ascertained by a letter to Johnson 
 li) answer to it, wliicli Mr. Hervey 
 printed. Tlie occasion of this corres- 
 pondence between Dr. Johnson and 
 Mr. Hervey was thus related to me by 
 Mr. Beanclerk : " Tom Hervey had a 
 great liking for Johnson, and in his will 
 had left him a legacy of lifty pounds. 
 One day he said to me, ' Johnson may 
 want this money now more than after- 
 wards. I have a mind to give it him 
 diiectly. Will you be so good as to 
 carry a fifty pound note from me to him?" 
 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 w-ould write him a letter, 
 and inclose a fifty pound note, I should 
 take care to deliver it. He accordingly 
 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 x>^'>'t "uciih wy icife.' 
 Johnson then wrote to him, saying no- 
 thing of the note, but remonstrating witii 
 him against parting with his v.ifi;." 
 
 When I mentioned to Johnson this 
 story, in as delicate terms as I could, he 
 told' me that the fifty pound note was 
 given to him by Mr. Hervey in con- 
 sideration of his having written for him 
 a pamphlet against Sir Charles Hanbuiy 
 Williams, who, Mr. Hervey imagined, 
 was the authour of an attack upon him ; 
 b'lt that it was afterwards discovered to 
 bo the work of a garretteer, wiio wrote 
 " The Fool :" the pamphlet therefore 
 against Sir Charles was not printed. 
 
 "In February, 1767, there happened one 
 of the most remarkable incidents of John- 
 son's life, which gratified his monarchical 
 enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate 
 with all its circumstances, when requested 
 by his friends. This was his being ho- 
 noured by a private conversation with 
 his Majesty, in the library at the Queen's 
 house. He had frequenfly vi«i(cd those 
 splendid rooms and noble collection of 
 books*, which he used to say was more 
 numerous and curious than he supposed 
 any [)erson could have made in the time 
 which the King l\a() eiiip'oved. Mr. 
 iJanun-d, the librai iau, took v.aw tliat he 
 sliould have every accoiiniiodaliou that 
 could contribute to bis ease and conve- 
 nienciv, while indulging his literary ta^te 
 
 * Dr. Johnson liaJ tliclionoiirofcontriluiting 
 is a<sistaiice towaKU the formation of thJH 
 lirary : for 1 have read a Ion? letter from 
 iiii to Mr. Barnnnl, iriving- the liiost mam riy 
 isirnctions on the fiiibioct. I wished nnicli to 
 iv(! irrafified my leu'lcrs with the neius.il of 
 lis letter, and have reason to think that hi^ 
 I.ijesty would have been erracioiisly pleased 
 ) permit its pnblicittion ; but Mr. Harmird, 
 > uhom I applied, declined it "on his own 
 
 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 sig- 
 nify 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 tire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Bar- 
 nard stole round to the apailment 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 
 wo'dd go to him; upon which Mr. Bar- 
 nard took one of the candles that stood 
 on the King's table, and lighted his Ma- 
 jesty through a suit of rooms till they 
 came to a private door into the library, 
 of which his Majesty had the key. Being 
 entered, Mr. Barnard stepped forwar(i 
 hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still iti 
 a profound study, and whispered him. 
 " Sir, here is the King."— Johnson started 
 up, and stood still. His Majesty ap- 
 proached him, and at once was cour- 
 teously easy t. 
 
 His Majesty began by observing that 
 he understood he came sometimes to the 
 library ; and then mentioned his having 
 heard that the Doctor had been lately at 
 Oxford, and asked him if he was not 
 fond of going thither. To which John^^on 
 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 
 
 t The particulars of this conversation I have 
 b en at a:reat pains to collect wiili tiic utmost 
 authenticity, l^roni Dr. Johnson's own detail 
 to myself; "from Mr. Langton who was present 
 wtjeti he gave an account of it to Dr. Joseph 
 Warton, and several other friends at Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds's ; from Mr. Harnard ; from- 
 the copy of a letter, written by the late Mr. 
 Strahan liie printer, to Bishop "Warburton ; 
 and from a minute, the oripin^l of whiih is 
 amon;? the papers of the late Sir James Cat-!- 
 well, and a copy of which was nioslohligins;lv 
 obtained for me from his son Sir John Cala- 
 vvell, by Sir Frnncis Lumm. To ail these gen- 
 tlcnici) I beg leave to make my grateful ac- 
 knowledguHriits.and particularly to Sir lYanois 
 Lnmm, who was pleased to take a great deal 
 of trouble, and even had the minute l,\i<i before 
 the Kinu by Lord Caermarthen, now Duke of 
 Leeds, "theii one of his M^ijesty'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 tiis 
 Majesty is of your attention in communicating 
 the minute of conversation previous to il« 
 publication. As there appears no objection 
 to your complying with Mr, Hoswell's wishes 
 on the snbjtct, you are at full liberty to deliver 
 it to ihiit gentleman, lo make sucli use of in 
 his Life of Dr. Johnson as he may think 
 pioper." 
 
^TAT. 58. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 165 
 
 mended, for they had put their press 
 under better regulations, and were at that 
 time printing Pol3bius. He was tiien 
 asked whetlier there were better libraries 
 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 whe- 
 ther 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 publick library." 
 
 His Majesty inquired if he was then 
 writing any thing? He answered 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 any body." 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 
 60 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. It was decisive." 
 Wlien asked by another friend, at Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds's, whether he made any 
 reply to this high eompiiment ? he an- 
 swered, " No, sir. When the King had 
 said it, it was to be so. It was not for 
 me to bandy civilities with my Sove- 
 reign." 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 in- 
 stance. 
 
 His Majesty iiaving observed to him 
 that he supposed he must have read a 
 great deal, Johnson answered, that he 
 thought more than he read, that he read 
 a great deal in the early part of his life, 
 but having fallen into ili health he had 
 not been able to read much compared 
 with others: for instance, he said he had 
 not read much compared with Dr. War- 
 burton. Upon which the King said that 
 he heard Dr. Warburton was a man of 
 such general knowledge that you eon Id 
 scarce talk with him on any subject on 
 which he was not qualified to speak ; and 
 tliat his learning resembled Garrick's 
 acting, in its universality *. His Majesty 
 
 * The Reverend Mr.Straliau ciearlv recol- 
 l«!rt9 having been told by Johnson, tliat lh€ 
 Kin* observed lUat Pope made WarbiirtoH u 
 iiishop. '' True, sir (s lid Johnson), tut War- 
 Lurton did more for Pope ; he made hini a 
 Christian :" alluding, no doubt, to his inge- 
 iiiouij couiiiicuis on liie *' E say on Man." 
 
 then talked of the controversy between 
 Warburton and Lowth, which he seemed 
 to have read, and asked Johnson what he 
 thought of it. Johnson answered, " War- 
 bujton has most general, most scholastick 
 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 ; add- 
 ing, " You do not think then. Dr. John- 
 son, 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 pro- 
 ceeded to explain himself; and imme- 
 diately 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 much in their power to 
 give, those who were favoured by them 
 would frequently, from gratitude, exag- 
 gerate their praises : and as this pro- 
 ceeded from a good motive it was cer- 
 tainly excusable, as far as errour could 
 be excusable." 
 
 The King then asked him what he 
 thought of Dr. Hill. Johnson 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 <legree by using three 
 or four microscopes at a time than by 
 using one. '* Now (added Johnson), 
 every one acquainted with microscopes 
 knows that the more of thein 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, it' that be the case, every- 
 one who can look through a microscope 
 will be able to detect him." 
 
 " I now (said Jolinson to his friends, 
 when relating what had passc<l) began 
 to consider that I was depreciating this 
 man in the estimation of hi« Sovereign, 
 and thought it was time for me to say 
 something that might be more favour- 
 able." Headded,therefore,thatpr. Hill 
 was, notwithstanding, a very curious ob- 
 server ; and if he would have been con- 
 tented to tell the world no more than he 
 knew, he mii^ht have been a very con- 
 
166 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 siderable man, and needed not to have 
 rocourse to such mean expedients to raise 
 his reputation. 
 
 The King then talked of literary jour- 
 nals, 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 account 
 of the persons 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 asked him if there were any 
 other literary journals published in this 
 kingdom, except the Monthly and Cri- 
 tical Reviews ; and on being answered 
 there was no other, his Majesty asked 
 which of them was the best : Johnson 
 answered, that the Monthly Review was 
 done with most care, the Critical upon 
 tiie best principles ; adding, that the 
 authours of the Monthly Review were 
 enemies to the Church. This the King 
 said he was sorry to hear. 
 
 The conversation next turned on the 
 Philosophical Transactions, when John- 
 son observed that they had now a better 
 method of arranging their materials than 
 formerly. '* Ay (said the King), they 
 are obliged to Dr. Johnson for that ;" for 
 Ins Majesty had heard and remembered 
 the circumstance, which Johnson himself 
 had forgot. 
 
 His Majesty expressed a desire to have 
 the literary biography of this country ably 
 executed, and proposed to Dr. Johnson 
 to undertake it. — Johnson signified his 
 readiness to comply with his Majesty's 
 wishes. 
 
 During the whole of this interview 
 Johnson talked to his Majesty with pro- 
 found respect, but still in his firm manly 
 manner, with a sonorous voice, and never 
 in that subdued tone which is commonly 
 used at the levee and in the drawing-room. 
 After the King withdrew, Johnson showed 
 himself highly pleased with his Majesty's 
 conversation and gracious behaviour. He 
 said to Mr. Barnard, '* Sir, tliey may 
 talk of the King as they will ; but he is 
 the finest gentleman I have ever seen." 
 And he afterwards observed to Mr. Lang- 
 ton, " Sir, his manners are those of as 
 fine a gentleman as we may suppose 
 Levvis tiie Fourteenth or Charles the 
 Second." 
 
 At Sir Joshua l^•^ll()I(ls's, where a 
 circle of Johnson's tVicini.-. was collected 
 round him to luai his .k count of this 
 memorable conv* i salion, Dr. Joseph 
 Warlon, in lu>fiaiik ai.<l liv.ly manner, 
 was v«My active in prt s,-ing him to men- 
 tion the particulars. " Come novy, sir, 
 n,U is an interesting matter; do favour 
 
 Iter. 
 
 us with it." Johnson with great good 
 humour complied. 
 
 He told them, ** I found his Majesty 
 wished I should talk, and I made it my 
 business to talk. 1 find it does a man 
 good to be talked to by his Sovereign. 
 In the first place, a man cannot be in a 
 passion — ." Here some question inter- 
 rupted him, which is to be regretted, as 
 he certainly would have pointed out and 
 illustrated many circumstances of advan- 
 tage 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. Jo)»n- 
 son was employed in relating to the circle 
 at Sir Joshua Reynolds's the particulars 
 of what passed between the King and 
 him. Dr. Goldsmith remained unmoved 
 upon a sofa at some distance, affecting 
 not to join in the least in the eager cu- 
 riosity of the company. He assigned as 
 a reason for his gloom and seeming in- 
 attention that he apprehended Johnson 
 had relinquished his purpose of furnish- 
 ing him with a Prologue 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 prevailed. He sprung from 
 the sofa, advanced to Johnson, and in a 
 kind of flutter, from imagining himself 
 in the situation which he had just been 
 hearing described, exclaimed, " Well, 
 you acquitted yourself in this conversa- 
 tion 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 
 with that to the same gentleman in 1760, 
 His diary aftords no light as to his em- 
 ployment 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, 17(37. Yesterday, 
 
 * It is proper here to mention that when 1 
 speak of his correiipondtnre, I cont^ider it in- 
 dependent of the voluminous colierliou of 
 letters which, in the course of many years he 
 wrote to Mrs. Thrale, whicii forms a separate 
 part of his works; and, a« a proof of the liisch 
 estimation set on any thin?: which came from 
 his pen, was sold hy that ladv fi^r the sum of 
 five hundred pounds. 
 
 t [In his letter to INIr. Diiinuiiori'l, <lated 
 <^>ct. 24, I7rt7, he mention!, that he liad arrived 
 in London, after an absence of nearly six 
 months, in the country, f'rohalilv pait ot that 
 time was spent at Oxford. M.j 
 
Mtaj. 58. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 167 
 
 Oct. 17, at about ten in the morning, I 
 took my leave for ever of my dear old 
 friend, Catharine Chambers, who came 
 to live with my mother about 1724, and 
 has been but little parted from us since. 
 She buried my father, my brother, and 
 my mother. She is now fifty-eight years 
 old. 
 
 " I desired all to withdraw, then 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 lovingkindness is over all thy 
 works, behold, visit, and relieve this thy 
 servant, who is grieved with sickness. 
 Grant that the sense of her weakness 
 may add strength to her faith, and se- 
 riousness 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 Christ 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 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 a harsh and 
 stern character, let this tender and affec- 
 tionate scene be candidly read ; and let 
 them then judge whether more warmth 
 of heart and grateful kindness is often 
 found in human nature. 
 
 We have the following notice in his 
 devotional record : 
 
 " August 2, 1767. I have been dis- 
 turbed and unsettled for a long time, 
 and have been without resolution to 
 apply to study or to business, being 
 hindered by sudden snatches t." 
 
 He, however, furnished Mr. Adams 
 with a Dedication ('fl^ to the King of 
 that ingenious gentleman's " Treatise on 
 the Globes," conceived 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 authour was one Camp- 
 bell, a Scotch purser in the navy. The 
 
   Prayers and Meditations, p. 77 and 78. 
 t Ibid. p. 73. 
 
 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 drol- 
 lery, therefore, it may easily be supposed, 
 could do no harm to its illustrious object. 
 
 " TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT MR. ROTH- 
 WELL'S, PERFUMER, IN NEW BONDSTREET, 
 LONDON. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " That you have been all summer in 
 London is one more reason for which I 
 regret my long stay in the country. 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 communi- 
 cate this to Mrs. Williams : I long to see 
 all my friends. 
 
 "I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Lichfield, Oct. 10, 1767." 
 
 It appears from his notes of the state 
 of liis mindj that he suffered great per-" 
 turbation and distraction in 1768. No- 
 thing of his writing was given to the 
 publick this year, except the Prologue C^J 
 to his friend Goldsmith's comedy of ** The 
 Good-natured Man." The first lines of 
 this Prologue are strongly characteristical 
 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 ima- 
 gination, transfers to others its own feel- 
 ings. Who could suppose it was to in- 
 troduce 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 Gold- 
 smith's humour shine the more. 
 
 In the spring of this year, having pub- 
 lished my " Account of Corsica, with the 
 Journal of a Tour to that Island," I re- 
 turned to London, 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 my 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 impa- 
 
 X Prayers and Meditations, p. 81. 
 
168 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1768. 
 
 tient to be with liim, aud tlierefore fol- 
 lowed him to Oxford, where I was 
 entertained by Mr. Chambt;r,s with a 
 civility which I shall ever gratefully 
 remember. I found that Dr. Johnson 
 had sent a letter to me to Scotland, and 
 tiiat I had nothing to complain of but his 
 being more inditferent to my anxiety 
 than 1 wished him to be. Instead of 
 giving, with the circumstances of time 
 and place, such fragments of his conver- 
 sation 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 tiie nice feeling of 
 honesty. Johnson. " Why no, sir, if 
 you act properly. You are not to deceive 
 your clients with false representations of 
 your opinion: you are not to tell lies to 
 a judge." BoswiiLL^ " 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 
 thinking, or Mhat you call knowing a 
 cause to be bad, must be from reasoning, 
 must be from your supposing your argu 
 ments to be weak and inconclusive. But, 
 sir^ that is nut 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 are not 
 to be confident in yqur own opinion that 
 a' cause is bad, but to say all you can for 
 your client, and then hear the judge's 
 opinion." 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 dissi- 
 mulation impair ono's honesty? 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. l-lvery body knows you 
 are paid for aftecting 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 info the 
 common intercourse of society than a 
 man who is paid for tumbling upon his 
 hands will continue to tiunble 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 Gold- 
 smith's Good-natured Man ;" said it was 
 the best comedy that had appeared since 
 " The Provoked Husband," and thai 
 
 there had not been of late any such 
 character exhibited on the stas£e as that 
 of Croaker. I observed it was the Sus- 
 pirius of his Rambler. He said, Gold- 
 smith had owned he had borrowed it 
 from thence. " Sir (continued he), there 
 is all the diflt'erence in the world between 
 characters of nature and characters of 
 manners ; and there is the ditlerence 
 between tl-.e characters of Fielding and 
 those of Richardson. Characters of man- 
 ners are very entertaining ; but they are 
 to be understood by a more superficial 
 observer than characters of nature, wheie 
 a man must dive into the recesses of the 
 human heart." 
 
 It always appeared to me that he esti- 
 mated the compositions of Richardson 
 too highly, and that he had an unreason- 
 able prejudice against Fielding. In com- 
 paring those two writers, he used this 
 expression ; " that there was as great a 
 <liflerence between them as between a 
 man who knew how a watch was made, 
 and a man who could tell the hour by 
 looking on the dial-plate." This was a 
 short and figurative state of his distinction 
 between drawing characters of nature 
 and ciiaracters only of manners. But 1 
 cannot help being of opituon that the 
 neat watches of Fielding are as well 
 constructed as the large clocks of Ri- 
 chardson, and that his dial-plates are 
 brighter. Fielding's characters, though 
 they do not exj^and themselves so widely 
 in dissertation, are as just pictures of 
 human nature, and 1 will venture to say, 
 have more striking features, and nicer 
 touches of the pencil ; and though John- 
 son used to quote with approbation 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 evir 
 favourable to honour and honesty, and 
 cherishes the benevolent and generous 
 atiections. He who is as good as Fielding 
 would make him, is an amiable member 
 of society, and may be led on by more 
 reuulated instructors, to a higher slate of 
 ethical perfection. 
 
 Johnson proceeded ; " Even Sir Francis 
 Wronghead is a character 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 
 SuspicitMis Husband" did not furnish a 
 well drawn character, that of Ranger? 
 JoHNJiON. " No, sir; Ranger is a just 
 rake, a mere rake, and a lively young 
 fell(»w, but no chnrnctcr." 
 
 The great Douglas CauiC was at this 
 
^TAT. 59. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 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 of it, 
 and said, " I am of opinion that positive 
 proof of fraud should not be required of 
 the plaintitf, 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, because 
 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 anauthour 
 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 authours 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 sylla- 
 bles. Lay your knife and your fork 
 across your plate was to him a verse : 
 Lay your knife and your fork across your plate. 
 
 As be wrote a great number of verses, 
 he sometimes by chauce 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 seeing one or two of the 
 most curious of them. He said " Ma- 
 ca-ilay, who writes the account of St. 
 Kilda, set out, with a prejudice against 
 prejudice, and wanted to be a smart 
 modern thinker ; and yet he afTirms for 
 a truth, that when a ship arrives there all 
 the inhabitants are seized with a cold." 
 
 Dr. John Campbell, the celebrated 
 writer, took a great deal of pains to as- 
 certain this fact, and attempted to account 
 for it on physical principles, from the 
 ertect of effluvia from human bodies. 
 Johnson, at another time, praised Ma- 
 caulay for his '* magnanimity,^' in as- 
 serting this wonderful story, because it 
 was well attested. A lady of Norfolk, 
 by a letter to my friend Dr. Burney, has 
 favoured me with the followiuj; solution : 
 " Now for the explication of this seeming 
 mystery, which is so very obvious as, for 
 that reason, to have escaped the pene- 
 tration of Dr. Johnson and his friend, as 
 well as that of the authour. Heading the 
 book with my ingenious friend, the late 
 Reverend Mr. Christian, of Docking- 
 after ruminating a little, * The cause (saj s 
 
 I 
 
 169 
 
 he) is a natural one. The situation of 
 St. Kilda renders a north-east wind in- 
 dispensably necessary before a stranger 
 can land. The wind, not the stranger, 
 occasions an epidemick cold.' If I anj 
 not mistaken, Mr. Macaulay is 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 col- 
 lege ; the colleges are anxious to have 
 their students appear well in the Uni- 
 versity ; 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 a University may, for 
 a season, be unmindful of their duty. I 
 am arguing for the excellency of the in- 
 stitution." — — 
 
 Of Guthrie, he said, " Sir, he is a mai^ J 
 of parts. He has no great regular ftmd' 
 of knowledge ; but by reading so long, , 
 and writing so long, he np 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. Bosw elu, '* 1 wonder 
 at that, sir ; it is your native place." 
 Johnson. " Why so is Scotland your 
 native place." 
 
 His. prej.udice against Scotland a^ » . 
 peared remarkably strong at this tim e.^ * 
 vVhen 1 talked of our arlvancement Ift"' ' 
 literature, " Sir (said he), you have 
 learned a little from us, and you think 
 yourselves very great men. Hume would 
 never have written history, had not Vol- 
 taire written it before him. He is an echo 
 of Voltaire." Boswell. " But, sir, we 
 have Lord Kames." Johnson. ** You 
 have Lord Karnes. Keep him ; ha, ha, 
 ha ! We don't envy you him. Do you 
 ever see Dr. Robertson ?" Boswell. 
 " Yes, sir." Johnson. " Does the dog 
 talk of me?" Boswixl. " 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 
 cotqitry, I pressed him for his opinion 
 on the merit of Dr. Robertson's History 
 of Scotland. But, 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 indidged 
 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 INlr. Deane, a 
 
170 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1768. 
 
 divine of the Church of England, main- 
 taining the future life of brutes, by an 
 explication of certain parts of the Scrip- 
 tures, was mentioned, and the doctrine 
 insisted on by a gentleman who seemed 
 fond of curious speculation. Johnson, 
 who did not like to hear of any thing 
 concerning a future state which was not 
 authorized by the retjular canons of or- 
 thodoxy, discouraged Uiis talk ; and being 
 offended at its continuation, he watched 
 an opportunity to give the gentleman a 
 blow of reprehension. So, when the 
 poor speculatist, with a serious, meta- 
 physical, pensive face, addressed him, 
 ** But really, sir, when we see a very 
 sensible 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, strided 
 to the fire, and stood for some time 
 laughing and exulting. 
 
 I told him that I had several times, 
 when in Italy, seen the experiment of 
 placing a scorpion within a circle of 
 burning coals ; that it ran round and 
 round in extreme pain ; and finding no 
 way to escape, retired to the centre, and 
 like a true Stoick philosopher, darted its 
 sting into its head, and thus at once freed 
 itself from its woes. *' This must end 
 'em,.*' I said, this was a curious fact, as 
 it showed deliberate suicide in a reptile. 
 Johnson would not admit the fact. He 
 said, Maupcrtuis* was of opinion that it 
 does not kill itself, but dies of the heat; 
 that it gets to the centre of the circle as 
 the coolest place ; that its turning its tail 
 in upon its 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, 
 
 * I should think it impossible not to wonder 
 at tlie variety of Johnson's readin?, however 
 desultory it might have been. Who could 
 have imaained that the High Church of Eng- 
 land man would be so prompt in quoting 
 Maiipertuis, who, I am sorry to think, stands 
 in ihe list of those unfortunate miittaken men, 
 who call themselves esprils forts. I have, 
 however, a high respect for that philosopher 
 whom Ihe Great Frederick of Prussia loved 
 and honoured, and addressed pathetically in 
 one of his poems, 
 
 " Manpei'luis, cher Munperluis, 
 Que noire vie est pen de chose P' 
 Tliere was in Maupertuis a vigour and vet a 
 tenderness of sentiment, united with strong 
 intellectual powers, and uncommon ardour of 
 «oul. Would he had been a Christian I I 
 cannot help earnestly venturing to hope that 
 he is one now. 
 
 [IMauperiuis died in 1759 at the aee of 63, in 
 the arms of the Bernouilis, tres Chretunne- 
 mtnt. B.] 
 
 should certify that its sting had penetrated 
 into its head. 
 
 He seemed pleased to talk of natural 
 philosophy. " That woodcocks (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 glowworm; 1 am sorry 
 I did not ask where it was to be found. 
 
 Talkingof the Russians and the Chinese, 
 he advised me to read Boll'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, " Con- 
 fusion of progeny constitutes the essence 
 of the crime ; and therefore a woman 
 who breaks her marriage vows is much 
 more criminal than a man who does it. 
 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 her husband on that 
 account. A wife should study to reclaim 
 her husband 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 neg- 
 ligent of pleasing." 
 
 Here he discovered that acute discri- 
 mination, 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, 
 inculcated a very useful lesson as to the 
 way to keep him. 
 
 I asked him if it was not hard that 
 one deviation from chastity should so 
 absolutely ruin a young woman. John- 
 son. " Why, no, sir ; it is the great 
 principle which she is taught. When 
 she has given up that principle, she h.a^ 
 given up every notion of female honour 
 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 
 
JEt.kt- 59. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 171 
 
 of talents. " Sir (said he), you need not 
 be afraid ; marry her. Before a year 
 goes about yon'U 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 liis life of Waller : 
 " He doubtless praised many whom he 
 would have been afraid to marry; and, 
 perhaps, have married one whom he 
 would have been ashamed to praise. 
 Many qualities contribute to domestick 
 happiness, upon which poetry has no 
 colours to bestow : and many airs and 
 sallies may delight imagination, which he 
 who flatters them never can approve." 
 
 He praised Signor Baretti. ** His 
 account of Italy is a very entertaining 
 book ; and, sir, I know no man who 
 carries his head higher in conversation 
 than Baretti. There are strong powers 
 in his mind. He has not, indeed, many 
 hooks ; but with what hooks he has he 
 grapples very forcibly." 
 
 At this time I observed upon the dial- 
 plate of his watch a short Greek inscrip- 
 tion, taken from the New Testament, 
 Nv? yof E^x^i^*' being the first words of 
 our Saviour's solemn admonition to the 
 improvement of that time M'hich is al 
 lowed us to prepare for eternity ; ** the 
 night cometh when no man can work." 
 He sometime afterwards 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. Stee- 
 vens 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 his letter, which had 
 been returned from Scotland. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " 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 glad to see you, 
 and that I wish you would empty your 
 head of Corsica, which I think has tilled 
 it rather too long. But, at all events, I 
 shall be glad, very glad to see you. 
 " 1 am, SIR, 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Oxford, March 2J, 1768." 
 
 I answered thus : 
 
 " to MR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 London, 26th April, 1769. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* I HAVE received your last letter, which, 
 though very short, and by no means com- 
 plimentary, yet gave me real pleasure, 
 because it contains these words, ' I shall 
 be glad, very glad to see you.' — Surely 
 yoti have no reason 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 dignifying 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 kings. 
 ** But how can you bid me ' empty my 
 head of Corsica"?' My noble minded 
 friend, 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 1 live, Corsica and the cause of 
 the brave islanders shall ever employ 
 much of my attention, shall ever interest 
 me in the sincerest manner. 
   ♦***«* 
 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 ** James Boswell." 
 
 [" to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 
 Oxford, April 16, 1768. 
 " MY DEAR DEAR LOVE, 
 
 " You have had a very great loss. To 
 lose an old friend 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 succes- 
 sively, and find our circle of relation 
 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 inhabi- 
 tants of earth must in time be broken ; 
 and all the hopes that terminate here, 
 must on [one] part or other end in disap« 
 pointment. 
 
 *' I am glad that Mrs. Adey and 
 Mrs. Cobb do not leave you alone. Pay 
 
172 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1763. 
 
 my respects to them, and the Sewards, 
 and all ray 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 any thing for you, remem- 
 ber, my dear darling, that one of my 
 greatest pleasures is to please you. 
 
 " The punctuality of your correspond- 
 ence I consider as a proof of great 
 regard. When we shall see each other 
 1 know not, but let us often think on 
 each other, and think with tenderness. 
 Bo 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 your letters always 
 give great pleasure to, 
 
 " MY DEAR, 
 
 " Your most aft'ectionate 
 
 *' And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson."] 
 
 Upon his arrival in London in May, 
 he surprised me one morning with a 
 visit at my lodgir.g in Half Moon Street, 
 was quite satisfied with my explanation, 
 and was in the kindest and most agree- 
 able frame of mind. As he had objected 
 to a part of one of his letters being pub- 
 lished, I thought it right to take this 
 opportunity of asking him explicitly 
 whether it would be improper to publish 
 his letters after his death. His answer 
 was, '* Nay, sir, when I am dead, you 
 may do as you will." 
 
 " He talked in his usual style, with 
 a rough contempt of popular liberty. 
 *' They make a rout about universal 
 liberty, without considering that all that 
 is. to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed 
 by individuals, is private liberty. Poli- 
 tical 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 topick.— Suppose 
 you and I and two hundred more were 
 restrained from printing our thoughts : 
 Wliat then? What proportion would 
 that restraint upon us bear to the private 
 happiness of the nation?" 
 
 This mode of representing the incon- 
 veniences of restraint as light and insig- 
 nificant, was a kind of sophistry in which 
 he delighted to indulge himself, in oppo. 
 sition 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 government is 
 restraint ; and certain it is, that as go- 
 vernment produces rational happiness, 
 too much restraint is better than too 
 little. But when restraint is unnecessary, 
 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 principle no man was more con- 
 vinced than Johnson himself. 
 
 About this time Dr. Kenrick attacked 
 him, through my sides, in a pamphlet, 
 entitled " An Epistle to James Bosvvell, 
 Esq. occasioned by his having transmit- 
 ted the moral Writings of Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson to Pascal Paoli, General of the 
 Corsicans." I was at first inclined to 
 answer this pamphlet ; but Johnson, who 
 knew that my doing so would only gratify 
 Kenrick, by keeping alive what would 
 soon die away of itself, would not suft'er 
 me to take any notice of it. 
 
 His sincere regard for Francis Barber, 
 his faithful negro servant, made him so 
 desirous of his further improvement, that 
 he now placed him at a school at Bishop 
 Stortford, in Hertfordshire. This humane 
 attention docs Johnson's heart much ho- 
 nour. 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. 
 
 ** TO MR. FRANCIS BARBER. 
 " 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 1 can determine what we 
 shall do. Be a good boy. 
 
 " My compliments toMrs. Clapp and 
 to Mr. Fowler. I am, 
 
 ** Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " May 28, 1768." 
 
 Soon afterwards he supped at the 
 Crown and AnchorTavern, in the Strand, 
 with a company whom 1 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 occa- 
 sion he had very little opportunity of 
 hearing them talk, for with an excess of 
 prudence, for which Johnson afterwards 
 found fault with them, they hardly opened 
 their lips, and that only to say something 
 which they were certain would not ex pose 
 them to the sword of Goliath ; such was 
 their anxiety for their fame n\1i«ii in the 
 presence of Johnson. Hii was this even- 
 ing in remarkable vigour of niind, 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 
 p.iiscd. 
 
JEt.kt. 59. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 173 
 
 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 contested this with great warmth, 
 accusing liim of gross sensuality and licen- 
 tiousness of manners. I was very much 
 afraid that in writing Thomson's life. 
 Dr. Johnson would have treated his pri- 
 vate character with a stern severity, but 
 I was agreeably disappointed ; and I 
 may claim a little merit in it, from my 
 having been at pains to send him authen- 
 tick accounts of the affectionate and gene- 
 rous conduct of that poet to his sisters, 
 one of whom, the wife of Mr. Thomson, 
 schoolmaster at Lanark, I knew, and was 
 presented by her with tiiree of his letters, 
 one of which Dr. Johnson has inserted in 
 his life. 
 
 He was vehement against old Dr. 
 Mounsey *, of Chelsea College, as " a 
 fellow who swore and talked bawdy." 
 ** I have been often in his company (said 
 Dr. Percy), and never heard him swear 
 or talk bawdy." Mr. Davies, who sat 
 next to Dr. Percy, having after this had 
 some conversation aside with him, made 
 a discovery which, in his zeal to pay 
 court to Dr. Johnson, he eagerly pro- 
 claimed aloud from the foot of the table : 
 ** O, sir, I have found out a very good 
 reason why Dr. Percy never heard 
 Mounsey swear or talk bawdy, for he 
 tells me he never saw him but at the 
 Duke of Northumberland's table." "And 
 so, sir (said Dr. Johnson loudly to Dr. 
 Percy), you would shield this man from 
 the charge of swearing and talking bawdy, 
 because he did not do so at the Duke of 
 Northumberland'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 presume to 
 controvert what I have related?" Dr. 
 Johnson's animadversion 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, John- 
 son, as usual, treated him with little 
 respect as an authour. Some of us en- 
 deavoured to support the Dean of St. Pa- 
 trick's by various arguments. — One in 
 particular praised his " Conduct of the 
 Allies." Johnson. " Sir, his * Conduct 
 of the Allies' is a performance of very 
 little ability." — " Surely, sir (said Dr. 
 
 * [Messena-cr Mounsey, M. D. died at his 
 apartnienls iii Chelsea Colleg^e, Hec 26, 1788, 
 at the great aa^e of ninety-five. An extraordi- 
 nary direction in his will may be found in llie 
 GciilleHiau's Magazine, vol. 50, p. ii. p. 1183. 
 M.] 
 
 Douglas), you must allow it has strong 
 factsf." Johnson. " Why yes, sir ; but 
 what is that to the merit of the composi- 
 tion ? In the Sessions Paper of the Old 
 Bailey there are strong facts. House- 
 breaking is a strong fact ; robbery is 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 jUI what he had to tell 
 distinctly enov^u, but that is all. He 
 had to count ten, and he has counted it 
 right." Then recollecting that Mr. Da- 
 vies, 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 ebulli- 
 tion was over, he felt some compunction, 
 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 ambi- 
 tious of appearing to advantage, was 
 grievously mortified. Nor did his punish- 
 ment rest here ; for, upon subsequent 
 occasions, whenever he, " statesman all 
 over j," assumed a strutting importance, 
 I used to hail him—" the Authour 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 Eglin- 
 toune, 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 some- 
 times 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 distinction, he re- 
 gretted that Johnson had not been edu- 
 cated with more refinement, and lived 
 more in polished society. " No, no, my 
 
 t My respectable friend, upon readins; this 
 passage, o'jserved that he probably must have 
 said not simply '* stronsf facts," but "stronap 
 facts well arranged." His Lordship, however, 
 knows too well the value of written documents 
 to insist on setting his recollection against my 
 notes taken at the rime. He does not attempt 
 to traverse the record. The fact, perhaps, 
 may have been, either that the additional 
 words escaped me in tlie noise of a numerous 
 company, or that Dr. Johnson, from his im- 
 petuosity and eagerness to seize an opportu- 
 nity to make a lively retort, did not allow 
 Dr. Douglas to finish his sentence. 
 
 X See the hard drawing of him iu Churchill's 
 " Iloscidd." 
 
174 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1769. 
 
 Lord (said Signior Baretti), do with him 
 what you would he would always have 
 been a bear." " True (answered the Earl, 
 with a smile), but he would have beea 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 a hear, let me impress upon my 
 readers a just and happy saying of my 
 friend Goldsmith, who kpew 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 
 bear but his skin." 
 
 In 1769, so far as I can discover, the 
 publick was favoured with nothing of 
 Johnson's composition, either for himself 
 or any of his friends. His " Medita- 
 tions" too strongly prove that he snflfered 
 much both in body and inind ; yet was 
 he perpetually striving against evil, and 
 nobly endeavouring to advance his intel- 
 lectual 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 
 qf being appointed Professor in Ancient 
 Literature*. In the course of the year 
 fie wrote some letters to Mrs. Thrale, 
 passed some part of the summer at Ox- 
 ford and at Lichfield, and when at Oxford 
 he wrote the following letter : 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON . 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Many years ago, when I used to read 
 in the library of your College, I promised 
 to recompense the college for that per- 
 mission, by adding to their books a Bas- 
 kerville's Virgil. 1 have now sent it, 
 and desire you to reposit it on the shelves 
 in my namet. 
 *' If you will be pleased to let me know 
 
 * In which place he has been succeeded by 
 Bennet Langion, Esq. When that truly reli- 
 gious gentleman was elected to this honorarv 
 Professorship, at the same time that Irldward 
 Gibbon, Esq. noted for ititroducinz a kind of 
 sneering infidelity into his Historical Writings, 
 was elected Professor in Ancient History, in 
 the room of Dr. Goldiniitli, I observed that it 
 brought to my mind, " Wicked Will Whiston 
 and good Mr. Dition."— I am now also of that 
 admirable institution as Secretary for Foreign 
 Correspondence, by the favour of the Acade- 
 micians, and the approbation of the Sove- 
 reign. 
 
 t " It has this inscription on a blank leaf: 
 * Hunc librHnif D. D. SamitclJohuton, eoquod 
 hie loci stndtis iuterdHm vacaref Of this 
 library, which is an old Gothick room, he wax 
 vci V fond. On my observing to him that some 
 of ill* modern libraries of the University were 
 
 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 my own +. 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " May 31, 1769." 
 
 I 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 of life 
 which would probably keep me more in 
 Scotland, and prevent me seeing him so 
 often as w hen I was a single man ; but I 
 found he was at Brightliclmstone with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I was very sorry 
 that I had not his company with me at 
 t^ie 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 
 wouhl have been highly gratifying to 
 Mr. Garrick. Upon this occasion I par- 
 ticularly 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 advertise- 
 ment of a haberdasher, who sold Shak- 
 sperian 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-coloured life he 
 drew." 
 
 From Brighthelmstone Dr. Johnson 
 wrote me the following letter, which they 
 who may think that I ought to have sup- 
 pressed, must have less ardent feelings 
 than I have always avowed § : 
 
 more commodious and pleasant for study, as 
 being more spacious and airy, he repiie<i, 
 ' Sir, if a man has a mind to prance, he must 
 study at Christ-Church and All-Souls." 
 
 X "Duiinar this visit he seldom or never 
 dined out. He appeared to be deeply engaged 
 in some literary work. Miis Williams was 
 now with him at Oxford." 
 
 § In the Preface to my Account of Corsica, 
 published in IT^S, I thus express myself; 
 
 •' He who publishes a hook afTectiiiff not to 
 be an aulliour, and professing an indifference 
 for literary fame, may possinlv impose upon 
 many people >ucli an idea of his consequence 
 as he wifiiies may be received. For my pan, 
 I should he proud to be known as an aulhour, 
 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 iMM'n able to furnish a book which has 
 been ajiproveil by the world, has established 
 
i-EXAT. 60. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Why do you charge me with utikind- 
 nessl I have omitted nothing that coald 
 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 my 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. Your History is like other his- 
 tories, 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 expe- 
 rience and observation. You express 
 images which operated strongly upon 
 yourself, and you have impressed them 
 with great 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 in 
 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 unwilling 
 to withhold ; for 1 have always loved 
 and valued you, and shall love you 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 affectionate humble servant, 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 " Brighfhelmsfone, 
 Sepi. 9, 1769." 
 
 himself as a respectable character in distant 
 society, without any danger of having that 
 cliaracter lessened by the observation of his 
 weaknesses. To preserve a uniform dig-nity 
 among those who see us every day is hardly 
 possible; and to aim at it must put us under 
 tlie fetters of perpetual restraint. The authour 
 ot an approved book may allow his natural 
 disposition an easy play, and vet indulge the 
 ?u u "^ superiour genius, when he considers 
 fnat by those who know him only as an authour 
 he never ceases to be respected. Such an 
 authour, when in his hours of gloom and dis- 
 content, may have the consolation to think 
 that his writings are, at that very time, giving 
 pleasure to numbers; and such a.i authour 
 may cherish the hope of being remembered 
 alter death, which has been a great object to 
 the noblest minds in all ages." 
 
 175 
 
 After his return to town, we met fre- 
 quently, and I continued the practice of 
 making notes of his conversation, though 
 not with so much assiduity as I wish I 
 had done. At this time, indeed, I had a 
 sufficient excuse for not being able to ap- 
 propriate so much time to my journal • 
 for General Paoli, after Corsica had been 
 overpowered by the monarchy of France, 
 was now no longer at the head of his 
 brave countrymen, but having with diflfi- 
 culty escaped from his native island, had 
 sought an asylum in Great Britain ; and 
 It was my duty, as well as my pleasure, 
 to attend much upon him. Such par- 
 ticulars of Johnson's conversation, at this 
 period, as I have committed to writing? 
 I shall here introduce, without any strict 
 attention to methodical arrangement. 
 Sometimes short notes of different days 
 shall be blended together, and sometimes 
 a day may seem important enough to be 
 separately distinguished. 
 
 He said, he would not have Sunday 
 kept with rigid severity and gloom, but 
 with a gravity and simplicity of beha- 
 viour. 
 
 I told him that David Hume had made 
 a short collection of Scotticisms. " I 
 wonder (said Johnson) that he should 
 find them*." 
 
 He would not admit the importance of 
 the question concerning the legality of 
 general warrants. "Such a power (he 
 observed) must be vested in every govern- 
 ment, to answer particular cases of ne- 
 cessity ; and there can be no just com- 
 plaint but when it is abused, for which 
 those who administer government must 
 be answerable. It is a matter of such 
 indifference, a matter about which the 
 people care so very little, that were a 
 man to be sent over Britain to offer them 
 an exemption from it at a halfpenny a 
 piece, very few would purchase it." This 
 was a specimen of that laxity of talking 
 which I had heard him fairly acknow- 
 ledge ; for, surely, while the power of 
 granting general warrants was supposed 
 to be legal, and the apprehension of them 
 hung over our heads, we did not possess 
 that security of freedom congenial to our 
 happy constitution, and which, by the • 
 intrepid exertions of Mr. Wilkes, has 
 been happily established. 
 
 He said, " The duration of Parliament, 
 whether for seven years or the life of the 
 King, appears to me so immaterial that 
 I vvould not give half a crown to turn the 
 scale one way or the other. The habeas 
 corpus is the single advantage which our 
 government has over that of other coun- 
 tries." 
 
 * [The first edition of Hume's History of 
 England was full of Scotticisms, many of 
 which he corrected in subsequenteditions. M.] 
 
176 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 On tlie 30th September we dined toge- 
 ther al the Mitre. I attempted to argue 
 for the siiperionr happiness of tlie savage 
 life, upon the usual fanciful topicks. 
 Johnson. *' Sir, there can be nothing 
 more false. The savages have no bodily 
 advantages beyond those of civilized men. 
 They have not better health ; and as to 
 care or mental uneasiness, they are not 
 above it, but below it, like h'ars. No, 
 sir ; you are not to talk such paradox : 
 let me have no more on't. It cannot 
 entertain, far less can it instruct. Lord 
 Monboddo, one of your Scotch Judges, 
 talked a great deal of such nonsense. I 
 suffered him ; but I will not sutfer you.*' 
 BoswELL. '* But, sir, does not Rousseau 
 talk such nonsense?" Johnson. "True, 
 sir, but Rousseau knoivs he is talking 
 nonsense, and laughs at the world for 
 staring at him." Boswell. " How so, 
 sir?" JoHNSOSr. *' Why, sir, a man who 
 talks nonsense so well must know that he 
 is talking nonsense. But I am afraid, 
 (chuckling and laughing), Monboddo does 
 not know that he is talking nonsense*." 
 BoswELL. " Is it wrong then, sir, to 
 affect singularity in order to make people 
 stare?" Johnson. " Yes, if you do it 
 by propagating errour : and, indeed, it 
 is wrong in any way. There is in human 
 nature a general inclination to make 
 people stare ; and every wise man has 
 himself to cure of it, and does cure him- 
 self. If you wish to make people stare 
 by doing better than others, why, make 
 them stare till they stare their eyes out. 
 But consider how easy it is to make 
 people stare by being absurd. I may do it 
 by going into a drawing-room without my 
 shoes. You remember the gentleman in 
 ' The Spectator,' who had a commission 
 of lunacy taken out against him for his 
 extreme singularity, such as never wear- 
 ing a wig, but a nightcap. Now, sir, 
 abstractedly, the nightcap was best : but 
 relatively, the advantage was overba- 
 lanced by his making the boys run after 
 him." 
 
 Talking of a London life, he said, 
 ** The happiness of London is not to hv. 
 conceived but by those who have been 
 in it. I will venture to say, there is 
 more learning and science within the 
 circumference of ten miles from where 
 we now sit than in all the rest of the king- 
 
 • Ills Lor(Uhip liavin? froipiently spoken in 
 an abiisivn nianntr of Dr. Johnson, in my 
 company, I on one occasion diirine the life- 
 time of my illustrioiH friend, could not refrain 
 from relaliaiiriu, and rrpeatcd lo him this 
 saying. He has since published I don't know 
 how many pages in one of his curious books, 
 attempting, in much an^er, but widi pitiful 
 t-.ffect. to persuade mankind that my illustrious 
 friend wan not the jjreat and trood man which 
 tliey esteemed and ever will esteem him to be. 
 
 dom." BoswELL. " The only disadvan- 
 tage is the great distance at which people 
 live from one another." Johnson. *' Yes, 
 sir ; but that is occasioned by the large- 
 ness of it, which is the cause of all the 
 other advantages." Boswell. *' Some- 
 times I have been in the humour of wish- 
 ing to retire to a desert." Johnson. 
 '* Sir, you have desert enough in Scot- 
 land." 
 
 Although I had promised myself a 
 great deal of instructive conversation with 
 him on the conduct of the married state, 
 of which I had then a near prospect, he 
 did not say much upon that topick. 
 Mr. Seward heard him once say, tliat 
 " a man has a very bad chance for hap- 
 piness in that state, unless he marries a 
 woman of very strong and fixed principles 
 of religion." He maintained to me, con- 
 trary to the common notion, that a woman 
 would not be the worse wife for being 
 learned ; in which, from all that 1 have 
 observed of Artemisias, I humbly dif- 
 fered from him. That a woman should 
 be sensible and well informed, I allow 
 to be a great advantage ; and think that 
 Sir Thomas Overbury t, in his rude ver- 
 sification, has very judiciously pointed 
 out that degree of intelligence which is to 
 be desired in a female companion : 
 "Give me, next good, an understanding wife, 
 
 By nature ivisc, not learned much by art; 
 Some knowledge on her side will all my life 
 
 More scope of conversation impart; 
 Besides, her inborne virtue foriifie: 
 They are most firmly good who best know 
 why." 
 
 When I censured a gentleman of my 
 acquaintance for marrying a second time, 
 as it showed a disregard of his first wife, 
 he said, ** Not at all, sir. On the con- 
 trary, were he not to marry again, it 
 might be concluded that his first wife had 
 given him a disgust to marriage; but by 
 taking a second wife he pays the highest 
 compliment to the first, by showing that 
 she made him so happy as a married 
 man that he wishes to be so a second 
 time." So ingenious a turn did he give 
 to this delicate question. And yet, on 
 another occasion, he owned that he once 
 had almost asked a promise of Mrs. John- 
 son that she would not marry again, but 
 had checked himself. Indeed I cannot 
 help thinking, that in this case the recpicst 
 would liJive been unreasonable ; for if 
 Mrs. Johnson forgot, or thought it no 
 injury to the memory of her first love, — 
 the husband of her youth and the father 
 of her children, — to make a second mar- 
 riage, wliy should she be precluded from 
 a third, should she be so inclined? In 
 Johnson's persevering fond appropriation 
 of his Tetty, even after her decease, he 
 
 t "A Wife," a poem, 1614. 
 
JEiAT. GO. 
 
 THE LIFE OF Dll. JOHNSON. 
 
 177 
 
 seems totally to have overlooked the prior 
 claim of the honest Birmingham trader. 
 I presume that her having been married 
 before had, at times, given him some 
 uneasiness ; for I remember his observing 
 upon the marriage of one of our common 
 friends, " He has done a very foolish 
 thing, sir ; he has married a widow, when 
 he might have had a maid." 
 
 We drank tea with Mrs. Williams. I 
 had last year the pleasure of seeing Mrs. 
 Thrale at Dr. Johnson's one morning, 
 and had conversation enough with her to 
 admire her talents ; and to show her that 
 I was as Johnsonian as herself. Dr. John- 
 son had probably been kind enough to 
 speak well of me, for this evening he de- 
 livered me a very polite card from Mr. 
 Thrale and her, inviting me to Streatharn. 
 
 On the 6th of October I complied with 
 this obliging invitation, and found, at an 
 elegant villa, six miles from town, every 
 circumstance that can make society pleas- 
 ing. Johnson, though quite at home, 
 was yet looked up to with an awe, tem- 
 pered by aft'ection, and seemed to be 
 equally the care of his host and hostess. 
 1 rejoiced at seeing him so happy. 
 
 lie played off his wit against Scotland 
 Willi a good humoured pleasantry, which 
 gave me, though no bigot to national 
 prejudices, an opportunity for a little 
 contest with him. I having said that 
 Englaiid was obliged to us for gardeners, 
 almost all their good gardeners being 
 Scotchmen ; — Johnson. " Why, sir, that 
 is because gardening is much more neces- 
 sary amongst you than with us, which 
 makes so many of your people learn it. 
 It is all gardening with you. Things 
 which grow wild here must be cultivated 
 with great care in Scotland. Pray now 
 (throwing himself back in his chair, and 
 laughing), are you ever able to bring the 
 sloe to perfection ?" 
 
 I boasted that we had the honour of 
 being the first to abolish the unhospitable, 
 troublesome, and ungracious custom of 
 giving vails to servants. Johnson. " Sir, 
 you abolished vails because you wei'e too 
 poor to be able to give them." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale disputed with him on the 
 merit of Prior. He attacked him power- 
 fully ; said he wrote of love like a man 
 who had never felt it : his love verses 
 were college verses ; and he repeated the 
 song " Alexis shunn'd his fellow swains," 
 &c. in so ludicrous a manner as to make 
 us all wonder how any one could have 
 been pleased with such fantastical stutf. 
 Mrs. Thrale stood to her gun with great 
 courage, in defence of amorous ditties, 
 which Johnson despised, till he at last 
 silenced her by saying, " My dear lady, 
 talk no more of this. Nonsense can be 
 defended but by nonsense." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale then praised Garrick's 
 talents for light gay poetry ; and, as a 
 specimen, repeated his song in " Florizel 
 and Perdita," and dwelt with peculiar 
 pleasure on this line : 
 
 " I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the 
 poor." 
 
 Johnson. ** Nay, my dear lady, this 
 will never do. Poor David ! Smile with 
 the simple;— What folly is that? And 
 who would feed with the poor that can 
 help it? No, no ; let me smile with the 
 wise, and feed with the rich." I repeated 
 this sally to Garrick, and wondered to 
 find his sensibility as a writer not a little 
 irritated by it. To sooth him, I observed, 
 that Johnson spared none of us ; and I 
 quoted the passage in Horace, in which 
 he compares one who attacks his friends 
 for the sake of a laugh to a pushing ox, 
 that is marked by a bunch of hay put 
 upon his horns : fcenum habet in cornu, 
 " Ay (said Garrick, vehemently), he has 
 a whole mow of it." 
 
 Talking of history, Johnson said, " We 
 may know historical facts to be true, as 
 we may know facts in common life to be 
 true. Motives are generally unknown. 
 We cannot trust to the characters we find 
 in history, unless when they are drawn 
 by those who knew the persons ; as those, 
 for instance, by Sallust and by Lord Cla- 
 rendon." 
 
 He would not allow much merit to 
 Whitfield's oratory. " His popularity, 
 sir (said he), is chiefly ovving to the pe- 
 culiarity of his manner. He would be 
 followed by crowds were he to wear a 
 nightcap in the pulpit, or were he to 
 preach from a tree." 
 
 I know not from what spirit of contra- 
 diction he burst out into a violent decla- 
 mation against the Corsicans, of whose 
 heroism 1 talked in high terms. '* Sir 
 (said he), what is all this rout about the 
 Corsicans ? They have been at war with 
 the Genoese for upwards of twenty years, 
 and have never yet taken their fortified 
 towns. They might have battered down 
 their walls and reduced them to powder 
 in twenty years. They might have pulled 
 the walls in pieces, and cracked the 
 stones with their teeth in twenty years." 
 It was in vain to argue with him upon 
 the want of artillery : he was not to be 
 resisted for the moment. 
 
 On the evening of October 10, I pre- 
 sented Dr. Johnson to General Paoli. I 
 had greatly wished that two men, for 
 whom I had the highest esteem should 
 meet. They met with a manly ease, 
 mutually conscious of their own abilities, 
 and of the abilities of each other. The 
 General spoke Italian, and Dr. Johnson 
 English, and understood one anolhtr 
 N 
 
178 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1769. 
 
 very well, with a little aid of interpreta- 
 tion from me, in which I compared my- 
 self to an isthmus which joins two great 
 continents. Upon Johnson's approach, 
 the General said, *' From what I have 
 read of your works, sir, and from what 
 Mr. Boswell has told me of you, I have 
 long held yon in great veneration." The 
 General talked of languages being formed 
 on the particular irotions and manners of 
 a people, without knowing which, we 
 cannot know the language. We may 
 know the direct signification of single 
 words ; but by these no beauty of expres- 
 sion, no sally of genius, no wit is con- 
 veyed to the mind. All this must be by 
 allusion to other ideas. " Sir (said John- 
 son), you talk of language, as if you had 
 never done any thing else but study -it, 
 instead of governing a nation." The 
 General said, ** Quest o e un troppo 
 gran compUmento ;" this is too great a 
 compliment. Johnson answered, ** I 
 should have thought so, sir, if I had not 
 heard you talk." The General asked 
 him what he thought of the spirit of infi- 
 delity which was so prevalent. Johnson. 
 ** Sir, this gloom of infidelity, I hope, is 
 only a transient cloud passing through the 
 hemisphere, which will soon be dissi- 
 pated, and the sim break forth with his 
 usual splendour." " You think then 
 (said the General), that they will change 
 their principles like their clothes." 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, if they bestow no 
 more thought on principles than on dress, 
 it must be so." The General said, that 
 " a great part of the fashionable infidelity 
 was owing to a desire of showing courage. 
 Men who have no opportunities of show- 
 ing it as to things in this life, take death 
 and futurity as objects on which to dis- 
 play it." Johnson. ** That is mighty 
 foolish affectation. Fear is one of the 
 passions of human nature, of which it is 
 impossible to divest it. You remember 
 that the Emperour Charles V. when he 
 read upon the tombstone of a Spanish 
 nobleman, * Here lies one who never 
 knew fear,' wittily said, * Then he never 
 snuffed a candle with his fingers.'" 
 
 He talked a few words of French to 
 the General ; but finding he did not do 
 it with facility, he asked for pen, ink, 
 and paper, and wrote the following 
 note : 
 
 ** J'ai lu dans la geographic de Ijucas 
 de Linda un Paternoster ccrit dans 
 une lanyue tout-d-fait diffdrente de 
 I' Jtalienue, et de toutes autres les- 
 quelles se d6rivent du Jjat.in Jj'auteur 
 I'appelle linguam Corsicae rusliciam ; 
 elle a prut-Ctre passC, pen r> peu ; mais 
 elle a certainement pr^value autrefoi* 
 dans les niontnynes et dans la cam- 
 payne. Le mime auteur dit la mime 
 
 chose en parlant de Sardaigne ; qu'il 
 y a deux langues dans I' Jsle, une des 
 villes, I' autre de la campagne." 
 
 The General immediately informed 
 him that the lingua rustica was only in 
 Sardinia. 
 
 Dr. Johnson went home with me, and 
 drank tea till late in the night. He said. 
 General Paoli had the loftiest port of 
 any man he had ever seen. He denied 
 that military men were always the best 
 bred men. " Perfect good breeding," he 
 observed, " consists in having no par- 
 ticular mark of any profession, but a 
 general elegance of manners; whereas, 
 in a military man, you can commonly 
 distinguish the 6r«/<d of a soldier, Z'/iow?«6' 
 d'epce." 
 
 Dr. Johnson shunned to-night any dis- 
 cussion of the perplexed question of fate 
 and free will, which I attempted to 
 agitate : '* Sir (said he), we know our 
 will hfree, and there's an end on't." 
 
 He honoured me with his company at 
 dinner on the 16th of October, at my 
 lodgings in Old Bond Street, with Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Gold- 
 smith, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Bickerstaff, and 
 Mr. Thomas Davies. Garrick played 
 round him with a fond vivacity, taking 
 hold of the breasts of his coat, and, look- 
 ing up in his face with a lively archness, 
 complimented him on the good health 
 which he seemed then to enjoy ; while 
 the sage, shaking his head, beheld him 
 with a gentle complacency. One of the 
 company not being come at the appointed 
 hour, I proposed, as usual, upon such 
 occasions, to order dinner to be served ; 
 adding, " Ought six people to be kept 
 waitijig for one?" ** VVhy, yes (answered 
 Johnson, with a delicate humanity), if 
 the one will suflfer more by your sitting 
 down than the six will do by waiting.'' 
 Goldsmith, to divert the tedious minutes, 
 strutted about, bragging of his dress, and 
 I believe was seriously vain of it, for his 
 mind was wonderfully prone to such im- 
 pressions. " Come, come (said Garrick), 
 talk no more of that. You are, perhap.*, 
 the worst— eh, eh!"— Goldsmith wa> 
 eagerly attempting to interrupt him, 
 when Garrick went on, laughing iron 
 ically, •• Nay, you will always look like 
 a gentleman ; but I am talking of beini; 
 well or ill drest.'* " Well, let me tell 
 you (said Goldsmith), when my tailor 
 brought home my bloom-coloured coat, 
 he said, * Sir, I have a favour to beg of 
 you. When any body asks you who 
 made your clothes, be pleased to mention 
 John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water 
 Lane.'" Johnson. " Why, sir, that wan 
 because he knew the strange colour would 
 attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus 
 they might hear of him, and see how 
 
^TAT. ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 179 
 
 well he could make a coat even of so 
 absurd a colour." 
 
 After dinner our conversation first 
 turned upon Pope. Johnson said, his 
 characters of men were admirably drawn, 
 those of women not so well. He repeatetl 
 to us, in his forcible melodious manner, 
 the concluding lines of the Duneiad. 
 While he was talking loudly in praise of 
 those lines, one of the company ventured 
 to say, "Too fine for such a poem: — a 
 poem on what?" Johnson (with a dis- 
 dainful look). " Why, on dunces. It 
 was worth while being a dunce then. Ah, 
 sir, hadst thou lived in those days! It is 
 not worth while being a dunce now 
 when there are no wits." Bickerstaff 
 observed, as a peculiar circumstance, 
 that Pope's fame was higher when he 
 was alive than it was then. Johnson said, 
 his Pastorals were poor things, though 
 the versification was tine. He told us, 
 with high satisfaction, the anecdote of 
 Pope's inquiring who was the authour of 
 his " London," and saying, he will be 
 soon deterre. He observed, that in 
 Dryden's poetry there were passages 
 drawn from a profundity which Pope 
 could never reach. He repeated some 
 fine lines on love, by the former (whicli 
 I have now forgotten), and gave great 
 applause to the character of Zimri. Gold- 
 smith said, that Pope's character of Ad- 
 dison showed a deep knowledge of the 
 human heart. Johnson said, that the 
 description of the temple in ** The 
 Mourning Bride * " was the finest poet- 
 ical passage he had ever read ; he recol- 
 lected none in Shakspeare equal to it. — 
 " But (said Garrick, all alarmed for* the 
 god of his idolatry '), we know not the 
 extent and variety of his powers. We ;ue 
 to suppose there are such passages in his 
 works. Shakspeare must not suffer from 
 the badness of our memories." Johnson, 
 diverted by this enthusiastick jealousy, 
 went on with great ardour : '* No, sir ; 
 Congreve has nature" (smiling on the 
 tragick eagerness of Gairick) ; but com- 
 posing himself, he added, " Sir, this is 
 not comparing Congreve on the whole 
 with Shakspeare on the whole ; but only 
 maintaining that Congreve has one finer 
 passage than any that can be found in 
 Shakspeare. Sir, a man may have no 
 more than ten guineas in the world, but 
 he may have those ten guineas in one 
 piece ; and so may have a finer piece than 
 a man who has ten thousand pound : but 
 then he has only one ten-guinea piece. — 
 What I mean is, that you can show me 
 no passage where there is simply a de- 
 scription of material objects, without an 
 jntermixture of moral notions f, which 
 
 * [Act ii. sc. 3. M.] 
 
 t [In Congreve's description there seems to 
 
 produces such an effect." Mr. Murphy 
 mentioned Shakspeare's description of 
 the night before the battle of Agincourt ; 
 but it was observed it had men in it. 
 Mr. Davies suggested the speech of Juliet, 
 in which she figures herself awaking in 
 the tomb of her ancestors. Some one 
 mentioned the description of Dover Cliff. 
 Johnson. " No, sir ; it should be all 
 precipice, — all vacuum. The crows im- 
 pede your fall. The diminished appear- 
 ance of the boats, and other circumstances, 
 are all very good description ; but do not 
 impress the mind at once with the hor- 
 rible idea of immense height. The im- 
 pression is divided ; you pass on by com- 
 putation, from one stage of the tremendous 
 space to another. Had the girl in 'The 
 Mourning Bride' said she could not cast 
 her shoe to the top of one of the pillars 
 in the temple, it would not have aided 
 the idea, but weakened it." 
 
 Talking of a Barrister who had a bad 
 utterance, some one (to rouse Johnson) 
 wickedly said, that he was unfortunate in 
 not having been taught oratory by Sheri- 
 dan. Johnson. '* Nay, sir, if he had 
 been taught by Sheridan, he would have 
 cleared the room." Garrick. "Sheridan 
 has too much vanity to be a good man." 
 — We shall now see Johnson's mode of 
 defending a man ; taking him into his 
 own hands, and discriminating. John- 
 son. " No, sir. There is, to be sure, in 
 Sheridan, something to reprehend and 
 every thing to laugh at ; but, sir, he is 
 not a bad man. No, sir ; were mankind 
 to be divided into good and bad, he would 
 stand considerably within the ranks of 
 good. And, sir, it must be allowed that 
 Sheridan excels in plain declamation, 
 though he can exhibit no character." 
 
 I should, perhaps, have suppressed this 
 disquisition concerning a person of whose 
 merit and worth I think with respect, 
 had he not attacked Johnson so out- 
 rageously in his Life of Swift, and, at 
 the same time, treated us his admirers as 
 a set of pigmies. He who has provoked 
 the lash of wit cannot complain that he 
 smarts from it. 
 
 Mrs. Montagu, a lady distinguished for 
 having written an Essay on Shakspeare, 
 being mentioned ; — Reynolds. " I think 
 that essay does her honour." Johnson. 
 " Yes, sir ; it does her honour, but it 
 would do nobody else honour. I have, 
 indeed, not read it all. But when I take 
 up the end of a web, and find it pack- 
 thread, I do not expect, by looking fur- 
 ther, to find embroidery. Sir, 1 will 
 
 be an intermixture of moral votions; as Ihe 
 affectinjj power of the passage arises from 
 the vivid impression of the described objects 
 on the mind of 'he speaker: "And shoots a 
 chilness," &c. K.J 
 
180 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1769. 
 
 venture to say, there is not one sentence 
 of true criticism in her book." Garrick. 
 *' But, sir, surely it shows how much 
 Voltaire has mistaken Shakspeare, which 
 nobody else has done." Johnson. ** Sir, 
 nobody else has thought it worth while. 
 And what merit is there in that? You 
 may as well praise a schoolmaster for 
 whipping a boy who has construed ill. 
 No, sir, there is no real criticism in it : 
 none showing the beauty of thought, as 
 formed on the workings of the human 
 heart." 
 
 The admirers of this Essay* may be 
 offended at the slighting manner in which 
 Johnson spoke of it, but let it be remem- 
 bered, that he gave his honest opinion 
 unbiased by any prejudice, or any proud 
 jealousy of a woman intruding herself 
 into the chair of criticism ; for Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds has told me, that when the Es- 
 say first came out, and it was not known 
 who had written it, Johnson wondered 
 how Sir Joshua could like it. At this 
 time Sir Joshua himself had received no 
 information concerning the authour, ex- 
 cept being assured by one of our most 
 eminent literati, that it was clear its au- 
 thour did not know the Greek tragedies 
 in the original. One day at Sir Joshua's 
 table, when it was related that Mrs. 
 Montagu, in an excess of compliment to 
 the authour of a modern tragedy, had 
 exclaimed, " I tremble for Shakspeare ;" 
 Johnson said, *' When Shakspeare has 
 got for his rival, and Mrs. Mon- 
 tagu for his defender, he is in a poor 
 state indeed." 
 
 Johnson proceeded: "The Scotchman 
 has taken the right method in his ' Ele- 
 ments of Criticism.' I do not mean that 
 he has taught us any thing ; but he has 
 told us old things in a new way." 
 Murphy. •' He seems to have read a 
 great deal of French criticism, and wants 
 to make it his own ; as if he had been 
 for years anatomising the heart of man, 
 and peeping into every cranny of it " 
 Goldsmith. " It is easier to write that 
 book than to read it." Johnson. " We 
 have an example of true criticism in 
 Burke's ' Essay on the Sublime and 
 
 * Of whom I acknowle«lge myself to be one, 
 considerin:; it as a piece of the secondary or 
 comparative species of criticism; and noi of 
 that profound species which alone IJr. John- 
 son would allow to be " real criticism." it 
 iii, besides, clearly and eleeanlly expressed, 
 and has done effectn.illy what it prolessed to 
 do, namely, vindicated Shakspeare from (he 
 misrepresentations of Voltaire; andconsitU r- 
 in? how many voiin^ people were misled by 
 hi<« wittv, though false observation", Mrs. Mon- 
 tagu's Essay was of service to Shakspeare 
 with a certain class of readers, and is, th> re- 
 fore, enfitle.l to prai*e. Joiinson, I am as- 
 sured, allowed the merit which I have slated, 
 nving' (with reference to Voltaire), •' it is 
 conclusive ad hamiutm.** 
 
 Beautiful ;' and, if I recollect, there is 
 also Du Bos; and Bouhours, who shows 
 all beauty to depend on truth. There is 
 no great merit in telling how many plays 
 have ghosts in them, and how this ghost 
 is better than that. You must show how 
 terrour is impressed on the human heart. 
 — In the description of night in Macbeth, 
 the beetle .'.nd the bat detract from the 
 general idea of darkness— inspissated 
 gloom." 
 
 Politicks being mentioned, he said, 
 '* This petitioning is a new mode of dis- 
 tressing government, and a mighty easy 
 one. I will undertake to get petitions 
 either against quarter guineas or half 
 guineas, with the help of a little hot 
 wine. There must be no yielding to 
 encourage this. The object h not im- 
 portant enough. We are not to blow up 
 half a dozen palaces because one cottage 
 is burning." 
 
 The conversation then took another 
 turn. Johnson. ** It is amazing what 
 ignorance of certain points one some- 
 times finds in men of eminence. A wit 
 about town, who wrote Latin bawdy 
 verses, asked me, how it happened that 
 England and Scotland, which were once 
 two kingdoms, were now one : — and Sir 
 Fletcher Norton did not seem to know 
 that there were such publications as the 
 Reviews." 
 
 *' The ballad of Hardyknute has no 
 great merit, if it be really ancient. People 
 talk of nature. But mere obvious nature 
 may be exhibited with very little power 
 of mind." 
 
 On Thursday, October 10, I passed the 
 evening with him at his house. He ad- 
 vised me to comj)lete a Dictionary of 
 words peculiar to Scotland, of which 1 
 showed him a specimen. " Sir (said 
 he), Ray has made a collection of north- 
 country words. By collecting those of 
 your country, you will do a useful thing 
 towards the history of the language." 
 He bade me also go on with collections 
 which I was making upon the antiquities 
 of Scotland. ** Make a large book ; a 
 folio." BoswELL. ** But of what use 
 will it be, sir?" Johnson. " Never 
 mind the use; do it." 
 
 I complained that he had not men- 
 tioned Garrick in his Preface to Shak- 
 speare ; and asked him if he did not 
 admire him. Johnson. " Yes, as ' a 
 poor player, who frets and struts his hour 
 upon the stage;' — as a shadow." Bos- 
 well. *' But has he not brought Shak- 
 speare into notice?" Johnson. '* Sir, 
 to allow that would be to lampoon the 
 age. Many of Shakspeare's plays are 
 the worse for being acted : Macbeth, for 
 instance." Boswell. ** What, sir, is 
 nothing gained by decoration and action ? 
 
/Etat. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 181 
 
 Indeed I do wish that you had mentioneil 
 Garrick." Johnson. " My dear sir, had 
 I mentioned him, I must have mentioned 
 many more; Mrs. Pritchard, Mrs. Gib- 
 ber — nay, and Mr. Gibber too ; he too 
 altered Shakspeare." Boswell. " You 
 have read his apology, sir?" Johnson. 
 *' Yes, it is very entertaining. But as 
 for Gibber himself, taking from his con- 
 versation all that he ought not to have 
 said, he was a poor creature. I remember 
 when he brought me one of his Odes to 
 have my opinion of it, I could not bear 
 such nonsense, and would not let him 
 read it to the end ; so little respect had 
 I for that great man ! (laughing). Yet 
 1 remember Richardson wondering that 
 I could treat him with familiarity." 
 
 I mentioned to him that I had seen 
 the execution of several convicts at Ty- 
 burn, two days before, and that none of 
 them seemed to be under any concern. 
 Johnson. " Mostof them, sir, have never 
 thought at all." Boswell. " But is not 
 the fear of death natural to man ?" John- 
 son. " So much so, sir, that the whole of 
 life is but keeping away the thoughts of 
 it." He then, in a low and earnest tone, 
 talked of his meditating upon the awful 
 hour of his own dissolution, and in what 
 manner he should conduct himself upon 
 that occasion : '* 1 know not (said he), 
 whether I should wish to have a friend 
 by me, or have it all between Gou and 
 myself." 
 
 Talking of our feeling for the distresses 
 of others; — Johnson. " Why, sir, there 
 is much noise made about it, but it is 
 greatly exaggerated. No, sir, we have 
 a certain degree of feeling to prompt us 
 to do good : more than that. Providence 
 does not intend. It would be misery to 
 no purpose." Boswell. " But suppose 
 now, sir, that one of your intimate friends 
 was apprehended for an offence for which 
 he might be hanged." Johnson. ** I 
 should do what I could to bail him, and 
 give him any other assistance; but if he 
 were once fairly hanged, I should not 
 suffer." Boswell. " Would you eat 
 your dinner that day, sir?" Johnson. 
 " Yes, sir ; and eat it as if he were 
 eating with me. Why, there's Baretti, 
 w ho is to be tried for his life to-morrow, 
 friends have risen up for him on every 
 side ; yet if he should be hanged none of 
 them will eat a slice of plum-pudding 
 the less. Sir, that sympathetick feeling 
 goes a very little way in depressing the 
 mind." 
 
 I told him that I had dined lately at 
 Foote's, who showed me a letter which 
 he had received from Tom Davies, telling 
 him that he had not been able to sleep 
 from the concern he felt on account of 
 " This sad affair of Baretti," begging 
 
 of him to try if he could suggest any 
 thing that might be of service ; and, at 
 the same time, recommending to him an 
 industrious young man who kept a pickle 
 shop. Johnson. " Ay, sir, here you 
 have a specimen of human sympathy ; a 
 friend hanged and a cucumber pickled. 
 We know not whether Baretti or the 
 pickle man has kept Davies from sleep : 
 nor does he know himself. And as to 
 his not sleeping, sir ; Tom Davies is a 
 very great man; Tom has been upon the 
 stage, and knows how to do those things : 
 I have not been upon the stage, and 
 cannot do those things." Boswell. " I 
 have often blamed myself, sir, for not 
 feeling for others as sensibly as many 
 say they do." Johnson. " Sir, don't be 
 duped by them any more. You will find 
 these very feeling people are not very 
 ready to do you good. They pay you 
 hy feeling.^'' 
 
 Boswell. " Foote has a great deal of 
 humour." Johnson. " Yes, sir." Bos- 
 well. " He has a singular talent of ex- 
 hibiting character." Johnson. " Sir, it 
 is not a talent ; it is a vice ; it is what 
 others abstain from. It is not comedy, 
 which exhibits the character of a species, 
 as that of a miser gathered from many 
 misers : it is farce which exhibits indi- 
 viduals." Boswell. ** Did not he think 
 of exhibiting you, sir?" Johnson. "Sir, 
 fear restrained him ; he knew I would 
 have broken his bones. I would have 
 saved him the trouble of cutting off" a 
 leg ; I would not have left him a leg to 
 cut off." Boswell. " Pray, sir, is not 
 Foote an infidel ?" Johnson. " I do not 
 know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel ; 
 but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as 
 a dog is an infidel ; that is to say, he has 
 never thought upon the subject*." Bos- 
 well. " I suppose, sir, he has thought 
 superficially, and seized the first notions 
 which occurred to his mind." Johnson. 
 ** Why then, sir, still he is like a dog, 
 that snatches the piece next him. Did 
 
 * When Mr. Foote was at Edinburgh, he 
 thought fit to entertain a numerous Scotch 
 company wirh a. great deal of coarse jocu- 
 larity, at the expense of Dr. Johnson, ima- 
 gining it would be acceptable. I felt this as 
 not civil to me ; but sat very patiently till he 
 had exhausted his merriment on that subject; 
 and then observed that surely Johnson must 
 be allowed to have some sterling wit, and that 
 I had heard him say a very eood thing of 
 Mr. Foote himself. " Ah, my old friend Sam 
 (cried Foote), no man says better things: do 
 let us have it." Upon which I told the above 
 story, which produced a very loud laugh from 
 the company. But I never saw Foots" so dis- 
 concerted. He looked grave and angrj', and 
 entered into a serious refutation of thejustice 
 of the remark. " What, sir (said he), talk thus 
 of a man of liberal education;— a man who 
 for years was at the University of Oxford;— a 
 man who has added sixteen new characters to 
 the English drama of his country !" 
 
182 
 
 you never observe that dogs have not the 
 power of comparing? A doj^ will take a 
 small bit of meat as readily as a large, 
 when both are before him." 
 
 *' Buchanan (he observed) has fewer 
 centos than any modern Latin poet. He 
 has not only had great knowledge of the 
 Latin language, but was a great poetical 
 genius. Both the Scaligers praise him." 
 He again talked of the passage in Con- 
 greve with high commendation, and said, 
 " Shakspeare never has six lines together 
 without a fault. Perhaps you may find 
 seven : but this does not refute my ge- 
 neral assertion. If I come to an orchard, 
 and say there's no fruit here, and then 
 comes a poring man, who finds two apples 
 and three pears, and tells me, * Sir, you 
 are mistaken, I have found both apples 
 and pears,' I should laugh at him; what 
 would that be to the purpose?" 
 
 BoswELL. " What do you think of 
 Dr. Young's ' Night Thoughts,' sir?" 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir, there are very 
 fine things in them." Boswell. '* Is 
 there not less religion in the nation now, 
 sir, than there was formerly?" Johnson. 
 " I don't know, sir, that there is." Bos- 
 well. *' For instance, there used to be 
 a chaplain in every great family, which 
 we do not find now." Johnson. " Nei- 
 ther do you find any of the state servants 
 which great families used foirnerly to 
 have. There is a change of modes in the 
 whole department of life." 
 
 Next day, October 20, he appeared, 
 for the only time, I suppose, in his life, 
 as a witness in a Court of Justice, being 
 called to give evidence to the character 
 of Mr. Bareiti, who, having stabbed a 
 man in the street, was arraigned at the 
 Old Bailey for murder. Never did such 
 a constellation of genius enlighten the 
 awful Sessions House,emphatically called 
 Justice Hall; Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, 
 Mr. Beaiiclerk, and Dr. Johnson; and 
 undoubtedly their favourable testimony 
 had due weight with the Court and Jury. 
 Johnson gave his evidence in a slow, 
 deliberate, and distinct manner, which 
 was uncommonly impressive. It is well 
 known that Mr. Baretti was acquitted. 
 
 On the 2(ith of October we (lined to- 
 gether at the Mitre Tiivcin. I t'oMiid 
 fault with Foote for indiiluiii<j; his t:il(iil 
 of ridicule at the expense of his visitors, 
 which I colloquially termed making fools 
 of his company. Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 when yon go to sec Foote, yon do not 
 go to see a sJiitit : yon '40 lo sec a mail 
 who will lit- ciitcilaiiicd at yoiii' iioiisr, 
 and then biinu \(»n on a |)nhlick stage; 
 who will t iilci tain xon at his house, for 
 tlM' very pin pose ot hrin<iiiig yon on a 
 piiblick staiif. Sir, In; dots not make 
 fooja of liiii conipany ; they whotn he 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1T69. 
 
 exposes are fools already : he only brings 
 them into action." 
 
 Talking of trade, he observed, *' It is 
 a mistaken notion that a vast deal of 
 money is brought into a nation by trade. 
 It is not so. Commodities come from 
 commodities ; but trade produces no 
 capital accession of wealth. However, 
 though there should be little profit in 
 money, there is a considerable profit in 
 pleasure, as it gives to one nation the pro- 
 ductions of another ; as we have wines 
 and fruits and many other foreign articles 
 brought to us." Boswell. " Yes, sir, and 
 there is a profit in pleasure by its furnish- 
 ing occupation to such numbers of man- 
 kind." Johnson. '* Why, sir, you cannot 
 call that pleasure to which all are averse, 
 and which none begin but with the hope 
 of leaving off; a thing which men dislike 
 before they have tried it and when they 
 have tried it." Boswell. " But, sir, the 
 mind must be employed, and we grow 
 weary when idle." Johnson. " That is, 
 sir, because others being busy, we want 
 company ; but if we were all idle, there 
 would be no growing weary ; we should 
 all entertain one another. There is, in- 
 deed, this in trade : — it gives men an 
 opportunity of improving their situation. 
 If there were no trade, many who are 
 poor would always remain poor. But no 
 man loves labour for itself." Boswell. 
 " Yes, sir, I know a person who does. 
 He is a very laborious Judge, and he 
 loves the labour." Johnson. " Sir, that 
 is because he loves respect and distinction. 
 Could he have them without labour, he 
 would like it less." Boswell. " He 
 tells me he likes it for itself." — " Why, 
 sir, he fancies so, because he is not ac- 
 customed to abstract." 
 >' We went home to his house to tea. 
 Mrs. Williams made it with sufficient 
 dexterity, notwithstanding her blindness, 
 though her manner of satisfying herself 
 that the cups were full enough appeared 
 to me a little awkward ; for I fancied 
 she put her finger down a certain way, 
 till she felt the tea touch it*. In )ny 
 first elation at being allowed Hh- pi iviiege 
 of attending Dr. Johnson at his late visits 
 to this lady, which was like being i se- 
 cretioribus consiliis, I willingly drank 
 cup after cup, as if it had been the 
 Heliconian spring. But as the charm of 
 novelty went off, I grew more fastidious ; 
 and, besides, I discovered that she was 
 of a peevish temper. 
 
 • I Irive Kinee lifi.l rci^jon |<> think Unit | 
 \v;»s nii>t;iken , for I h;ivc hccn iniui mtd hy a 
 lady, who was Icmtf intiniaie with lnr, and 
 likely to he a more accurate ol)8er*er of such 
 mniteiR, that hhe had acrinired stich a iiiceness 
 of toiicli as to know, t)y the feeHnir on die 
 oiit>i(le of the cup, how luar it was lu lu iiis 
 full. 
 
.-Etat. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 183 
 
 There was a pretty large circle this 
 evening. Dr. Johnson was in very good 
 humour, lively, and ready to talk upon 
 all subjects. Mr. Fergusson, the self- 
 taught philosopher, told him of a new 
 invented machine which went without 
 horses : a man who sat in it turned a 
 handle, which worked a spring that drove 
 it forward. "Then, sir (said Johnson), 
 what is gained is, the man has his choice 
 whether he will move himself alone, or 
 himself and the machine too." Domi- 
 nicetti being mentioned, he would not 
 allow him any merit. " There is nothing 
 in all this boasted system. No, sir ; 
 medicated baths can be no better than 
 warm water ; their only effect can be 
 that of tepid moisture." One of the 
 company took the other side, maintain- 
 ing that medicines of various sorts, and 
 some too of most powerful effect, are 
 introduced into the human frame by the 
 medium of the pores ; and therefore 
 when warm water is impregnated with 
 salutiferous substances, it may produce 
 as great efic'cts as a bath. This appeared 
 to me very satisfactory. Johnson did not 
 answer it ; but talking for victory, and 
 determined to be master of the field, he 
 had recourse to the device which Gold- 
 smith imputed to him in the witty words 
 of one of Gibber's comedies: " There is 
 no arguing with Johnson ; for when his 
 pistol misses fire, he knocks you down 
 with the butt end of it." He turned to 
 the gentleman, " Well, sir, go to Do- 
 minicetti, and get thyself fumigated ; but 
 be sure that the steam be directed to thy 
 head, for that is the peccant part." 
 This produced a triumphant roar of 
 laughter from the motley assembly of 
 philosophers, printers, and dependants, 
 male and female. 
 
 I know not how so whimsical a thought 
 came into my mind, but I asked, " If, 
 sir, you were shut up in a castle, and a 
 new-born child with you, what would 
 you do?" Johnson. ** Why, sir, I should 
 not much like my company." Boswell. 
 " But would you take the trouble of 
 rearing it?" He seemed, as may well 
 be supposed, unwilling to pursue the 
 subject : but upon my persevering in my 
 question, replied, " Why, yes, sir, I 
 would ; but I must have all conveniences. 
 If I had no garden I would make a shed 
 on the roof, and take it there for fresh 
 air. I should feed it, and wash it much, 
 and with warm water to please it, not 
 with cold water to give it pain." Bos- 
 WEi.L. " But, sir, does not heat relax?" 
 Johnson. " Sir, you are not to imagine 
 the water is to be very hot : I would not 
 coddle the child. No, sir, the hardy 
 method of treating children does no good. 
 I'll take you five children from London 
 
 who shall cuff five Highland children. 
 Sir, a man bred in London will carry a 
 burthen, or run, or wrestle, as well as a 
 man brought up in the hardest manner in 
 the country." Boswell. " Good living, 
 I suppose, makes the Londoners strong." 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, 1 don't know that 
 it does. Our chairmen from Ireland, 
 who are as strong men as any, have been 
 brought up upon potatoes. Quantity 
 makes np for quality." Boswell. 
 " Would you teach this child that I 
 have furnished you with any thing ?" 
 Johnson. " No, I should not be apt to 
 teach it." Boswell. " Would not you 
 have a pleasure in teaching it?" John- 
 son. " No, sir, I should not have a 
 pleasure in teaching it." Boswell. 
 " Have you not a pleasure in teaching 
 men? — There I have you. You have 
 the same pleasure in teaching men that I 
 should have in teaching children." John- 
 son. " Why, something about that." 
 
 Boswell. " Do you think, sir, that 
 what is called natural affection is born 
 with us? It seems to me to be the effect 
 of habit or of gratitude for kindness. No 
 child has it for a parent whom it has not 
 seen." Johnson. " Why, sir, I think 
 there is an instinctive natural affectioni ^ 
 in parents towards their children." y 
 
 Russia being mentioned as likely to ' 
 become a great empire, by the rapid in- 
 crease of population : — Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, I see no prospect of their propagating 
 more. They can have no more children 
 than they can get. I knovv of no way to 
 make them breed more than they do. It 
 is not from reason and prudence that 
 people marry, but from inclination. A 
 man is poor ; he thinks, ' I cannot be 
 worse, and so I'll e'en take Peggy.' " 
 Boswell. " But have not nations been 
 more populous at one period than ano- 
 ther?" Johnson. " Yes, sir; but that 
 has been owing to the people being less 
 thinned at one period than another, whe- 
 ther by emigrations, war, or pestilence, 
 not by their being more or less prolifick. 
 Births at all times bear the same pro- 
 portion to the same number of people." 
 Boswell. " But, to consider the state 
 of our own country ; — does not throwing 
 a number of farms into one hand hurt 
 population?" Johnson. *' Why, no, sir ; 
 the same quantity of food being produced 
 will be consumed by the same number 
 of mouths, though the people may be 
 disposed of in different ways. We see, 
 if corn be dear and butchers' meat cheap, 
 the farmers all apply themselves to the 
 raising of corn till it becomes plentiful 
 and cheap, and then butchers' meat be- 
 comes dear ; so that an equality is always 
 preserved. No, sir, let fanciful men do 
 as they will, depend upon it, it it» diflicult 
 
181 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to disturb the system of life." Bosweix. 
 ** But, sir, is it not a very bad tiling for 
 landlords to oppress their tenants by 
 raising their rents?" Johnson. " Very 
 bad. But, sir, it never can have anj 
 general influence ; it may distress some 
 individuals. For, consider this : land- 
 lords cannot do without tenants. Now 
 tenants will not give more for land than 
 land is worth. If they can make more 
 of their money by keeping a shop, or 
 any other way, they'll do it, and so oblige 
 landlords to let land come back to a rea- 
 sonable rent, in order that they may get 
 tenants. Land, in England, is an article 
 of commerce. A tenant who pays his 
 landlord his rent thinks himself no more 
 obliged to him than you think yourself 
 obliged to a man in whose shop you buy 
 a piece of goods. He knows the landlord 
 does not let him have his land for less 
 than he can get from others, in the same 
 manner as the shopkeeper sells his goods. 
 No shopkeeper sells a yard of riband for 
 sixpence when sevenpence is the current 
 price." BoswELii. *' But, sir, is it not 
 better that tenants should be dependent 
 on landlords?" JohnsoiN. "Why, sir, as 
 there are many more tenants than land- 
 lords, perhaps, strictly speaking,we should 
 wish not. But if you please you may 
 let your lands cheap, and so get the value, 
 part in money and part in homage. I 
 should agree with you in that." Bosw^ell. 
 " So, sir, you laugh at schemes of poli- 
 tical improvement." Johnson. " Why, 
 ^ir, most schenies of political improve- 
 ment are very laughable things." 
 
 He observed, '• Providence has wisely 
 ordered that the more numerous men 
 are the more difficult it is for them to 
 agree in any thing, and so they are 
 governed. There is no do)ibt that if the 
 poor should reason, * We'll be the poor 
 no longer, we'll make the rich take their 
 turn,' they could easily do it, were it not 
 that they can't agree. So the common 
 soldiers, though so much more numerous 
 than their officers, are governed by them 
 for the same reason." 
 
 He said, ** Mankind have a strong 
 attachment to the habitations to which 
 they have been accustomed. You see 
 the inhabitants of Norway do not with 
 one consent quit it and go to some part 
 of America, where there is a mild cli- 
 mate, and where they may have the same 
 produce from land with the tentli part of 
 the labour. No, sir, their affection for 
 their old dwellings, and the terrour of a 
 general change, keep them at home. 
 'J"hti8 we see many of the finest spots in 
 the world thinly inhabited, and many 
 rugged spots well inhabited." 
 
 ** The London Chronicle," which was 
 the only newspaper he constantly took 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1760. 
 
 in, being brought, the office of reading it 
 aloud was assigned to me. I was diverted 
 by his impatience. He made me pass 
 over so many parts of it that my task 
 was very easy. He would not sufter one 
 of the petitions to the King about the 
 Middlesex election to be read. 
 
 I had hired a Bohemian as my servant 
 while I remained in London, and being 
 much pleased with him, I asked Dr. 
 Johnson whether his being a Roman 
 Catholick should prevent my taking him 
 with me to Scotland. Johnson. " Why, 
 no, sir, if he has no objection, you can 
 have none." Boswell. " So, sir, you 
 are no great enemy to the Roman Catho- 
 lick religion." Johnson. " No more, 
 sir, than to the Presbyterian religion." — 
 Boswell. ** You are joking." John- 
 son. *' No, sir, I really think so. Nay, 
 sir, of the two, I prefer the Popish." 
 Boswell. *' How so, sir?" Johnson. 
 " Why, sir, the Presbyterians have no 
 church, no apostolical ordination." Bos- 
 well. " And do you think that absolutely 
 essential, sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 as it was an apostolical institution, 1 think 
 it is dangerous to be without it. And, 
 sir, the Presbyterians have no publick 
 worship: they have no form of prayer 
 in which they know they are to join. 
 They go to hear a man pray, and are to 
 judge whether they will join with him." 
 Boswell. " But, sir, their doctrine is 
 the same with that of the Church of 
 England. Their confession of faith and 
 the thirty-nine articles contain the same 
 points, even the doctrine of predestina- 
 tion." Johnson. " Why, yes, sir ; pre- 
 destination was a part of the clamour of 
 the times, so it is mentioned in our arti- 
 cles, but with as little positiveness as 
 could be." Boswell. '* Is it necessary, 
 sir, to believe all the thirty-nine articles?" 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, that is a question 
 which has been much agitatefl. — Some 
 have thought it necessary that they should 
 all be believed ; others have considered 
 them to be only articles of peace*, that 
 
 • [Dr. Simon Patrick (afrerwanls Bisliop 
 of Elv) thus expre^^es himself on tliis subject, 
 ill a letter to ilie learned Dr. John Wapleloft, 
 diUed Feb. 8, I68J-83: 
 
 •' I always took the Articlrs to he only arti- 
 cles of coniiiiiuiion ; -.ind so Bishop Hra'nihati 
 expresbiy maintains acrninst tlie Bishop of 
 Chalredon ; and 1 remember well that. Bishop 
 Sanderson, when the King was first rcsiorecl, 
 lecfcived the suitscription of an acqnaintanre 
 of mine, whieli he declared was not to them 
 iis aiticies of Jaifh but pence. I think you 
 need nuke u<> Miiiple <»f the matter, because 
 ;ill that I know so understand the meaninj; of 
 subscription, and ui)on other terms would not 
 subscribe." — I he abo\e was printt^d some 
 years aijo in tlie Furopean Magazine, from 
 the oriKinal, now in the hands of Mr. Maple- 
 toft, Burifeon at Chertsey, grandson to Dr. 
 John Mapletoft. M.] 
 
^TAT. GO. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 185 
 
 is to say, yon are not lo preach against 
 them." BosiVELL. " It appears to me, 
 sir, that predestination, or what is equi- 
 valent to it, cannot be avoided if we hold 
 an universal prescience in the Deity." 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, does not Gou every 
 day see things going on without prevent- 
 ing them ." BoswELL. " True, sir, but 
 it' a thing be certainly foreseen it must 
 be fixed, and cannot happen otherwise ; 
 and if we apply this consideiation to the 
 human mind there is no free will, nor do 
 I see how prayer can be of any avail." 
 He mentioned Dr. Clarke and Bishop 
 Bramhall on Liberty and Necessity, and 
 bid me read South's Sermons on Prayer ; 
 but avoided the question which has ex- 
 cruciated philosophers and divines beyond 
 any other. I did not press it further when 
 I perceived that he was displeased, and 
 shrunk from any abridgment of an attri- 
 bute usually ascribed to the Divinity, 
 however irreconcileable in its full extent 
 with the grand system of moral govern- 
 ment. His supposed orthodoxy here 
 cramped the vigorous powers of his un- 
 derstanding. He was coniined by a chain 
 which early imagination and long habit 
 made him think massy and strong, but 
 which, had he ventured to try, he could 
 at once have snapt asunder. 
 
 I proceeded : " What do you think, 
 sir, of Purgatory, as believed by the 
 Roman Catholicks?" Johnson. ** Why, 
 sir, it is a very harmless doctrine. They 
 are of opinion that the generality of man- 
 kind are neither so obstinately wicked as 
 to deserve everlasting punishment, nor 
 so good as to merit being admitted into 
 the society of blessed spirits ; and there- 
 fore that God is graciously pleased to 
 allow of a middle state, where they may 
 be purified by certain degrees of suftering. 
 You see, sir, there is nothing unreason- 
 able in this." BoswELL. " But then, 
 sir, their masses for the dead?" Johnson. 
 " Why, sir, if it be once established that 
 there are souls in Purgatory, it is as 
 proper to pray for them as for our 
 brethren of mankind who are yet in this 
 life." BoswELL. " The idolaUy of the 
 Mass?" Johnson. " Sir, there is no 
 idolatry in the Mass. They believe God 
 to be there, and they adore him." Bos- 
 well. " The worship of Saints?" John- 
 son. *' Sir, they do not worship Saints ; 
 they invoke them ; they only ask their 
 prayers. I am talking all this time of 
 the doctrines of the Church of Rome. 
 I grant you that in practice, Purgatory 
 is made a lucrative imposition, and that 
 the people do become idolatious as they 
 recommend themselves to the tutelary 
 protection of particular saints. I think 
 their giving the sacrament only in one 
 kind is criminal, because it is contrary 
 
 to the express institution of Christ, and 
 I wonder how the Council of Trent ad- 
 milted it." Boswell. " Confession ?" 
 Johnson. " Why, I don't know but that 
 is a good thing. The Scripture says, 
 * Confess your faults one to another,' and 
 the priests confess as well as the laity. 
 Then it must be considered that their 
 absolution is only upon repentance, and 
 often upon penance also. You think 
 your sins may be forgiven without pe- 
 nance, upon repentance alone." 
 
 I thus ventured to mention all the 
 common objections against the Roman 
 Catholick Church that I might hear so 
 great a man upon them. What he said 
 is here accurately recorded. But it is 
 not improbable that if one had taken the 
 other side, he might have reasoned dif- 
 ferently. 
 
 I must however mention that he had 
 a respect for " the old religion,'''' as the 
 mild Melancthon called that of the Ro- 
 man Catholick Church, even while he 
 was exerting himself for its reformation 
 in some particulars. Sir William Scott 
 informs me that he heard Johnson say, 
 " A man who is converted from Pro- 
 testantism to Popery may be sincere : 
 he parts with nothing : he is only super- 
 adding to what he already had. But a 
 convert from Popery to Protestantism 
 gives up so much of what he has held as 
 sacred as any thing that he retains ; there 
 is so much laceration of mind in such a 
 conversion that it can hardly be sincere 
 and lasting." The truth of this reflection 
 may be confirmed by many and eminent 
 instances, some of which will occur to 
 most of my readers. 
 
 When we Mere alone, I introduced 
 the subject of death, and endeavoured to 
 maintain that the fear of it might be got . 
 over. I. told him that David Hume said ' 
 to me, he was no more uneasy to think 
 he should not be after his life than that 
 he had not been before he began to 
 exist. Johnson. " Sir, if he really thinks 
 so, his perceptions are disturbed ; he is 
 mad ; if he does not think so, he lies. 
 He may tell you he holds his finger in 
 the flame of a candle, without feeling 
 pain ; would you believe him ? When 
 he dies he at least gives up all he has." 
 Boswell. " Foote, sir, told me, that 
 when he was very ill he was not afraid 
 to die." Johnson. " It is not true, sir. 
 Hold a pistol to Foote's breast, or to 
 Hume's breast, and threaten to kill 
 them, and you'll see how they behave." 
 Boswell. " But may we not fortify our 
 minds for the approach of death?" — 
 Here I am sensible I was in the wrong, 
 to bring before his view what he ever 
 looked upon with honour; for although 
 when in a celestial frame of mind, in his 
 
186 
 
 " Vanity of Human Wishes," he has 
 supposed death to be *' kind Nature's 
 signal for retreat" from this state of 
 being to ** a happier seat," his thoughts 
 upon this awful change were in general 
 full of dismal apprehensions. His mind 
 resembled the vast amphitheatre, the 
 Coliseeum at Rome. In the centre stood 
 his judgment, which, like a mighty gladi- 
 ator, combated those apprehensions that, 
 like the wild beasts of the Arena, were 
 all around in cells, ready to be let out 
 upon him. After a conflict, he drives 
 them back into their dens; but not kill- 
 ing them, they were still assailing him. 
 To my question, whether we might not 
 fortify our minds for the approach of 
 death, he answered, in a passion, " No, 
 sir, let it alone. It matters not how a 
 man dies, but how he lives. The act of 
 dying is not of importance, it lasts so 
 short a time." He added (with an ear- 
 nest look), ** A man knows it must be 
 so, and submits. It will do him no good 
 to whine." 
 
 I attempted to continue the conversa- 
 tion. He was so provoked that he said, 
 " Give us no more of this ; and was 
 thrown into such a state of agitation that 
 he expressed himself in a way that 
 alarmed and distressed me ; showed an 
 impatience that I should leave him, and 
 when I was going away, called to me 
 sternly, ** Don't let us meet to morrow." 
 I went home exceedingly uneasy. All 
 the harsh observations which I had ever 
 heard made upon his character crowded 
 into my mind ; and I seemed to myself 
 like the man who had put his head into 
 the lion's mouth a great many times with 
 perfect safety, but at last had it bit oif. 
 
 Next morning I sent him a note, 
 stating that I might have been in the 
 wrong, but it was not intentionally; he 
 was therefore, I could not help thinking, 
 too severe upon me. That notwithstand 
 ing our agreement not to meet that day, 
 I would call on him in my way to the 
 city, and stay five minutes by my watch. 
 ** You are (said I), in my mind, since 
 last night, surrounded with cloud and 
 storm. Let me have a glimpse of sun- 
 shine, and go about my atlairs in serenity 
 and cheerfulness." 
 
 Upon entering his study, I was glad 
 that he was not alone, which would have 
 made our meeting more awkward. There 
 were with him Mr. Steevens and Mr. 
 
 Tycrs, both of whom I now saw for the 
 first time. My note had, on his own 
 reflection, softened him, for he received 
 me very complacently ; so that I unex- 
 pectedly found myself at ease; and joined 
 in the conversation. 
 
 Hesaid.thecriticks had done too much 
 honour to Sir Richard Blackmore b\ 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1769. 
 
 writing so much against him. That in his 
 *' Creation" he had been helped by vari- 
 ous wits, a line by Phillips and a line by 
 Tickell ; so that by their aid, and that of 
 others, the poem had been made out *. 
 
 I defended Blackmore's supposed lines, 
 which have been ridiculed as absolute 
 nonsense : 
 
 " A painted vest Prince Vortiger had on, 
 Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won t." 
 
 I maintained it to be a poetical conceit. 
 A Pict being painted, if he is slain in 
 battle, and a vest is made of his skin, it 
 is a painted vest won from him, though 
 he was naked. 
 
 Johnson spoke unfavourably of a cer- 
 tain pretty voluminous authour, saying, 
 " He used to write anonymous books, 
 and then other books commending those 
 books, in which there was something of 
 rascality." 
 
 I whispered him, '* Well, sir, you are 
 now in good humour." Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir." I was going to leave him, and had 
 got as far as the staircase. He stopped 
 me, and smiling, said, " Get you gone 
 in J," a curious mode of inviting me to^ 
 stay, which I accordingly did for some 
 time longer. 
 
 This little incidental quarrel and recon- 
 ciliation, which, perhaps, I may bethought 
 to have detailed too minutely, must be 
 esteemed as one of many proofs which 
 his friends had, that though he might be 
 charged with had humour at times, he 
 was always a good-natured man ; and I 
 have heard Sir Joshua Reynolds, a nice 
 
 * [Johuson himself bus vindicated Black- 
 more upon this very point. See the Lives of 
 the Poets, vol. iii. p. 75. 8vo. 1791. I. B.— O.] 
 
 t An acute correspondent of the Emopean 
 Magazine, April, 1792, has completely ex- 
 posed a mistake which has been unaccountably 
 frequent in asciibin? these lines to Hlaok- 
 uiore, uotwithstandin? that Sir Richard Steele, 
 in that very popular work "The Spectator,*' 
 mentions them as written by the Authour of 
 " The British Princes," the Hon. Edward 
 Howanl. n he correspomlent above mentioned 
 shows this mistake to be so inveterate that 
 not only / defended the lines as Blackmore's, 
 ill (he presence of Dr. Johnson, without any 
 contradiction or doubt of their authenticity, 
 but that the Reveiend Mr Whittak^r has 
 asserted in prim, that he understands they 
 were suppressed in the late edition or editions 
 of Blackmore. " After all (siiys this intelligent 
 writer) it is not unworthy of particular obser- 
 vation, that these lines so often quoted <lo not 
 exist either in Hiackmore or Howard." In 
 ••The Britisl. Princes," 8vo. 16C9, now before 
 me, p. 90, they stand thus: 
 «' A vest as a<tmired Vortiper had on. 
 Which frnm this I>land'8 foes his grandsiic 
 
 Whose ailful colour pa^sM the Tyrian dye. 
 Obliged to triumph in this legacy." 
 
 It is prol»able. I think, that some wag 
 order to make Howard still tiiore ridi<" 
 
 than he really ^ 
 It now circulates. 
 
 OUH 
 
 formed the couplet aii 
 
^TAT. 60. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 187 
 
 and delicate observer of manners, parti- 
 cularly remark, that when upon any 
 occasion Johnson had been rough to any 
 person in company, he took the tirst 
 opportunity of reconciliation by drinking 
 to him, or addressing his discourse to 
 him ; but if he found his dignified indi- 
 rect overtures sullenly neglected, he was 
 quite indifferent, and considered himself 
 as having done all that he ought to do, 
 and the other as now in the wrong. 
 
 Being to set out for Scotland on the 
 10th of November, I wrote to him at 
 Streatham, begging that he would meet 
 me in town on the 9th ; but if this should 
 be very inconvenient to him, I would go 
 thither. His answer was as follows : 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Upon balancing the inconveniences of 
 both parties, I find it will less incom- 
 mode you to spend your night here than 
 me to come to town. I wish to see you, 
 and am ordered by the lady of this house 
 to invite you hither. Whether you can 
 come or not, I shall not have any occa- 
 sion of writing to you again before your 
 marriage, and therefore tell you now, 
 that with great sincerity I wish you hap- 
 piness. I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 '* Humble servant, 
 
 "Nov. 9, 1769." "Sam. Johnson." 
 
 I was detained in town till it was too 
 late on the ninth, so went to him early 
 in the morning of the tenth of November. 
 '* Now (said he), that you are going to 
 marry, do not expect more from life than 
 life will afford. You may often find 
 yourself out of humour, and you may 
 often think your wife not studious enough 
 to please you ; and yet you may have 
 reason to consider yourself as upon the 
 whole very happily married." 
 
 Talking of marriage in general, he 
 observed, " Our marriage service is too 
 refined. It is calculated only for the 
 best kind of marriages ; whereas, we 
 should have a form for matches of con- 
 venience, of which there are many." 
 He agreed with me that there was no 
 absolute necessity for having the mar- 
 riage ceremony performed by a regular 
 clergyman, for this was not commanded 
 in scripture. 
 
 I was volatile enough to repeat to him 
 a little epigrammatick song of mine, on 
 matrimony, which Mr. Garrick had a 
 few days before procured to be set to 
 musick by the very ingenious Mr. Dibdin. 
 
 A MATRIMONIAL THOUGHT. 
 
 " In the blithe d-iys of lionej noon, 
 With Kale's alluienienrs. grnitten, 
 
 I loved her late, I loved her soon. 
 And call'd her dearest kitten. 
 
 But now my kitten's grown a cat, 
 And cross like olhei wives, 
 
 O ! by my soul, my honest Mat, 
 I fear she has nine lives." 
 
 My illustrious friend said, " It is very 
 well, sir ; but you should not swear." 
 Upon which I altered " O ! by my soul," 
 to " alas, alas !" 
 
 He was so good as to accompany me 
 to London, and see me into the post- 
 chaise which was to carry me on my 
 road to Scotland. And sure I am, that 
 however inconsiderable many of the par- 
 ticulars recorded at this time may appear 
 to some, they will be esteemed by the 
 best part of my readers as genuine traits 
 of his character, contributing together to 
 give a full, fair, and distinct view of it. / 
 / In 1770, he published a political paij/ 
 phlet, entitled " The False Alarm," 
 intended to justify the conduct of the 
 ministry and their majority in the House 
 of Commons, for having virtually as- 
 sumed it as an axiom, that the expulsion 
 of a Member of Parliament was equiva- 
 lent to exclusion, and thus having de- 
 clared Colonel Lutterel to be duly elected 
 for the county of Middlesex, notwith- 
 standing Mr. WHkes had a great majority 
 of voles. This being justly considered as 
 a gross violation of the right of election, 
 an alarm for the constitution extended 
 Itself all over the kingdom. To prove 
 this alarm to be false was the purpose of 
 Johnson's pamphlet; but even his vast 
 powers were inadequate to cope with 
 constitutional truth and reason, and his 
 argument failed of effect ; and the House 
 of Commons have since expunged the 
 offensive resolution from their Journals. 
 That the House of Commons might have 
 expelled Mr. Wilkes repeatedly, and as 
 often as he should be rechosen, was not 
 denied ; but incapacitation cannot be but 
 by an act of the whole legislature. It 
 was wonderful to see how a prejudice in 
 favour of government in general and an 
 aversion to popular clamour could blind 
 and contract such an understanding as 
 Johnson's in this particular case ; yet the 
 wit, the sarcasm, the eloquent vivacity 
 which this pamphlet displayed made it 
 be read with great avidity at the time, 
 and it will ever be read with pleasure, 
 for the sake of its composition. That it 
 endeavoured to infuse a narcotick indif- 
 ference as to publick concerns into the 
 minds of the people, and that it broke 
 out sometimes into an extreme coarse- 
 ness of contemptuous abuse, is but too 
 evident. '«• 
 
 It must not, however, be omitted, that 
 when the storm of his violence subsides, 
 he takes a fair opportunity to pay a grate- 
 ful compliment to the King, who had 
 rewarded his merit: "These low born 
 
188 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1770. 
 
 rulers have endeavoured, surely without 
 effect, to alienate the affections of the 
 pi3ople from the only King who for 
 almost a century has much appeared to 
 desire, or much endeavoured to deserve 
 them." And " Every honest man must 
 lament that the faction has been regarded 
 with frigid neutrality by the Tories, who, 
 being long accustomed to signalise their 
 principles by opposition to the Court, do 
 Hot yet consider that they have at last a 
 King who knows not the name of party, 
 and who wishes to be the common father 
 of ail his people." 
 
 To this pamphlet, which was at once 
 discovered to be Johnson's, several an- 
 swers came out, in which care was taken 
 to remind the publick of his former 
 attacks upon government, and of his now 
 being a pensioner, without allowing for 
 tlie honourable terms upon which John- 
 son's pension was granted and accepted, 
 or the change of system which the British 
 court had undergone upon the accession 
 of his present Majesty. He was, how- 
 ever, soothed in the highest strain of pane- 
 gyrick in a poem called " The Remon- 
 strance," by the Reverend Mr. Stockdale, 
 to whom he was, upon many occasions, 
 a kind protector. 
 
 The following admirable minute made 
 by him describes so well his own state, 
 and that of numbers to whom self-exami- 
 nation is habitual, that I cannot omit it : 
 
 "June 1, 1770. Everyman naturally 
 persuades himself that he can keep his 
 resolutions, nor is he convinced of his 
 imbecility but by length of time and 
 frequency of experiment. This opinion 
 of our own constancy is so prevalent 
 that we always despise him who suffers 
 his general and settled purpose to be 
 overpowered by an occasional desire. 
 They, therefore, whom frequent failures 
 have made desperate, cease to form reso- 
 lutions ; and they who are becoming 
 cunning do not tell tiu-ni. 'i'liose who do 
 not make them are very few, but of their 
 effect little is perceived ; for scarcely 
 any man persists in a conisc of life 
 planned by choice, but .i.> Ik- is i isii;iiiicd 
 from deviation by some evtcrnai power. 
 He who may live as he will seldom 
 lives long in the observation of his own 
 rules*." 
 
 Of this year I have obtained the fol- 
 lowing letters : 
 
 ** TO Tin: iii;vi;iti.M) imi, rAion;i«, 
 t \Mii:;ii;(;i:. 
 
 ** SIH, 
 "As no lii.ili oii^ht to keep wiioilv to 
 liiiMsclf ;iiiv po-.cv-ioii lliat ina> be u.m liil 
 to the pultiiek, 1 hope >ou will iiol tiiink 
 
 * Prayers an<l Meditations, p. 95. 
 
 me unreasonably intrusive, if I have re- 
 course to you for such information as 
 you are more able to give me than any 
 other man. 
 
 " In support of an opinion which yon 
 have already placed above the need of 
 any more support, Mr. Steevens, a very 
 ingenious gentleman, lately of King's 
 College, has collected an account of all 
 the translations which Shakspeare might 
 have seen and used. He wishes his cata- 
 logue to be perfect, and therefore entreats 
 that yo;i will favour him by the insertion 
 of such additions as the accuracy of your 
 inquiries has enabled you to make. To 
 this request, 1 take the liberty of adding 
 my own solicitation. 
 
 *' We have no immediate use for this 
 catalogue, and therefore do not desire 
 that it should interrupt or hinder your 
 more important employments. But it 
 will be kind to let us know that you 
 receive it. 
 
 " I am, SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 March 21, 1770." 
 
 '* TO THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS WARTON. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The readiness with which you were 
 pleased to promise me some notes on 
 Shakspeare was a new instance of your 
 friendship. I shall not hurry you; but 
 am desired by Mr. Steevens, who helps 
 me in this edition, to let you know that 
 we shall print the trage<lies first, and 
 shall therefore want first the notes which 
 belong to them. We think not to incom- 
 mode the readers with a supplement ; 
 and, therefore, what we cannot put into 
 its proper place will do us no good. We 
 shall not begin to print before the end of 
 six weeks, perhnps not so soon. 
 " 1 aui, cVc. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, June 23, 1770.'' 
 
 ** TO THE REV. DR. JOSEPH WARTON. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM revising my edition of Shak- 
 s|)eare, and remember that I formerly 
 misrepresented >our ojiinion of Lear. 
 Be pleased to w rite ilic puagraph as you 
 would have it, :iiul sind it. If you have 
 any icmaiks oi' \(>ur own upon tliat ov 
 an\ other 1)I;in,' 1 .-liall -I.kHv rccrive 
 thnii. 
 
 " Makemy complimriits to Mrs. War- 
 ton. 1 sometimes think ol w aiMltiing for 
 a ttw (lavs to Winchester, but am apt to 
 delay, i am, 
 
   Your 
 
 " Sept. 27, 1770." 
 
 ■^^M. .loHNSON." 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 189 
 
 " TO MR. FRANCIS BARBER, AT MRS. CLAPP'S, 
 BlSHOP-SrORTFORU, HERTFORDSHIRE. 
 " DEAR FRANCIS, 
 
 " I AM at last sat down to write to you, 
 and should very much blame myself lor 
 having neglected you so long, if I did notj 
 impute that and many other failings toj 
 want of health. I hope not to be so long 
 silent again. I am very well satisfied 
 with your progress, if you can really 
 perform the exercises which you are set ; 
 and 1 hope Mr. Ellis does not suffer you 
 to impose on him, or on yourself. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mr. Ellis, 
 and to Mrs. Clapp, and Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Let me know what English books 
 you read for your entertainment. You 
 can never be wise unless you love read- 
 ing. 
 
 " Do not imagine that I shall forget or 
 forsake you ; for if, when I examine 
 you, I find that you have not lost your 
 time, you shall want no encouragement 
 from 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' London, Sept. 25, 1770." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 •' UFAR FRANCIS, 
 
 " I HOPE you mind your business. I 
 design you shall stay with Mrs. Clapp 
 these holidays. If you are invited out 
 you may go," if Mr. Ellis gives leave. I 
 have ordered you some clothes, which 
 you will receive, I believe, next week. 
 My compliments to Mrs. Clapp, and to 
 Mr. Ellis, and Mr. Smith, &c. 
 " 1 am, 
 " Your affectionate, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "December 7, 1770." 
 
 During this year there was a total 
 cessation of all correspondence between 
 Dr. Johnson and me, without any cold- 
 ness on either side, but merely from pro- 
 crastination, continued from day to day ; 
 and as I was not in London, I had no 
 opportunity of enjoying his company and 
 recording his conversation. To supply 
 this blank I shall present my readers 
 V. ith some Collectanea, obligingly fur- 
 
 -hed to me by the Rev. Dr. Maxwell, 
 Falkland, in Ireland, some time as- 
 M^tant preacher at the Temple, and for 
 many years the social friend of Johnson, 
 who spoke of him with a very kind 
 regard. 
 
 " My acquaintance with that great and 
 venerable character commenced in the 
 year 1754. I was introduced to him by 
 Mr. Grierson*, his Majesty's printer at 
 
 * Son of the learned Mrs. Grierson, who 
 was patronised by the late Lord Granville, 
 and was the editor of several of the classicks. 
 
 Dublin, a gentleman of uncommon learn-' 
 ing, and great wit and vivacity. Mr. 
 Grierson died in Germany, at the age of 
 twenty-seven. Dr. Johnson highly re- 
 spected his abilities, and often observed, 
 that he possessed more extensive know- 
 ledge than any man of his years he had 
 ever known. His industry was equal to 
 his talents; and he particularly excelled 
 in every species of philological learning, 
 and was, perhaps, the best critick of the 
 age he lived in. 
 
 ** I must always remember with grati- 
 tude my obligation to Mr. Grierson, for 
 the honour and happiness of Dr. John- 
 son's acquaintance and friendship, which 
 continued uninterrupted and undimi- 
 nished to his death : a connexion that 
 was at once the pride and happiness of 
 my life. 
 
 ** What pity it is that so much wit and 
 good sense as he continually exhibited in 
 conversation should perish unrecorded! 
 Few persons quitted his company with- 
 out perceiving themselves wiser and 
 better than they were before. On serious 
 subjects he flashed the most interesting 
 conviction upon his auditors; and upon 
 lighter topicks, you might have supposed 
 — Albano Musas de monte locutas. 
 
 " Though 1 can hope to add but little 
 to the celebrity of so exalted a character 
 by any communications I can furnish, 
 yet, out of pure respect to his memory, 
 I will venture to transmit to you some 
 anecdotes concerning him, which felt 
 under my own observation. The very 
 minutice of such a character must be 
 interesting, and may be compared to the 
 filings of diamonds. 
 
 " In politicks he was deemed a Tory, 
 but certainly was not so in the obnoxious 
 or party sense of the term ; for while he 
 asserted the legal and salutary preroga- 
 tives of the crown, he no less respected 
 the constitutional liberties of the people. 
 Whiggism, at the time of the Revolution, 
 he said, was accompanied with certain 
 principles ; but latterly, as a mere party 
 distinction under Walpole and the Pel- 
 hams, was no better than the politicks of 
 stockjobbers and the religion of infidelsi 
 
 " He detested the idtaof governing by 
 parliamentary corruption, and asserted 
 most strenuously, that a prince, steadily 
 and conspicuously pursuing the interests 
 of his people, could not fail of parlia- 
 mentary concurrence. A prince of ability , 
 he contended, might and should be the 
 
 [Her edition of Tacitu!=, with the notes of 
 Rvcliius, in three volumes 8vo. 1730. was dedi- 
 cated in very eleeant Latin to John Lord 
 Carteret (afierwards Earl Granville), by whom 
 she was patronised during his residence in 
 Ireland as Lord Lieutenant between 1724 and 
 I7a0. IVL] 
 
190 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irro 
 
 directing soul and spirit of Iiis own ad- 
 ministration ; in short, iiis own minister, 
 and not the mere head of a party : and 
 then, and not till then, would the royal 
 dignity be sincerely respected. 
 
 " Johnson seemed to think that a cer- 
 tain degree of crown influence over the 
 Houses of Parliament (not meaning a 
 corrupt and shameful dependence) was 
 very salutary, nay, even necessary, in 
 our mixed government. ' For (said he), 
 if the members were under no crown in- 
 fluence, and disqualified from receiving 
 any gratification from Court, and resem- 
 bled, as they possibly miglit, Pym and 
 Hasierig, and other stubborn and sturdy 
 members of the Long Parliament, the 
 wheels of government would be totally 
 obstructed. Such men would oppose, 
 merely to show their power, (rom envy, 
 jealousy, and perversity of disposition ; 
 and, not gaining themselves, would hate 
 and oppose all who did ; not loving the 
 person of the prince, and conceiving they 
 owed him little gratitude, from the mere 
 spirit of insolence and contradiction, they 
 would oppose and thwart him upon all 
 occasions.' 
 
 *' The inseparable imperfection an- 
 nexed to all human governments con- 
 sisted, he said, in not being able to create 
 a sufficient fund of virt\ie and principle 
 to carry the laws into due and effectual 
 execution. Wisdom might plan, but virtue 
 alone could execute. And where could 
 sufficient virtue be found 1 A variety of 
 delegated, and often discretionary powers 
 must be intrnsted somewhere ; which, if 
 not governed by integrity and conscience, 
 would necessarily be abused, till at last 
 the constable would sell his for a shilling. 
 " This excellent person was sometimes 
 charged with abetting slavish and arbi- 
 trary principles of government. Nothing, 
 in my opinion, could be a grosser ca- 
 lumny and misrepresentation ; for how 
 can it be rationally sjjpposed that he 
 should adopt such peridcious and absurd 
 opinions, who supported his philosophical 
 character with so much dignity, was ex- 
 tremely jealous of his per.-onal liberty 
 and independence*, anil eould not brook 
 the smallest appearance of neglect or in 
 suit, even from the highest personages .' 
 
 " But let ns view him in some instaiic es 
 of more familiar life. 
 
 ** His general mode of life, during my 
 acquaintance seemed to be preU> iinitbi ni. 
 About twelve o'clock 1 commonly visited 
 him, and frequently found him in bed, or 
 declaiming over his tea, which he drank 
 very plentifully. He generally had a 
 
 n<> 
 
 iIh: 
 
 lU: 
 
 levee of morning visitors, chiefly men of 
 letters ; Hawkesworth, Goldsmith, Mur- 
 phy, Langton, Steevens, Beauclerk, &c. 
 &c. and sometimes learned ladies ; par- 
 ticularly I remember a French lady of 
 wit and fashion doing him the honour of 
 a visit. He seemed to me to be con- 
 sidered as a kind of publick oracle, whom 
 every body thought they had a right to 
 visit and consult; and doubtless they 
 were well rewarded. I never could dis- 
 cover how he found time for his compo- 
 sitions. He declaimed all the morning, 
 then went to dinner at a tavern, where 
 he commonly stayed late, and then drank 
 his tea at some friend's house, over which 
 he loitered a great while, but seldom took 
 supper. I fancy he must have read and 
 wrote chiefly in tlie night, for I can 
 scarcely recollect that he ever refused 
 going with me to a tavern, and he often 
 went to Ranelagh, which he deemed a 
 place of innocent recreation. 
 
 " He frequently gave all the silver in 
 his pocket to the poor, who watched him, 
 between his house and the tavern where 
 he dined. He walked the streets at all 
 hours, and said he was never robbed, for 
 the rogues knew he had little money, nor 
 had the appearance of having much. 
 
 " Though the most accessible and com- 
 municative man alive, yet when Ii^^sTrs^ 
 pected he was invited to be exhibited, he 
 Qftljstantly spurned the invitation. 
 
 ** Two } oung women from Statlbrdshirc 
 visited him when I was present, to con- 
 sult him on the subject of Methodisn), to 
 which they were inclined. * Come (said 
 he), you pretty fools, dine with Maxwell 
 and me at the Mitre, and we will talk 
 over that subject ;' which they did, and 
 after dinner he took one of them upon 
 his knee, and fondled her for half an hour 
 together. 
 
 " Upon a visit to me at a country 
 lodging near Twickenham, he asked 
 what sort of society I had tliere. I told 
 him, hilt iiHlitlneiit ; as tlirv cliii'dy con- 
 sisted of o|)ult'iit tiadiis Viliird" from 
 business. He said, he never nnicli liked 
 that class of people ; • For, sir (said he), 
 they have lost the civility of tradesmen, 
 
 without acquiring the 
 
 ' Jolmso 
 1 t : he I 
 
 .bscrvcd, 
 
 that 
 
 of gen- 
 
 chcd to Lon- 
 inan stored 
 
 t Mo 
 
 , 8: ami I'dle.v's MordI l'liilo«..|,l.> , 
 
 b. VI. c. vii. p. 491, 4t6. tliere quuled. 1. b.J 
 
 • li;i(l tin- s;iiin afiVction for 
 I'aiK wliicli JoliuMui li.ui lui L<)ii>l..ii.— " Je 
 I'anue tLndrewieat (says lie in his Essay on 
 Vanity), jusqu' a xes vcnueri et a Ke>i tachet. 
 Je lie suis Francois, que par cette ufande 
 ' itc, <,'r.«nile en peiiplcM, prande «'n feiicite de 
 -11 as-ietie, niais Hur tout f^rande et incom- 
 |i M iMc eii varifte et diversite des comnio- 
 'liic/: la frioire do la France, el I'un des plu* 
 II lilt s oriH nuns dti momle." Vol. iii. p. 321, 
 (•.III, Am-,1( raaiii, ITt^I. I. 13. 
 
iliTAT. fil. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 191 
 
 his mind better there than any where 
 else ; and that in remote situations a 
 man's body might be feasted, bnt his 
 mind was starved, and his faculties apt 
 to degenerate from want of exercise and 
 competition. No place (he said) cured 
 a man's vanity or arrogance so well as 
 London ; for as no man was either great 
 or good per se, but as compared with 
 others not so good or great, he was sure 
 to tind in the metropolis many his equals, 
 and some his superiors. He observed, 
 that a man in London was in less danger 
 of falling in love indiscreetly than any 
 where else : for there the difficulty of 
 deciding between the conflicting preten- 
 sions of a vast variety of objects kept 
 him safe. He told me that he had fre- 
 quently been ottered country preferment, 
 if he would consent to take orders ; but 
 he could not leave the improved society 
 of the capital, or consent to exchange the 
 exhilarating joys and splendid decora- 
 tions of publick life, for the obscurity, 
 insipidity, and uniformity of remote 
 situations. 
 
 " Speaking of Mr. Harte, Canon of 
 Windsor, and writer of 'The History of 
 GustavusAdolphus,' he much commended 
 him as a scholar, and a man of the most 
 companionable talents he had ever known. 
 He said, the defects in his history pro 
 ceeded not from imbecility but from 
 foppery. 
 
 " He loved (he said) the old black 
 letter books ; they were rich in matter, 
 though their style was inelegant; won- 
 derfully so, considering how conversant 
 the writers were with the best models of 
 antiquity. 
 
 " Burton's ' Anatomy of Melancholy' 
 (he said) was the only book that ever 
 took him out of bed two hours sooner 
 than he wished to rise. 
 
 " He frequently exhorted me to set 
 about writing a History of Ireland, and 
 archly remarked, there had been some 
 good Irish writers, and that one Irishman 
 might at least aspire to be equal to ano- 
 ther. He had great compassion for the 
 miseries and distresses of the Irish nation, 
 particularly the papists; and severely 
 reprobated the barbarous debilitating po- 
 licy of the British government, which 
 (he said) was the most detestable mode 
 of persecution. To a gentleman, who 
 hinted such policy might be necessary to 
 support the authority of the English 
 government, he replied by saying, ' Let 
 the authority of the English government 
 perish rather than be maintained by 
 iniquity. Better would it be to restrain 
 . the turbulence of the natives by the 
 authority of the sword, and to make them 
 amenable to law and justice by an effec- 
 tual and rigorous police, than to grind 
 
 them to powder by all manner of disabi- 
 lities and incapacities. Better (said he> 
 to hang or drown people at once than by 
 an unrelenting persecution to beggar and 
 starve them.' The moderation and hu- 
 manity of the present times have, in some 
 measure, justitied the wisdom of his 
 observations. 
 
 " Dr. Johnson was often accused of 
 prejudices, nay, antipathy, with regard 
 to the natives of Scotland. Surely, so 
 illiberal a prejudice never entered his 
 mind : and it is well known, many na- 
 tives of that respectable country possessed 
 a large share in his esteem : nor were 
 any of them ever excluded from his good 
 offices, as far as opportunity permitted. 
 True it is, he considered the Scotch, 
 nationally, as a crafty, designing people, 
 eagerly attentive to their own interest, 
 and too apt to overlook the claitns and 
 pretensions of other people. * While 
 they contine their benevolence, in a man- 
 ner, exclusively to those of their own 
 country, they expect to share in the good 
 offices of other people. Now (said John- 
 son) this principle is either right or 
 wrong ; if right, we should do well to 
 imitate such conduct ; if wrong, we can- 
 not too much detest it.' 
 
 *' Being solicited to compose a funeral 
 sermon for the daughter of a tradesman, 
 he naturally inquired into the character 
 of the deceased ; and being told she was 
 remarkable for her humility and conde- 
 scension to inferiours, he observed, that 
 those were very laudable qualities, but it 
 might not be so easy to discover who the 
 lady's inferiours were. 
 
 " Of a certain player he remarked, 
 that his conversation usually threatened 
 and announced more than it performed ; 
 that he fed you with a continual renova- 
 tion of hope, to end in a constant suc- 
 cession of disappointment. 
 
 " When exasperated by contradiction, 
 he was apt to treat his opponents with 
 too much acrimony : as, ' Sir, you 
 don't see your way .through that ques- 
 tion :' — ' Sir, you talk the language of 
 ignorance.' On my observing to him 
 that a certain gentleman had remained 
 silent the whole evening, in the midst of 
 a very brilliant and learned society, * Sir 
 (said he) the conversation overflowed 
 and drowned him.' 
 
 "His philosophy, though austere and 
 solemn, was by no means morose and 
 cynical, and never blunted the laudable 
 sensibilities of his character, or exempted 
 him from the influence of the tender pas- 
 sions. Want of tenderness, he always 
 alleged, was want of parts, and was no 
 less a proof of stupidity than depravity. 
 
 ** Speaking of Mr. Hanway, who pub- 
 lished ' An Eight Days' Journey from 
 
192 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1770. 
 
 London to Portsmouth,' ' Jonas (said he) 
 acquired some reputation by travelling 
 abroad, but lost it all by travelling 
 home.' 
 
 *' Of the passion of love he remarked, 
 that its violence and ill effects were much 
 exaggerated ; for who knows any real 
 suflferings on thai head more than from 
 the exorbitancy of any other passion ? 
 
 " He much commended * Law's Se- 
 rious Call,' which he said was the finest 
 piece of hortatory theology in any lan- 
 guage. ' Law (said he) fell latterly into 
 the reveries of Jacob Behmen, whom 
 Law alleged to have been somewhat in 
 the same state with St. Paul, and to have 
 seen unutterable things. Were it even 
 so ''said Johnson), Jacob would have re- 
 sembled St. Paul still more by not at- 
 tempting to utter them.' 
 
 " He observed, that the established 
 clergy in general did not preach plain 
 enough ; and that polished periods and 
 glittering sentences flew over the heads 
 of the common people, without any im- 
 pression upon their hearts. Something 
 might be necessary, he observed, to ex- 
 cite tiie affections of the common people, 
 who were sunk in languor and lethargy, 
 and therefore he supposed that tlie new 
 concomitants of methodism might pro- 
 bably produce so desirable an effect. 
 The mind, like the body, he observed, 
 delighted in change and novelty, and 
 even in religion itself, courted new ap- 
 pearances and modifications. Whatever 
 might be thought of some method ist 
 teachers, he said, he could scarcely doubt 
 the sincerity of that man who travelled 
 nine hundred miles in a month, and 
 preached twelve times a week ; for no 
 adequate reward, merely temporal, could 
 be given for such indefatigable labour. 
 
 " Of Dr. Priestley's theological works, 
 he remarked, that they tended to unsettle 
 every thing, and yet settled nothing. 
 
 " He was much affected by the death 
 of his mother, and wrote to n)e to come 
 and assist him to compose his mind, 
 which indeed 1 found extremely agitated. 
 He lamented that all serious and reli- 
 gious conversation was banished from the 
 society of men, and yet great advantages 
 might be derived from it. All acknow- 
 ledged, he said, what hardly any body 
 ])raclised, the obligations we were under 
 of making the concerns of eternity the 
 governing principles of our lives. Every 
 mm, he observed, at last wishes for re- 
 treat ; he sees his expectations frustrated 
 in the world, and begins to wean himself 
 from it, and to prepare for everlasting 
 separation. 
 
 ** He observed, that the influence of 
 London now extended every where, and 
 that from all manner of communication 
 
 being opened, there shortly would be no 
 remains of the ancient simplicity, or 
 places of cheap retreat to be found. 
 
 "He was no admirer of blank verse, 
 and said it always failed unless sustained 
 by the dignity of the subject. In blank 
 verse, he said, the language suffered more 
 distortion to keep it out of prose than any 
 inconvenience or limitation to be appre- 
 hended from the shackles and circum- 
 spection of rhyme. 
 
 " He reproved me once for saying 
 grace without mention of the name of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and hoped in future 
 I would be more mindful of the apos- 
 tolical injunction. 
 
 '* He refused to go out of a room before 
 me at Mr. Langton's house, saying, he 
 hoped he knew his rank better than to 
 presume to take place of a Doctor in 
 Divinity. I mention such little anec- 
 dotes, merely to show the peculiar turn 
 and habit of his mind. 
 
 " He used frequently to observe, that 
 there was more to be endured than en- 
 joyed in the general condition of human 
 life ; and frequently quoted those lines 
 of Dryden : 
 'Strange cozenage! none would live past 
 
 years airnin, 
 Yet all hope pleasure from what still remain. 
 For his part, he said, he never passed that 
 week in his life which he would wish to 
 repeat, were an angel to make the pro- 
 posal to him. 
 
 " He was of opinion, that the English 
 nation cultivated both their soil and their 
 reason better than any other people ; but 
 admitted that the French, though not the 
 highest, perhaps, in any department of 
 literature, yet in every department were 
 very high. Intellectual preeminence, he 
 observed, was the highest superiority ; 
 and that every nation derived their high- 
 est reputation from the splendour and 
 dignity of their writers. Voltaire, he 
 said, was a good narrator, and that his 
 principal merit consisted in a happy se- 
 lection and arrangement of circumstances. 
 
 ** Speaking of the French novels, com- 
 pared with Richardson's, he said, they 
 might be pretty baubles, but a wren was 
 not an eagle. 
 
 "In a Latin conversation with the 
 P^re Boscovitch, at the house of Mrs. 
 Cholmondely, 1 lieard him maintain the 
 superiority of Sir Isaac Newton over all 
 foreign philosophers *, with a dignity and 
 
 * [In a dlRoourse b\ Sir William Jones, ad- 
 dressed to the Asiaiick Society, Feb. 21, 1785, 
 ifi tiie followinj? passage ; 
 
 " Oneoftlu' most sagacious men in this age, 
 who coutiniicH, I hope, to improve and adorn 
 it, Sanniel Johnson, remarked in my hearin^'^, 
 that if Newion had rtonrishtd in ancient 
 Greece, he would have been worshiped as a 
 Divinity." M.] 
 
i^TAT. 61. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 193 
 
 eloquence that surprised that learned 
 foreigner. It being observed to him, 
 that a rage for every thing English pre- 
 vailed much in France after Lord Chat- 
 ham's glorious war, he said, he did not 
 wonder at it, for that we had drubbed 
 those fellows into a proper reverence for 
 us, and that their national petulance 
 required periodical chastisement. 
 
 " Lord Lyttelton's Dialogues he deemed 
 a nugatory performance. ' That man 
 (said he) sat down to write a book, to 
 tell the world what the world had all his 
 life been telling him.' 
 
 *' Somebody observing that the Scotch 
 Highlanders, in the year 1745, had made 
 surprising ett'orts, considering their nu- 
 merous wants and disadvantages : * Yes, 
 sir (said he), their wants were numerous : 
 but you have not mentioned the greatest 
 of them all, — the want of law.' 
 
 *' Speaking of the inward light, to 
 which some methodists pretended, he 
 said, it was a principle utterly incom- 
 patible with social or civil security. ' If 
 a man (said he) pretends to a principle 
 of action of which I can know nothing, 
 nay, not so much as that he has it, but 
 only that he pretends to it ; how can 1 
 tell what that person may be prompted 
 to do? When a person professes to be 
 governed by a written ascertained law, I 
 can then know where to find him.' 
 
 " The poem of Fingal, he said, was a 
 mere unconnected rhapsody, a tiresome 
 repetition of the same images. * In vain 
 shall we look for the lucidus ordo, where 
 there is neither end or object, design or 
 moral, nee certa recurrit imago.' 
 
 " Being asked by a young nobleman 
 what was become of the gallantry and 
 military spirit of the old English nobility, 
 he replied, * Why, my lord, I'll tell you 
 what is become of it : it is gone into the 
 city to look for a fortune.' 
 
 " Speaking of a dull tiresome fellow, 
 whom he chanced to meet, he said, ' That 
 fellow seems to me to possess but one 
 idea, and that is a wrong one.' 
 
 " Much inquiry having been made 
 concerning a gentleman who had quitted 
 a company where Johnson was, and no 
 information being obtained ; at last John- 
 son observed, that * he did not care to 
 speak ill of any man behind his back, 
 but he believed the gentleman was an 
 attorney.' 
 
 " He spoke with much contempt of 
 the notice taken of Woodhouse, the poet- 
 ical shoemaker. He said, it was all 
 vanity and childishness : and that such 
 objects were, to those who patronised 
 them, mere mirrours of their own supe- 
 riority. ' They had better (said he) fur- 
 nish the man with good implements for 
 his trade than raise subscriptions for his 
 
 poems. He may make an excellent 
 shoemaker, but can never make a good 
 poet. A school-boy's exencise may be 
 a pretty thing for a school- boy ; but it is 
 no treat for a man.' 
 
 " Speaking of Boetius, who was the 
 favourite writer of ^he middle ages, he 
 said it was very surprising, that upon 
 such a subject, and in such a situation, 
 he should be magis philosophus qnam 
 Christianus. 
 
 " Speaking of Arthur Murphy, whom 
 he very much loved, ' I don't know (said 
 he) that Arthur can be classed with the 
 very first dramatick writers ; yet at pre- 
 sent I doubt much whether we have any 
 thing superiour to Arthur.' 
 
 " Speaking of the national debt, he 
 said, it was an idle dream to suppose 
 that the country could sink under it. 
 Let the publick creditors be ever so cla- 
 morous, the interest of millions must ever 
 prevail over that of thousands. 
 
 " Of Dr, Kennicott's Collations, he 
 observed, that though the text should not 
 be much mended thereby, yet it was no 
 small advantage to know, that we had 
 as good a text as the most consummate 
 industry and diligence could procure. 
 
 " Johnson observed, that so many ob- 
 jections might be made to every thing 
 that nothing could overcome them but 
 the necessity of doing something. No 
 man would be of any profession, as sim- 
 ply opposed to not being of it : but every 
 one must do something. 
 
 " He remarked, that a London parish 
 was a very comfortless thing ; for the 
 clergyman seldom knew the face of one 
 out of ten of his parishioners. 
 
 " Of the late Mr. Mallet he spoke with 
 no great respect : said, he was ready for 
 any dirty job : that he had wrote against 
 Byng at the instigation of the ministry, 
 and was equally ready to write for him, 
 provided he found his account in it. 
 
 " A gentleman who had been very 
 unhappy in marriage, married imme- 
 diately after his wife died : Johnson said, 
 it was the triumph of hope over expe- 
 rience. 
 
 " He observed, that a man of sense and 
 education should meet a suitable com- 
 panion in a wife. It was a miserable 
 Ihiiig when the conversation could only 
 be such as, whether the mutton should 
 be boiled or roasted, and probably a dis- 
 pute about that. 
 
 " He did not approve of late mar- 
 riages, observing, that more was lost in 
 point of time than compensated for by 
 any possible advantages. Even ill as- 
 sorted marriages were preferable to 
 cheerless celibacy. 
 
 " Of old Sheridan he remarked, that 
 he neither wanted parts nor literature ; 
 O 
 
194 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1770. 
 
 but that his vanity and Quixotism ob- 
 scured his merits. 
 
 ** He said> foppery was never cured ; 
 it was the bad stamina of the mind, 
 which, like those of the body, were never 
 rectified : once a coxcomb, and always 
 a coxcomb. , 
 
 " Being told that Gilbert Cowper 
 called him the Caliban of literature ; 
 ' Well (said he) I must dub him the 
 Punchinello.' 
 
 " Speaking of the old Earl of Cork 
 and Orrery, he said, * That man spent 
 his life in catching at an object [literary 
 eminence], which he had not power to 
 grasp.' 
 
 " To find a substitution for violated 
 morality, he said, was the leading feature 
 in all perversions of religion. 
 
 " He often used to quote, with great 
 pathos, those fine lines of Virgil : 
 
 * Optima qu<egne dies miseris mortalibus avi 
 Prima ftigil ; s^ibetint morbi, triitisque se- 
 
 nectns, 
 Et labor, el diirte rapit inclementia mortis.* 
 
 " Speaking of Homer, whom he vene- 
 rated as the prince of poets, Johnson 
 remarked that the advice given to Dio- 
 med* by his father, when he sent him to 
 the Trojan war, was the noblest exhor- 
 tation that could bo instanced in any 
 heathen writer, and comprised in a single 
 line : 
 
 Atev afttrreufiv, xa» u7retpoX,ov eixfj^vai aKKwv • 
 
 Avhich, if I recollect well, is translated by 
 Dr. Clarke thus: semper appetere prce- 
 stantissima, et omnibus aliis antecel- 
 lere. 
 
 " He observed, * it was a most morti- 
 fying reflection for any man to consider, 
 Tvhat he had do7ie, compared with what 
 he m.ight have done.* 
 
 ** He said few people had intellectual 
 resources sufficient to forego the pleasures 
 of wine. They could not otherwise con- 
 trive how to fill the interval between 
 dinner and supper. 
 
 " He went with me one Sunday to 
 hear my old Master, Gregory Sharpe, 
 preach at the Temple. — In the prefatory 
 prayer, Sharpe ranted about TAhertij,i\?, 
 a blessing most fervently to be implored, 
 mid its continuance prayed for. Johnson 
 observed that our liberty was in no sort 
 of danger: — he would have done much 
 better to pray against our licentious- 
 ness. 
 
 ** One evening at Mrs. Montagu's, 
 where a splendid company was assem- 
 
   [Dr. Maxwell's memory has deceived him. 
 GlanciiH i* the persdn who receivesl this coun- 
 sel ; and Clarke's translHtion of the passage 
 ( I i. z. I. 203), i« as follow s : 
 
 " lit .-empcr fortisisime rem iren'rem, et sii- 
 I rrior virtiite es-em aliis." J. 13.— O.] 
 
 bled, consisting of the most eminent 
 literary characters, I thought he seemed 
 highly pleased with the respect and at- 
 tention that were shown him, and asked 
 him on our return home, if he was not 
 highly gratified by his visit: * No, sir 
 (said he), not \\\^\\y gratified ; yet I do 
 not recollect to have passed many even- 
 ings with fewer objections.* 
 
 "Though of no high extraction him- 
 self, he had much respect for birth and 
 family, especially among ladies. He 
 said, ' adventitious accomplishments may 
 be possessed by all ranks; but one may 
 easily distinguish the born gentlewo- 
 man.' 
 
 " He said, 'the poor in England were 
 better provided for than in any other 
 country of the same extent : he did not 
 mean little Cantons, or petty Republicks. 
 Where a great proportion of the people 
 (said he) are suffered to languish in help- 
 less misery, that country must be ill 
 policed, and wretchedly governed : a 
 decent provision for the poor is the true 
 test of civilization. — Gentlemen of edu- 
 cation, he observed, were pretty much 
 the same in all countries ; the condition 
 of the lower orders, the poor especially, 
 was the true mark of national discrimi- 
 nation.' 
 
 " When the corn laws were in agitation 
 in Ireland, by which that country has 
 been enabled not only to feed itself, but 
 to export corn to a large amount ; Sir 
 Thomas Robinson observed, that those 
 laws might be prejudicial to the corn 
 trade of England. * Sir Thomas (said 
 he), you talk the language of a savage : 
 what, sir, would you prevent any people 
 from feeding themselves, if by any honest 
 means they can do it?' 
 
 " It being mentioned that Garrick as- 
 sisted Dr. Brown, the authour of the 
 ' Estimate,' in some dramatick composi- 
 tion, * No, sir (said Johnson) ; he would 
 no more suffer Garrick to write a line in 
 his play than he would suffer him to 
 mount his pulpit.' 
 
 •' Speaking of Burke, he said, * It was 
 commonly observed he spoke too often 
 in parliament; but nobody could say he 
 did not speak well, though too frequently 
 and too familiarly.' 
 
 " Speaking of economy, he remarked, 
 it was hardly worth while to save anxi- 
 ously twenty pounds a year. If a man 
 could save to that degree so as to enable 
 him to assume a different rank in society, 
 then, indeed, it might answer some pur- 
 pose. 
 
 ** He observed, a principal source of 
 erroneous judgment was, viewing things 
 partially and only on one side : as for 
 instance, fortnne hunters, when they 
 contemplated the fortunes singly and se- 
 
^TAT. 61. 
 
 parately, it was a da/.zling and tempting 
 object ; but when they came to possess 
 the wives and their fortunes together, 
 they began to suspect they had not made 
 quite so good a bargain. 
 
 " Speaking of the late Duke of Nor- 
 thumberland living very magnificently 
 when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, some- 
 body remarked, it would be difficult to 
 find a suitable successor to him : then, 
 exclaimed Johnson, he is only Jit to 
 succeed himself. 
 
 *' He advised me, if possible, to have 
 a good orchard. He knew, he said, a 
 clergyman of small income, who brought 
 up a family very reputably, which he 
 chiefly fed with apple dumplings. 
 
 " He said he had known several good 
 scholars among the Irish gentlemen ; but 
 scarcely any of them correct in quantity. 
 He extended the same observation to 
 Scotland. 
 
 " Speaking of a certain Prelate, who 
 exerted himself very laudably in building 
 churches and parsonage houses ; * how- 
 ever, said he, I do not find that he is 
 esteemed a man of much professional 
 learning, or a liberal patron of it ; — yet 
 it is well where a man possesses any 
 strong positive excellence. — Few have 
 all kinds of merit belonging to their cha- 
 racter. We must not examine matters 
 too deeply. — No, sir, a fallible being 
 will fail somewhere.' 
 
 " Talking of the Irish clergy, he said, 
 Swift was a man of great parts, and the 
 instrument of much good to his country. 
 Berkeley was a profound scholar as well 
 as a man of fine imagination ; but Usher, 
 he said, was the great luminary of the 
 Irish church ; and a greater, he added, 
 no church could boast of ; at least in 
 modern times. 
 
 " We dined tCte-d-ti^te at the Mitre, 
 as I was preparing to return to Ireland 
 after an absence of many years. I re- 
 gretted much leaving London, where I 
 had formed many agreeable connexions : 
 * Sir (said he), I don't wonder at it ; no 
 man, fond of letters, leaves London 
 without regret. But remember, sir, you 
 have seen and enjoyed a great deal ; — 
 you have seen life in its highest decora- 
 tions, and the world has nothing new to 
 exhibit. — No man is so well qualified to 
 leave publick life as he who has long 
 tried it and known it well. We are 
 always hankering after untried situations, 
 and imagining greater felicity from them 
 than they can atford. No, sir, knowledge 
 and virtue may be acquired in all coun- 
 tries, and your local consequence will 
 m;ike you some amends for the intellec- 
 tual gratifications you relinquish.' Then 
 1,0 quoted the following lines with great 
 pathos : 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 195 
 
 He who has early known the pomps of state, 
 (For things unknown, 'tis ignorance to con- 
 demn ;) 
 And after having viewed the gaudy bait. 
 Can boldly say, the trifle I contemn; 
 Willi such a one contented could 1 live, 
 Contented could I die *.'— 
 
 '* He then took a most affecting leave 
 of me ; said, he knew it was a point of 
 duty that called me away.' — ' We shall 
 all be sorry to lose you,' said he : * laudo 
 tamen.' " 
 
 In 1771 he published another political 
 pamphlet, entitled ** Thoughts on t^ 
 late Transactions respecting Falkland's 
 Islands," in which, upon materials fur- 
 nished to him by ministry, and upon 
 general topicks expanded in his rich 
 style, he successfully endeavoured to 
 persuade the nation that it was wise and 
 laudable to sutfer the question of right to 
 remain undecided, rather than involve 
 our country in another war. It has been 
 suggested by some, with what truth I 
 shall not take upon me to decide, that 
 he rated the consequence of those islands 
 to Great Britain too low. But however 
 this may be, every humane mind must 
 surely applaud the earnestness with which 
 
 * [Being desirous to trace these verses to 
 the fountain head, afler having in vain turned 
 over several of our elder poets with the hope 
 of lighline on them, I applied to Dr. Maxwell, 
 now resident at Bath, for the purpose of as- 
 certaining their author, but that gentleman 
 could furnish no aid on this occasion. At 
 lenath the lines have been discovered by the 
 author's second son, Mr. James Boswell, in 
 the London Magazine for July, 1732, where 
 they form part of a poem on Retirement, 
 there published anonymously, and doubtless 
 for the first time; and they exhibit another 
 proof of what has been elsewhere observed by 
 the author of the work before us, that Johnson 
 retained in his memory fragments of very ob- 
 scure poetical writers. In quoting verses of 
 that description he appears, by a slight va- 
 riation, to have sometimes given them amoral 
 turn, and to have dexterously adapted ihem 
 to his own sentiments, where the original had 
 a \ery different tendency. Thus, in the pre- 
 sent instance (as Mr, J. Boswell observes to 
 me), " the authour of (he poem above men- 
 tioned exhibits himself as having retired to 
 the country, to avoid the vain follies of a town 
 life,— ambition, avarice, and the pursuit of 
 pleasure, contrasted with the enjojments of 
 the country ; and the delightful conversation 
 that the brooks, &c. furnish ; which he holds 
 to be infinitely more pleasing and inslructive 
 than any which towns afford. He is then led 
 to consider the weakness of the human mind, 
 and after lamenting that he (the writer) who 
 is neither enslaved by avarice, ambition, or 
 pleasure, has yet made himself a slave to love, 
 he thus proceeds: 
 ' If this dire passion never will be done. 
 
 If beauty always must my heart enthral, 
 O, rather let me be enslaved by one, 
 
 Than madly thus become a slave to all: 
 One who has early known the pomp of state, 
 
 for things unknown ''tis ignorance to con' 
 
 And, ajlir having vieiv'd the gnu-dy halt. 
 Can coldly say, the trifle I contemn; 
 
196 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1771. 
 
 he averted the calamity of war ; a cala- 
 mity so dreadful that it is astonishing 
 how civilised, nay, Christian nations, can 
 deliberately continue to renew it. His 
 description of its miseries in this pamphlet 
 is one of the finest pieces of eloquence in 
 the English language. Upon this occa- 
 sion, too, we find Johnson lashing the 
 party in opposition with unbounded se- 
 verity, and making the fullest use of what 
 he ever reckoned a most effectual argu- 
 mentative instrument, — contempt. His 
 character of their very able mysterious 
 champion, Junius, is executed with all 
 the force of his genius, and finished with 
 the highest care. He seems to have ex- 
 ulted in sallying forth to single combat 
 against the boasted and formidable hero, 
 who bade defiance to " principalities and 
 powers, and the rulers of this world." 
 
 This pamphlet, it is observable, was 
 softened in one pai'ticular after the first 
 edition ; for the conclusion of Mr. George 
 Grenville's character stood thus : " Let 
 him not, however, be depreciated in his 
 grave. He had powers not universally 
 
 III her blest arms contented could f live, 
 
 Contented could I die. But, O my mind, 
 Imaa^inaiy scenes of bliss deceive 
 With hopes of joys impossible to find.'" 
 Another instance of Johnson's relainina: in 
 his memory verses by obscure authors is given 
 in Mr. Bosweil's "Tour to the Hebrides;" 
 where, in consequence of hearing: a eirl spin- 
 Tiin£r in a chamber over that in which he was 
 sitting-, he repeated these lines, which he said 
 were Written by one Giffard, a clergyman: 
 but the poem in which they are introduced 
 has hitherto been undiscovered : 
 " Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound : 
 
 All at her work the village maiden sings; 
 Nor while she turns the giddy wheel around, 
 Revolves the sad vicissitude of things." 
 In th« autumn of 1782, when he was at 
 Brighthelmstone, he frequently accompanied 
 IMf.~ Philip Metcalfe in his chaise to take the 
 air ; and the conversation in one of their ex- 
 cursions happening to turn on a celebrated 
 historian, since deceased, he repeated, with 
 great precision, some verses as very charac- 
 teristick of that gentleman. These furnish 
 another proof of what has been above ob- 
 served ; for they are found in a very obscure 
 quarter among some anonymous poems ap- 
 
 f>ended to the second volume of a collection 
 requently printed by Lintot, under the title 
 of Pope's Miscellanies : 
 " See how the wand'ring Danube flows, 
 
 Realms and religious parting; 
 A friend to all true Christian foes, 
 
 To Peter, Jack, and Martin. 
 Now Protestant, and Papist now. 
 
 Not c-onstant long to either. 
 At length an infidel does ^row. 
 And ends U.i» journey neither. 
 Thus many a youth I've known set out, 
 
 Half Protestant, half Papist, 
 And rambling long the world about, 
 
 Turn infidel or atheist." 
 In reciting these verses I have no doubt that 
 Johnson substituted some word for infidel in 
 the second stanza, to avoid the disagreeable 
 i ( p«?tition of the same expression. M.] 
 
 possessed : could he have enforced pay- 
 ment of the Manilla ransom, he could 
 have counted it." Which, instead of 
 retaining its sly sharp point, was reduced 
 to a mere flat unmeaning expression, or, 
 if I may use the word— truism .- " He 
 had powers not universally possessed : 
 and if he sometimes erred, he was like- 
 wise sometimes right." 
 
 " TO BENNET LANG TON, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " After much lingering of my own, and 
 much of the ministry, I have at length 
 got out my paper*. But delay is not 
 yet at an end : not many had been dis- 
 persed before Lord North ordered the 
 sale to stop. His reasons I do not dis- 
 tinctly know. You may try to find them 
 in the perusal t. Before his order a suf- 
 ficient number were dispersed to do all 
 the mischief, though, perhaps, not to 
 make all the sport that might be expected 
 from it. 
 
 " Soon after your departure I had the 
 pleasure of finding all the danger past 
 with which your navigation was threa- 
 tened. I hope nothing happens at home 
 to abate your satisfaction ; but that Lady 
 Rothes, and Mrs. Langton, and the young 
 ladies are all well. 
 
 " I was last night at the Club. Dr. 
 Percy has written a long ballad in many 
 fits ; it is pretty enough. He has printed, 
 and will soon publish it. Goldsmith is at 
 Bath with Lord Clare. At Mr.Thrale's, 
 where I am now writing, all are well. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " March 20, 1771." 
 
 Mr. Strahau, the printer, who had 
 been long in intimacy with Johnson, in 
 the course of his literary labours, who 
 was at once his friendly agent in receiving 
 his pension for him, and his banker in 
 supplying him with money when he 
 wanted it ; who was himself now a 
 Member of Parliament, and who loved 
 much to be employed in political nego- 
 tiation ; thought he should do eminent 
 service, both to government and Johnson, 
 if he could be the means of his getting a 
 seat in the House of Commons. With 
 this view he wrote a letter to one of the 
 Secretaries of the Treasury, of which he 
 gave me a copy in his own liaiulwriting, 
 which is as follows : 
 
   " Thoughts on the late 'I'ransactions re- 
 specting Falkland's Islands." 
 
 t By comparing the first with the subsequent 
 editions, this curious circumstance of minis- 
 terial authourship may be discovered. 
 
 [It can only be di8co\ered (as Mr. Bitjdlt'v 
 observes to nie), by him who possesses a copy 
 of the first edition isttued out befote the sale 
 was stopped. M.] 
 
Mtat. 62. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 197 
 
 " You will e.isily recollect, when I had 
 the honour of waiting upon you some 
 time ago, I took the liberty to observe 
 to you that Dr. Johnson would make an 
 excellent figure in the House of Com- 
 mons, and heartily wished he had a seat 
 there. My reasons are briefly these : 
 
 " 1 know his perfect good affection to 
 his Majesty and his government, which 
 I am certain he wishes to support by 
 every means in his power. 
 
 '* He possesses a great share of manly, 
 nervous, and ready eloquence ; is quick 
 in discerning the strength and weakness 
 of an argument ; can express himself 
 with clearness and precision, and fears 
 the face of no man alive. 
 
 " His known character, as a man of 
 extraordinary sense and unimpeached 
 virtue, would secure him the attention 
 of the House, and could not fail to give 
 him a proper weight there. 
 
 " He is capable of the greatest appli- 
 cation, and can undergo any degree of 
 labour where he sees it necessary, and 
 where his heart and affections are strongly 
 engaged. His Majesty's ministers might 
 therefore securely depend on his doing, 
 upon every proper occasion, the utmost 
 that could be expected from him. They 
 would find him ready to vindicate such 
 measures as tended to promote the sta- 
 bility of government, and resolute and 
 steady in carrying them into execution. 
 Nor is any thing to be apprehended from 
 the supposed impetuosity of his temper. 
 To the friends of the King you will find 
 him a lamb, to his enemies a lion. 
 
 " For these reasons I humbly appre- 
 hend that he would be a very able and 
 useful member. And I will venture to 
 say the employment would not be dis- 
 agreeable to him ; and knowing, as I do, 
 his strong affection to the King, his ability 
 to serve him in that capacity, and the 
 extreme ardour with which I am con- 
 vinced he would engage in that service, 
 I must repeat, that I wish most heartily 
 to see him in the House. 
 
 " If you think this worthy of attention, 
 you will be pleased to take a convenient 
 opportunity of mentioning it to Lord 
 North. If his Lordship should happily 
 approve of it, I shall have the satisfaction 
 of having been, in some degree, the 
 humble instrument of doing my country, 
 in my opinion, a very essential service. 
 I know your good nature, and your zeal 
 for the publick welfare, will plead my 
 excuse for giving you this trouble. I am, 
 with the greatest respect, 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Your most obedient 
 
 *' And humble servant, 
 " New Street, " WiLLIAM Strahan." 
 March 30, 1771." 
 
 This recommendation, we know, was 
 not effectual ; but how, or for what 
 reason, can only be conjectured. It is 
 not to be believed that Mr. Strahan 
 would have applied, unless Johnson had 
 approved of it. I never heard him men- 
 tion the subject ; but at a later period of 
 his life, when Sir Joshua Reynolds told 
 him that Mr. Edmund Burke had said, 
 that if he had come early into Parlia- 
 ment, he certainly would have been the 
 greatest speaker that ever was there, 
 Johnson exclaimed, •' I should like to 
 try my hand now." 
 
 It has been much agitated among his 
 friends and others, whether he would 
 have been a powerful speaker in Parlia- 
 ment, had he been brought in when 
 advanced in life. I am inclined to think 
 that his extensive knowledge, his quick- 
 ness and force of mind, his vivacity and 
 richness of expression, his wit and hu- 
 mour, and above all his poignancy of 
 sarcasm, would have had great effect in a 
 popular assembly; and that the magni- 
 tude of his figure, and striking peculiarity 
 of his manner, would have aided the 
 effect. But I remember it was observed 
 by Mr. Flood, that Johnson, having been 
 long used to sententious brevity and the 
 short flights of conversation, might have 
 failed in that continued and expanded 
 kind of argument which is requisite in 
 stating complicated matters in publick 
 speaking ; and as a proof of this he men- 
 tioned the supposed speeches in Parlia- 
 ment written by him for the magazine, 
 none of which, in his opinion, were at all 
 like real debates. The opinion of one 
 who was himself so eminent an orator 
 must be allowed to have great weight. 
 It was confirmed by Sir William Scott, 
 who mentioned that Johnson had told 
 him, that he had several times tried to 
 speak in the Society of Arts and Sciences, 
 but " had found he could not get on." 
 From Mr. William Gerrard Hamilton I 
 have heard that Johnson, when observing 
 to him that it was prudent for a man who 
 had not been accustomed to speak in 
 publick to begin his speech in as simple 
 a manner as possible, acknowledged that 
 he rose in that society to deliver a speech 
 which he had prepared ; " but (said he) 
 all my flowers of oratory forsook me." 
 I however cannot help wishing that he 
 had "tried his hand" in Parliament; 
 and I wonder that ministry did not make 
 the experiment. 
 
 I at length renewed a correspondence 
 which had been too long discontinued : 
 
 " TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Edinburgh, April 18, 1771. '» 
 " MY D£AR SIR, 
 
 " I CAN now fully understand those inter- 
 vals of silence in your correspondence 
 
 ( 
 
198 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1771. 
 
 with me, which have often given me 
 anxiety and uneasiness ; for although I 
 am conscious that my veneration and 
 love for Mr. Johnson have never in the 
 least abated, yet I have deferred for 
 almost a year and a half to write to 
 him.".... 
 
 In the subsequent part of this letter I 
 gave him an account of my comfortable 
 life as a married man, and a lawyer in 
 practice at the Scotch bar ; invited him 
 to Scotland, and promised to attend him 
 to the Highlands and Hebrides. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " If you are now able to comprehend 
 that I might neglect to write without 
 diminution of affection, you have taught 
 me, likewise, how that neglect may be 
 uneasily felt without resentment. I wished 
 for your letter a long time, and when it 
 came it amply recompensed the delay. 
 I never was so much pleased as now 
 with your account of yourself; and sin- 
 cerely hope that between publick busi- 
 ness, improving studies, and domestick 
 pleasures, neither melancholy nor caprice 
 will find any place for entrance. What- 
 ever philosophy may determine of mate- 
 rial nature, it is certainly true of intel- 
 lectual nature that it abhors a vacuum : 
 onr minds cannot be empty ; and evil 
 will break in upon them, if they are not 
 preoccupied by good. My dear sir, mind 
 your studies, mind your business, make 
 your lady happy, and be a good Chris- 
 tian. After this, 
 
 ' tristitiam et metus. 
 
 Trades protervis in mare Creticum 
 Portare ventisJ 
 
 " If we perform our duty we shall be 
 safe and steady, ' Sive per,' &c. whether 
 we climb the Highlands, or are tost 
 among the Hebrides ; and I hope the 
 time will come when we may try our 
 powers both with cliffs and water. I see 
 but little of Lord Elibank, I know not 
 why ; perhaps by my own fault. I am 
 this day going into Staffordshire and 
 Derbyshire for six weeks. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 •* And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, June 20, 1771." 
 
 ** TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, IN LEICESTER 
 FIELDS. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " When I came to Lichfield I found 
 tliat my portrait had been much visited 
 and much admired. Every man has a 
 lurking wi.«h to appear coiii^idci able in 
 his native place ; and I wa> pkaMd w iih 
 
 the dignity conferred by such a testimony 
 of your regard. 
 
 " Be pleased, therefore, to accept the 
 thanks of, sir, your most obliged 
 " And most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson.'* 
 " Ashbourn in Derbyshire, 
 July 17, 1771." 
 
 ** Compliments to Miss Reynolds." 
 
 " TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Edinburgh, July 27, 1771. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The bearer of this, Mr. Beattie, Pro- 
 fessor of Moral Philosophy, at Aberdeen, 
 is desirous of being introduced to your 
 acquaintance. His genius and learning, 
 and labours in the service of virtue and 
 religion, render him very worthy of it j 
 and as he has a high esteem of your cha- 
 racter, I hope you will give him a favour- 
 able reception. 
 
 *' I ever am, &c. 
 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 '* to bennet langton, esq. at langton, 
 near spilsby, lincolnshire. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM lately returned from Staffordshire 
 and Derbyshire. The last letter men- 
 tions two others which you have written 
 to me since you received my pamphlet. 
 Of these two I never had but one, in 
 which you mentioned a design of visiting 
 Scotland, and, by consequence, put my 
 journej; to Langton out of my thoughts. 
 My summer wanderings are now over, 
 and I am engaging in a very great work, 
 the revision of my Dictionary ; from 
 which I know not, at present, how to get 
 loose. 
 
 " If you have observed, or been told, 
 any errours or omissions, you will do 
 me a great favour by letting me know 
 them. 
 
 " Lady Rothes, I find, has disappointed 
 you and herself. Ladies will have these 
 tricks. The Queen and Mrs. Thrale, both 
 ladies of experience, yet both missed 
 their reckoning this summer. I hope a 
 few months will recompense your un- 
 easiness. 
 
 " Please to tell Lady Rothes how 
 highly I value the honour of her invita- 
 tion, which it is my purpose to obey a» 
 soon as I have disengaged myself. In 
 I lie mean time I shall hope to hear often 
 of her Ladyship, and every day better 
 news and better, till I bear that you have 
 both the happiness, which to both is very 
 sincerely wished, by, 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 *< Your most affectionate and 
 
 ♦' Most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " August 2P, 1771." 
 
JEr\T. 62. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 199 
 
 In October I again wrote to him, 
 thanking him for his last letter and his 
 obliging reception of Mr. Beattie ; in- 
 forming him that I had been at Alnwick 
 lately, and had good accounts of him 
 from Dr. Percy. 
 
 In his religious record of this year we 
 observe that he was better than usual, 
 both in body and mind, and better satis- 
 fied with the regularity of his conduct. 
 But he is still "trying his ways" too 
 rigorously. He charges himself with not 
 rising early enough ; yet he mentions 
 what was surely a sufficient excuse for 
 this, supposing it to be a duty seriously 
 required, as he all his life appears to 
 have thought it. " One great hinderance 
 is want of rest ; my nocturnal complaints 
 grow less troublesome towards morning, 
 and I am tempted to repair the deficien- 
 cies of the night*." Alas! how hard 
 would it be, if this indulgence were to 
 be imputed to a sick man as a crime. 
 In his retrospect on the following Easter- 
 eve, he says, " When 1 review the last 
 year, I am able to lecollect so little done 
 that shame and sorrow, though perhaps 
 too weakly, come upon me." Had he 
 been judging of any one else in the same 
 circumstances, how clear would he have 
 been on the favourable side. How very 
 difficult, and in my opinion almost con- 
 stitutionally impossible it was for him to 
 be raised early, even by the strongest 
 resolutions, appears from a note in one of 
 his little paper books (containing words 
 arranged for his Dictionary), written, I 
 suppose, about 1753: " I do not remem- 
 ber that since I left Oxford I ever rose 
 early by mere choice, but once or twice 
 at Edia!, and two or three times for the 
 Rambler." I think he had fair ground 
 enough to have quieted his mind on the 
 subject, by concluding that he was phy- 
 sically incapable of what is at best but a 
 commodious regulation. 
 
 In 1772 ha was altogether quiescent as 
 an authour ; but it will be found, from 
 the various evidences which I shall bring 
 together, that his mind was acute, lively, 
 anclvigorous. 
 
 "to sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' Be pleased to send to Mr. Banks, whose 
 place of residence I do not know, this 
 note, which I have sent open, that, if 
 you please, you may read it. 
 
 " When you send it, do not use your 
 own seal. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Feb. 27, 1772." 
 * Prayers and Meditations, p. 101. 
 
 ' TO JOSEPH BANKS, ESQ. 
 
 « perpetua ambita bis terra preemia lad is 
 Hoec habtt altrici Capra fccunda Jovis *. 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I RETURN thanks to you and to Dr. So- 
 lander for the pleasure which I received 
 in yesterday's conversation. I could not 
 recollect a motto for your Goat, but have 
 given her one. You, sir, may perhaps 
 have an epick poem from some happier 
 pen than, sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 February 27, 1772." 
 
 " TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " It is hard that I cannot prevail on you 
 to write to me oftener. But I am con- 
 vinced that it is in vain to expect from 
 you a private correspondence with any 
 regularity. I must, therefore, look upon 
 you as a fountain of wisdom, from whence 
 few rills are communicated to a distance, 
 and which must be approached at its 
 source to partake fully of its virtues. 
 ****** 
 
 " I am coming to London soon, and am 
 to appear in an appeal from the Court of 
 Session in the House of Lords. A school- 
 master in Scotland was, by a court of 
 inferiour jurisdiction, deprived of his 
 office, for being somewhat severe in the 
 chastisement of his scholars. The Court 
 of Session, considering it to be dangerous 
 to the interest of learning and education 
 to lessen the dignity of teachers, and 
 make them afraid of too indulgent pa- 
 rents instigated by the complaints of 
 their children, restored him. His ene- 
 mies have appealed to the House of 
 Lords, though the salary is only twenty 
 pounds a year. I was counsel for him 
 here. I hope there will be little fear of 
 a reversal ; but I must beg to have your 
 aid in my plan of supporting the decree. 
 It is a general question, and not a point 
 of particular law. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ** I am, &c. 
 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 ** to james boswell, esq. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " That you are coming so soon to town 
 I am very glad ; and still more glad that 
 you are coming as an advocate. I think 
 
 * Thus translated by a friend : 
 " In fame scarce second to the nurse of Jove, 
 
 This Goat, who twice the world had tra- 
 versed round, 
 Deserving both her master's care and love, 
 
 Ease and perpetual pasture now has found." 
 
200 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 nothing more likely to make your lite 
 pass happily away than that conscious- 
 ness of your own value, which eminence 
 in your profession will certainly confer. 
 If I can give you any collateral help, I 
 hope you do not suspect that it will be 
 wanting. My kindness for you has nei- 
 ther the merit of singular virtue, nor the 
 reproach of singular prejudice. Whether 
 to love you be right or wrong, I have 
 many on my side : Mrs. Thrale loves 
 you, and Mrs. Williams loves you, and 
 what would have inclined me to love 
 you, if I had been neutral before, you 
 are a great favourite of Dr. Beattie. 
 
 " Of Dr. Beattie I should have thought 
 much, but that his lady puts him out of 
 my head : she is a very lovely woman. 
 
 ** The ejection which you come hither 
 to oppose appears very cruel, unreason- 
 able, and oppressive. I should think 
 there could not be much doubt of your 
 success. 
 
 " My health grows better, yet I am 
 not fully recovered. I believe it is held, 
 that men do not recover very fast after 
 threescore. I hope yet to see Beattie's 
 College : and have not given up the 
 western voyage. But however all this 
 may be or not, let us try to make each 
 other happy when we meet, and not refer 
 our pleasure to distant times or distant 
 places. 
 
 " How comes it that you tell me nothing 
 of your lady? I hope to see her some 
 time, and till then shall be glad to hear 
 of her. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, &c. 
 
 " March H, 1772." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. NEAR SPILSBY, 
 LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I CONGRATULATE you and Lady Rothes * 
 on your little man, and hope you will 
 all be many years happy together. 
 
 " Poor Miss Langton can have little 
 part in the joy of her family. She this 
 day called her aunt Langton to receive 
 the sacrament with her ; and made me 
 talk yesterday on such subjects as suit 
 her condition. It will probably be her 
 viatictim. I surely need not mention 
 again that she wishes to see her mother. 
 I am, SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 * S>M. Johnson.' 
 
 ' March 14 
 
 4, 1772." y^ 
 
 On the 2l8t of March, I was happy to 
 find myself again in my friend's study, 
 
   [Mr. Lanijton married, May '2A, 1770. 
 
 J, me, Ihe daughter of Lloyd, Esq. and 
 
 widow of John Earl of Rothes, many vfars 
 Commander in Chief of the I'orcesia Ireland, 
 who died in 1767. RLJ 
 
 and was glad to see my old acquaintance, 
 Mr. Francis Barber, who was now re- 
 turned home. Dr. Johnson received me 
 with a hearty welcome ; saying, " I am 
 glad you are come, and glad you are 
 come upon such an errand :" (alluding 
 to the cause of the schoolmaster). Bos- 
 AVELL. " I hope, sir, he will be in no 
 danger. It is a very delicate matter to 
 interfere between a master and his scho- 
 lars : nor do I see how you can fix the 
 degree of severity that a master may 
 use." Johnson. " Why, sir, till you 
 can fix the degree of obstinacy and negli- 
 gence of the scholars, you cannot fix the 
 degree of severity of the master. Seve- 
 rity must be continued until obstinacy be 
 subdued, and negligence be cured." He 
 mentioned the severity of Hunter, his 
 own master. ** Sir (said I), Hunter is a 
 Scotch name : so it should seem this 
 schoolmaster who beat you so severely 
 was a Scotchman. I can now account 
 for your prejudice agaiiist the Scotch." 
 Johnson. " Sir, he was not Scotch ; 
 and, abating his brutality, he was a very 
 good master." 
 
 We talked of his two political pamphlets, 
 *' The False Alarm," and "Thoughts con- 
 cerning Falkland's Islands." Johnson. 
 " Well, sir, which of them did you think 
 the best?" Boswell. ** I liked the 
 second best." Johnson. " Why, sir, I 
 liked the first best; and Beattie liked 
 the first best. Sir, there is a subtlety 
 of disquisition in the first that is worth 
 all the fire of the second." Boswell. 
 " Pray, sir, is it true that Lord North 
 paid you a visit, and that you got two 
 hundred a year in addition to your pen- 
 sion V " No, sir. Except what I had 
 from the bookseller, I did not get a 
 farthing by them. And, between you 
 and me, I believe Lord North is no 
 friend to me." Boswell. " How so, 
 sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, you cannot 
 account for the fancies of men. — Well, 
 how does Lord Elibank? and how does 
 Lord Monboddo?" Boswell. "Very 
 well, sir. Lord Monboddo still main- 
 tains the superiority of the savage life." 
 Johnson. " What strange narrowness of 
 mind now is that, to think the things we 
 have not known are better than the things 
 which we have known." *' Boswell. 
 ** Why, sir, that is a common prejudice." 
 Johnson. ** Yes, sir, but a common pre- 
 judice should not be found in one whose 
 trade it is to rectify errour." 
 
 A gentleman having come in who was 
 to go as a mate in the ship along with Mr. 
 Banks and Dr. Solander, Dr. Johnson 
 asked what were the names of the ships 
 destined for the expedition. The gentle- 
 man answered, they were once to be 
 called the Drake ai}d the Ralegh, but 
 
JErxT. G3. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 201 
 
 now they were to be called the Reso- 
 lution and the Adventure. Johnson. 
 *' Much better ; for had the Ralegh 
 returned without going round the world, 
 it would have been ridiculous. To give 
 tlien) the names of the Drake and the 
 Ralegh was laying a trap for satire." 
 BoswELL. " Had not you some desire 
 to go upon this expedition, sir?" John- 
 son. " Why, yes, but I soon laid it 
 aside. Sir, there is very little of intel- 
 lectual in the course. Besides, I see but 
 at a small distance. So it was not worth 
 my while to go to see birds fly which I 
 should not have seen fly ; and fishes swim 
 which 1 should not have seen swim." 
 
 The gentleman being gone, and Dr. 
 Johnson having left the room for some 
 time, a debate arose between the Reve- 
 rend Mr. Stockdale and Mrs. Desmou- 
 lins, whether Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander 
 were entitled to any share of glory from 
 their expedition. When Dr. Johnson 
 returned to us, I told him the subject of 
 their dispute. Johnson. " Why, sir, it 
 was properly for botany that they went 
 out : I believe they thought only of cull- 
 ing of simples." 
 
 I thanked him for showing civilities to 
 Beattie. " Sir (said he), I should thank 
 yoti. We all love Beattie. Mrs. Thrale 
 says, if ever she has another husband, 
 she'll have Beattie. He sunk upon us* 
 that he was married ; else we should have 
 shown his lady more civilities. She is a 
 very fine woman. But how can you 
 show civilities to a nonentity 1 I did not 
 think he had been married. Nay, I did 
 not think about it one way or other; 
 but he did not tell us of his lady till 
 late." 
 
 He then spoke of St. Kilda, the most 
 remote of the Hebrides. I told him I 
 thought of buying it. Johnson. " Pray 
 do, sir. We will go and pass a winter 
 amid the blasts there. We shall have 
 fine fish, and we will take some dried 
 
 * " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 Edinburgh, May 3, 1792. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 "As I suppose your great work will soon be 
 reprinted, I beg leave to trouble you with a 
 remark on a passage of it, in which I am a 
 little misrepresented. Be not alarmed; the 
 misrepresentation is not imputable to yon. 
 Not having tbe book at hand, I cannot specify 
 the page, but I suppose you will easily find it. 
 Dr. Johnson says, speaking of Mrs. Tli rale's 
 family, • Dr. heatlie sunk upon m that he was 
 married,' or words to that purpose. I am not 
 sure that I understand iunk upon us, which 
 is a very uncommon phrase : but it seems to 
 rae to imply (and others, I find, have under- 
 stood it HI the same sense), studiously con- 
 cealed from us his bdng married. Now, sir, 
 this was by no means the case. I could have 
 
 no motive to conceal a circumstance of which 
 I never was nor can be ashamed ; and of 
 which Dr. Johnson seemed to think, when 
 he afterwards became acquainted with Mrs. ! the best friends. 
 
 tongues with us, and some books. We 
 will have a strong built vessel, and some 
 Orkney men to navigate her. We must 
 build a tolerable house : but we may 
 carry with us a wooden house ready 
 made, and requiring nothing but to be put 
 up. Consider, sir, by buying St. Kilda, 
 you may keep the people from falling 
 into worse hands. We must give them 
 a clergyman, and he shall be one of 
 Beattie's choosing. He shall be educated 
 at Marischal College. I'll be your Lord 
 Chancellor, or what you please." Bos- 
 well. " Are you serious, sir, in advising 
 me to buy St. Kilda? for if you should 
 advise me to go to Japan, I believe I 
 should do it." Johnson. " Why, yes, 
 sir, I am serious." Boswell. " Why, 
 then I'll see what can be done." 
 
 I gave him an account of the two 
 parties in the church of Scotland, those 
 for supporting the rights of patrons, inde- 
 pendent of the people, and those against 
 it. Johnson. " It should be settled 
 one way or other. I cannot wish well 
 to a popular election of the clergy when 
 I consider that it occasions such animo- 
 sities, such unworthy courting of the 
 people, such slanders between the con- 
 tending parties, and other disadvantages. 
 It is enough to allow the people to remon- 
 strate against the nomination of a minis- 
 ter for solid reasons." (I suppose he 
 meant heresy or immorality). 
 
 He was engaged to dine abroad, and 
 asked me to return to him in the evening, 
 at nine, which I accordingly did. 
 
 We drank tea with Mrs. Williams, 
 who told us a story of second sight, 
 which happened in Wales where she 
 was born. — He listened to it very atten- 
 tively, and said he should be glad to have 
 some instances of that faculty well au- 
 thenticated. His elevated wish for more 
 and more evidence for spirit, in opposi- 
 tion to the groveling belief of materialism, 
 led him to a love of such mysterious dis- 
 
 Beattie, that I had, as was true, reason to be 
 proud. So far s\as I from concealing her, that 
 my wife had at that time almost as numerous 
 an acquaintance in London as I had myself; 
 and was, not very long after, kindly invited 
 and elegantly enteitanied at Streatham by 
 Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. 
 
 " My request, therefore, is, that you would 
 rectify this matter in your new edition. You 
 are at liberty to make what use you please of 
 this letter. 
 
 " My best wishes ever attend you and your 
 family. Believe me to be, with the utmost 
 regard and esteem, dear sir, 
 
 " Your obliged and affectionate 
 " Humble tervant, 
 
 " J. Beattie." 
 
 I have, from my respect for my friend, 
 Dr. Beattie, and regard to his extreme sensi- 
 bility, inserted the Foregoing letter, though I 
 cannot but wonder at his considering as any 
 
 imputation a phrase commonly used among 
 
 tf ' . - - . 
 
202 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 quisitions. He again justly observed that 
 we could have no certainty of the truth 
 of supernatural appearances unless some- 
 thing was told us which we could not 
 know by ordinary means, or something 
 done which could not be done but by 
 supernatural power ; that Pharaoh in 
 reason and justice required such evidence 
 from Moses ; nay, that our Saviour said, 
 *' If 1 had not done among them the 
 works which none other man did, they 
 had not had sin." He had said in the 
 morning that " Macaulay's History of 
 St. Kilda" was very well written, except 
 some foppery about liberty and slavery. 
 I mentioned to him that Macaulaytold 
 me he was advised to leave out of his 
 book the wonderful story that upon the 
 approach of a stranger all the inhabitants 
 catch cold * ; but that it had been so well 
 authenticated, he determined to retain it. 
 Johnson. *' Sir, to leave things out of a 
 book merely because people tell you they 
 will not be believed, is meanness. Mac- 
 aulay acted with more magnanimity." 
 
 We talked of the Roman Catholick 
 religion, and how little difference there 
 was in essential matters between ours 
 and it. Johnson. " True, sir ; all deno- 
 minations of Christians have really little 
 difference in point of doctrine, though 
 they may differ widely in external forms. 
 There is a prodigious difference between 
 the external form of one of your Presby- 
 terian churches in Scotland and a church 
 in Italy ; yet the doctrine taught is essen- 
 tially the same." 
 
 I mentioned the petition to Parliament 
 for removing the subscription to the 
 Thirty-nine Articles. Johnson. " It was 
 soon thrown out. Sir, they talk of not 
 making boys at the University subscribe 
 to what they do not understand ; but they 
 ought to consider that our Universities 
 were founded to bring up members for 
 the church of England, and we must not 
 supply our enemies with arms from our 
 arsenal. No, sir, the meaning of sub- 
 scribing is not that they fully understand 
 all the articles, but that they will adhere 
 to the Church of England. Now take it 
 in this way, and suppose that they should 
 only subscribe their adherence to the 
 Church of England, there would be still 
 the same difliculty ; for still the young 
 men would be subscribing to what they 
 do not understand. For if you should 
 ask them, what do you mean by the 
 Church of England? Do you know in 
 what it differs from the Preebyterian 
 Church? from the Romish Church? from 
 the Greek Church ? from the Coptick 
 Church? they could not tell yon. So, 
 sir, it comes to the same thing." Bos- 
 WELL. " But, would it not be sufficient 
 
 * See anle« p. 16*^ of ibis volume. 
 
 1772. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 to subscribe the Bible ? 
 " Why, no, sir ; for all sects will sub 
 scribe the Bible ; nay, the Mahometans 
 will subscribe the Bible; for the Maho- 
 metans acknowledge Jesus Christ, as 
 well as Moses, but maintain that God 
 sent Mahomet as a still greater prophet 
 than either." 
 
 I mentioned the motion which had 
 been made in the House of Commons, 
 to abolish the fast of the 30th of January. 
 Johnson. *' Why, sir, I could have 
 wished that it had been a temporary act, 
 perhaps, to have expired with tVie century . 
 I am against abolishing it; because that 
 would be declaring it wrong to establish 
 it ; but I should have no objection to 
 make an act, continuing it for another 
 century, and then letting it expire." 
 
 He disapproved of the Royal Marriage 
 Bill ; " Because (said he) I would not 
 have the people think that the validity 
 of marriage depends on the will of man, 
 or that the riglit of a king depends on 
 the will of man. I should not have 
 been against making the marriage of any 
 of the royal family without the appro- 
 bation of King and Parliament highly 
 criminal." 
 
 In the morning we had talked of old 
 families, and the respect due to them. 
 Johnson. " Sir, you have a right to that 
 kind of respect, and are arguing for 
 yourself. I am for supporting the prin- 
 ciple, and am disinterested in doing it, 
 as I have no such right." Boswell. 
 " Why, sir, it is one more incitement to 
 a man to do well." Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir ; and it is a matter of opinion very 
 necessary to keep society together. What 
 is it but opinion, by which we have a 
 respect for authority that prevents us, 
 who are the rabble, from rising up and 
 pulling down you who are gentlemen 
 from your places, and saying * We will 
 be gentlemen in our turn?' Now, sir, 
 that respect for authority is much more 
 easily granted to a man whose father has 
 had it than to an upstart; and so society 
 is more easily supported." Boswell. 
 " Perhaps, sir, it might be done by the 
 respect belonging to office, as among the 
 Romans, where the dress, the toguy in- 
 spired reverence." Johnson. *' Why, 
 we know very little about the Romans. 
 But, surely, it is much easier to respect 
 a Mian wlio lias always had respect than 
 to nspcct a man who we know was last 
 year no Ixttcr than ourselves, and will 
 be no billcr ni\t \,v.\v. In repiibiicks 
 there i- no i i>|ieel" lor autliorils , but a 
 fear ol' power." BoswELL. " At present, 
 sir, I tliiiik riches seem to gain most 
 res|)ect," JonNSON. " No, sir, riches do 
 not gain hearty respect ; they only pro- 
 cure external attention. A very rich 
 man, from low beginnings, may buy his 
 
JEtat. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 election in a borough ; but, cceteris pa- 
 ribus, a man of family will be preferred. 
 People will prefer a man for whose 
 father their fathers have voted, though 
 they should get no more money, or even 
 less. That shows that the respect for 
 family is not merely fanciful, but has an 
 actual operation. If gentlemen of family 
 would allow the rich upstarts to spend 
 their money profusely, which they are 
 ready enough to do, and not vie with 
 them in expense, the upstarts would soon 
 be at an end, and the gentlemen would 
 remain ; but if the gentfemen will vie in 
 expense with the upstarts, which is very 
 foolish, they must be ruined." 
 
 I gave him an account of the excellent 
 mimicry of a friend of mine in Scotland ; 
 observing, at the same time, that some 
 people thought it a very mean thing. 
 JoHxNSON. " Why, sir, it is making a 
 very mean use of man's powers. But to 
 be a good mimick requires great powers ; 
 great acuteness of observation, great re- 
 tention of what Is observed, and great 
 pliancy of organs to represent what is 
 observed. I remember a lady of quality 
 
 in this town. Lady , who 
 
 was a wonderful mimick, and used to 
 make me laugh immoderately. I have 
 heard she is now gone mad." Boswell. 
 *' It is amazing how a mimick can not 
 only give you the gestures and voice of 
 a person whom he represents ; but even 
 what a person would say on any particular 
 subject." Johnson. " Why, sir, you are 
 to consider that the manner and some 
 particular phrases of a person do much 
 to impress you with an idea of him, and 
 you are not sure that he would say what 
 the mimick says in his character." Bos- 
 well. " I don't think Foote a good 
 mimick, sir." Johnson. " No, sir; his 
 imitations are not like. He gives you 
 something different from himself, but not 
 the character which he means to assume. 
 He goes out of himself, without going 
 into other people. He cannot take olT 
 any person unless he is strongly marked, 
 such as George Faulkner. He is like a 
 painter who can draw the portrait of a 
 man who has a wen upon his face, and 
 who therefore is easily known. If a man 
 hops upon one leg, Foote can hop upon 
 one leg. But he has not that nice dis- 
 crimination which your friend seems to 
 possess. Foote is, however, very enter- 
 taining with a kind of conversation be- 
 tween wit and buffoonery." 
 
 On Monday, March 23, I found him 
 busy, preparing a fourth edition of his 
 folio Dictionary. Mr. Peyton, one of 
 his original amanuenses, was writing for 
 him. I put him in mind of a meaning 
 of the word side, which he had omitted, 
 viz. relationship ; as father's side, mo- 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 203 
 
 ther's side. He inserted it. I asked him 
 if humiliating was a good word. He 
 said, he had seen it frequently used, but 
 he did not know it to be legitimate Eng. 
 lish. He Avould not admit civilizatiorty 
 but only civility. With great deference 
 to him, I thought civilization from to 
 civilize better in the sense opposed to 
 barbarity than civility ; as it is better, 
 to have a distinct word for each sense 
 than one word with two senses, which 
 civility is, in his way of using it. 
 
 He seemed also to be intent on some 
 sort of chymical operation. I was en- 
 tertained by observing how he contrived 
 to send Mr. Peyton on an errand without 
 seeming to degrade him; " Mr. Peyton, 
 — Mr. Peyton, will you be so good as to 
 take a walk to Temple Bar? You will 
 there see a chymist's shop, at which you 
 will be pleased to buy for me an ounce of 
 oil of vitriol; not spirit of vitriol, but oil 
 of vitriol. It will cost three half-pence." 
 Peyton immediately went, and returned 
 with it, and told him it cost but a penny. 
 
 I then reminded him of the school- 
 master's cause, and proposed to read to 
 him the printed papers concerning it. 
 " No, sir (said he), I can read quicker 
 than I can hear." So he read them tQ 
 himself. 
 
 After he had read for some time, we 
 were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. 
 Kristom, a Swede, who was tutor to 
 some young gentlemen in the city. He 
 told me that there was a very good His- 
 tory of Sweden, by Daline. Having at 
 that time an intention of writing the his- 
 tory of that country, I asked Dr. Johnson 
 whether one might write a history of 
 Sweden without going thither. " Yes, 
 sir (said he), one for common use." 
 
 We talked of languages. Johnson ob- 
 served that Leibnitz had made some 
 progress in a work, tracing all languages 
 up to the Hebrew. " Why, sir (said he), 
 you would not imagine that the French 
 jour, day, is derived from the Latin 
 dies, and yet nothing is more certain ; 
 and the intermediate steps are very clear. 
 From dies, comes diurnus. Diu is, by 
 inaccurate ears, or inaccurate pronuncia- 
 tion, easily confounded with giu ; then 
 the Italians form a substantive of the 
 ablative of an adjective, and thence 
 yiurno, or, as they make it, giorno : 
 which is readily contracted into giour, 
 or jour." He observed that the Bohe- 
 mian language was true Sclavonick. The 
 Swede said, it had some similarity with 
 the German. Johnson. " Why, sir, to 
 be sure, such parts of Sclavonia as con- 
 fine with Germany will borrow^ German 
 words ; and such parts as confine with 
 Tartary will borrow Tartar words." 
 
 He said, be never had it properly 
 
204 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ascertaiued that the Scotch Highlanders 
 and tlie Irish understood each other. I 
 told him that my cousin Colonel Graham, 
 of the Royal Highlanders, whom I met 
 at Drogheda, told me they did. John- 
 son. " Sir, if the Highlanders understood 
 Irish, why translate the New Testament 
 into Erse, as was lately done at Edin- 
 burgh, when there is an Irish transla- 
 tion?" BoswELL. " Although the Erse 
 and Irish are both dialects of the same 
 language, there may be a good deal of 
 diversity between them, as between the 
 dilterent dialects in Italy." The Swede 
 went away, and Mr. Johnson continued 
 his reading of the papers. I said, " I am 
 afraid, sir, it is troublesome." *' Why, 
 sir (said he), I do not take much delight 
 in it ; but I'll go through it." 
 
 We went to the Mitre, and dined in 
 the room where he and I first supped 
 together. He gave me great hopes of my 
 cause. '* Sir (said he), the government 
 of a schoolmaster is somewhat of the 
 nature of military government ; that is 
 to say, it must be arbitrary, it must be 
 exercised by the will of one man, accord- 
 ing to particular circumstances. You 
 must show some learning upon this occa- 
 sion. You must show that a schoolmaster 
 has a prescriptive right to beat ; and that 
 an action of assault and battery cannot 
 be admitted against him unless there is 
 some great excess, some barbarity. This 
 man has maimed none of his boys. They 
 are all left with the full exercise of their 
 corporeal faculties. In our schools in 
 England many boys have been maimed ; 
 yet I never heard of an action against a 
 schoolmaster on that account. Puffen- 
 dorfF, I think, maintains the right of a 
 schoolmaster to beat his scholars." 
 
 On Saturday, March 27, I introduced 
 to him Sir Alexander Macdonald, with 
 whom he had expressed a wish to be 
 acquainted. He received him very cour- 
 teously. 
 
 Sir Alexander observed, that the Chan- 
 cellors in England are chosen from views 
 much inferiour to the otrice, being chosen 
 tiom tfinpoiary political views. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, in such a government 
 as ours, no man is appointed to an oIVkh' 
 because he is the fittest for it, noi liarill\ 
 in any other government ; because tlu it 
 are so many connections and dependences 
 to be studied. A despotick prince may 
 choose a man to an office, merely because 
 he is the fittest for it. The King of Pritssia 
 jnay do it," Sik A. " 1 think, sir, al- 
 most all great law\cis, siicli at least as 
 have written upon law, li;ivc known only 
 law,and nothingelse." Johnson. " Why, 
 no, sir; Judge Hale was a m»at lawyer, 
 aiifl wrote upon law ; and yet he knew 
 gn at many <jther things, aud has written 
 
 upon other things. Selden too." Sir A. 
 " Very true, sir ; and Lord Bacon. But 
 was not Lord Coke a mere lawyer?" 
 Johnson. " Why, I am afraid he was ; 
 but he would have taken it very ill if 
 you had told him so. He would have 
 prosecuted you for scandal." Boswell. 
 " Lord Mansfield is not a mere lawyer." 
 Johnson. " No, sir, I never was in Lord 
 Mansfield's company ; but Lord Mans- 
 field was distinguished at the University. 
 Lord Mansfield, when he first came to 
 town, 'drank champagne with the wits,' 
 as Prior says. He was the friend of 
 Pope." Sir A. " Barristers, I believe, 
 are not so abusive now as they were for- 
 merly. I fancy they had less law long 
 ago, and so were obliged to take to abuse 
 to fill up the time. Now they have such 
 a number of precedents, they have no 
 occasion for abuse." Johnson. " Nay, 
 sir, they had more law long ago than 
 they have now. As to precedents, to be 
 sure they will increase in course of time ; 
 but the more precedents there are, the 
 less occasion is there for law ; that is to 
 say, the less occasion is there for investi- 
 gating pi'inciples." Sir A. '* 1 have been 
 correcting several Scotch accents in my 
 friend Boswell. I doubt, sir, if any 
 Scotchman ever attains to a perfect Eng- 
 lish pronunciation." Johnson. "Why, 
 sir, few of them do, because they do not 
 persevere after acquiring a certain degree 
 of it. But, sir, there can be no doubt that 
 they may attain to a perfect English pro- 
 nunciation if they will. We find how 
 near they come to it ; and certainly, a 
 man who conquers nineteen parts of the 
 Scottish accent, may conquer the twen- 
 tieth. But, sir, when a man has got the 
 better of nine tenths he grows weary, he 
 relaxes his diligence, he finds he has 
 corrected his accent so far as not to be 
 disagreeable, and he no longer desires 
 his friends to tell him when he is wrong; 
 nor does he choose to be told. Sir, when 
 people watch me narrowly, and I do not 
 watch myself, they will find me out to be 
 of a particular county. In the same man- 
 ner, Dunning may be found out to be a 
 Devonshire man. So most Scotchmen 
 may be found out. But, sir, little aber- 
 rations are of no disadvantage. I never 
 catched Mallet in a Scotch accent ; and 
 yet Mallei, 1 suppose, was past five-and- 
 twciity l)( lore he came to London." 
 
 I pon another occasion I talked to him 
 on this subject, having myself taken some 
 pains to improve my pronunciation, by 
 the aid of the late Mr. Love, of Drury 
 Lane Theatre, when he was a player at 
 Edinburgh, and also of old Mr. Sheridan. 
 Johnson said to me, *' Sir, your promm- 
 ciation is not ottensive." With this con- 
 cession I was pretty well satisfied ; and 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 JETM. 03. 
 
 let me give tny countrymen of North 
 Britain an advice not to aim at absolute 
 perfection in this respect ; not to speak 
 High English, as we are apt to call 
 what is far removed from the Scotch, 
 but which is by no means good English, 
 and makes " the fools who use it" truly 
 ridiculous. Good English is plain, easy, 
 and smooth in the mouth of an unaffected 
 English gentleman. A studied and facti- 
 tious pronunciation, which requires per- 
 petual attention, and imposes perpetual 
 constraint, is exceedingly disgusting. A 
 small intermixture of provincial peculi- 
 arities may, perhaps, have an agreeable 
 effect, as the notes of different birds con- 
 cur in the harmony of the grove, and 
 please more than if they were all exactly 
 alike. I could name some gentlemen of 
 Ireland to whom a slight proportion of 
 the accent and recitative of that country 
 is an advantage. The same observation 
 will apply to the gentlemen of Scotland. 
 I do not mean that we should speak as 
 broad as a certain prosperous member of 
 Parliament from that country ; though it 
 has been well observed, <hat " it has been 
 of no small use to him ; as it rouses the 
 attention of the House by its uncommon- 
 ness : and is equal to tropes and figures 
 in a good English speaker." I would 
 give as an instance of what I mean to 
 recommend to my countrymen, the pro- 
 nunciation of the late Sir Gilbert Elliot ; 
 and may I presume to add that of the 
 present Earl of Marchmont, who told me, 
 with great good humour, that the master 
 of a shop in London, where he was not 
 known, said to him, " I suppose, sir, you 
 are an American V " Why so, sir 1" 
 (said his lordship). ** Because, sir (re- 
 plied the shopkeeper), you speak neither 
 English nor Scotch, but something diffe- 
 rent from both, which I conclude is the 
 language of America." 
 
 BoswELL. " It may be of use, sir, to 
 have a Dictionary to ascertain the pro- 
 nunciation." Johnson. *' Why, sir, my 
 Dictionary shows you the accent of words, 
 if you can but remember them." Bos- 
 well. " But, sir, we want marks to 
 ascertain the pronunciation of the vowels. 
 Sheridan, I believe, has finished such a 
 work." Johnson. " Why, sir, consider 
 how much easier it is to learn a language 
 by the ear than by any marks. Sheri- 
 dan's Dictionary may do very well ; but 
 you cannot always carry it about with 
 you : and, when you want the word, you 
 have not the Dictionary. It is like a 
 man who has a sword that will not draw. 
 It is an admirable sword, to be sure : but 
 while your enemy is cutting your throat, 
 you are unable to use it. Besides, sir, 
 what entitles Sheridan to fix the pronun- 
 ciation of English f. He has, in the first 
 
 20S 
 
 place, the disadvantage of being an Irish- 
 man : and if he says he will fix it after 
 the example of the best company, why, 
 they differ among themselves. I remem- 
 ber an instance : when I published the 
 Plan for my Dictionary, Lord Chester- 
 field told me that the word great should 
 be pronounced so as to rhyme to state ; 
 and Sir William Yonge sent me word 
 that it should be pronounced so as to 
 rhyme to seat, and that none but an 
 Irishman would pronounce Wgrait. Now- 
 here were two men of the highest rank, 
 the one the best speaker in the House of 
 Lords, the other the best speaker in the 
 House of Commons, differing entirely." 
 I again visited him at night. Finding 
 him in a very good humour, I ventured 
 to lead him to the subject of our situation 
 in a future state, having much curiosity 
 to know his notions on that point. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, the happiness of an 
 unembodied spirit will consist in a con- 
 sciousness of the favour of God, in the 
 contemplation of truth, and in the pos- 
 session of felicitating ideas." Boswell; 
 *' But, sir, is there any harm in our 
 forming to ourselves conjectures as to 
 the particulars of our happiness, though 
 the Scripture has said but very little on 
 the subject? * We know not what we 
 shall be.' " Johnson. " Sir, there is no 
 harm. What philosophy suggests to us 
 on this topick is probable : what Scrip- 
 ture tells us is certain. Dr. Henry More 
 has carried it as far as philosophy can. 
 You may buy both his theological and 
 philosophical works in two volumes folio, 
 for about eight shillings." Boswell, 
 " One of the most pleasing thoughts is, 
 that we shall see our friends again*.** 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir ; but you must con- 
 sider, that when we are become purely 
 rational, many of our friendships will be 
 cut off. Many friendships are formed by 
 a community of sensual pleasures : all 
 these will be cut off. We form many 
 friendships with bad men, because they 
 have agreeable qualities, and they can 
 be useful to us ; but, after death, they 
 can no longer be of use to us. We form 
 many friendships by mistake, imagining 
 people to be different from what they 
 really are. After death, we shall see every 
 one in a true light. Then, sir, they talk 
 of our meeting our relations : but then all 
 relationship is dissolved ; and we shall 
 have no regard for one person more than 
 another, but for their real value. How- 
 ever, we shall either have the satisfaction 
 of meeting our friends, or be satisfied 
 
 * Bishop Hall, in his Epistle, "discoursing 
 of the different degrees of heavenly glory, 
 and of o«r mutual knowledge of eacljotlier 
 above," (Dec. iii. c. 6), holds the affirmative 
 on botli these questions. M.] 
 
 ft. 
 
206 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 without meeting them." Boswei.l. 
 *' Yet, sir, we see in Scripture, that 
 Dives still retained an anxious concern 
 about his brethren." Johnson. " Wliy, 
 sir, we must eitlier suppose that passage 
 to be metaphorical, or hold with many 
 divinos, and all the Purgatorians, that 
 <irparlod souls do not all at once arrive at 
 tho utmost perfection of which they are 
 capable." JJoswinx. " I think, sir, that 
 is a very rational supposition." John- 
 son. " Why, yes, sir ; but we do not 
 know it is a true one. There is no harm 
 in believing it : but you must not compel 
 others to make it an article of faith ; for 
 it is not revealed." Boswell. ** Do you 
 think, sir, it is wrong in a man who holds 
 the doctrine of Purgatory, to pray for the 
 souls of his deceased friends V Johnson. 
 " Why, no, sir." Boswell. ** I have 
 bien told that, in the Liturgy of the 
 Episcopal Church of Scotland, there was 
 a form of prayer for the dead." John- 
 son. " Sir, it is not in the Liturgy which 
 Laud framed for the Episcopal Church 
 of Scotland : if there is a liturgy older 
 than that, I should be glad to see it." 
 Boswell. ** As to our employment in a 
 future state, the sacred writings say little. 
 The Revelation, however, ot St. John 
 gives us many ideas, and particularly 
 mentions musick." Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, ideas must be given you by means of 
 something which you know : and as to 
 musick, there are some philosophers and 
 divines who have maintained that we 
 shall not be spiritualized to such a de- 
 uroc, but that something of matter, very 
 jutich refined, will remain. In that case, 
 musick may make a part of our future 
 ft'licity." 
 
 Boswell. *' I do not know whether 
 there are any well attested stories of the 
 appearance of ghosts. You know there 
 is a famous story of the appearance of 
 Mrs. Veal, prefixed to * Drelincourt on 
 D»ath.' " Johnson. '* I believe, sir, 
 tliat is given up. 1 believe the woman 
 declared upon her deathbed that it was a 
 lie*." BtteWELL. "This objection is 
 made against the truth of ghosts appear- 
 ing : that if they are in a state of happi- 
 ness, it would be a punishment to them 
 to return to this world ; and if they are 
 in a state of misery, it would be giving 
 them a respite." Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 as the happiness or misery of disembodie(l 
 spirits does not depend upon place, but 
 is intellectual, we cannot say that they 
 are less happy or less miserable by ap- 
 pearing upon earth." 
 
 • [This flcliou iR knoui) to have Itcen in- 
 vented by Daniel De. Foe, iind was added to 
 iju- tiecond t:ditinn of the Kniriii-h (ranslaiion 
 <>i Drelincouri'a work, to make it sell. 'I'he 
 (irst editiou had it not. A1-] 
 
 We went down between twelve and 
 one to Mrs. Williams's room, and drank 
 tea. I mentioned that we were to have 
 the remains of Mr. Gray, in prose and 
 verse, published by Mr. Mason. John- 
 son. '* I think we have had enough of 
 Gray. I see they have published a splen- 
 did edition of Akenside's works. One 
 bad ode may be suffered ; but a number 
 of them together makes one sick." Bos- 
 well. '* Akenside's distinguished poem 
 is his " Pleasures of Imagination :" but, 
 for my part, I never could admire it so 
 much as most people do." Johnson. 
 " Sir, I could not read it through." Bos- 
 well. ** I have read it through ; but I 
 do not find any great power in it." 
 
 I mentioned Elwal the heretick, whose 
 trial Sir John Pringle had given me to 
 read. Johnson. " Sir, Mr. Ehval was, 
 I think, an ironmonger at Wolverhamp- 
 ton ; and he had a mind to make himself 
 famous, by being the founder of a new 
 sect, which he wished much should be 
 called ElwaUians. He held, that every 
 thing in the Old Testament that was not 
 typical was to be of perpetual observ- 
 ance : and so he wore a riband in the 
 plaits of his coat, and he also wore a 
 beard. I remember I had the honour 
 of dining in company with Mr. Elwal. 
 There was one Barter, a miller, wlio 
 wrote against him ; and you had the con 
 troversy between Mr. Elwal and Mr. 
 Barter. To try to make himself distin- 
 guished he wrote a letter to King George 
 the Second, challenging him to dispute 
 with him, in which he said, * George, if 
 you be afraid to come by yourself, to 
 dispute with a poor old man, you may 
 bring a thousand of your black guards 
 with you ; and if you should still be 
 afraid, you may bring a thousand of your 
 rrrf- guards.' The letter had something 
 of the impudence of Junius to our pre- 
 sent King. But the men of Wolver- 
 hampton were not so inflammable as tlu- 
 Common Council of London ; so Mr. 
 Elwal failed in his scheme of making 
 himself a man of great consequence." 
 
 On Tuesday, March 31, he and I dined 
 at General Paoli's. A question was started 
 whether the state of marriage was natural 
 to man. Johnson. •* Sir, it is so far 
 from being natural for a man and woman 
 to live in a state of marriage, that wc 
 find all the motives which they have for 
 remaining in that connection, and the 
 restraints which civilized society imposes 
 to prevent separation, are hardly sutfi- 
 cient to keep them together." The Gene- 
 ral said, that in a state of nature a man 
 and woman imiting together would form 
 a strong and constant affection by the 
 mutual pleasure each would receive ; and 
 that the same causes of dissension would 
 
y^TAT. &3. 
 
 not arise between them as occur between 
 liusband and wife in a civilized state. 
 Johnson. ** Sir, they would have dis- 
 sensions enough, though of another kind. 
 One would choose to go a hunting in 
 this wood, the other in that ; one would 
 choose to go a fishing in this lake, the 
 other in that ; or, perhaps, one would 
 choose to go a hunting, when the other 
 would choose to go a fishing ; and so they 
 would part. Besides, sir, a savage man 
 and a savage woman meet by chance : 
 and when the man sees another woman 
 that pleases him better, he will leave the 
 first." 
 
 We then fell into a disquisition whether 
 there is any beauty independent ©futility. 
 The General maintained there was not. 
 Dr. Johnson maintained that there was ; 
 and he instanced a cotfee cup which he 
 held in his hand, the painting of which 
 was of no real use, as the cup would hold 
 the coffee equally well if plain ; yet the 
 painting was beautiful. 
 
 We talked of the strange custom of 
 aweariiig in conversation. The General 
 said, that all barbarous nations swore 
 from a certain violence of temper that 
 could not be confined to earth, but was 
 always reaching at the powers above. 
 He said, too, that there was greater va- 
 riety of swearing in proportion as there 
 was a greater variety of religious cere- 
 monies. 
 
 Dr. Johnson went home with me to 
 my lodgings in Conduit Street and drank 
 tea, previous to our going to the Pan- 
 theon, which neither of us had seen 
 before. 
 
 He said, " Goldsmith's Life of Parnell 
 is poor ; not that it is poorly written, but 
 that he had poor materials; for nobody 
 can write the life of a man but those who 
 have eat and drunk and lived in social 
 intercourse with him." 
 
 I said, that if it was not troublesome 
 and presuming too much, I would request 
 him to tell me all the little circumstances 
 of his life ; what schools he attended 
 when he came to Oxford, when he came 
 to London, &c. &c. He did not disap- 
 prove of my curiosity as to these parti- 
 culars; but said, "They'll come out by 
 rees as we talk together." 
 
 He censured Ruff head's Life of Pope ; 
 
 .'I said, " he knew nothing of Pope, 
 and nothing of poetry." He praised 
 Dr. Joseph Warton's Essay on Pope ; 
 but said, he supposed we should have no 
 more of it, as the authour had not been 
 able to persuade the world to think of 
 Pope as he did. Boswell. ** Why, sir, 
 should that prevent him from continuing 
 his work? He is an ingenious counsel 
 who has made the most of his cause : he 
 is not obliged to gain it." John.so.\. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 207 
 
 " But, sir, there is a diffierence when the 
 cause is of a man's own making." 
 
 We talked of the proper use of riches. 
 Johnson. ** If I were a man of a great 
 estate, I would drive all the rascals whom 
 I did not like out of the county at an 
 election." 
 
 I asked him, how far he thought wealth 
 should be employed in hospitality. John- 
 son. •* You are to consider that ancient 
 hospitality, of which we hear so much, 
 was in an uncommercial country, when 
 rnen being idle were glad to be enter- 
 tained at rich men's tables. But in a 
 commercial country, a busy country, 
 time becomes precious, and therefore 
 hospitality is not so much valued. No 
 doubt there is still room for a certain 
 degree of it ; and a man has a satisfaction 
 in seeing his friends eating and drinking 
 around him. But proniiscuoas hospi- 
 tality is not the way to gain real influ- 
 ence. You must help some people at 
 table before others ; you must ask some 
 people how they like their wine oftener 
 than others. You therefore off"end more 
 people than you please. You are like 
 the French statesman who said, when he 
 granted a favour, * J'aifait dix mecon- 
 tents et un ingrat.^ Besides, sir, being 
 entertained ever so well at a man's table 
 impresses no lasting regard or esteem. 
 No, sir, the way to make sure of power 
 and influence is, by lending money con- 
 fidentially to your neighbours at a small 
 interest, or perhaps at no interest at all, 
 and halving their bonds in your posses- 
 sion.-' Boswell. " May not a man, sir, 
 employ his riches to advantage in edu- 
 cating young men of merit?" Johnson. 
 '* Yes, sir, if they fall in your way ; but 
 if it be understood that you patronize 
 young men of merit, you will be harassed 
 with solicitations. You will have num- 
 bers forced upon you who have no merit ; 
 some will force them upon you from mis- 
 taken partiality ; and some from down- 
 right interested motives, without scruple ; 
 and you will be disgraced. 
 
 ** Were I a rich man, I would propa- 
 gate all kinds of trees that will grow in 
 the open air. A green-house is childish. 
 I would introduce foreign animals into the 
 country ; for instance, the rein-deer •." 
 
 The conversation now turned on criti- 
 cal subjects. Johnson. ** Bayes, in • The 
 Rehearsal,' is a mighty silly character. 
 If it was intended to be like a particular 
 man, it could only be diverting while 
 that man was remembered. But I ques- 
 tion whether it was meant for Drydtn, 
 
 * This project has ainre been realized. Sir 
 Henry Li<ldel, who made a spirited tour inio 
 Lafilaod, brought two rein-deer to hiH estate 
 ill Nortliumberlaiid, whcie they bred: but the 
 r.ice Ins unfortunately peribbed. 
 
208 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 as has been reported ; for we know some 
 of the passages said to be ridiculed were 
 written since the Rehearsal ; at least a 
 passage mentioned in the Preface* is of 
 a later date." I maintained that it had 
 merit as a general satire on the self-im- 
 portance of dramatick anthours. But 
 even in this light he held it very cheap. 
 
 We then walked to the Pantheon. 
 The first view of it did not strike us so 
 much as Ranelagh, of which he said, the 
 " coup d'ceil was the finest thing he had 
 ever seen." The truth is, Ranelagh is of 
 a more beautiful form ; more of it or 
 rather indeed the whole rotunda appears 
 at once, and it is better lighted. How- 
 ever, as Johnson observed, we saw the 
 Pantheon in time of mourning, when 
 there was a dull uniformity ; whereas we 
 had seen Ranelagh when the view was 
 enlivened with a gay profusion of colours. 
 Mrs. Bosville, of Gunthwaite, in York- 
 shire, joined us, and entered into con- 
 versation with us. Johnson said to me 
 afterwards, " Sir, this is a mighty intel- 
 ligent lady." 
 
 I said there was not half a guinea's 
 worth of pleasure in seeing this place. 
 Johnson. " Bui', sir, there is half a 
 guinea's worth of inferiority to other 
 people in not having seen it." Boswell. 
 " I doubt, sir, whether there are many 
 happy people here." Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir, tliere are many happy people here. 
 There are many people here who are 
 watching hundreds, and who think hun- 
 dreds are watching them." 
 
 Happening to meet Sir Adam Fergu- 
 son, I presented him to Dr. Johnson. 
 Sir Adam expressed some apprehension 
 that the Pantheon would encourage lux- 
 ury. " Sir (said Johnson), I am a great 
 friend to publick amusements ; for they 
 keep people from vice. You now (a(l- 
 dressing liiiiiself to me) would have been 
 with a weticli, had you not been here. — 
 O ! 1 forgot you were married." 
 
 Sir Adam suggested, that luxury cor- 
 rupts a people, and destroys the spirit of 
 liberty. Johnson. " Sir, that is all 
 visionary. I would not give half a guinea 
 to live under one form of government 
 rather than another. It is of no moment 
 
 * [There is no Preface to " The Rehearsal," 
 as originally published. Dr. JoUuhou seems 
 to have meant the Address to the Reader with 
 a KEYsuhjoined to it; which have been pre- 
 fixed to tlie modern editions of that play. He 
 did not know, it appears, that several addi- 
 tions were made to " The Rehearsal," after 
 the first edition. The ridicule on the passages 
 liere alluded to is found amonsf those addi- 
 tions. Tliey tlierefore furnish no t^rouud for 
 the doubt here hutfpested. Unquestionably 
 Bayes was meant to be the representative of 
 Drydcn, wtiose. familiar phrases in his ordi- 
 ii.irv tuii\( is.iii.m -.111' fi(-iiiieiitlv intiodiutil 
 in fiii^ pi., ,. M. 
 
 to the happiness of an individual. Sir, 
 the danger of the abuse of power is 
 nothing to a private man. What French- 
 man is prevented from passing his life as 
 he pleases?" Sir Adam. ** But, sir, in 
 the British constitution it is surely of im- 
 portance to keep up a spirit in the people, 
 so as to preserve a balance against the 
 crown." Johnson. " Sir, I perceive you 
 are a vile Whig. — Why all this childish 
 jealousy of the power of the crown ? The 
 crown has not power enough. When I 
 say that all governments are alike, I con- 
 sider that in no governinent power can 
 be abused long. Mankind will not bear 
 it. If a sovereign oppresses his people 
 to a great degree, they will rise and cut 
 off his head. There is a remedy in human 
 nature against tyranny that will keep us 
 safe under every form of government. 
 Had not the people of France thought 
 themselves honoured in sharing in the 
 brilliant actions of Louis XIV. they 
 would not have endured him ; and we 
 may say the same of the King of Prus- 
 sia's people." Sir Adam introduced the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans. Johnson. 
 " Sir, the mass of both of them were 
 barbarians. The mass of every people 
 must be barbarous where there is no 
 printing, and consequently knowledge is 
 not generally ditfnsed. Knowledge is 
 diffused among our people by the news- 
 papers." Sir Adam mentioned the orators, 
 poets, and artists of Greece. Johnson. 
 " Sir, I am talking of the mass of the 
 people. We see even what the boasted 
 Athenians were. The little effect wliich 
 Demosthencs's orations had upon thtni 
 shows that they were barbarians." 
 
 Sir Adam was unlucky in his topicks ; 
 for he suggested a doubt of the propriety 
 of Bishops having seats in the House of 
 Lords. Johnson. "How so, sir? Who 
 is more proper for having the dignity of 
 a peer than a Bishop, provided a Bishop 
 be what he ought to be ; and if improper 
 Bishops be made, that is not the fault 
 of the Bishops, but of those who make 
 
 tluMll." 
 
 Oil Sunday, April 5, after attending 
 diviiu- service at St. Paul's church, I 
 loiiiid liiin alone. Of a .^^clioolniastcr of 
 ills ac(iii;iiiit;incf, a iiativi- of Scotland, 
 he said, " He li:is a great (leal of good 
 about him ; hut he is ilso very defective 
 in some respi ets. His inner part is good, 
 but his outer pail is mighty awkward. 
 Yon in Scotland do not attain that nice 
 critical skill in languages which we get 
 in our schools in England. 1 would not 
 put a boy to him whom 1 intended for a 
 man of learnii)<j;. Rut for the sons of 
 citizens, who :ue to learn a little, get 
 good morals, and then go to trade, he 
 ni;iN do verv well." 
 
yExAT. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 209 
 
 I mentioned a cause in wliicli I had 
 appeared as counsel at the bar of the 
 General Assembly of the Church of 
 Scotland, where a Probationer (as one 
 licensed to preach, but not yet ordained, 
 is called), was opposed in his application 
 to be inducted, because it was alle<j;ed 
 that he had been guilty of fornication 
 five years before. Johnson. '* Why, sir, 
 if he has repented, it is not a sufficient 
 objection. A man who is good enough 
 to go to heaven is good enough to be a 
 clergyman." This was a humane and 
 liberal sentiment. But the character of 
 a clergyman is more sacred than that of 
 an ordinary christian. As he is to instruct 
 with authority, he should be regarded 
 with reverence, as one upon whom divine 
 truth has had the effect to set him above 
 such transgressions, as men, less exalted 
 by spiritual habits and yet upon the 
 whole not to be excluded from heaven, 
 have been betrayed into by the predomi- 
 nance of passion. That clergymen may 
 be considered as sinners in general, as 
 all men are, cannot be denied ; b:it this 
 reflection will not counteract their good 
 precepts so much as the absolute know- 
 ledge of their having been guilty of certain 
 specilick immoral acts. 1 told him, that 
 by the rules of the Church of Scotland, 
 in their " Book of Dii^cipline," if a scan- 
 dal, as it is called, is not prosecuted for 
 five years, it cannot afterwards be pro- 
 ceeded upon, ** unless it be of a heinous 
 nature, or again become flagrant ;" and 
 that hence a question arose, whether for- 
 nication was a sin of a heinous nature ; 
 and that I had maintained, that it did 
 not deserve that epithet, in as much as it 
 was not one of those sins which argue 
 very great depravity of heart : in shoi t, 
 was not, in the general acceptation of 
 mankind, a heinous sin. Johnson. " No, 
 sir, it is not a heinous sin. A heinous 
 sin is that for which a man is punished 
 with death or banishment." Boswell. 
 •' But, sir, after I had argued that it was 
 not a heinous sin, an old clergyman 
 rose up, and, repeating the text of soip- 
 ture denouncing judgment against whore- 
 mongers, asked whether, considering this, 
 there could be any doubt of fornication 
 being a heinous sin." Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, observe the word whoremonger. 
 Every sin, if persisted in, will become 
 heinous. Whoremonger is a dealer in 
 whores, as ironmonger is a dealer in 
 iron. But as you don't call a man an 
 ironmonger for buying and selling a pen- 
 knife, so you don't call a man a whore- 
 monger for getting one wench with 
 child*." 
 
 * It must not be presumed that Dr. Johnson 
 meant to ffive any countenance to liceniioiis- 
 ness, thoirgh in the character of an advocate 
 
 I spoke of the inequality of the livings 
 of the clergy in England, and the scanty 
 provisions of some of the curates. John- 
 son. •' Why, yes, sir ; but it cannot be 
 helped. You must consider, that the 
 revenues of the clergy are not at the dis- 
 posal of the state like the pay of the 
 army. Diflferent men have founded dif- 
 ferent churches ; and some are better 
 endowed, some worse. The State can- 
 not interfere and make an equal division 
 of what has been particularly appropri- 
 ated. Now when a clergyman has but a 
 small living, or even two small livings, 
 he can afford very little to the Curate.'* 
 
 He said, he went more frequently to 
 church when there were prayers only 
 than when there was also a sermon, as 
 the people required more an example 
 for the one than the other ; it being much 
 easier for them to hear a sermon than to 
 fix their minds on prayer. 
 
 On Monday, April 6, 1 dined with him 
 at Sir Alexander Macdonald's, where 
 was a young officer in the regimentals of 
 the Scots Royal, who talked with a viva- 
 city, fluency, and precision so uncommon 
 that he attracted particular attention. He 
 proved to be the Honourable Thomas 
 Erskine, youngest brother to the Earl of 
 Buchan, who has since risen into such 
 brilliant reputation at the bar in West- 
 minster Hall. 
 
 Fielding being mentioned, Johnson ex- 
 claimed, "he was a blockhead:" and 
 upon my expressing my astonishment at 
 so strange an assertion, he said, " What 
 I mean by his being a blockhead is, that 
 he was a barren rascal." Bosavell,. 
 ** Will you not allow, sir, that he draws 
 very natural pictures of human life?" 
 Johnson. *' Why, sir, it is of very low 
 life. Richardson used to say, that harl 
 he not known who Fielding was, he 
 should have believed he was an ostler. 
 Sir, there is more knowledge of the heart 
 in one letter of Richardson's than in all 
 'Tom Jonest.' 1, indeed, never read 
 * Joseph Andrews.' " Erskine. ** Surely, 
 sir, Richardson is very tedious." John- 
 son. " Why, sir, if you were to read 
 Richardson for the story, your impa- 
 tience would be so much fretted that you 
 would hang yourself. But you must read 
 him for the sentiment, and consider the 
 
 he made a just and subtle distinction between 
 occasional and habitual transgression. 
 
 + [Johnson's severity against Fielding did 
 not arise from any viciousness in his "style, 
 but from his loose" life, and the profligacy of 
 almost all his male characters. Who would 
 venture to read one of his novels aloud to 
 modest women ? His novels are male amuse- 
 ments, and very amusing they certainly are. 
 Fielding's conversation was coarse, and so 
 tinctured with the rank weeds of the Garden, 
 that it would now be thought only fit for a 
 brothel. B.J 
 
210 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 story as only giving occasion to the senti- 
 ment." I have already given my opinion 
 of Fielding; bnt I cannot refrain fiom 
 repeating here my wonder at Johnson's 
 excessive and nnaccountable depreciation 
 of one of the best writers that England 
 has produced. "Tom Jones" has stood 
 the test of publick opinion with such suc- 
 cess as to have established its great merit, 
 both for the story, the sentiments, and 
 the manners, and also the varieties of 
 diction, so as to leave no doubt of its 
 having an animated truth of execution 
 throughout. 
 
 A book of travels, lately published 
 under the title of Coriat Junior, and 
 written by Mr. Paterson*, was men- 
 tioned. Johnson said, this book was in 
 imitation of Sterne t, and not of Coriat, 
 whose name Paterson had chosen as a 
 whimsical one. " Tom Coriat (said he) 
 was a humourist about the court of James 
 the First. He had a mixture of learning, 
 of wit, and of buffoonery. He first tra- 
 velled through Europe, and published his 
 travels. He afterwards travelled on foot 
 through Asia, and had made many re- 
 marks ; but he died at Mandoa, and his 
 remarks were lost." 
 
 We talked of gaming, and animad- 
 verted on it with severity. Johnson. 
 " Nay, gentlemen, let us not aggravate 
 the matter. It is not roguery to play 
 with a man who is ignorant of the game 
 while you are inaster of it, and so win 
 liis money ; for he thinks he can play 
 better than you, as you think you can 
 play better than he; and the superior 
 skill carries it." Erskine. " He is a 
 fool, but you are not a rogue." John- 
 son. " That's much about the truth, sir. 
 It must be considered, that a man who 
 only does what every one of the society 
 to which he belongs would do is not a 
 dishonest man. In the rcpublick of 
 Sparta it was agreed, that stealing was 
 not dishonourable, if not discovered. I 
 do not commend a society where there 
 is an agreement that what would not 
 otherwise be fair shall be fair: but I 
 maintain, that an individual of any so- 
 ciety who practises what is allowed is 
 not a dishonest man." Boswf.ll. " So 
 then, sir, you do not think ill of a man 
 who wins perhaps forty thousand pounds 
 in a winter?" Johnson. " Sir, I do not 
 call a gamester a dishonest man ; but I 
 call him an unsocial man, an unprofitable 
 inan. Gaming is a mode of transferring 
 property without producing any inter- 
 
 • Mr. Samuel Paterson, eminent for his 
 knowledge of books 
 
 t Mr, Paterson, in a pamrhlcl, prorluced 
 fome evidence to show that his woik whs 
 written before Sterne's " SL'nlinicntal Joiir- 
 Hty" appeared. 
 
 mediate good. Trade gives employment 
 to numbers, and so produces intermediate 
 good." 
 
 Mr. Erskine told us that when he was 
 in the island of Minorca, he not only 
 read prayers, but preached two sermons 
 to the regiment. He seemed to object 
 to the passage in scripture, where we are 
 told that the angel of the Lord smote in 
 one night forty thousand Assyrians %. 
 ** Sir (said Johnson), you should recol- 
 lect that there was a supernatural interpo- 
 sition ; they were destroyed by pestilence. 
 You are not to suppose that the angel of 
 the Lord went about and stabbed each 
 of them with a dagger, or knocked them 
 on the head, man by man." 
 
 After Mr. Erskine was gone, a discus- 
 sion took place, whether the present Earl 
 of Buchan, when Lord Cardross,did right 
 to refuse to go Secretary of the Embassy 
 to Spain, when Sir James Gray, a man 
 of inferiour rank, went Ambassadour. 
 Dr. Johnson said, that perhaps in point 
 of interest he did wrong ; but in point of 
 dignity he did well. Sir Alexander in- 
 sisted that he was wrong; and said that 
 Mr. Pitt intended it as an advantageous 
 thing for him. " Why, sir (said Johnson), 
 Mr. Pitt might think it an advantageous 
 thing for him to make him a vintner, and 
 get him all the Portugal trade : but he 
 would have demeaned himself strangely, 
 had he accepted of such a situation. Sir, 
 had he gone Secretary while his infe- 
 riour was Ambassadour, he would have 
 been a traitor to his rank and family." 
 
 I talked of the little attachment which 
 subsisted between near relations in Lon- 
 don. " Sir (said Johnson), in a country 
 so commercial as ours, where every man 
 can do for himself, there is not so much 
 occasion for that attachment. No man is 
 thought the worse of here whose brother 
 was hanged. In uncommercial countries 
 many of the branches of a family must 
 depend on the stock ; so, in order io 
 make the head of the family take care of 
 them, they are represented as connected 
 with his reputation, that, self-love being 
 interested, he may exert himself to pro- 
 mote their interest. You have first large 
 circles or clans; as comnjerce increases 
 the connection is confined to families; 
 by degrees that too goes off, as having 
 become imnecessary, and there being few 
 opportunities of intercourse. One brother 
 is a merchant in the city, and another is 
 an otlicer in the guards; how little inter- 
 course can these two have!" 
 
 I argued warmly for the old feudal 
 system. Sir Alexander opposed it, and 
 talked of the pleasiwe of seeing all men 
 
 X [One hnnHreil and eii»hty-five thontsaiid. 
 See Isaiah, xxxvii. 3«, and 2 Kings, xi\. 35. 
 M.j 
 
;Etat. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 211 
 
 free and independent. Johnson. '* I 
 agree with Mr. Boswell, that there must 
 be liigh satisfaction in being a feudal 
 Lord ; but we are to consider that we 
 ought not to wish to have a number of 
 men unhappy for tlie satisfaction of one." 
 — I maintained that numbers, namely, 
 the vassals or followers were not un- 
 happy ; for that there was a reciprocal 
 satisfaction between the Lord and them : 
 he being kind in his authority over them ; 
 they being respectful and faithful to liini. 
 
 On Thursday, April 9, I called on him 
 to beg he would go and dine with me at 
 the Mitre tavern. He had resolved not 
 to dine at all this day, I know not for 
 what reason ; and I was so unwilling to 
 be deprived of his company that I was 
 content to submit to suffer a want, which 
 was at first somewhat painful, but he soon 
 made me forget it ; and a man is always 
 pleased with himself when he finds his 
 intellectual inclinations predominate. 
 
 He observed, that to reason philoso- 
 pliically on the nature of prayer was 
 very unprofitable. 
 
 Talking of ghosts, he said, he knew 
 one friend, who was an honest man and 
 a sensible man, who told him he had 
 seen a ghost ; old Mr. Edward Cave, 
 the printer at St. John's Gate. He said, 
 Mr. Cave did not like to talk of it, and 
 seemed to be in great horrour whenever 
 it was mentioned. Boswell. " Pray, 
 sir, what did he say was the appear- 
 ance?" Johnson. " Why, sir, something 
 of a shadowy being." 
 
 I mentioned witches, and asked him 
 what they properly meant. Johnson. 
 " V/hy, sir, they properly mean those 
 who make use of the aid of evil spirits." 
 BosNVELL. " There is no doubt, sir, a 
 general report and belief of their having 
 existed." Johnson. " You have not only 
 the general report and belief, but you 
 have many voluntary solemn confes- 
 sions." He did not affirm any thing 
 positively upon a subject which it is the 
 fashion of the times to laugh at as a mat- 
 ter of absurd credulity. He only f eemed 
 willing, as a candid inquirer after truth, 
 however strange and inexplicable, to 
 show that he understood what might be 
 urged for it*. 
 
 On Friday, April 10, I dined with him 
 at General Oglethorpe's where we found 
 Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
 Armorial bearings having been men- 
 tioned, Johnson said they were as ancient 
 as the siege of Thebes, which he proved 
 by a passage in one of the tragedies of 
 Euripides t. 
 
 * See this curious (jueslion treated by liini 
 with most acute abiliiy, "Journal of a" Tour 
 10 the Hebrides," 3(1 edit. p. 3:(. 
 
 t [The passage to which Johnson alluded is 
 
 I started the question, whether duelling 
 was consistent with moral duty. The 
 brave old General fired at this, and said, 
 with a lofty air—" Undoubtedly a man 
 has a right to defend his honour." Gold- 
 smith (turning to me). " I ask you first, 
 sir, what would you do if you were 
 affronted?" I answered, I should think 
 it necessary to fight. ** Why, then (re- 
 plied Goldsmith), that solves the ques- 
 tion." Johnson. ** No, sir, it does not 
 solve the question. It does not follow 
 that what a man would do is therefore 
 right." I said, I wished to have it set- 
 tled, whether duelling was contrary to 
 the laws of Christianity. — Johnson im- 
 mediately entered on the subject, and 
 treated it in a masterly manner; and so 
 far as I have been able to recollect, his 
 thoughts were these : " Sir, as men be- 
 come in a high degree refined, various 
 causes of oflfence arise ; which are con- 
 sidered to be of such importance that life 
 must be staked to atone for them, though 
 in reality they are not so. A body that 
 has received a very fine polish may be 
 easily hurt. Before men arrive at this 
 artificial refinement, if one tells his neigh- 
 bour — he lies, his neighbour tells him — 
 he lies; if one gives his neighbour a 
 blow, his neighbour gives him a blow : 
 but in a state of highly polished society, 
 an aftront is held to be a serious injury. 
 It must, therefore, be resented, or rathei 
 a duel must be fought upon it; as men 
 have agreed to banish from their society- 
 one who puts up with an affront without 
 fighting a duel. Now, sir, it is never 
 unlawful to fight in self-defence. He, 
 then, who fights a duel does not fight 
 from passion against his antagonist, but 
 oat of self-defence ; to avert the stigma 
 of the world, and to prevent himself from 
 being driven out of society. I could wii-h 
 there was not that superfluity of refine- 
 ment, but while such notions prevail, no 
 doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel." 
 
 Let it be remembered, that this justi- 
 fication is applicable only to the person 
 who receives an affront. All mankind 
 must condemn the aggressor. 
 
 The General told us, that when he was 
 a very young man, I think only fifteen, 
 serving under Prince Eugene of Savoy, 
 he was sitting in a company at table with 
 a Prince of Wirtemberg. The Prince 
 took up a glass of wine, and by a fillip 
 made some of it fly in Oglethorpe's face. 
 Here was a nice dilemma. To have chal- 
 
 to be found (as I conjecture) in the Phcenissa-, 
 I. 1120. 
 
 Ken TT^wTajJ-lv TT^oo-nye, x. t. X. 
 
 'O T»i; y.vvay(>\J Ilac^^svoirouo; exyovof, 
 
 ^ J. U.-O.j 
 
U-2 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 hnged him instantly might have fixed a 
 quarrelsome character upon the young 
 soldier : to have taken no notice of it 
 might have been considered as cowardice. 
 Oglethorpe, therefore, keeping his eye 
 upon the Prince, and smiling all the time, 
 as if he took what his Highness had done 
 in jest, said, " Mon Prince," — (I forget 
 the French words he used, the purport 
 however was), " That's a good joke ; but 
 we do it much better in England ;" 
 and threw a whole glass of wine in the 
 Prince's face. An old General who sat 
 by said, '* II a Men fait, mon Prince, 
 vous Vave% commence : and thus all 
 ended in good humour. 
 
 Dr. Johnson said, *' Pray, General, 
 give us an account of the siege of Bel- 
 grade." Upon which the General, pour- 
 ing a little wine upon the table, described 
 every thing with a wet linger: "Here 
 we were, here were the Turks," &c. &c. 
 Johnson listened with the closest atten- 
 tion. 
 
 A question was started, how far people 
 who disagree in a capital point can live 
 in friendship together. Johnson said they 
 might. Goldsmith said they could not, 
 as they had not the idem velle atque 
 idem nolle — the same likings and the 
 same aversions. Johnson. "Why, sir, 
 you must shun the subject as to whicl) 
 you disagree. For instance, I can live 
 very well with Burke: I love his know- 
 ledge, his genius, his diftusion, and afflu- 
 ence of conversalion ; but I would not 
 talk to him of the Rockingham party." 
 Goldsmith. " But, sir, when people live 
 together who have something as to which 
 they disagree, and which they want to 
 shun, they will be in the situation men- 
 tioned in the story of Bluebeard : * Yon 
 may look into all the chambers but one.' 
 But we should have the greatest inclina- 
 tion to look into that chamber, to talk of 
 that subject." Johnson (with a loud 
 voice). " Sir, I am not saying that you 
 could live in friendship with a man from 
 whom you differ as to some point : I am 
 only saying that / couhl do it. You put 
 me in mind of Sappho in Ovid *." 
 
 Goldsmith told us that he was now 
 busy in writing a Natural History ; and, 
 that he might have full leisure for it, he 
 
 * [Mr. Boswell'.^ note here beine: ratl'.ci 
 short, as t:iken at tlie time (with a view pt-r- 
 liaps to future revision), Johnson's remaik is 
 obscurp, and requires lo be a iiltle opened. 
 What he said probat:iy vva--, " You seem to 
 tiiink that two friondH, to live well tot^cthcr, 
 n)ii;-t be in a perfect harmony wiih each 
 oilier; that each should he to the other what 
 S.ippho boasts she was to her lover, and 
 uniformly apree in every particular: but this 
 is by no means necessary, Ike. The words of 
 Sappho alluded to are: — omuigne a parte 
 vlacehani .^' Ovid. Epist. Sapp. ad Fliaoneni, 
 1.45. M.] 
 
 had taken lodgings at a farmer's house, 
 near to the six milestone, on the Edge- 
 ware road, and had carried down his 
 books in two returned postchaises. He 
 said, he believed the farmer's family 
 thought him an odd character, similar to 
 that in which the Spectator appeared to 
 his landlady and her children : he was 
 The Gentleman. Mr. Mickle, the trans- 
 lator of " The Lusiad," and I went to 
 visit him at this place a few days after- 
 wards. He was not at home ; but having 
 a curiosity to see his apartment we wei:t 
 in, and found curious scraps of descrip- 
 tions of animals scrawled upon the wall 
 with a black lead pencil. 
 
 The subject of ghosts being introduced, 
 Johnson repeated what he had told me 
 of a friend of his, an honest man, and a 
 man of sense, having asserted to him that 
 he had seen an apparition. Goldsmith 
 told us he was assured by his brother, the 
 Reverend Mr. Goldsmith, that he also 
 had seen one. General Oglethorpe told 
 us that Prendergast, an officer in the 
 Duke of Marlborough's army, had men- 
 tioned to many of his friends that he 
 should die on a particular day: that 
 upon that day a battle took place with 
 the French ; that after it was over, and 
 Prendergast was still alive, his brother 
 officers, while they were yet in the held, 
 jestingly asked him, where was his pro- 
 phecy now? Prendergast gravely an- 
 swered, " I shall die, notwithstanding 
 what you see." Soon afterwards there 
 came a shot from a French battery, lo 
 which the orders for a cessation of arms 
 had not yet reached, and he was killed 
 upon the spot. Colonel Cecil, who took 
 possession of his effects, found in his 
 pocket-book the following solemn entry : 
 
 [Here the date.] " Dreamt— or + 
 
 Sir John Friend meets me :" (here the 
 very day on which he was killed was 
 mentioned.) Prendergast had been con- 
 nected with Sir John Friend, who was 
 executed for high treason. General 
 Oglethorpe said lie was with Colonel 
 Cecil when Pope came and inquired 
 into the truth of this story, which made 
 a great noise at the time, and was then 
 confirmed by the Colonel. 
 
 On Satinday, April 11, he appointed 
 me to come to him in the evening, when 
 he should be at leisure to give me some 
 assistance for the defence of Hastie, the 
 schoolinasterof Campbelltown, for whom 
 I was to appear in the House of Lords. 
 
 t Here was a blank, which may be filled np 
 thus :—** wa« told by an appaiitioti ;"—ih^ 
 writer beinif probably uiictrtain whether he 
 was asleep or awake, when his mind was 
 impressed with the solemn presentiment with 
 which the fart afterwards happened so won- 
 derfully to conespond. 
 
/Etat. 63. 
 
 When I came I found him unwilling to 
 exert himself. I pressed him to write 
 down his thoughts upon the subject. He 
 said, " There's no occasion for my writ- 
 ing : I'll talk to you." He was, how- 
 ever, at last prevailed on to dictate to 
 me, while I wrote as follows: 
 
 " The charge is, that he has used immo- 
 derate and cruel correction. Correction 
 in itself is not cruel ; children, being not 
 reasonable, can be governed only by fear. 
 To impress this fear is therefore one of 
 the first duties of those who have the care 
 of children. It is the duty of a parent ; 
 and has never been thought inconsistent 
 with parental tenderness. It is the duty 
 of a master, who is in his highest exalta- 
 tion when he is loco parentis. Yet, as 
 good things become evil by excess, correc- 
 tion, by being immoderate may become 
 cruel. But when is correction immode- 
 rate ? When it is more frequent or more 
 severe than is required, ad monendum et 
 docendum, for reformation and instruc- 
 tion. No severity is cruel which obstinacy 
 makes necessary ; for the greatest cruelty 
 would be to desist, and leave the scholar 
 too careless for instruction, and too much 
 hardened for reproof. Locke, in his 
 Treatise of Education, mentions a mo- 
 ther, with applause, who whipped an in- 
 fant eight times before she had subdued 
 it; for had she stopped at the seventh 
 act of correction, her daughter, says he, 
 would have been ruined. The degrees 
 of obstinacy in young minds are very dif- 
 ferent : as different must be the degrees 
 of persevering severity. A stubborn scho- 
 lar must be corrected till he is subdued. 
 The discipline of a school is military. 
 There must be either unbounded license 
 or absolute authority. The master who 
 punishes not only consiilts the future 
 happiness of him who is the immediate 
 subject of correction, but he propagates 
 obedience through the whole school ; and 
 establishes regularity by exemplary jus- 
 tice. The victorious obstinacy of a single 
 boy would make his future endeavours of 
 reformation or instruction totally ineffec- 
 tual. Obstinacy, therefore, must never 
 be victorious. Yet, it is well known, 
 that there sometimes occurs a sullen and 
 hardy resolution, that laughs at all com- 
 mon punishment, and bids defiance to 
 all common degrees of pain. Correction 
 must be proportioned to occasions. The 
 flexible will be reformed by gentle dis- 
 cipline, and the refractory must be sub- 
 dued by harsher methods. The degrees 
 of scholastick, as of military punishment, 
 no stated rules can ascertain. It must be 
 enforced till it overpowers temptation ; 
 till stubbornness becomes flexible, and 
 perverseness regular. Custom and rea- 
 son have, indeed, set some bounds to 
 scholastick penalties. The schoolmaster 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 21i»^_ 
 
 inflicts no capital punishments; nor en- ^ 
 forces his edicts by either death or muti- 
 lation. The civil law has wisely deter- 
 mined, that a master who strikes at a 
 scholar's eye shall be considered as cri- 
 minal. But punishments, however se- 
 vere, that produce no lasting evil may 
 be just and reasonable, because they may 
 be necessary. Such have been the pu- 
 nishments used by the respondent. No 
 scholar has gone from him either blind 
 or lame, or with any of his limbs or 
 powers injured or impaired. They were 
 irregular, and he punished them : they 
 were obstinate, and he enforced his pu- 
 nishment. But, however provoked, he 
 never exceeded the limits of moderation, 
 for he inflicted nothing beyond present 
 pain: and how much of that was re- 
 quired, no man is so little able to deter- 
 mine as those who have determined 
 against him — the parents of the offend- 
 ers. It has been said that he used un- 
 precedented and improper instruments 
 of correction. Of this accusation the 
 meaning is not very easy to be found. 
 No instrument of correction is more 
 proper than another, but as it is better 
 adapted to produce present pain without 
 lasting mischief. Whatever were his in- 
 struments, no lasting mischief has ensued; 
 and therefore, however unusual, in hands 
 so cautious they were proper. It has 
 been objected, that the respondent ad- 
 mits the charge of cruelty, by producing 
 no evidence to confute it. Let it be 
 considered that his scholars are either 
 dispersed at large in the world, or conti- 
 juie to inhabit the place in which they 
 were bred. Those who are dispersed 
 cannot be found ; those who remain are 
 the sons of his prosecutors, and are not 
 likely to support a man to whom their 
 fathers are enemies. If it be supposed 
 that the enmity of their fathers proves 
 the justness of the charge, it must be con- 
 sidered how often experience shows us 
 that men who are angry on one ground 
 will accuse on another; with how little 
 kindness, in a town of low trade, a man 
 who lives by learning is regarded; and 
 how implicitly, where the inhabitants ar« 
 not very rich, a rich man is hearkened 
 to and followed. In a place like Camp- 
 belltown, it is easy for one of the princi- 
 pal inhabitants to make a party. It is 
 easy for that party to heat themselves 
 with imaginary grievances. It is easy 
 for them to oppress a man poorer than 
 themselves ; and natural to assert the 
 dignity of riches by persisting in oppres- 
 sion. The argument which attempts to 
 prove the impropriety of restoring him 
 to the school, by alleging that he has lost 
 the confidence of the people, is not the 
 subject of juridical consideration ; for he 
 is to suffer, it" he must suffer, not for their 
 
214 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 judgment but for his own actions- It 
 may be convenient for them to have 
 another master ; but it is a convenience 
 of their own making. It would be like- 
 wise convenient for him to find another 
 school; but this convenience he cannot 
 obtain. — The question is not what is now 
 convenient, but what is generally right. 
 If the people of Campbelltovvn be dis- 
 tressed by the restoration of the respon- 
 dent, they are distressed only by their 
 own fault; by turbulent passions and 
 unreasonable desires ; by tyranny, which 
 law has defeated, and by malice, which 
 virtue has surmounted." 
 
 " This, sir (said he), you are to turn in 
 your mind, and make the best use of it 
 you can in your speech." 
 
 Of our friend Goldsmith he said, " Sir, 
 he is so much afraid of being unnoticed 
 that he often talks merely lest you should 
 forget that he is in the company." Bos- 
 well. " Yes, he stands forward." John- 
 son. *' True, sir ; but if a man is to stand 
 forward, he should wish to do it, not in 
 an awkward posture, not in rags, not so 
 as that he shall only be exposed to ridi- 
 cule." BoswELL. " For my part, I like 
 very well to hear honest Goldsmith talk 
 away carelessly." Johnson. " Why, 
 yes, sir; but he should not like to hear 
 himself." 
 
 On Tuesday, April 14, the decree of 
 the Court of Session in the Schoolmas- 
 ter's cause was reversed in the House of 
 Lords, after a very eloquent speech by 
 Lord Mansfield, who showed himself an 
 adept in school discipline, but I thought 
 was too rigorous towards my client. On 
 the evening of the next day I supped 
 with Dr. Johnson, at the Crown and 
 Anchor tavern, in the Strand, in com- 
 pany with Mr. Langton and his brother- 
 in-law. Lord Binning. I repeated a sen- 
 tence of Lord Mansfield's speech, of 
 which, by the aid of Mr. Longlands, the 
 solicitor on the other side, who obligingly 
 allowed me to compare his note with my 
 own, I have a full copy : " My Lords, 
 severity is not the way to govern either 
 boys or men." " Nay (said Johnson), 
 it is the way to govern them. 1 know 
 not whether it be the way to meyid 
 them." 
 
 I t.ilked of the recent expulsion of six 
 -tiuUiits iiuin the University of Oxford, 
 who were iiicthodists, and would not de- 
 sist from publickly praying and exhorting. 
 Johnson. " Sir, that expulsion was ex- 
 tremely just and proper. What have 
 liu-y to do at a University, who are not 
 willing t(» be taught, but will presume to 
 ttachf Where is religion to be learnt 
 but at a University? Sir, they were ex- 
 amined, and found to be mighty igno- 
 laut fellows." Boswei.l. "But was it 
 not hard, sir, to expel them, for I am told 
 
 they were good beings?" Johnson. " I 
 believe they might be good beings; but 
 they were not fit to be in the University 
 of Oxford. A cow is a very good animal 
 in the field ; but we turn her out of a 
 garden." Lord Elibank used to repeat 
 this as an illustration uncommonly 
 
 happy. 
 De • 
 
 esirous of calling Johnson forth to 
 talk and exercise his wit, though I should 
 myself be the object of it, I resolutely 
 ventured to undertake the defence of con- 
 vivial indulgence in wine, though he was 
 not to-night in the most genial humour. 
 After urging the common plausible to- 
 picks, I at last had recourse to the 
 maxim, in vino Veritas, a man who is 
 well warmed with wine will speak truth. 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, that may be au 
 aigument for drinking, if you suppose 
 men in general to be liars. But, sir, 
 I would not keep company with a 
 fellow who lies as long as he is sober, 
 and whom you must make drunk before 
 you can get a word of truth out of 
 him*." 
 
 Mr. Langton told us he was about to 
 establish a school upon his estate, but it 
 had been suggested to him that it might 
 have a tendency to make the people less 
 industrious. Johnson. " No, sir. While 
 learning to read and write is a distinc- 
 tion, the few who have that distinction 
 may be the less inclined to work ; but 
 when every body learns to read and 
 write, it is no longer a distinction. A 
 man who has a laced waistcoat is too fine 
 a man to work ; but if every body had 
 laced waistcoats, we should have people 
 working in laced waistcoats. There are 
 no people whatever more industrious, 
 none who work more than our manufac- 
 turers; yet they have all learnt to read 
 and write. Sir, you must not neglect 
 doing a thing immediately good from 
 fear of remote evil; — from fear of it,-; 
 being abused. A man who has candles 
 may sit up too late, which he would not 
 do if he had not candles; but nobody will 
 deny that the art of making candles, by 
 which light is continued to us beyond the 
 time that the sun gives us light, is a va- 
 luable art, and ought to be pieserved." 
 BoswELL. " But, sir, would it not be 
 better to follow nature; and go to bed 
 and rise just as iiaiini' iiives us light or 
 withholds it?" Johnsi^n. " No, sir; for 
 then we should have no kind of equality 
 in the partition of om liiue between 
 sleeping and waking. It would be very 
 
 • Mrs. ['iozzi, in her " Anecdotes," p. 261, 
 has jfiven an erroneous arcoiiiU of this inci- 
 dent, as of many others. Stie pretends lo 
 relate it from recolieciion, as it she herself 
 had been present: wIm ii the fter is that it 
 was conimunicated to h( r by tie. She has 
 represented it as a persoiKiiity, and the true 
 poiHi has escaped her. 
 
iElAT. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 215 
 
 different in different seasons and in dif- 
 ferent places. In some of the northern 
 parts of Scotland how little light is there 
 in the depth of winter!" 
 
 We talked of Tacitus, and I hazarded 
 an opinion that with all his merit for 
 penetration, shrewdness of judgment, and 
 terseness of expression, he was too com- 
 pact, too much broken into hints as it 
 were, and therefore too difficult to be 
 understood. To my great satisfaction 
 Dr. Johnson sanctioned this opinion. 
 " Tacitus, sir, seems to me rather to have 
 made notes for an historical work than 
 to have written a history *." 
 
 At this time it appears from his 
 ** Prayers and Meditati(>ns," that he had 
 been more than commonly diligent in 
 religious duties, particularly in reading 
 the Holy Sciiptures. It was Passion 
 Week, that solemn season which the 
 Christian world has appropriated to the 
 commemoration of the mysteries of our 
 redemption, and during which, whatever 
 embers of religion are in our breasts will 
 be kindled into pious warmth. 
 
 I paid him short visits both on Friday 
 and Saturday, and seeing his large folio 
 Greek Tes^tament before him, beheld him 
 with a reverential awe, and would not in- 
 trude upon his time. While he was thus 
 employed to such good purpose, and 
 while his fiiends in their intercourse 
 with him constantly found a vigorous 
 intellect and a lively imagination, it is 
 melancholy to read in his private regis- 
 ter, ** My mind is unsettled and my me- 
 mory confused. I have of late turned 
 my thoughts with a very useless earnest- 
 ness upon past incidents. I have yet got 
 no command over my thoughts ; an un- 
 pleasing incident is almost certain to 
 hinder my reslf." What philosophick 
 heroism was it in him to appear with 
 such manly fortitude to the world while 
 he was inwardly so distressed ! We may 
 surely believe that the mysterious prin- 
 ciple of being " made perfect through 
 suffering" was to be strongly exemplified 
 in him. 
 
 On Sunday, April 19, being Easter- 
 day, General Paoli and I paid him a 
 visit before dinner. We talked of the 
 notion that blind persons can distinguish 
 colours by the touch. Johnson said, that 
 Professor Sanderson mentions his having 
 attempted to do it, but that he found he 
 was aiming at an impossibility; that to 
 be sure a difference in the surface makes 
 
 * It is remarkable that Lord Monboddo, 
 whom, onaccountof his resembling' Dr John- 
 son in some particulars, Koote called an Elze- 
 vir edition of him, has by coincidence made 
 the very same remark. Origin and Progress 
 of Lavgnage, vol. iii. 2d edit. p. 219. 
 
 t i^rajers and Meditations, p. 111. 
 
 the difference of colours; but that dif- 
 ference is so fine that it is not sensible 
 to the touch. The General mentioned 
 jugglers and fraudulent gamesters who 
 could know cards by the touch. Dr. 
 Johnson said, " the cards used by such 
 persons must be less polished than ours 
 commonly are," 
 
 We talked of sounds. The General 
 said, there was no beauty in a simple 
 sound, but only in an harmonious com- 
 position of sounds. I presumed to differ 
 from this opinion, and mentioned the 
 soft and sweet sound of a fine woman's 
 voice. Johnson. " No, sir, if a serpent 
 or a toad uttered it, you would think it 
 ugly." BoswELL. "So >ou would think, 
 sir, were a beautiful tune to be uttered 
 by one of those animals." Johnson. 
 " No, sir, it would be admired. We have 
 seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as little 
 as toads" (laughing). 
 
 Talking on the subject of taste in the 
 arts, he said, that difference of taste was, 
 in truth, diiference of skill. Boswell. 
 *' But, sir, is there not a quality called 
 taste, which consists merely in percep- 
 tion or in liking? For instance, we find 
 people differ much as to what is the best 
 styleof English composition. Some think 
 Swift's the best; others prefer a fuller 
 and grander way of writing." Johnson. 
 " Sir, you mist first define what you 
 mean by style, before you can judge who 
 has a good taste in style and who has a 
 bad. The two classes of persons whonl 
 you have mentioned don't differ as to 
 good and bad. They both agree that Swift 
 has a good neat style; but one loves a 
 neat style, another loves a style of more 
 splendour. Iti like manner, one loves a 
 plain coat, another loves a laced coat; 
 but neither will deny that each is good in 
 its kind." 
 
 While I remained in London this 
 spring, I was with him at several other 
 times, both by himself antl in company. 
 I dined with him one day at the Crown 
 and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, with 
 Lord Elibank, Mr. Langton, and Dr. 
 Vansittart of Oxford. Without specify- 
 ing each particular day, I have preserved 
 the following memorable things. 
 
 I regretted the reflection in his pre- 
 face to Shakspeare against Garrick, to 
 whom we cannot but apply the followin<j 
 passage : " I collated such copies as I 
 could procure, and wished for more, but 
 have not found the collectors of these 
 rarities very communicative." I told 
 him that Garrick had complained to me 
 of it, and had vindicated himself by as- 
 suring me that Johnson was made wel- 
 come to the full use of his collection, and 
 that he left the key of it with a servant, 
 with orders to have a fire and eveiy 
 
216 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 177i. 
 
 convenience for him. I found Johnson's 
 notion was, that Garrick wanted to be 
 courted foi- tliem, and that, on the con- 
 trary, Garrick should have courted him, 
 and sent him the plays of his own accoi d. 
 But, indeed, considering the slovenly 
 and careless manner in which books 
 were treated by Johnson, it could not be 
 expected that scarce and valuable edi- 
 tions should have been lent to him. 
 
 A gentleman having to some of the 
 usual arguments for drinking added this : 
 ** You know, sir, drinking drives away 
 care, and makes us forget whatever is 
 disagreeable. Would you not allow a 
 luan to drink for that reason ?" Johnson. 
 *' Yes, sir, if he sat next jrow." 
 
 I expressed a liking for Mr. Francis 
 Osborne's works, and asked him what 
 he thought of that writer. He answered, 
 *' A conceited fellow. Were a man to 
 write so now, the boys would throw stones 
 at him." He, however, did not alter my 
 opinion of a favourite authour, to whom 
 1 was tirst directed by his being quoted 
 in " The Spectator,'' and in whom I 
 have found much shrewd and lively sense, 
 expressed indeed in a style somewhat 
 quaint, which, however, I do not dislike. 
 His book has an air of originality. We 
 figure to ourselves an ancient gentleman 
 talking to us. 
 
 When one of his friends endeavoured 
 to maintain that a country gentleman 
 might contrive to pass his life very agree- 
 ably, " Sir (said he), you cannot give 
 me an instance of any man who is per- 
 mitted to lay out his own time, contriv- 
 ing not to have tedious hours." This 
 observation, however, is equally appli- 
 cable to gentlemen who live in cities, and 
 are of no profession. 
 
 He said, " There is no permanent 
 national character; it varies according 
 to circumstances. Alexander the Great 
 swept India: now the Turks sweep 
 Greece." 
 
 A learned gentleman who in the course 
 of conversation wished to inform us of 
 this simple fact, that the counsel upon 
 the circuit at Shrewsbury were much 
 bitten by fleas, look, 1 suppose, seven or 
 eight minutes in relating it circumstan- 
 tially. He in a plenitude of phrase told 
 us that large bales of woollen cloth were 
 lodged in the town hall;— that by reason 
 of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious 
 numbers ; that the lodgings of the coun- 
 sel were near the town hall ;— and that 
 those little animals moved from place to 
 place with wonderful agility. Johnson 
 sat in great impatience till the gentleman 
 had finished his tedious narrative, and 
 then burst out (playfully however), " It 
 is a pity, sir, that you have not seen a 
 lion ; for a flea has taken you such a time, 
 
 that a lion must have served you a twelve- 
 month*." 
 
 He would not allow Scotland to derive 
 any credit from Lord Mansfield ; for he 
 was educated in England. " Much (said 
 he) may be made of a Scotchman, if he 
 be caught young." 
 
 Talking of a modern historian and a 
 modern moralist, he said, ** There is 
 more thought in the moralist than in the 
 historian. There is but a shallow stream 
 of thought in history." Bosweix. " But 
 surely, sir, an historian has reflection." 
 Johnson. ** Why, yes, sir; and so has 
 a cat when she catches a mouse for 
 her kitten. But she cannot write like 
 *******; neither can ********* n 
 
 He said, " I am very unwilling to read 
 the manuscripts of authours, and give 
 them my opinion. If the authours who 
 apply to me have money, I bid them 
 boldly print without a name ; if they have 
 written in order to get money, I tell them 
 to go to the booksellers and make the best 
 bargain they can." Boswell. " But, sir, 
 if a bookseller should bring you a manu- 
 script to look at?" Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, I would desire the bookseller to take 
 it away." 
 
 I mentioned a friend of mine who had 
 resided long in Spain, and was unwilling 
 to return to Britain. Johnson. " Sir, he 
 is attached to some woman." Boswell. 
 " I rather believe, sir, it is the fine cli- 
 mate which keeps him there." John- 
 son. *' Nay, sir, how can you talk so? 
 What is climate to happiness? Place 
 me in the heart of Asia, should I not be 
 exiled? What proportion does climate 
 bear to the complex system of human 
 life? You may advise me to go to live 
 at Bologna to eat sausages. The sausages 
 there are the best in the world ; they 
 lose much by being carried." 
 
 On Saturday, May 9, Mr. Dempster 
 and I had agreed to <line by ourselves at 
 the British Coffee-house. Johnson, on 
 whom I happened to call in the morning, 
 said, he would join us, which he did, and 
 we spent a very agreeable day, though I 
 recollect but little of what passed. 
 
 He said, " Walpole was a minister 
 given by the King to the people : Pitt 
 was a minister given by the people to 
 the King, — as an adjunct." 
 
 " The misfortune of Goldsmith in con- 
 versation is this : he goes on without 
 knowing how he is to get off. His genius 
 is great, but his knowledge is small. As 
 they say of a generous man, it is a pity 
 he is not rich, we may say of Gold- 
 smith, it is a pity he is not knowing. 
 
 • Mrs. Piozzi, to whom I told this anecdote, 
 lias related it as if tl e Kentlem-iu lia<t (iiveu 
 «' ih«! natural lihtory ot llie untune," Auec- 
 df.tes, i>. 191. 
 
^TAT. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOIlxNSOx\. 
 
 He would not keep his knowledge to 
 himself." 
 
 Before leaving London this year, I 
 consulted him upon a question purely of 
 Scotch law. It was held of old, and 
 continued for a long period to be an 
 established principle in that law, that 
 whoever intermeddled with the effects 
 of a person deceased, without the inter- 
 position of legal authority to guard against 
 embezzlement, should be subjected to 
 pay all the debts of the deceased, as hav- 
 ing been guilty of what was technically 
 called vicious intromission. The Court 
 of Session had gradually relaxed the 
 strictness of this principle where the in- 
 terference proved had been inconsidera- 
 ble. In a case *, which came before that 
 Court the preceding winter, I had la- 
 boured to persuade the judge to return to 
 the ancient law. It was my own sincere 
 opinion that they ought to adhere to it; 
 but I had exhausted all my powers of 
 reasoning in vain ; Johnson thought as I 
 did ; and in order to assist me in my 
 application to the Court for a revision 
 and alteration of the judgment, he dic- 
 tated to me the following argument: 
 
 ** This, we are told, is a law which has 
 its force only from the long practice of 
 the Court : and may, therefore, be sus- 
 pended or modified as the Court shall 
 think proper. 
 
 " Concerning the power of the Court 
 to make or to suspend a law, we have no 
 intention to inquire. It is sufficient for 
 our purpose that every just law is dic- 
 tated by reason : and that the practice of 
 every legal Court is regulated by equity. 
 It is the quality of reason to be invariable 
 and constant; and of equity, to give to 
 one man what, in the same case, is given 
 to another. The advantage which hu- 
 manify derives from law is this : that the 
 law gives every man a rule of action, and 
 prescribes a mode of conduct which shall 
 entitle him to the support and protection 
 of society. That the law may be a rule 
 of action, it is necessary that it be known ; 
 it is necessary that it be permanent and 
 stable. The law is the measure of civil 
 right : but if the measure be changeable, 
 the extent of the thing measured never 
 can be settled. 
 
 **To permit a law to be modified at 
 discretion is to leave the community 
 without law. It is to withdraw the 
 direction of that publick wisdom by 
 which the deficiencies of private under- 
 standing are to be supplied. It is to 
 suffer the rash and ignorant to act at 
 discretion, and then to depend for the 
 legality of that action on the sentence of 
 
   Wilson against Smith and Armour. 
 
 217 
 
 the Judge. He that is thus governed 
 lives not by law, but by opinion: not 
 by a certain rule to which he can apply 
 his intention before he acts, but by an 
 uncertain and variable opinion, which 
 he can never know but after he has com- 
 mitted the act on which that opinion 
 shall be passed. He lives by a law (if a 
 law it be) which he can never know 
 before he has offended it. To this case 
 may be justly applied that important 
 principle, misera est servitus uhi jus 
 est aut incognitum aut vagum. If In- 
 tromission be not criminal till it exceeds 
 a certain point, and that point be unset- 
 tled, and consequently different in difter- 
 ent minds, the right of Intromission, and 
 the right of the Creditor arising from it, 
 are nW jura vaga, and, by consequence, 
 are jura incognita j and the result can 
 be no other than a misera servitus, an 
 uncertainty concerning the event of ac- 
 tion, a servile dependence on private 
 opinion. 
 
 " It may be urged, and with great 
 plausibility, that there may be Intromis- 
 sion without fraud : which, however true, 
 will by no means justify an occasional 
 and arbitrary relaxation of the law. The 
 end of law is protection as well as venge- 
 ance. Indeed, vengeance is never used 
 but to strengthen protection. That so- 
 ciety only is well governed, where life is 
 freed from danger and from suspicion ; 
 where possession is so sheltered by salu- 
 tary prohibitions that violation is pre- 
 vented more frequently than punished. 
 Such a prohibition was this, while it 
 operated with its original foixe. The 
 creditor of the deceased was not only 
 without loss, but without fear. He was 
 not to seek a remedy for an injury suf- 
 fered ; for, injury was warded off. 
 
 '* As the law has been sometimes ad- 
 ministered, it lays us open to wounds, 
 because it is imagined to have the power 
 of healing. To punish fraud when it is 
 detected is the proper act of vindictive 
 justice ; but to prevent frauds, and make 
 punishment unnecessary, is the great 
 employment of legislative wisdom. To 
 permit Intromission and to punish fraud 
 is to make law no better than a pitfall. 
 To tread upon the brink is safe ; but to 
 come a step further is destruction. But, 
 surely, it is better to enclose the gulf and 
 hinder all access than, by encouraging us 
 to advance a little, to entice us afterwards 
 a little further, and let us perceive our 
 folly only by our destruction. 
 
 "As law supplies the weak with ad- 
 ventitious strength, it likewise enlightens 
 the ignorant with intrinsick understand- 
 ing. Law teaches us to know when we 
 commit injury, and when we suffer it. 
 It fixes certain marks upon actions, by 
 
218 
 
 rHE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1772. 
 
 which we are admonished to do or to 
 forbear them. Qui sibi bene temperat 
 in Ileitis, says one of the fathers, nun- 
 quam cadet in illicitd. He who never 
 intromits at all will never intromit with 
 fraudulent intentions. 
 
 "The relaxation of the law against 
 vicious intromission has been very fa- 
 vourably represented by a great master 
 of jurisprudence*, whose words have 
 been exhibited with unnecessary pomp, 
 and seem to be considered as irresistibly 
 decisive. The great moment of his au- 
 thority makes it necessary to examine 
 his position. ' Some ages ago (says he), 
 before the ferocity of the inhabitants of 
 this part of the island was subdued, the 
 utmost severity of the civil law was ne- 
 cessary to restrain individuals from plun- 
 dering each other. Thus, the man who 
 intermeddled irregularly with the move- 
 ables of a person deceased, was subjected 
 to all the debts of the deceased without 
 limitation. This makes a branch of the 
 law of Scotland, known by the name of 
 vicious intromission; andsorigi<lly was 
 this regulation applied in our Courts of 
 Law that the most trifling moveable ab- 
 stracted maid fide, subjected the inter- 
 nieddler to the foregoing consequences, 
 which proved in many instances a most 
 rigorous punishment. But this severity 
 was necessary in order to subdue the 
 undisciplined nature of our people. It is 
 extremely remarkable, that in proportion 
 to our improvement in manners, this re- 
 gulation has been gradually softened, and 
 applied by our sovereign Court with a 
 sparing hand.' 
 
 ** I find myself under a necessity of 
 observing, that this learned and judicious 
 writer has not accurately distinguished 
 the deficiencies and demands of the dif- 
 ferent conditions of human life, which, 
 from a degree of savageness and inde- 
 pendence, in which all laws are vain, 
 passes or may pass, by innumerable gra- 
 dations, to a state of reciprocal benignity, 
 in which laws shall be no longer neces- 
 sary. Men are first wild and unsocial, 
 living each man to himself, taking from 
 the weak, and losing to the strong. In 
 their first coalitions of society, much of 
 this original savageness is retained. Of 
 general happiness, the product of general 
 confidence, there is yet no thought. Men 
 continue to prosecute their own advan- 
 tages by the nearest way; and the utmost 
 severity of the civil law is necessary to 
 restrain individuals from plundering each 
 other. The restraints then necessary are 
 restraints from plunder, from acts of pub- 
 lick violence and undisguised oppression. 
 
 • Lord Ki 
 Tracts." 
 
 mc8, jn his " Historical Law 
 
 The ferocity of our ancestors, as of all 
 other nations, produced not fraud but 
 rapine. They had not yet learned to 
 cheat, and attempted only to rob. As 
 manners grow more polished, with the 
 knowledge of good, men attain likewise 
 dexterity in evil. Open rapine becomes 
 less frequent, and violence gives way to 
 cunning. Those who before invaded pas- 
 tures and stormed houses now begin to 
 enrich themselves by unequal contracts 
 and fraudulent intromissions. Jt is not 
 against the violence of ferocity, but the 
 circumventions of deceit, that this law 
 was framed ; and I am afraid the in- 
 crease of commerce, and the incessant 
 struggle for riches which commerce ex- 
 cites, give us no prospect of an end 
 speedily to be expected of artifice and 
 fraud. It therefore seems to be no very 
 conclusive reasoning, which connects 
 those two propositions: — ' the nation is 
 become less ferocious, and therefore the 
 laws against fraud and covin shall be re- 
 laxed.' 
 
 " Whatever reason may have influ- 
 enced the Judges to a relaxation of the 
 law, it was not that the nation was grown 
 less fierce; and, I am afraid, it cannot 
 be affirmed, that it is grown less fraudu- 
 lent. 
 
 " Since this law has been represented 
 as rigorously and unreasonably penal, it 
 seems not improper to consider what are 
 the conditions and qualities that make the 
 justice or propriety of a penal law. 
 
 " To make a penal law reasonable and 
 just two conditions are necessary, and 
 two proper. It is necessary that the law 
 should be adequate to its end ; that, if it 
 be observed, it shall prevent the evil 
 against which it is directed. It is, se- 
 condly, necessary that the end of the law 
 be of such importance as to deserve the 
 security of a penal sanction. The other 
 conditions of a penal law, which though 
 not absolutely necessary, are to a very 
 high degree fit, are, that to the moral 
 violation of the law there are many 
 temptations, and that of the physical ob- 
 servance there is great facility. 
 
 ** All these conditions apparently con- 
 cur to justify the law which we are now 
 considering. Its end is the security of 
 property ; and property very often of 
 great value. The method by which it 
 etfects the security is ethcacious, because 
 it ajimits, in its original rigour, no gra- 
 dations of injury ; but keeps guilt and 
 innocence apart by a distinct and defi- 
 nite Hmitalion. He that intromits is 
 criminal; he that intromits not is inno- 
 cent. Of the two secondary considera- 
 tions it cannot be denied that both are in 
 our favour. The temptation to intromit 
 is frequent and strong ; so strong and so 
 
/Etat. 63. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 frequent as to require the utmost activity 
 of justice and vigilance of caution to 
 withstand its prevalence; and the me- 
 thod by which a man may entitle himself 
 to legal intromission is so open and so 
 facile that to neglect it is a proof of 
 fraudulent intention ; for why should a 
 man omit to do (but for reasons which 
 he will not confess) that which he can do 
 so easily and that which he knows to be 
 required by the law 1 If temptation were 
 rare, a penal law might be deemed un- 
 necessary. If the duty enjoined by the 
 law were of difficult performance, omis- 
 sion, though it could not be justified, 
 inight be pitied. But in the present case, 
 neither equity nor compassion operate 
 against it. A useful, a necessary law is 
 broken, not only without a reasonable 
 motive, but with all the inducements to 
 obedience that can be derived from safety 
 and facility. 
 
 " I therefore return to my original 
 position, that a law, to have its effects, 
 must be permanent and stable. It may 
 be said, in the language of tlie schools, 
 IjCX non recipit majus et minus, — we 
 may have a law, or we may have no law, 
 but we cannot have half a law. We 
 must either have a rule of action, or be 
 permitted to act by discretion and by 
 chance. Deviations from the law must 
 be uniformly punished, or no man can 
 be certain when he shall be safe. 
 
 " That from the rigour of the original 
 institution this court has sometimes de- 
 parted, cannot be denied. But, as it is 
 evident that such deviations, as they 
 make law uncertain, make life unsafe, I 
 hope, that of departing from it there will 
 now be an end ; that the wisdom of our 
 ancestors will be treated with due reve- 
 rence ; and that consistent and steady 
 decisions will furnish the people with a 
 rule of action, and leave fraud and frau- 
 dulent intromissions no future hope of 
 impunity or escape." 
 
 With such comprehension of mind, and 
 such clearness of penetration, did he thus 
 treat a subject altogether new to him, 
 without any other preparation than my 
 having stated to him the arguments 
 which had been used on each side of the 
 question. His intellectual powers ap- 
 peared with peculiar lustre when tried 
 against those of a writer of such faine as 
 Lord Kames, and tiiat too in his lord- 
 ship's own department. 
 
 This masterly argument, after being 
 prefaced and concluded with some sen- 
 tences of my own, and garnished with 
 the usual formularies, was actually printed 
 and laid before the Lords of Session, but 
 without success. My respected friend 
 Lord Hailes, however, one of that ho- 
 
 219 
 
 nourable body, had critical sagacity 
 enough to discover a more than ordinary 
 hand in the Petition. I told him Dr. 
 Johnson had favoured me with his pen. 
 His Lordship, with wonderful acumen, 
 pointed out exactly where his composition 
 began, and where it ended. But that I 
 may do impartial justice, and conform 
 to the great rule of Courts, Suum cuique 
 tribuiio, I must add, that their Lord- 
 ships in general, though they were pleased 
 to call this " a well drawn paper,'' pre- 
 ferred the former very inferiour petition 
 which I had written ; thus confirming the 
 truth of an observation made to me by 
 one of their number, in a merry mood : 
 " My dear sir, give yourself no trouble 
 in the composition of the papers yo« 
 present to us ; for, indeed, it is casting 
 pearls before swine.*' 
 
 I renewed my solicitations that Dr. 
 Johnson would this year accomplish his 
 long intended visit to Scotland. 
 
 •* TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** The regret has not been little with 
 which I have missed a journey so preg- 
 nant with pleasing expections as that in 
 which I could promise myself, not only 
 the gratification of curiosity, both ra- 
 tional and fanciful, but the delight of 
 seeing those vvhom I love and esteem. 
 *«*********_ ]3„t such has been 
 the course of things that I could not 
 come ; aiid such has been, I am afraid, 
 the state of my body that it would not 
 well have seconded my inclination. My 
 body, I think, grows better, and I refer 
 my hopes to another year ; for I am very 
 sincere in my design to pay the visit, 
 and take the ramble. In the mean time, 
 do not omit any opportunity of keeping 
 up a favourable opinion of me in the 
 minds of any of my friends. Beattie's 
 book is, I believe, every day more 
 liked ; at least, I like it more as I look 
 more upon it. 
 
 *' I am glad if you got credit by your 
 cause, and am yet of opinion, that our 
 cause was good, and that the determina- 
 tion ought to have been in your favour. 
 Poor Hastie, I think, had but his deserts. 
 
 " You promised to get me a little 
 Pindar, you may add to it a little Aua- 
 creon. 
 
 " The leisure which I cannot enjoy, it 
 will be a pleasure to hear that you em- 
 ploy upon the antiquities of the feudal 
 establishment. The whole system of an- 
 cient tenures is gradually passing away ; 
 and 1 wish to have the knowledge of it 
 preserved adequate and complete. For 
 such an institution makes a very impor- 
 tant part of the history of jnankind. Do 
 not forget a design so worthy of a scholar 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 220 
 
 who studies the law of his country, and 
 of a gentleman who may naturally be 
 carious to know the condition of his own 
 ancestors. I am, 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yours with great affection, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 " August 31, 1772." 
 
 ** TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Dec. 25, 1772. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 m * * * * * 
 " I WAS much disappointed that you did 
 not come to Scotland last autumn. How- 
 ever, I must own that your letter prevents 
 me from complaining; not only because 
 1 am sensible that the state of your health 
 was but too good an excuse, but because 
 you write in a strain which shows that 
 you have agreeable views of the scheme 
 which we have so long proposed. 
 ^ * * m * * 
 " I communicated to Beattie what you 
 said of his book in your last letter to me. 
 He writes to me thus : * You judge very 
 rightly in supposing that Dr. Johnson's 
 favourable opinion of my book must give 
 me great delight. Indeed it is impossi- 
 ble for me to say how much I am grati- 
 fied by it ; for there is not a man upon 
 earth whose good opinion I would be 
 more ambitious to cultivate. His talents 
 and his virtues I reverence more than 
 any words can express. The extraordi- 
 nary civilities (the paternal attentions I 
 should rather say) and the many instruc- 
 tions I have had the honour to receive 
 from him will to me be a perpetual 
 source of pleasure in the recollection, 
 
 ' Dam memor ipse meif dum spirilus hos 
 regel artus.' 
 
 *' * I had still some thoughts, while the 
 gnnnmer lasted, of being obliged to go to 
 London on some little business ; other- 
 wise I should certainly have troubled 
 iiim with a letter several months ago, 
 and given some vent to my gratituile and 
 admiration. This I intend to do as soon 
 as I am left a little at leisure. Mean 
 time, if you have occasion to write to 
 him, I beg you will offer him my most 
 respectful compliments, and assure him 
 of the sincerity of my attachment and 
 the warmth of my gratitude.* 
 • ••••« 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 In 1773, his only publication was an 
 edition of his folio Dictionary, with ad- 
 ditions and corrections ; nor did he. so 
 far as is known, furnish any productions 
 of his fertile pen to any of his numerous 
 liionds or dependants, except the Pre- 
 
 1/73. 
 
 face* to his old amanuensis Macbean's 
 " Dictionary of ancient Geography." 
 His Shakspeare, indeed, which had been 
 received with high approbation by the 
 publick and gone through several editions, 
 was this year republished by George Stee- 
 vens, Esq. a gentleman not only deeply 
 skilled in ancient learning, and of very 
 extensive reading in English literature, 
 especially the early writers, but at the 
 same time of acute discernment and ele- 
 gant taste. It is almost unnecessary to 
 say, that by his great and valuable addi- 
 tions to Dr. Johnson's work, he jusITy 
 obtained considerable reputation : 
 " Divisum imperium cum Jove Casar habet.^* 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE read your kind letter much 
 more than the elegant Pindar which it 
 accompanied. I am always glad to find 
 myself not forgotten ; and to be forgotten 
 by you would give me great uneasiness. 
 My northern friends have never been 
 unkind to me : I have from you, dear 
 sir, testimonies of affection which I have 
 not often been able to excite ; and Dr. 
 Beattie rates the testimony which I was 
 desirous of paying to his merit much 
 higher than 1 should have thought it rea- 
 sonable to expect. 
 
 ** I have heard of your masquerade t. 
 What says your synod to such innova- 
 tions? I am not studiously scrupulous, 
 nor do I think a masquerade either evil 
 in itself, or very likely to be the occasion 
 of evil ; yet as the world thinks it a very 
 licentious relaxation of manners, I would 
 not have been one of the Jirst inasquers 
 a country where no masquerade had 
 ever been before;. 
 
 " A new edition of my great Dictionary 
 is printed, from a copy which I was per- 
 suaded to revise; but having made no 
 preparation, I was able to do very little. 
 Some superfluities I have expunged, and 
 some faults 1 have corrected, and here 
 and there have scattered a reniark ; but 
 ihe main fabrick of the work remains as 
 it was. I had looked very little into it 
 since I wrote it, and, I think, 1 found it 
 full as often better, as worse, than I ex- 
 pected. 
 
 ** Baretti and Davies have had a 
 furious quarrel ; a quarrel I think irre- 
 
 • Hp, however, wrote, or partly wrote, an 
 Epitaph on Mis. I*ell, wife ol liis Irif lul John 
 Bell, Esq. brollier of the Rev. Ur. Hell, Pre- 
 bendary of Westminster, wliicli is printed in 
 hi* Works. It is in Engliwli prose, and so 
 little of his manner that I did not believe he 
 bad any band in it till I was satisfied of the 
 fact by (be autboi iiy of Mr. Bell. 
 
 t Given by a lady at Edinburgb. 
 
 t llieie Iiad been maiqiierades in Scotland ; 
 but not for a verv long time. 
 
y^TAT. Gl. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 221 
 
 concilable. Dr. Goldsmith has a new 
 comedy, which is expected in the spring. 
 No name is yet given it. The chief diver- 
 sion arises from a stratagem by which a 
 lover is made to mistake his future father- 
 in-law's house for an inn. This, you see, 
 borders upon farce. The Dialogue is quick 
 and gay, and the incidents are so pre- 
 pared as not to seem improbable. 
 
 " I am sorry that yon lost your cause 
 of Intromission, because I yet think the 
 arguments on your side unanswerable. 
 But you seem, I think, to say that yon 
 gained reputation even by your defeat ; 
 and reputation you will daily gain, if you 
 keep Lord Auchinleck's precept in your 
 mind, and endeavour to consolidate in 
 your mind a firm and regular system of 
 law, instead of picking up occasional 
 fragments. 
 
 ** My health seems in general to im- 
 prove; but I have been troubled for 
 many weeks with a vexatious catarrh, 
 which is sometimes sufliciently distress- 
 ful. I have not found any great effects 
 from bleeding and physick ; and am 
 afraid that 1 must expect help from 
 brighter days and softer air. 
 
 " Write to me now and then ; and 
 whenever any good befalls you, make 
 haste to let me knov.' it, for no one will 
 rejoice at it more than, 
 
 " DKAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Feb. 22, 1773." 
 
 " You continue to stand very high in 
 the favour of Mrs. Thrale." 
 
 While a former edition of my work 
 was passing through the press, I was un- 
 expectedly favoured with a packet from 
 Philadelphia, from Mr. James Aber- 
 crombie, a gentleman of that country, 
 who is pleased to honour me with very 
 high praise of my " Life of Dr. John- 
 son." To have the fame of my illustrious 
 friend and his faithful biographer echoed 
 from the New World is extremely flat- 
 tering; and my grateful acknowledg- 
 mt-nts shall be wafted across the Atlan- 
 tick. Mr. Abercrombie has politely 
 conferred on me a considerable addi- 
 tional obligation, by transmitting to me 
 copies of hvo letters from Dr. Johnson 
 to American gentlemen. " Gladly, sir 
 (says he), would I have sent you the ori- 
 ginals ; but being the only relicks of the 
 kind in America, they are considered by 
 the possessors of such inestimable value 
 that no possible consideration would in- 
 duce them to part with them. In some 
 future publication of yours, relative to 
 that great and good man, they may per- 
 haps be thought worthy of insertion." 
 
 ' TO MR. B- 
 
 -D*. 
 
 • SIR, 
 
 " That in the hurry of a sudden departure 
 you should yet find leisure to consult my 
 convenience is a degree of kindness and 
 an instance of regard not only beyond 
 my claims, but above my expectation. 
 Yon are not mistaken in supposing that 
 I set a high value on my American 
 friends, and that you should confer a very 
 valuable favour upon me by giving me 
 an opportunity of keeping myself in their 
 memory. 
 
 *' I have taken the liberty of troubling 
 you with a packet, to which I wish a sate 
 and speedy conveyance, because I wish a 
 safe and speedy voyage to him that con- 
 veys it. I am, SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 '* Sam. Johtsson." 
 
 " London, Johnson's Court, 
 
 Fleet Street, March 4, 1773." 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. WHITE f. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your kindness for your friends accom- 
 panies yon across the Atlantick. It was 
 long since observed by Horace, that no 
 ship could leave care behind : you have 
 been attended in your voyage by other 
 powers, — by benevolence and constancy ; 
 and I hope care did not often show her 
 face in their company. 
 
 ** I received the copy of Rasselas. The 
 impression is not magnificent, but it flat- 
 ters an antlrour, because the printer seems 
 to have expected that it would be scat- 
 tered among the people. The little book 
 has been well received, and is translated 
 into Italian, French, German, and Dutch. 
 It has now one honour more by an Ame- 
 rican edition. 
 
 " I know not that much has happened 
 since your departure that can engage 
 your curiosity. Of all publick transac- 
 tions the whole world is now informed 
 by the newspapers. Opposition seems 
 to despond ; and the dissenters, though 
 they have taken advantage of unsettled 
 times, and a government much enfeebled, 
 seem not likely to gain any immunities. 
 
 " Dr. Goldsmith has a new comedy in 
 rehearsal at Covent Garden, to which the 
 manager predicts ill success. I hope he 
 
 * This gentleman, who now resides in Ame- 
 rica in a publick character of considerable 
 diffniiy, desired that his name might not be 
 transcribed at full length. , _. , . ., 
 
 t Now Doctor White, and Bishop of the 
 Episcopal Church in Pennsylvania. During 
 his first visit to England in i771, as a candi- 
 da(e for holy orders, he was several times in 
 company with Dr. Johnson, who expressed a 
 wish to see the edition of Rasselas, which 
 Dr. White told him had been printed in 
 America. Dr. White, on his return, immedi- 
 ately sent him a copy. 
 
222 THE MFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 will be mistaken. I think it deserves a 
 very kind reception. 
 
 *' I shall soon publish a new edition of 
 my large Dictionary ; I have been per- 
 suaded to revise it, and have mended 
 some faults, but added liitie to its use- 
 fulness. 
 
 " No book has been published since 
 your departure of which much notice is 
 taken. Faction only fills the town with 
 pamphlets, and greater subjects are for- 
 gotten in the noise of discord. 
 
 *' Thus have I written, only to tell you 
 how little I have to tell. Of myself I 
 can only add, that having been afflicted 
 many weeks with a very troublesome 
 cough, I am now recovered. 
 
 ** I take the liberty which you give 
 me of troubling you with a letter, of 
 which you will please to fill up the direc- 
 tion. I am, SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "Johnson's Court, Fleet Srrcet, 
 Loudon, March 4, 1773." 
 
 On Saturday, April 3, the day after 
 my arrival in London this year, I went 
 to his liouse late in the evening, and sat 
 with Mrs. Williams till he came home. 
 I found in the London Chronicle Dr. 
 Goldsmith's apology to the piiblick for 
 beating Evans, a bookseller, on account 
 of a paragraph* in a newspaper pub- 
 lished by him, which Goldsmith thought 
 impertinent to him and to a lady of his 
 acquaintance. The apology was written 
 so much in Dr. Johnson's manner that 
 both Mrs. Williams and I supposed it to 
 be his ; but when he came home, he soon 
 undeceived us. When he said to Mrs. 
 Williams, " Well, Dr. Goldsmith's ma- 
 nifesto has got into your paper :" I asked 
 him if Dr. Goldsmith had written it, 
 with an air that marie him see I sus- 
 pected it was his, though subscribed by 
 Goldsmith. Johnson. " Sir, Dr. Gold- 
 smith would no more have asked me to 
 write such a thing as that for him than 
 he would have asked me to feed him with 
 a spoon, or to do any thing else that de 
 noted his imbecility. I as much believe 
 that he wrote it as if I hatl seen him do 
 it. Sir, had he shown it to any one 
 friend he would not have been allowed to 
 publish it. He has, indeed, done it very 
 well ; but it is a foolish thing well done. 
 I suppose he has been so much elated 
 with the success of his new comedy that 
 he has thought every thing that concerned 
 
   [The ofTcnrc piven wag a lonpr abusive 
 letter in llie London Packet. A particular 
 account of this transaction, and Goldsmiili's 
 Vindication (for such it was, rather than an 
 ApolofjyJ, may be found in the new Life of 
 the pool, prefixpU to his Miscellaneous Works 
 ill 4 vols. evo. pp. 1!j5— 108. M.] 
 
 1773. 
 
 him must be of importance to the pub- 
 lick." BoswELL. " I fancy, sir, this is the 
 first time that he has been engaged in such 
 an adventure." Johnson. *' Why, sir, I 
 believe it is the first time he has heat ; 
 he may have heeyi beaten before. This, 
 sir, is a new plume to him." 
 
 I mentioned Sir John Dalrymple's 
 " Memoirs of Great Britain and Ire- 
 land/' and his discoveries to the preju- 
 dice of. Lord Russel and Algernon Syd- 
 ney. Johnson. " Why, sir, every body 
 who had just notions of government 
 thought them rascals before. It is well 
 that all mankind now see them to be 
 rascals." Boswell. " But, sir, may not 
 those discoveries be true without their 
 being rascals?" Johnson. ** Consider, 
 sir, would any of them have been willing 
 to have had it known that they intrigued 
 with France? Depend upon it, sir, he who 
 does what he is afraid should be known 
 has something rotten about him. This 
 Dairy m pie seems to be an honest fellow ; 
 for he tells equally what makes against 
 botli sides. But nothing can be poorer 
 than his mode of writing, it is the mere 
 bouncing of a school boy : Great Hef! 
 but greater She! and such stuff." 
 
 I could not agree with him in this cri- 
 ticism ; for though Sir John Dalrymple's 
 style is not regularly formed in any re- 
 spect, and one cannot help smiling some- 
 times at his affected grandiloquence, 
 there is in his writing a pointed vivacity, 
 and muclj of a gentlemanly spirit. 
 
 At Mr. Thrale's, in the evening, he 
 repeated his usual paradoxical declama- 
 tion against action in publick speaking. 
 *' Action can have no effect upon reason- 
 able minds. It may augment noise, but 
 it never can enforce argiiment. If you 
 speak to a dog, you use action ; you hold 
 up your hand thus because he is a brute; 
 and in proportion as men are removed 
 from brutes, action will have the less 
 influence upon them." Mrs. Thralk. 
 " What then, sir, becomes of Demos- 
 thenes's sajing? ' Action, action, ac- 
 tion !' " Johnson. " Demosthenes, ma- 
 dam, spoke to an assetnbly of brutes ; to 
 a barbarous people." 
 
 I thought it extraordinary that he 
 should deny the power of rhetorical 
 action upon human nature, when it is 
 proved by innumerable facts in all stagt's 
 of society. Reasonable beings are not 
 solely reasonable. They have fancies 
 which may be pleased, passions which 
 may be roused. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield being mentioned, 
 Johnson remarked, that almost all of that 
 celebrated nobleman's witty sayings were 
 
 + [A bonibastick ode of Oldham's on Den 
 Johnson bei^ins thus: " Grkat thou!" which 
 perhaps his namesake remenibertrd. M.] 
 
JErkT. 01. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 223 
 
 puns. He, however, allowed the merit 
 of good wit to his Lordship's saying of 
 Lord Tyrawley and himself, when both 
 were very old and infirm : " Tyrawley 
 and I have been dead these two years ; 
 but we don't choose to have it known." 
 He talked with approbation of an in- 
 tended edition of " The Spectator," with 
 nates; two volumes of which had been 
 prepared by a gentleman eminent in the 
 literary world, and the materials which 
 he had collected for the remainder had 
 been transferred to another hand. He 
 observed, that all works which describe 
 manners require notes in sixty or seventy 
 years, or less ; and told us he had com- 
 jnunicated all he knew that could throw 
 light upon "The Spectator." He said, 
 " Addison had made his Sir Andrew 
 Freeport a true Whig, arguing against 
 giving charity to beggars, and throwing 
 out other such imgracious sentiments ; 
 but that he had thought better, and made 
 amends by making him found an hospi- 
 tal for decayed farmers." He called for 
 the volume of" The Spectator," in which 
 that account is contained, and read it 
 aloud to us. He read so well that every 
 thing acquired additional weight and 
 grace from his utterance. 
 
 The conversation having turned on 
 modern imitations of ancient ballads, 
 and some one having praised their sim- 
 plicity, he treated them with that ridi- 
 cule which he always displayed when 
 that subject was mentioned. 
 
 He disapproved of introducing scrip- 
 ture phrases into secular discourse. This 
 seemed to me a question of some diffi- 
 culty. A scripture expression may be 
 used, like a highly classical phrase, to 
 produce an instantaneous strong impres- 
 sion ; and it may be done without being 
 at all improper. Yet I own there is 
 danger, that applying the language of our 
 sacred book to ordinary subjects may 
 tend to lessen our reverence for it. If 
 therefore it be introduced at all, it should 
 be with very great caution. 
 
 On Thursday, April 8, I sat a good 
 part of the evening with him, but he was 
 very silent. He said, *' Burnet's ' His- 
 tory of his own Times' is very entertain- 
 ing. The style, indeed, is mere chit-chat. 
 I do not believe that Burnet intentionally 
 lied ; but he was so much prejudiced 
 that he took no pains to find out the 
 truth. He was like a man who resolves 
 to regulate his time by a certain watch ; 
 but will not inquire whether the watch 
 is right or not." 
 
 Though he was not disposed to talk, he 
 was unwilling that I should leave him : 
 and when I looked at my watch, and 
 told him it was twelve o'clock, he cried, 
 •* What's that to you and me?" and 
 
 ordered Frank to tell Mrs. Williams that 
 we were coming to drink tea with her, 
 which we did. It was settled that we 
 should go to church together next day. 
 
 On the 9th of April, being Good Fri- 
 day, I breakfasted with him on tea and 
 cross-buns ; Doctor Levett, as Frank 
 called him, making the tea. He carried 
 me with him to the clnuch of St. Cle- 
 ment Danes, where he had his seat ; and 
 his behaviour was, as 1 had imaged to 
 myself, solemnly devout. I never shall 
 forget the tremulous earnestness with 
 which he pronounced the awful petition 
 in the Litany : " In the hour of death, 
 and at the day of judgment, good Lord, 
 deliver us." 
 
 We went to church both in the morn- 
 ing and evening. In the interval between 
 the two services we did not dine; but 
 he read in the Greek New Testament, 
 and I turned over several of his books. 
 
 In Archbishop Laud's Diary, I found 
 the following passage, which I read to 
 Dr. Johnson : 
 
 " 1623. February 1, Sunday. I stood 
 by the most illustrious Prince Charles*, 
 at dinner. He was then very merry, 
 and talked occasionally of many things 
 with his attendants. Among other things, 
 he said, that if he were necessitated to 
 take any particular profession of life, he 
 could not be a lawyer, adding his reasons : 
 ' I cannot (saith he) defend a bad, nor 
 yield in a good cause.' " Johnson. "Sir, 
 this is false reasoning ; because every 
 cause has a bad side : and a lawyer is 
 not overcome, though the cause which he 
 has endeavoured to support be deter- 
 mined against him." 
 
 I told him that Goldsmith had said to 
 me a few days before, " As I take my 
 shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat 
 from the tailor, so I take my religion 
 from the priest." I regretted this loose 
 way of talking. Johnson. " Sir, he 
 knows nothing ; he has made up his mind 
 about nothing." 
 
 To my great surprise he asked me to 
 dine with him on Easter-day. I never 
 supposed that he had a dinner at his 
 house ; for I had n ot then heard of any 
 one of his friends having been entertained 
 at his table. He told me, " I generally 
 have a meat pie on Sunday : it is baked 
 at a publick oven, which is very pro- 
 perly allowed, because one mm can 
 attend it ; and thus the .advantage is 
 obtained of not keeping servants from 
 church to dress dinners." 
 
 April 11, being Easter-Sunday, after 
 having attended divine service at St. 
 Paul's, 1 repaired to Dr. Johnson's. I 
 had gratified my curiosity much in dining 
 
 * Afterwards Charles I. 
 
witli Jean Jaques Rousseau, while he 
 lived in the wilds of Neufchatel : I had 
 as great a curiosity to dine with Dr. Sa- 
 muel Johnson, in the dusky recess of a 
 court in Fleet Street. I supposed we 
 should scarcely have knives and forks, 
 and only some strange, uncouth, ill drest 
 dish : but I found every thing in very- 
 good order. We had no other company 
 but Mrs. Williams and a young woman 
 whom I did not know. As a dinner here 
 was considered as a singular phenome- 
 non, and as I was frequently interrogated 
 on the subject, my readers may perhaps 
 be desirous to know our bill of fare. 
 Foote, I remember, in allusion to Fran- 
 cis, the negro, was willing to suppose 
 that our repast was black broth. But 
 the fact was, that we had a very good 
 soup, a boiled leg of lamb and spinach, 
 a veal pie, and a rice pudding. 
 
 Of Dr. John Campbell, the authour, he 
 said, *' He is a very inquisitive and a 
 very able man, and a man of good reli- 
 gious principles, though I am afraid he 
 has been deficient in practice. — Camp- 
 bell is radically right ; and we may hope 
 that in time there will be good practice." 
 
 He owned that he thought Hawkes- 
 worth was one of his imitators, but he 
 did not thitik Goldsmith was. Gold- 
 smith, he said, had great merit. Bos- 
 W'ELL. " But, sir, he is much indebted 
 to you for his getting so high in the pub- 
 lick estimation." Johnson. '•' Why, sir, 
 he has perhaps got sooner to it by his 
 intimacy with me." 
 
 Goldsmith, though his vanity often ex- 
 cited him to occasional competition, had 
 a very high regard for Johnson, which he 
 had at this time expressed in the strongest 
 manner in the Dedication of his Comedy, 
 entitled, " She Stoops to Conquer*." 
 
 Johnson observed, that there were very 
 few books printed in Scotland before the 
 Union. He had seen a complete collec- 
 tion of them in the possession of the 
 Hon. Archibald Campbell, a nonjnring 
 bishop f. I wish this collection had been 
 kept entire. INIaiiy of them are in the 
 library of the Faculty of Advocatrs at 
 Edhibnrgh. I told Dr. JohH^(.ll tliat I 
 had some intention to write llir life of 
 the learned and wortliy TlKiisias Kuddi- 
 man. He said, *' I sliould t<ik(; pleasiiic 
 
 * " By inscribinff tills slight performance 
 to you, i do not mean so much to compliment 
 you as myself. It mav do me some honour to 
 inform ilie publick that 1 have li>ed many 
 years in intimacy with you. It may serve 
 ilie interests of mankind also to inform them 
 that the greatest wit may he found in a cha- 
 racter, without impairin;/ the most unaffected 
 piefv." 
 
 t See an account of iiii> I.'uik 1 and re- 
 spectable cenileman, and .i Ins (uiiiiis work 
 o;i I he Middle State, " J<miniil ol a Tour to 
 the Hebrides," 3d edit. p. ;j7I. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 in helping you to do honour to him. But 
 his farewell letter to the Faculty of Ad- 
 vocates, when he resigned the office of 
 their Librarian, should have been in 
 Latin." 
 
 I put a question to him upon a fact in 
 common life, which he could not answer, 
 nor have I found any one else who could. 
 What is the reason that women servants, 
 though obliged to be at the expense of 
 purchasing their own clothes, have much 
 lower wages than men servants, to whom 
 a great proportion of that article is fur- 
 nished, and when in fact our female 
 house servants work much harder than 
 the malej? 
 
 He told me that he had twelve or four- 
 teen times attempted to keep a journal 
 of his life, but never could persevere. 
 He advised me to do it. " The _grea_t 
 thing to be recorded (said he) is the state 
 of your own mind ; and yon should write 
 down every thing that you remember, 
 for you cannot judge at first what is good 
 or bad ; and write immediately, while 
 the impression is fresh, for it will not^Be 
 the same a week afterwards." 
 
 I again solicited him to communicate 
 to me the particulars of his early life. 
 He said, " You shall have them all for 
 twopence. I hope you shall know a 
 great deal more of me before you write 
 my Life." He mentioned to me this 
 day many circumstances, which I wrote 
 down when I went home, and have 
 interwoven in the former part of this 
 narrative. 
 
 On Tuesday, April 13, he and Dr. 
 Goldsmith and I dined at General Ogle- 
 thorpe's. Goldsmith expatiated on the 
 common topick, that the race of our peo- 
 ple was degenerated, and that this was 
 owing to luxury. Johnson. ** Sir, in 
 the first place I doubt the fact. I believe 
 there are as many tall men in England 
 now as ever there were. But, secondly, 
 supposing the stature of our people to be 
 diminished, that is not owing to luxury ; 
 for, sir, consider to how very small a 
 proportion of our i)eople luxury can 
 reach. Our soldiery, siunly, are not 
 Itixtnious, who live on si\j)iiice a day ; 
 and the same remark will apply to al- 
 most all the other classes. Luxury, so 
 In as it reaches the poor, will do good 
 to the race of people; it will strengthen 
 and multiply them. Sir, no nation was 
 ever hurt by luxury ; for, as 1 said be- 
 fore, it can reach but to a veiy few. I 
 admit that the great increase of com- 
 merce and manufactures hurts the mili- 
 tary spirit of a people; because it pro- 
 duces a competition for something else 
 
 X [There is a greater variety of employ- 
 ments for men than for women: therefore the 
 demand raises tiie price. K.J 
 
^TAT. 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 225 
 
 than martial honours, — a competition for 
 riches. It also hurts the bodies of the 
 people ; for you will observe, there is no 
 man who works at any particular trade, 
 'iy.it you may know him from his appear- 
 ance to do so. One part or the other of 
 his body being more used than the rest, 
 he is in some degree deformed : but, sir, 
 that is not luxury. A tailor sits cross- 
 legged : but that is not luxury." Gold- 
 smith. ** Come, you're just going to the 
 same place by another road." Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, I say that is not luxury. Let 
 us take a walk from Charing Cross to 
 Whitechapel, through, I suppose, the 
 greatest series of shops in the world, 
 what is there in any of these shops (if you 
 except ginshops) that can do any human 
 being any harm?" Goldsmith. " Well, 
 sir, I'll accept your challenge. The very 
 next shop to Northumberland House is 
 a pickle shop." Johnson. *' Well, sir; 
 do we not know that a maid can in one 
 afternoon make pickles sufficient to serve 
 a whole family for a year? Nay, that 
 five pickle shops can serve all the king- 
 dom? Besides, sir, there is no harm done 
 to any body by the making of pickles, or 
 the eating of pickles." 
 
 We drank tea with the ladies ; ,anji 
 Goldsmith sung Tony Lumpkin's song in 
 his comedy, " She Stoops to Conquer," 
 and a very pretty one, to an Irish tune*, 
 which he had designed for Miss Hard- 
 castle ; butas Mrs. Bulkeley, who played 
 the part, could not sing, it was left out. 
 He afterwards wrote it down for me, by 
 which means it was preserved, and now 
 appears amongst his poems. Dr. Johnson, 
 in his way home, stopped at my lodgings 
 in Piccadilly, and sat with me, drinking 
 tea a second time, till a late hour. 
 
 I told him that Mrs. Macaulay said, 
 she wondered how he could reconcile his 
 political principles with his moral : his 
 notions of inequality and subordination 
 with wishing well to the happiness of all 
 mankind, who might live so agreeably, 
 had they all their portions of land, and 
 none to domineer over another. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, I reconcile my princi- 
 ples very well, because mankind are 
 happier in a state of inequality and sub- 
 ordination. Were they to be in this 
 pretty state of equality, they would soon 
 degenerate into brutes ;— they would be- 
 come Monboddo's nation ;— their tails 
 would grow. Sir, all would be losers, 
 were all to work for all: — they would 
 have no intellectual improvement All 
 intellectual improvement arises from lei- 
 sure ; all leisure arises from one working 
 for another." 
 
 Talking of the family of Stuart, he 
 
 * The humours of BiiUamagairy. 
 
 said, " It should seem that the family at 
 present on the throne has now established 
 as good a right as the former family, by 
 the long consent of the people ; and that 
 to disturb this right might be considered 
 as culpable. At the same time I own 
 that it is a very difficult question, when 
 considered with respect to the house of 
 Stuart. To oblige people to take oaths 
 as to the disputed right is wrong. I 
 know not whether I could take them : 
 but I do not blame those who do." So 
 conscientious and so delicate was he upon 
 this subject, which has occasioned so 
 much clamour against him. 
 
 Talking of law cases, he said, " The 
 English reports, in general, are very 
 poor : only the half of what has been 
 said is taken down ; and of that half 
 much is mistaken. Whereas, in Scot- 
 land, the arguments on each side are de- 
 liberately put in writing, to be considered 
 by the court. I think a collection of 
 your cases upon subjects of importance, 
 with the opinions of the Judges upon 
 them, would be valuable." 
 
 On Thursday, April 15, I dined with 
 him and Dr. Goldsmith at General Pa- 
 oli's. We found here Signor Martinelli, 
 of Florence, authour of a History of 
 England in Italian, printed at London. 
 
 I spoke of Allan Ramsay's " Gentle 
 Shepherd," in the Scottish dialect, as the 
 best pastoral that had ever been written ; 
 not only abounding with beautiful rural 
 imagery, and just and pleasing senti- 
 ments, but being a real picture of man- 
 ners ; and I offered to teach Dr. Johnson 
 to understand it. " No, sir (said he), I 
 won't learn it. You shall retain your 
 superiority by my not knowing it." 
 
 This brought on a question whether 
 one man is lessened by another's ac- 
 quiring an equal degree of knowledge 
 with him. Johnson asserted the affirma- 
 tive. I maintained that the position 
 might be true in those kinds of know- 
 ledge which produce wisdom, power, 
 and force, so as to enable one man to 
 have the government of others ; but that 
 a man is not in any degree lessened by 
 others knowing as well as he what ends 
 in mere pleasure: — eating fine fruits, 
 drinking delicious wines, reading exqui- 
 site poetry. 
 
 The General observed, that Martinelli 
 was a Whig. Johnson. " I am sorry 
 for it. It shows the spirit of the times : 
 he is obliged to temporise." Boswell. 
 "' I rather think, sir, that Toryism pre- 
 vails in this reign.'' Johnson. " I know 
 not why you should think .so, sir. You 
 see your friend Lord Lyttelton, a noble- 
 man, is obliged, in his History, to write 
 the most vulgar Whiggism." 
 
 An animated debate took place whether 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 Martinelli should continue his History of 
 England to the present day. Goldsmith. 
 *' To be sure he should." Johnson. " No, 
 sir; he would give great oflFence. He 
 would have to tell of almost all the living 
 great what they do not wish told." Gold- 
 smith. *' It may, perhaps, be necessary 
 for a native to be more cautious; but a 
 foreigner who comes among us without 
 prejudice may be considered as holding 
 the place of a Judge, and may speak 
 his mind freely." Johnson. " Sir, a 
 foreigner, when he sends a work from 
 the press, ought to be on his guard against 
 catching the errour and mistaken enthu- 
 siasm of the people among whom he 
 happens to be." Goldsmith. " Sir, he 
 wants only to sell his history, and to telj 
 truth ; one an honest, the other a laud- 
 able motive." Johnson. " Sir, they are 
 both laudable motives. It is laudable in 
 a man to wish to live by his labours ; but 
 he should write so as he may live by 
 them, not so as he may be knocked on 
 the head. I would advise him to be at 
 Calais before he publishes his history of 
 the present age. A foreigner who attaches 
 himself to a political party in this country 
 is in the worst state Uiat can be imagined : 
 he is looked upon as a mere intermed- 
 dler. A native may do it from interest." 
 BoswELL. " Or principle." Goldsmith. 
 " There are people who tell a hundred 
 political lies every day, and are not hurt 
 by it. Surely, then, one may tell truth 
 with safety." Johnson. " Vv^hy, sir, in 
 the first place, he who tells a hundred 
 lies has disarmed the force of his lies. 
 But besides, a man had rather have a 
 hundred lies told of him than one truth 
 which he does not wish should be told." 
 Goldsmith. ** For my part, I'd tell truth 
 and shame the devil." Johnson. *' Yes, 
 sir ; but the devil will be angry. I wish 
 to shame the devil as much as you do, 
 but I should choose to be out of the reach 
 of his claws." Goldsmith. ** His claws 
 can do you no harm when you have the 
 shield of truth." 
 
 It having been observed that there was 
 little hospitality in London; Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, any man who has a name, or 
 who has the power of pleasing, will be 
 very generally invited in London. The 
 man, Sterne, I have been told, has had 
 cnuageinents for three months." Gold- 
 sMiTii. " And a verv dull fellow." John- 
 son. " \N hv, no, si"r." 
 
 M;trtiiiclli told lis, that for several years 
 he lived niucli with ('limits Townshend, 
 and that In vcntiiK d to tell him he was 
 « bad joker. .Johnson. " Why, sir, thus 
 nnich "I can say upon the subject. One 
 day he and a few more agreed to go and 
 dine in the country, and each of them 
 vas to bring a friend in his carriage willi 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 him. Charles Townshend asked Fitzher- 
 bert to go with him, but told him, ' You 
 must find somebody to bring you back : 
 I can only carry you there.' Fitzherbert 
 did not much like this arrangement. He, 
 however, consented, observing sarcasti- 
 cally, ' It will do very well ; for then the 
 same jokes will serve you in returning as 
 in going.' " 
 
 An eminent publick character being 
 mentioned ; — Johnson. " I remember 
 being present when he showed himself to 
 be so corrupted, or at least something so 
 ditFerent from what I think right, as to 
 maintain that a member of parliament 
 should go along with his party right or 
 wrong. Now, sir, this is so remote from 
 native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that 
 a good man must have undergone a great 
 change before he can reconcile himself 
 to such a doctrine. It is maintaining that 
 you may lie to the publick ; for you lie 
 when you call that right which you think 
 wrong, or the reverse. A friend of ours, 
 who is too much an echo of that gentle- 
 man, observed, that a man who does not 
 stick uniformly to a party is only waiting 
 to be bought. Why, then, said I, he is 
 only waiting to be what that gentleman 
 is already." 
 
 We talked of the King's coming to 
 see Goldsmith's new play. — " I wish he 
 would," said Goldsmith ; adding, how- 
 ever, with an affected indifference, ** Not 
 that it would do me the least good." 
 Johnson. *' Well then, sir, let us say it 
 would do him good (langhing). No, 
 sir, this affectation will not pass; — it is 
 mighty idle. In such a state as cms, 
 who would not wish to please the Chief 
 Magistrate'?" Goldsmith. *' I do wish 
 to please him. I remember a line in 
 Dryden, 
 
 'And every poet is the nion.ircli's friend.' 
 It ought to be reversed." John.sox. 
 " Nay, there are finer lines in Dryden 
 on this subject : 
 
 ' For colleges on hoimn'oiis Kina:s dcpeiul, 
 And never rebel was to ait.s a iri»;n(L' " 
 
 General Paoli observed, that successful 
 rebehs might. Martinelli. " Happy 
 rebellions." Goldsmith. " We have no 
 such phrase." General Paoli. ** But 
 have you not the thing?" Gold.smith. 
 " Yes ; all our happy revolutions. They 
 have hurt our constittrtion, and will hurt 
 it, till we mend it by another happy 
 revolution." — I never before discovered 
 that my friend Goldsmith had so nuuli of 
 the old prejndice in him. 
 
 General Paoli, talking of ( Joldsinith's 
 new play, said, " // a fnit iin comi'li- 
 merit trts fp-drieiij- a inw rcrt,ii,.. 
 yrandc dovw ;" niLMiiini^ a D^lche^^ vi 
 the first rank. 
 
/Etat, 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ^2r 
 
 I expressed a doubt whether Goldsmith 
 intended it, in order thftt I might hear 
 the truth from himself. It, perhaps, was 
 not quite fair to endeavour to bring him 
 to a confession, as he might not wish to 
 avow positively his taking part against 
 the Court. He smiled and hesitated. The 
 General at once relieved him by this 
 beautiful image : " Monsieur Goldsmith 
 est comme la mer, qui jette des perles 
 et beaucoup d^autres belles choses, sans 
 s*en appercevoir." Goldsmith. ** 7Ves 
 bien dit, et trts clegamment.'^ 
 
 A persou was mentioned who, it was 
 said, could take down in short hand the 
 speeches in parliament with perfect ex- 
 actness. Johnson. " Sir, it is impos- 
 sible. I remember one Angel, who came 
 to me to write for him a Preface or 
 Dedication to a book upon short hand, 
 and he professed to write as fast as a man 
 could speak. In order to try him, I took 
 down a book, and read while he wrote ; 
 and I favoured him, for 1 read more de- 
 liberately than usual. I had proceeded 
 but a very little way, when he begged I 
 would desist, for he could not follow me." 
 Hearing now for the first time of this 
 Preface or Dedication, I said, " What an 
 expense, sir, do you put us to in buying 
 books to which you have written Pre- 
 faces or Dedications." Johnson. " Why 
 1 have dedicated to the Royal Family all 
 round ; that is to say, to the last genera- 
 tion of the Royal Family." Goldsmith. 
 ** And perhaps, sir, not one sentence of 
 wit in a whole Dedication." Johnson. 
 ** Perhaps not, sir." Boswell. " What 
 then is the reason for applying to a par- 
 ticular person to do that which any one 
 may do as well?" Johnson. '* Why, sir, 
 one man has greater readiness at doing 
 it than another." 
 
 I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, 
 as being a very learned man, and in par- 
 ticular an eminent Grecian. Johnson. 
 "I am not sure of that. His friends give 
 him out as such, but I know not who of 
 his friends are able to Judge of it." Gold- 
 smith. " He is what is much better : he 
 is a worthy humane man." Johnson. 
 '• Nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of 
 our argument: that will as much prove 
 that he can play upon the tiddle as well 
 as Giardini, as that he is an eminent 
 Grecian." Goldsmith. " The greatest 
 musical peiformers have but small emo- 
 luments. Giardini, I am told, does not 
 get above seven hundred a year." John- 
 son. " That is indeed but little for a man 
 to get who does best that which so many 
 endeavour to do. There is nothing, 1 
 think, in which the power of art is shown 
 so much as in playing on the fiddle. In 
 all other things we can do something at 
 first. Any man will forge a bar of iron 
 
 if you give him a hammer ; not so well 
 as a smith, but tolerably. A man will 
 saw a piece of wood, and make a box, 
 though a clumsy one ; but give him a 
 fiddle and a fiddlestick, and he can do 
 nothing." 
 
 On Monday, April 19, he called on me 
 with Mrs. Williams, in Mr. Strahan's 
 coach, and carried me out to dine with 
 Mr. Elphinston, at his Academy at Ken- 
 sington. A printer having acquired a 
 fortune sufficient to keep his coach, was 
 a good topick for the credit of literature. 
 Mrs. Williams said, that another printer, 
 Mr. Hamilton, had not waited so long as 
 Mr. Strahan, but had kept his coach 
 several years sooner. Johnson. " He 
 was in the right. Life is short. The 
 sooner that a man begins to enjoy his 
 wealth the better.'' 
 
 Mr. Elphinston talked of a new book 
 that was much admired, and asked Dr. 
 Johnson if he had read it. Johnson. *' I 
 have looked into it." " What (said El- 
 phinston), have you not read it through ?" 
 Johnson, offended at being thus pressed, 
 and so obliged to own his cursory mode 
 of reading, answered tartly, " No, sir ; 
 do you read books through .?" 
 
 He this day again defended duelling, 
 and put his argument upon what I have 
 ever thought the most solid basis ; that if 
 publick war be allowed to be consistent 
 with morality, private war must be 
 equally so. Indeed, we may observe 
 what strained arguments are used to re- 
 concile war with the Cliristian religion. 
 But, in my opinion, it is exceeding clear 
 that duelling, having better reasons for its 
 barbarous violence, is more justifiable 
 than war, in which thousands go forth 
 without any cause of personal quarrel, 
 and massacre each other. 
 
 On Wednesday, April 21, I dined 
 with him at Mr. Thrale's. A gentleman 
 attacked Garrick for being vain. JoHxV- 
 SON. •' No wonder, sir, that he is vain ; 
 a man who is perpetually flattered in 
 every mode that can be conceived. So 
 many bellows have blown the fire that 
 one wonders he is not by this time be- 
 come a cinder." Bosw^ell. " And such 
 bellows too. Lord Mansfield with his 
 cheeks like to burst : Lord Chatham like 
 an j^olus. I have read such notes from 
 them to him as were enough to turn his 
 head." Johnson. " True. When he 
 whom every body else flatters flatters 
 me, I then am truly happy." Mrs. 
 Thrale. " The sentiment is in Congreve, 
 I think." Johnson. " Yes, madam, in 
 ' The Way of the World :' 
 ' If there's delight in love, 'lis when I see 
 That heart which others bleed for bleed for 
 
 me." 
 No, sir, I should not be surprised though 
 
228 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 Garrick chained the ocean and lashed 
 the winds." Boswell. " Should it not 
 be, sir, lashed the ocean and chained the 
 winds?" Johnson. *' No, sir ; recollect 
 the original : 
 
 * In Coram atque Enrumsolihis scevireflagellis 
 Barbarus, JEolio nunquam hoc in carcere 
 
 passos, 
 Ipsuni compfdibus qui vvixerat Eunosi- 
 
 gtenm,^ " 
 
 This does very well when both the 
 winds and the sea are personified, and 
 mentioned by their mythological names, 
 as in Juvenal ; but when they are men- 
 tioned in plain language, the application 
 of the epithets suggested by me is the 
 most obvious ; and accordingly my friend 
 himself, in his imitation of the passage 
 which describes Xerxes, has 
 
 " The waves he lashes, and enchains the 
 wind *." 
 
 The modes of living in different coun- 
 tries and the various views with which 
 men travel in quest of new scenes having 
 been talked of, a learned gentleman who 
 holds a considerable office in the law 
 expatiated on the happiness of a savage 
 life; and mentioned an instance of an 
 officer who had actually lived for some 
 time in the wilds of America, of whom, 
 when in that state, he quoted this reflec- 
 tion with an air of admiration, as if it 
 had been deeply philosophical: ** Here 
 am I, free and unrestrained, amidst the 
 rude magnificence of Nature, with this 
 Indian woman by my side, and this gun, 
 with which I can procure food wiien I 
 want it : what more can be desired for 
 human happiness"?" It did not require 
 much sagacity to foresee that such a sen- 
 timent would not be permitted to pass 
 without due animadversion. Johnson. 
 " Do not allow yourself, sir, to be im- 
 posed upon by such gross absurdity. It 
 is sad stuff; it is brutish. If a bull could 
 speak, he might as well exclaim,— Here 
 am I with this cow and this grass ; what 
 being can enjoy greater felicity?" 
 
 We talked of the melancholy end of a 
 gentleman who had destroyed himself. 
 Johnson. ** It was owing to imaginary 
 difficulties in his affairs, which, had he 
 talked of with any friend, would soon 
 have vanished." Boswell. ** Do you 
 think, sir, that all who commit suicide 
 are mad?" Johnson. " Sir, they are 
 often not universally disordered in their 
 intellects, but one passion presses so upon 
 them that they yield to it, and commit 
 suicide, as a passionate man will stab 
 .mother." He added, " I have often 
 
 " A Peisian Emperor ir/iijit 1 
 The sea, his motlicr \ Cfni-, < 
 
 thought that after a man has taken the 
 resolution to kill himself, it is not courage 
 in him to do any thing, however despe- 
 rate, because he has nothing to fear." 
 Goldsmith. " I don't see that." John- 
 son. " Nay, but, my dear sir, why should 
 not you see what every one else sees?" 
 Goldsmith. " It is for fear of something 
 that he has resolved to kill himself: and 
 will not that timid disposition restrain 
 him?" Johnson. "It does not signify 
 that the fear of something made him 
 resolve; it is upon the state of his mind 
 after the resolution is taken that I argue. 
 Suppose a man, either from fear, or 
 pride, or conscience, or whatever motive, 
 has resolved to kill himself; when once 
 the resolution is taken, he has nothing to 
 fear. He may then go and take the King 
 of Prussia by the nose, at the head of his 
 army. He cannot fear the rack, who is 
 resolved to kill himself. When Eustace 
 Budgel was walking down to the Thames, 
 determined to drown himself, he might, 
 if he pleased, without any apprehension 
 of danger, have turned aside, and first set 
 fire to St. James's Palace." 
 
 On Tuesday, April 27, Mr. Beauclerk 
 and I called on him in the morning. As 
 we walked up Johnson's Court, I said, 
 '* I have a veneration for this court ;" 
 and was glad to find that Beauclerk had 
 the same reverential enthusiasm. We 
 found him alone. We talked of Mr. An- 
 drew Stuart's elegant and plausible l.et- 
 ters to Lord Mansfield : a copy of which 
 had been sent by the authour to Dr. John- 
 son. Johnson. " They have not answered 
 the end. They have not been talked of; 
 I have never heard of them. This is 
 owing to their not being sold. People 
 seldom read a book which is given to 
 them ; and few are given. The way to 
 spread a work is to sell it at a low price. 
 No man will send to buy a thing that 
 costs even sixpence, without an intention 
 lo read it." Boswell. *' May it not be 
 doubted, sir, whether it be proper to 
 publish letters, arraigning the ultimate 
 decision of an important cause by the 
 supremejudicature of the nation?" John- 
 son. ** No, sir, I do not think it was 
 wrong to publish these letters. If they 
 are thought to do harm, why not answer 
 them? But they will do no harm : if 
 Mr. Douglas be indeed the son of Lady 
 Jane, he cannot be hurt : if he be not her 
 son, and yet has the great estate of the 
 family of Douglas, he may well submit 
 to have a pamphlet against him by An- 
 drew Stuart. Sir, I think such a publi- 
 cation does good, as it does good to show 
 us the possibilities of human life. And, 
 sir, you will not say that the Douglns 
 cause was a cause of easy decision, when 
 it divided your Court as much as it could 
 
^TAT. 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 22d 
 
 do, to be determined at all. When your 
 Judges are seven and seven, the casting 
 vote of the President must be given on 
 one side or other ; no matter, for my 
 argument, on which ; one or the other 
 mtcst be taken ; as when I am to move, 
 there is no matter which leg I move first. 
 And then, sir, it was otherwise deter- 
 mined here. No, sir, a more dubious 
 determination of any question cannot be 
 imagined*." 
 
 He said, " Goldsmith should not be 
 for ever attempting to shine in conversa- 
 tion : he has not temper for it, he is so 
 much mortified when he fails. Sir, a 
 game of jokes is composed partly of skill, 
 partly of chance ; a man may be beat at 
 times by one who has not the tenth part 
 of his wit. Now Goldsmith's putting 
 himself against another is like a man 
 laying a hundred to one who cannot 
 spare the hundred. It is not worth a 
 man's while. A man should not lay a 
 hundred to one unless he can easily spare 
 it, though he has a hundred chances for 
 him : he can get but a guinea, and he 
 may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in 
 this state. When he contends, if he gets 
 the better, it is a very little addition to 
 a man of his literary reputation : if he 
 does not get the better, he is miserably 
 vexed." 
 
 Johnson's own superlative powers of 
 wit set him above any risk of such un- 
 easiness. Garrick had remarked to me 
 of him, a few days before, ** Rabelais 
 and all other wits are nothing compared 
 with him. You may be diverted by 
 them ; but Johnson gives you a forcible 
 hug, and shakes laughter out of you 
 whether you will or no." 
 
 Goldsmith, however, was often very 
 fortunate in his witty contests, even 
 when he entered the lists with Johnson 
 himself. Sir Joshua Reynolds was in 
 company with them one day, when Gold- 
 smith said, that he thought he could write 
 a good fable, mentioned the simplicity 
 which that kind of composition requires, 
 and observed, that in most fables the 
 animals introduced seldom talk in cha- 
 racter. " For instance (said he), the fable 
 of the little fishes who saw birds fly over 
 
 * I regretted that Dr. Johnson never took 
 thfi^.troiAle. ux-fettKly a question which inte- 
 rested nations. He would not even read a 
 panipTiIet wliicli I wrote upon it, entitled 
 *' The Essence of the Douglas Cause ;" which, 
 I have reason to flatter ntyself, had consider- 
 able effect in favour of Mr. Douglas; of whose 
 legitimate filiation I was ihen, and am still, 
 firmly convinced. Let me add, that no fact 
 can be more respectably ascertained than by 
 the judgment of the most august tribunal in 
 the world; a judgment in which Lord Mans- 
 field and Lord Camden united in 1769, and 
 from which only five of a numerous body 
 entered a protest. 
 
 their heads, and envying them, petitioned 
 Jupiter to be changed' into birds. The 
 skill (continued he), consists in making 
 them talk like little fishes." While he 
 indulged himself in this fanciful reverie, 
 he observed Johnson shaking his sides, 
 and laughing. Upon which he smartly 
 proceeded, " Why, Dr. Johnson, this is 
 not so easy as you seem to think ; for if 
 you were to make little fishes talk, they 
 would talk like Whales." 
 
 Johnson, though remarkable for his 
 great variety of composition, never exer- 
 cised his talents in table, except we allow; 
 his beautiful tale published in Mrs. Wil- 
 liams's Miscellanies to be of that species. 
 I have, however, found among his manu- 
 script collections the following sketch of 
 one : 
 
 ** Glowworm + lying in the garden saw 
 a candle in a neighbouring palace, — and 
 complained of the littleness of his own 
 light ; — another observed wait a little; — 
 soon dark, have outlasted iroXK [many] 
 of these glaring lights which are only 
 brighter as they haste to nothing." 
 
 On Thursday, April 29, I dined with 
 him at General Oglethorpe's, where were 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. 
 Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. I was very 
 desirous to get Dr. Johnson absolutely 
 fixed in his resolution to go with me to 
 the Hebrides this year ; and I told him 
 that I had received a letter from Dr. 
 Robertson the historian, upon the sub- 
 ject, with which he was much pleased, 
 and now talked in such a manner of his 
 long intended tour, that I was satisfied 
 he meant to fulfill his engagement. 
 
 The custom of eating dogs at Otaheite 
 being mentioned. Goldsmith observed 
 that this was also a custom in China ; 
 that a dog-butcher is as common there as 
 any other butcher; and that when he 
 walks abroad, all the dogs fall on him. 
 Johnson. " That is not owing to his kill- 
 ing dogs, sir. I remember a butcher at 
 Lichfield, whom a dog that was in the 
 house where I lived, always attacked. 
 It is the smell of carnage which provokes 
 this, let the animals he has killed be what 
 they may." Goldsmith. ** Yes, there id 
 a general abhorrence in animals at the 
 signs of massacre. If you put a tub full 
 of blood into a stable, the horses are like 
 to go mad." Johnson. " I doubt that." 
 Goldsmith. " Nay, sir, it is a fact well 
 authenticated." Thrale. " You had bet- 
 ter prove it before you put it into your 
 book on natural history. You may do 
 it in my stable if you will." Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, I would not have him prove 
 
 + [It has already been observed that one of 
 his first Essays was a Latin poem on a glow- 
 worm; but whether it be any where extant 
 has not been ascertained. M.] 
 
230 THE LIFE OF 
 
 it. If he is content to take his informa- 
 tion from others, he may get through his 
 book with little trouble^ and without 
 much endangering his reputation. But if 
 he makes experiments for so comprehen- 
 sive a book as his, there would be no end 
 to them ; his erroneous assertions would 
 then fall upon himself: and he might be 
 blamed for not having made experiments 
 as to every particular." 
 
 The character of Mallet having been 
 introduced, and spoken of slightingly by 
 Goldsmith ; Johnson. " Why, sir. Mal- 
 let had taknts enough to keep his literary 
 reputation alive as long as he himself 
 lived ; and that, let me tell you, is a 
 good deal." Goldsmith. " But I cannot 
 agree that it was so. His literary repu- 
 tation was dead long before his natural 
 death. I consider an authour's literary 
 reputation to be alive only while his 
 name will insure a good price for his 
 copy from the booksellers. I will get 
 you (to Johnson) a hundred guineas for 
 any thing whatever that you shall write, 
 if you put your name to it." 
 
 Dr. Goldsmith's new play, " She 
 Stoops to Conquer," being mentioned ; 
 Johnson. ** I know of no comedy for 
 many years that has so much exhilarated 
 an audience, that has answered so much 
 the great end of comedy — making an 
 audience merry." 
 
 Goldsmith having said that Garrick's 
 compliment to the Queen, which he in- 
 troduced into the play of "The Chances," 
 which he had altered and revised this 
 year, was mean and gross flattery ; — 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir ; I would not write, 
 I would not give solemnly under my 
 hand a character beyond what I thought 
 really true ; but a speech on the stage, 
 let it flatter ever so extravagantly, is 
 formular. It has always been formular 
 to flatter Kings and Queens ; so much 
 so that even in our church service we 
 have ' our most religious King' used in- 
 discriminately, whoever is King. Nay, 
 they even flatter themselves ; — ' we have 
 been graciously pleased to grant.* — No 
 modern flattery, however, is so gross as 
 that of the Augustan age, where the 
 Emperour was deified. ' Prassens Di- 
 vus habebitur Augustus.' And as to 
 meanness (rising into warmth), how is it 
 mean in a player, — a showman,-— a fellow 
 who exhibits himself for a shilling, to 
 flatter his Queen? The attempt, indeed, 
 was dangerous; for if it had missed, 
 what became of Garrick, and what be- 
 came of the Queen? As Sir William 
 Temple says of a great General, it is 
 necessary not only that his designs be 
 formed in a masterly manner, but that 
 they should be attended with success. 
 Sir, it is rijiht, at a time when the Royal 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irrs. 
 
 Family is not generally liked, to let it 
 be seen that the people like at least one 
 of them." Sir Joshua Reynolds. " I do 
 not perceive why the profession of a 
 player should be despised ; for the great 
 and ultimate end of all the employments 
 of mankind is to produce amusement. 
 Garrick produces more amusement than 
 any body." Boswell. " You say. Dr. 
 Johnson, that Garrick exhibits himself 
 for a shilling. In this respect he is only 
 on a footing with a lawyer who exhibits 
 himself for his fee, and even will main- 
 tain any nonsense or abstirdity, if the 
 case require it. Garrick refuses a play 
 or a part which he does not like : a law- 
 yer never refuses." Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, what does this prove? only that a 
 lawyer is worse. Boswell is now like Jack 
 in the * Tale of a Tub,' who, when he is 
 puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. 
 He thinks I shall cut him down, but PU 
 let him hang'* (laughing vociferously). 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. " Mr. Boswell 
 thinks that the profession of a lawyer 
 being unquestionably honourable, if he 
 can show the profession of a player to 
 be more honourable, he proves his argu- 
 ment." 
 
 On Friday, April 30, 1 dined with him 
 at Mr. Beauclerk's, where were Lord 
 Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 some more members of the Literary 
 Club, whom he had obligingly invited to 
 meet me, as I was this evening to be 
 balloted for as candidate for admission 
 into that distinguished society. Johnson 
 had done me the honour to propose me^ 
 and Beauclerk was very zealous for me. 
 
 Goldsmith being mentioned ; Johnson. 
 " It is amazing how little Goldsmith 
 knows. He seldom comes where he is not 
 more ignorant than any one else." Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds. " Yet there is no man 
 whose company is more liked." John- 
 son. " To be sure, sir. When people find 
 a man of the most distinguished abilities, 
 as a writer, their inferiour while he is 
 with them, it must be highly gratifying to 
 them. What Goldsmith comically says 
 of himself is very true, — he always gets 
 the better when he argues alone ; mean- 
 ing, that he is masier of a subject in his 
 study, and can write well upon it; but 
 when he comes into company, grows 
 confused, and unable to talk. Take him 
 as a poet, his 'Traveller' is a very fine 
 performance ; ay, and so is his * De- 
 serted Village,' were it not sometimes 
 too much the echo of his ' Traveller.' 
 Whether, indeed, we take him as a poet, 
 — as a coniick writer, — or as an historian, 
 he stands In the first class." Boswell. 
 " An historian! My dear sir, you surely 
 will not rank his compilation of the Ro- 
 man History with the works of other 
 
 / 
 
iETAT. 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 m 
 
 historians of this age?" Johnson. "Why, 
 who are before him I" Boswell. " Hume, 
 — Robertson, — Lord Lyttelton." John- 
 son. (His antipathy to the Scotch begin- 
 ning to rise). " 1 liave not read Hume ; 
 but, doubtless, Goldsmith's History is 
 better than the verbiage of Robertson, or 
 the foppery of Dalrymple." Boswell. 
 ** Will you not admit the superiority of 
 Robertson, in whose History we find such 
 penetration — such painting?" Johnson. 
 ** Sir, you must consider how that pene- 
 tration and that painting are employed. 
 It is not history, it is imagination. He 
 who describes what he never saw draws 
 from fancy. Robertson paints minds as 
 Sir Joshua paints faces in a history 
 piece : he imagines an heroick counte- 
 nance. You must look upon Robertson's 
 work as romance, and try it by that 
 standard. History it is not. Besides, sir, 
 it is the great excellence of a writer to 
 put into his book as much as his book 
 will hold. Goldsmith has done this in 
 his History. Now Robertson might have 
 put twice as much into his book. Robert- 
 sou is like a man who has packed gold 
 in wool: the wool takes up more room 
 than the gold. No, sir ; I always thought 
 Robertson would be crushed by his own 
 weight, would be buried under his own 
 ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly 
 all you want to know : Robertson detains 
 you a great deal too long. No man will 
 read Robertson's cumbrous detail a se- 
 cond time ; but Goldsmith's plain narra- 
 tive will please again and again. I would 
 say to Robertson what an old tutor of a 
 college said to one of his pupils : ' Read 
 over your compositions, and wherever 
 you meet with a passage which you think 
 is particularly fine, strike it out.' Gold- 
 smith's abridgement is better than that 
 of Lucius Florus or Eutropius ; and I 
 will venture to say, that if you compare 
 him with Vertot, in the same places of 
 the Roman History, you will find that 
 he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of 
 compiling, and of saying every thing he has 
 to say in a pleasing manner. He is now 
 writing a Natural History, and will make 
 it as entertaining as a Persian Tale." 
 
 I cannot dismiss the present topick 
 without observing, that it is probable 
 that Dr. Johnson, who owned that he 
 often " talked for victory," rather urged 
 plausible objections to Dr. Robertson's 
 excellent historical works, in the ardour 
 of contest, than expressed his real and 
 decided opinion ; for it is not easy to 
 suppose, that he should so widely differ 
 from the rest of the literary world. 
 
 Johnson. *' I remember once being 
 with Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey. 
 While we surveyed the Poets' Corner, I 
 said to him, 
 
 ' Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebihtt: 
 litis *.' 
 
 When we got to Temple Bar he stopped 
 me, pointed to the heads upon it, and 
 slily whispered me, 
 * Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur 
 
 ISTlSt.' " 
 
 Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. 
 *' His ' Pilgrim's Progress' has great 
 merit, both for invention, imagination, 
 and the conduct of the story ; and it has 
 had the best evidence of its merit, the 
 general and continued approbation of 
 mankind. Few books, I believe, have 
 had a more extensive sale. It is re- 
 markable, that it begins very much like 
 the poem of Dante ; yet there was no 
 translation of Dante when Bunyan wrote. 
 There is reason to think that he had read 
 Spenser." 
 
 A proposition which had been agitated, 
 that monuments to eminent persons 
 should, for the time to come, be erected 
 in St. Paul's church as well as in West- 
 minster Abbey, was mentioned ; and it 
 was asked, who should be honoured by 
 having his monument first erected there. 
 Somebody suggested Pope. Johnson. 
 " Why, sir, as Pope was a Roman Ca- 
 tholick, I would not have his to be first. 
 I think Milton's rather should have the 
 precedence j. I think more highly of 
 him now than I did at twenty. There is 
 more thinking in him and in Butler than 
 in any of our poets." 
 
 Some of the company expressed a won- 
 der why the authour of so excellent a 
 book as *' The Whole Duty of Man " 
 should conceal himself §. Johnson. 
 " There may be different reasons as- 
 signed for this, any one of which would 
 be very sufficient. He may have been a 
 clergyman, and may have thought that his 
 religious counsels would have less weiglit 
 vvhen known to come from a man whose 
 profession was Theology. He may have 
 been a man whose practice was not suit- 
 able to his principles, so that his charac- 
 ter might injure the effect of his book, 
 which he had written in a season of peni- 
 tence. Or he may have been a man of 
 rigid self-denial, so that he would have 
 no reward for his pious labours while io 
 
 * Ovid, (le Art. Amand. i. ill. v. 13. 
 
 t In allusion to Dr. Jolmson's supposed po- 
 litical principles, and perhaps his own. 
 
 I Here is another instance of his high ad- 
 miration of Milton as a Poet, notwithstanding 
 liis just abhorrence of that sour Republiian's 
 political principles. His candour and discri- 
 mination are equally conspicuous. Let us 
 hear no more of his" injustice to Milton." 
 
 § [In a manuscript in the Bodleian Library 
 several circumstances are stated, which 
 strongly incline me to believe that Dr. Ac- 
 cepted Frewen, Archbishop of York, was the 
 authour of this work. M.] 
 
232 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 this world, but refer it all to a future 
 state." 
 
 The gentlemen went away to their 
 club, and I was left at Beauclerk's till 
 the fate of my election should be an- 
 nounced to me. I sat in a state of anxiety 
 which even the charming conversation of 
 Lady Di Beauclerk could not entirely 
 dissipate. In a short lime I received the 
 agreeable intelligence that I was chosen. 
 I hastened to the place of meeting, and 
 was introduced to such a society as can 
 seldom be found. Mr. Edmund Burke, 
 whom I then saw for the first time, and 
 whose splendid talents had long made 
 me ardently wish for his acquaintance ; 
 Dr. Nugent, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Gold- 
 smith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) 
 Jones, and the company with whom I 
 had dined. Upon my entrance, Johnson 
 placed himself behind a chair, on which 
 he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and 
 with humorous formality gave me a 
 Charge, pointing out the conduct ex- 
 pected from me as a good member of 
 this club. 
 
 Goldsmith produced some very absurd 
 verses which had been publickly recited 
 to an audience for money. Johnson. 
 ** I can match this nonsense. There was 
 a poem called *' Eugenio,' which came 
 out some years ago, and concludes thus : 
 
 * And now, ye trifling, self-assuming elves. 
 Brimful of pride, of nothing-, of yourselves. 
 Survey Eugenio, view him o'er and o'er. 
 Then sink into yourselves, and be no more*.' 
 
 Nay, Dryden, in his poem on the Royal 
 Society, has these lines: 
 
 * Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go. 
 
 And see the ocean leanins on the sky; 
 From thence our rolling neighbours we shall 
 know. 
 And on the lunar world securely pry.*" 
 
 Talking of puns, Johnson, who had a 
 great contempt for that species of wit, 
 deigned to allow that there was one good 
 
   Dr. Johnson's memory here was not per- 
 fectly accurare: "Eugenio" does not con- 
 clude thus. There are eiiflit more lines aftf r 
 the last of those quoted hy him ; and the pas- 
 sage which he meant to recite is as folloivs: 
 " Say now, ye fluttering, poor assuming elves, 
 Stark full of pride, of folly, of— yourselves; 
 Say Where's the wretch of all your impious 
 
 crew 
 Who dares confront his character to view? 
 Behold Eugenio, view him o'er and o'er. 
 Then sink into yourselves, aa<l be no more." 
 
 Mr. Read informs me that the Authour of 
 Eugenio, Thomas Beech, a uine merchant at 
 Wrexham in Denbighshire, soon after its pub- 
 lication, viz. 17th May, 1737, cnt his own 
 throat; and that it appears by Swift's Works, 
 that the poem ha<l been shown to hJm, an«l 
 received some of his corrections. Johnson 
 had read "Eui;enio" on his (iisi coming to 
 town, for we see it mentioned in one of his 
 letteis to Mr. Cave, \\\\\c\\ has been inserted 
 ill this uork. 
 
 pun in " Menagiana," I think on Uie 
 word corps f. 
 
 Much pleasant conversation passed, 
 which Johnson relished with great good 
 humour. But his conversation alone, or 
 what led to it, or was interwoven with 
 it, is the business of this work. 
 
 On Saturday, May 1, we dined by our- 
 selves at our old rendezvous, the Mitre 
 tavern. He was placid, but not much 
 disposed to talk. He obsei-ved, that 
 " The Irish mix better with the English 
 than the Scotch do; their language is 
 nearer to English ; as a proof of which 
 they succeed very well as players, which 
 Scotchmen do not. Then, sir, they have 
 not that extreme nationality which we 
 find in the Scotch. I will do you, Bos- 
 well, the justic* to say, that you are the 
 most unscottified of your countrymen. 
 You are almost the only instance of a 
 Scotchman that I have known who did 
 not at every other sentence bring in some 
 other Scotchman." 
 
 We drank tea with Mrs. Williams. I 
 introduced a question which has been 
 much agitated in the Church of Scotland, 
 whether the claim of lay- patrons to 
 present ministers to parishes be well 
 founded; and, supposing it to be well 
 founded, whether it ought to be exer- 
 cised without the concurrence of the peo- 
 ple? That Church is composed of a 
 series of judicatures : a Presbytery, — a 
 Synod, and finally, a General Assembly ; 
 before all of which this matter may be 
 contended : and in some cases the Pres- 
 bytery having refused to induct or settle, 
 as they call it, the person presented by 
 the patron, it has been found necessary 
 to appeal to the General Assembly. He 
 said, I might see the subject well treated 
 in the " Defence of Pluralities ;" and 
 although he thought that a patron should 
 
 t I formerly thought that I had perhaps 
 mistaken the word, and imagined it to be 
 Corps, from iis similarity of sound to the real 
 I one. For an accurate and shrewd unknown 
 I gentleman, to whom I am indebted for some 
 : remarks on my work, observes on this passage 
 ! — " Q. if not on the word, Fortf A vociferous 
 1 French preacher said of Bounlaloue,' II prechti 
 fort bien, et moi bienfort.^ — Menagiana. See 
 I also Anecdotes Liiteraires, Article, Uourda- 
 \ lone." But my ingenious and obliging cor- 
 respondent, Mr. Abercrombie of Philadelphia, 
 has pointed out to me the following passaee 
 in " Menagiana;" which renders the preced- 
 
 I •'"Madme de Bourdonne, Chanoinesse de 
 I Remiremont, veniot d'entendre un di.scours 
 ! plein de feu et d'esprir, mais fort pen solide, 
 I et tres irregulier. IJne de ses amies, qui y 
 I prenoit interet ponr I'orateur, lui dit en sor- 
 I tant, ' Eh bien, Madme, que vous semble-t-il 
 j de ce que vous venez d'entendr^Qu'il y a 
 d'esprit?'— ' II y a tant,' reponditiVIa<ln>e de 
 Bourdonne, * que je n'y ai pas \u de corps.' ** 
 —Menagiana, tome ii. p. 64. Amsleid. 1713. 
 
JEtkt. 64. 
 
 exercise his right with tenderness to the 
 inclinations of the people of a parish, he 
 was very clear as to his right. Tlien 
 supposing the question to be pleaded be- 
 fore the General Assembly, he dictated 
 to me what follows : 
 
 " Against the right of patrons is com- 
 monly opposed, by the inferionr judica- 
 tures, the plea of conscience. Their con- 
 science tells them, that the people ought 
 to choose their pastor ; their conscience 
 tells them, that they ought not to impose 
 upon a congregation a minister ungrate- 
 ful and unacceptable to his auditors. 
 Conscience is nothing more than a con 
 viction felt by ourselves of something to 
 be done, or something to be avoided ; 
 and in questions of simple unperplexed 
 morality, conscience is very often a guide 
 that may be trusted. But before consci- 
 ence can determine, the state of the ques- 
 tion is supposed to be completely known. 
 In questions of law or of fact, conscience 
 is very often confounded with opinion. 
 No man's conscience can tell him the 
 right of another man ; they must be 
 known by rational investigation or histo- 
 rical inquiry. Opinion, which he that 
 holds it may call his conscience, may 
 teach some men that religion would be 
 promoted, and quiet preserved, by grant- 
 ing to the people universally the choice 
 of their ministers. But it is a conscience 
 very ill informed that violates the rights 
 of one man for the convenience of ano- 
 ther. Religion cannot be promoted by 
 injustice : and it was never yet found 
 that a popular election was very quietly 
 transacted. 
 
 " That justice would be violated by 
 transferring to the people the right of 
 patronage is apparent to all who know 
 whence that right had its original. The 
 right of patronage was not at first a pri- 
 vilege torn by power from unresisting 
 poverty. It is not an authority at tirst 
 usurped in times of ignorance, and estab- 
 lished only by succession and by prece- 
 dents. It is not a grant capriciously 
 made from a higher tyrant to a lower. 
 It is a right dearly purchased by the tirst 
 possessors, and justly inherited by those 
 that succeeded them. When Christianity 
 was established in this island, a regular 
 mode of publick worship was prescribed. 
 Publick worship requires a publick place ; 
 and the proprietors of lands, as they were 
 converted, built churches for their fami- 
 lies and their vassals. For the mainte- 
 nance of ministers they settled a certain 
 portion of their lands ; and a district, 
 through which each minister was required 
 to extend his care, was, by that circum- 
 scription, constituted a parish. This is a 
 position so generally received in England 
 that the extent of a manor and of a parish 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. ^^% 
 
 are regularly received for each other. 
 The churches which the proprietors of 
 lands had thus built and thus endowed, 
 they justly thought themselves entitled 
 to provide with ministers ; and where 
 the episcopal government prevails, the 
 Bishop has no power to reject a man 
 nominated by the patron, but for some 
 crime that might exclude him from the 
 priesthood. For the endowment of the 
 church being a gift of the landlord, he 
 was consequently at liberty to give it, 
 according to his choice, to any man capa- 
 ble of performing the holy offices. The 
 people did not choose him, because the 
 people did not pay him. 
 
 " We hear it sometimes urged, that 
 this original right is passed out of me- 
 mory, and is obliterated and obscured 
 by many translations of property and 
 changes of government ; that scarce any 
 church is now in the hands of the heirs 
 of the builders ; and that the present per- 
 sons have entered subsequently upon the 
 pretended rights by a thousand acciden- 
 tal and unknown causes. Much of this, 
 perhaps, is true. But how is thie right 
 of patronage extinguished? If the right 
 followed the lands, it is possessed by the 
 same equity by which the lands are pos- 
 sessed. It is, in effect, part of the manor, 
 and protected by the same laws with 
 every other privilege. Let us suppose 
 an estate forfeited by treason, and granted 
 by the Crown to a new family. With 
 the lands were forfeited all the rights 
 appendant to those lands; by the same 
 power that grants the lands the rights 
 also are granted. The right lost to the 
 patron falls not to the people, but is 
 either retained by the Crown, or, what 
 to the people is the same thing, is by the 
 Crown given away. Let it change hands 
 ever so often, it is possessed by him that 
 receives it with the same right as it was 
 conveyed. It may, indeed, like all our 
 possessions, be forcibly seized or fraudu- 
 lently obtained. But no injury is still 
 done to the people ; for what they never 
 had, they have never lost. Caius may 
 usurp the right of Titius, but neither 
 Caius nor Titius injure the people; and 
 no man's conscience, however tender or 
 however active, can prompt him to re- 
 store what may be proved to have been 
 never taken away. Supposing, what I 
 think cannot be proved, that a popular 
 election of ministers were to be desired, 
 our desires are not the measure of equity. 
 It were to be desired that power should 
 be only in the hands of the merciful, and 
 riches in the possession of the generous; 
 but the law must leave both riches and 
 power where it finds them : and must 
 often leave riches with the covetous, and 
 power with the cruel. Convenience may 
 
2U 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 be a rule in little things where no other 
 rule has been established. But as the 
 great end of government is to give every 
 man his own, no inconvenience is greater 
 than that of making right uncertain. Nor 
 is any man more an enemy to publick 
 peace than he who fills weak heads with 
 imaginary claims, and breaks the series 
 of civil subordination, by inciting the 
 lower classes of mankind to encroach 
 upon the higher. 
 
 " Having thus shown that the right of 
 patronage, being originally purchased, 
 may be legally transferred, and that it is 
 now in the hands of lawful possessors, at 
 least as certainly as any other right ; — 
 we have left to the advocates of the peo- 
 ple no other plea than that of conveni- 
 ence. Let us, therefore, now consider 
 what the people would really gain by a 
 general abolition of the right of patron- 
 age. What is most to be desired by such 
 a change is, that the country should be 
 supplied with better ministers. But why 
 should we suppose that the parish will 
 make a wiser choice than the patron? If 
 we suppose mankind actuated by inter- 
 est, the patron is more likely to choose 
 with caution, because he will suffer more 
 by choosing wrong. By the deficiencies 
 of his minister, or by his vices, he is 
 equally offended with the rest of the con- 
 gregation ; but he will have this reason 
 more to lament them, that they will be 
 imputed to his absurdity or corruption. 
 The qualifications of a minister are well 
 known to be learning and piety. Of his 
 learning the patron is probably the only 
 judge in the parish ; and of his piety not 
 less a judge than others ; and is more 
 likely to inquire minutely and diligently 
 before he gives a presentation than one 
 of the parochial rabble, who can give 
 nothing but a vote. It may be urged, 
 that though the parish might not choose 
 better ministers, they would at least 
 choose ministers whom they like better, 
 and who would therefore officiate with 
 greater efficacy. That ignorance and 
 perverseness should always obtain what 
 they like was never considered as ihe end 
 of government ; of which it is the great 
 and standing benefit, that the wise see 
 for the simple, and the regular act for 
 the capricious. But that this argument 
 supposes the people capable of judging, 
 and resolute to act according to their best 
 judgments, though this be sufllciently 
 absurd, it is not all its absurdity. It 
 supposes not only wisdom but unanimity 
 in those, who upon no other occasions 
 are unanimous or wise. If by some 
 btrange concurrence all the voices of a 
 parish should unite in the choice of any 
 single man, though I could not charge 
 the patron with injustice for presenting a 
 
 minister, I should censure him as unkind 
 and injudicious. But, it is evident, that 
 as in all other popular elections there 
 will be contrariety of judgment and 
 acrimony of passion, a parish upon every 
 vacancy would break into factions, and 
 the contest for the choice of a minister 
 would set neighbours at variance, and 
 bring discord into families. The minis- 
 ter would be taught all the arts of a 
 candidate, would flatter some and bribe 
 others; and the electors, as in all other 
 cases, would call for holidays and ale, 
 and break the heads of each other during 
 the jollity of the canvass. The time must, 
 however, come at last, when one of the 
 factions must prevail, and one of the 
 ministers get possession of the church. 
 On what terms does he enter upon his 
 ministry but those of enmity with half 
 his parish? By what prudence or what 
 diligence can he hope to conciliate the 
 affections of that party by whose defeat 
 he has obtained his living? Every man 
 who voted against him will enter the 
 church with hanging head and downcast 
 eyes, afraid to encounter that neighbour 
 by whose vote and intinence he has been 
 overpowered. He will hate, his neigh- 
 bour for opposing him, and his minister 
 for having prospered by the opposition ; 
 and as he will never see him but with 
 pain, he will never see him but with 
 hatred. Of a minister presented by the 
 patron, the parish has seldom any thing 
 worse to say than that they do not know 
 him. Of a minister chosen by a popular 
 contest, all those who do not favour him 
 have nursed up in their bosoms princi- 
 ples of hatred and reasons of rejection. 
 Anger is excited principally by pride. 
 The pride of a common man is very lit- 
 tle exasperated by the supposed usurpa- 
 tion of an acknowledged superiour. He 
 bears only his little share of a general 
 evil, and suffers in common with the 
 whole parish : but when the contest is 
 between equals, the defeat has many 
 aggravations ; and he that is defeated by 
 his next neighbour is seldom satisfied 
 without some revenge; and it is hard to 
 say what bitterness of malignity would 
 prevail in a parish where these elections 
 should happen to be frequent, and the 
 enmity of opposition should be rekindled 
 before it had cooled." 
 
 Though I present to my readers Dr. 
 Johnson's masterly thoughts on the sub- 
 ject, I think it proper to declare, that 
 notwithstanding I am myself a lay-patronj 
 1 do not entirely subscribe to his opinion. 
 
 On Friday, May 7, I breakfasted with 
 him at Mr. Thrale's in the Borough. 
 While we were alone, I endeavoured as 
 well as I could to apologize for a lady 
 who had been divorced from her husband 
 
iETAT. G4. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 235 
 
 by act of Parliament. I said, that he had 
 used her very ill, had behaved brutally 
 to her, and that she could not continue to 
 live with him without having her deli- 
 cacy contaminated ; that all affection for 
 him was thus destroyed ; that the essence 
 of conjugal union being gone, there re- 
 mained only a cold form, a mere civil 
 obligation ; that she was in the prime of 
 life, with qualities to produce happiness ; 
 that these ought not to be lost ; and that 
 the gentleman on whose account she was 
 divorced had gained her heart while thus 
 unhappily situated. Seduced, perhaps, 
 by the charms of the lady in question, I 
 thus attempted to palliate what I was 
 sensible could not be justified; for when 
 1 had finished my harangue, my vene- 
 rable friend gave me a proper check : 
 ** My dear sir, never accustom your mind 
 to mingle virtue and vice. The woman's 
 a whore, and there's an end on't." 
 
 He described the father of one of his 
 friends thus : " Sir, he was so exuberant 
 a talker at publick meetings that the gen- 
 tlemen of his county were afraid of him. 
 No business could be done for his decla- 
 mation." 
 
 He did not give me full credit when I 
 mentioned that I had carried on a short 
 conversation by signs with some Esqui- 
 jnaux, who were then in London, parti- 
 cularly with one of them who was a 
 priest. He thought I could not make 
 them understand me. No man was more 
 incredulous as to particular facts, which 
 were at all extraordinary : and therefore 
 no man was more scrupulously inquisi- 
 tive, in order to discover the truth, 
 
 I dined with him this day at the house 
 of my friends. Messieurs Edward and 
 Charles Dilly, booksellers in the Poultry : 
 there were present their elder brother, 
 Mr. Dilly, of Bedfordshire, Dr. Gold- 
 smith, Mr. Langton, Mr. Claxton, Re- 
 verend Dr. Mayo, a dissenting minister, 
 the Reverend Mr. Toplady, and my friend 
 the Reverend Mr. Temple. 
 
 Hawkesworth's compilation of the voy- 
 ages to the South Sea being mentioned ; 
 — Johnson. " Sir, if you talk of it as a 
 subject of commerce, it will be gainful ; 
 if as a book that is to increase human 
 knowledge, I believe there will not be 
 much of that. Hawkesworth can tell 
 only what the voyagers have told him ; 
 and they have found very little, only one 
 new animal, I think." Boswell. '* But 
 many insects, sir." Johnson. '* Why, 
 sir, as to insects, Ray reckons of British 
 insects twenty thousand species. They 
 might have staid at home and discovered 
 enough in that way." 
 
 Talking of birds, I mentioned Mr. 
 Daines Barrington's ingenious Essay 
 against the received notion of their mi- 
 
 gration. Johnson. " I think we have as 
 good evidence for the migration of wood- 
 cocks as can be desired. We find they 
 disappear at a certain time of the year, 
 and appear again at a certain time of the 
 year ; and some of them, when weary in 
 their flight, have been known to alight 
 on the rigging of ships far out at sea." 
 One of the company observed, that there 
 had been instances of some of them found 
 in summer in Essex. Johnson. *' Sir, 
 that strengthens our argument. Exceptio 
 probat reyulam. Some being found 
 shows that, if all remained, many would 
 be found. A few sick or lame ones may 
 be found." Goldsmith. " There is a 
 partial migration of the swallows; the 
 stronger ones migrate, the others do 
 not." 
 
 Boswell. " I am well assured that 
 the people of Otaheite who have the 
 bread tree, the fruit of which serves them 
 for bread, laughed heartily when they 
 were informed of the tedious process 
 necessary with us to have bread ; — 
 ploughing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, 
 threshing, grinding, baking." Johnson. 
 ** Why, sir, all ignorant savages will 
 laugh when they are told of the advan- 
 tages of civilised life. Were you to tell 
 men who live without houses, how we 
 pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon 
 rafter, and that after a house is raised to 
 a certain height, a man tumbles off a 
 scaffold and breaks his neck ; he would 
 laugh heartily at our folly in building; 
 but it does not follow that men are better 
 without houses. No, sir (holding up a 
 slice of a good loaf), this is better than 
 the bread tree." 
 
 He repeated an argument which is to 
 be found in his " Rambler," against the 
 notion that the brute creation is endowed 
 with the faculty of reason : " Birds build 
 by instinct; they never improve; they 
 build their first nest as well as any one 
 they ever build." Goldsmith. " Yet we 
 see if you take away a bird's nest with 
 the eggs in it, she will make a slighter 
 nest and lay again." Johnson. " Sir, 
 that is because at first she has full time, 
 and makes her nest deliberately. In the 
 case you mention she is pressed to lay, 
 and mustthereforemake her nest quickly, 
 and consequently it will be slight." Gold- 
 smith. " The nidification of birds is what 
 is least known in natural history, though 
 one of the most curious things in it." 
 
 I introduced the subject of toleration. 
 Johnson. " Every society has a right to 
 preserve publick peace and order, and 
 therefore has a good right to prohibit the 
 propagation of opinions which have a 
 dangerous tendency. To say the mayis- 
 trate has this right is using an inadequate 
 word ; it is the society for which th^ 
 
236 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 magistrate is agent. He may be morally 
 or theologically wrong in restraining tlu: 
 propagation of opinions which he thinks 
 dangerous, but he is politically right." 
 Mayo. " I am of opinion, sir, that every 
 man is entitled to liberty of conscience in 
 religion ; and that the magistrate cannot 
 restrain that right." Johnson. " Sir, I 
 agree with you. Every man has a right 
 to liberty of conscience, and with that 
 the magistrate cannot interfere. People 
 confound liberty of thinking with liberty 
 of talking; nay, with liberty of preach- 
 ing. Every man has a physical right to 
 think as he pleases; for it cannot be dis- 
 covered how he thinks. He has not a 
 moral right, for he ought to inform him- 
 self, and think justly. But, sir, no mem- 
 ber of a society has a right to teach any 
 doctrine contrary to what the society 
 holds to be true. The magistrate, I say, 
 may be wrong in what he thinks : but 
 while he thinks himself right, he may 
 and ought to enforce what he thinks." 
 Mayo. " Then, sir, we are to remain 
 always in errour, and truth never can 
 prevail ; and the magistrate was right in 
 persecuting the first Christians." John- 
 son. " Sir, the only method by which 
 religious truth can be established is by 
 martyrdom. The magistrate has a right 
 to enforce what he thinks ; and he who 
 is conscious of the truth has a right to 
 suflfer. I am afraid there is no other way 
 of ascertaining the truth, but by perse- 
 cution on the one hand and enduring it 
 on the other." Goldsmith. " But how 
 is a man to act, sir? Though firmly con- 
 vinced of the truth of his doctrine, may 
 he not think it wrong to expose himself 
 to persecution? Has he a right to do so? 
 Is it not, as it were, committing volun- 
 tary suicide?" Johnson. " Sir, as to 
 voluntary suicide, as you call it, there 
 are twenty thousand men in an army 
 who will go without scruple to be shot 
 at, and mount a breach for five-pence a 
 day." Goldsmith. ** But have they a 
 moral right to do this?" Johnson. "Nay, 
 sir, if you will not take the universal 
 opinion of mankind, I have nothing to 
 say. If mankind cannot defend their 
 own way of thinking, I cannot defend it. 
 Sir, if a man is in doubt whether it 
 would be better for him to expose him- 
 self to martyrdom or not, he should not 
 do it. He must be convinced that he has 
 a delegation from heaven." Goldsmith. 
 " I would consider whether there is the 
 greater chance of good or evil upon the 
 whole, if I see a man who has fallen 
 into a well, I would wish to help him 
 out ; but if there is a greater probability 
 that he shall pull me in than that I shall 
 |)ull him out, I would not attempt it. So 
 \ ere 1 to go to Turkey, I might wish to 
 
 convert the Grand Signor to the Chris- 
 tian Faith ; but when I considered that 
 I should probably be put to death without 
 effectuating my purpose in any degree, 
 I should keep myself quiet." Johnson. 
 " Sir, you must consider that we have 
 perfect and imperfect obligations. Per- 
 fect obligations, which are generally not 
 to do something, are clear and positive ; 
 as ' thou Shalt not kill.' But charity, 
 for instance, is not definable by limits. 
 It is a duty to give to the poor; but no 
 man can say how much another should 
 give to the poor, or when a man has 
 given too little to save his soul. In the 
 same manner it is a duty to instruct the 
 ignorant, and of consequence to convert 
 infidels to Christianity ; but no man in 
 the common course of things is obliged 
 to carry this to such a degree as to incur 
 the danger of martyrdom, as no man is 
 obliged to strip himself to the shirt in 
 order to give charity. I have said, that 
 a man must be persuaded that he has 
 a particular delegation from heaven." 
 Goldsmith. " How is this to be known? 
 Our first reformers, who were burnt for 
 not believing bread and wine to be 
 Christ" — Johnson (interrupting him). 
 " Sir, they were not burnt for not be- 
 lieving bread and wine to be Christ, 
 but for insulting those who did believe it. 
 And, sir, when the first reformers began, 
 they did not intend to be martyred : as 
 many of them ran away as could." 
 BosWELL. " But, sir, there was your 
 countryman, Elwal, who you told me 
 challenged King George with his black- 
 guards and his~ red-guards." Johnson. 
 " My countryman, Elwal, sir, should 
 have been put in the stocks: a proper 
 pulpit for him, and he'd have had a nu- 
 merous audience. A man who preaches 
 in the stocks will always have hearers 
 enough." Boswell. " But Elwal thought 
 himself in the right." Johnson. ** We 
 are not providing for mad people ; there 
 are places for them in the neighbour- 
 hood," (meaning Moorfields). Mayo. 
 '* But, sir, is it not very hard that I 
 should not be allowed to teach my chil- 
 dren what I really believe to be the 
 truth ?" Johnson. " Why, sir, you might 
 contrive to teach your children extra 
 scandabim ; but, sir, the magistrate, if 
 he knows it, has a right to restrain you. 
 Suppose you teach your children to be 
 thieves?" Mayo. " This is making a 
 joke of the subject." Johnson. " Nay, 
 sir, take it thus: — that you teach them 
 the community of goods ; for which there 
 are as many plausible arguments as for 
 most erroneous doctrines. You teach 
 them that all things at first were in com- 
 mon, and that no man had a right to any 
 thing but as he laid his hands upon it ; 
 
JEtkt. 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 S37 
 
 and that this still is, or ought to be, the 
 rule amongst mankind. Here, sir, you 
 sap a great principle in society,— pro- 
 perty. And don't you think the magis- 
 trate would have a right to prevent you ? 
 Or, suppose you sliould teach your chil- 
 dren the notion of the Adamites, and 
 they should run naked into the streets, 
 would not the magistrate have a right to 
 flog 'em into their doublets?" Mayo. 
 " 1 think the magistrate has no right to 
 interfere till there is some overt act." 
 BoswEU.. " So, sir, though he sees an 
 enemy to the state charging a blunder- 
 buss, he is not to interfere till it is fired 
 off!" Mayo. " He must be sure of its 
 direction against the state." Johnson. 
 " The magistrate is to judge of that. He 
 has no right to restrain your thinking, 
 because the evil centres in yourself. If 
 a man were sitting at this table, and 
 chopping off his tingers, the magistrate, 
 as guardian of the community, has no 
 authority to restrain him, however he 
 might do it from kindness as a parent. — 
 Though, indeed, upon more considera- 
 tion, I think he may ; as it is probable, 
 that he who is chopping off his own 
 fingers may soon proceed to chop oft' 
 those of other people. If I think it right 
 to steal Mr. Billy's plate, I am a bad 
 man ; but he can say nothing to me. If 
 I make an open declaration that I think 
 so, he will keep me out of his house. If 
 1 put forth my hand, 1 shall be sent to 
 Newgate. This is the gradation of think- 
 ing, preaching, and acting : if a man 
 thinks erroneously, he may keep his 
 thoughts to himself, and nobody will 
 trouble him : if he preaches erroneous 
 doctrine, society may expel him ; if he 
 acts in consequence of it, the law takes 
 place, and he is hanged." Mayo. " But, 
 sir, ought not Christians to have liberty 
 of conscience?" Johnson. " I have al- 
 ready told you so, sir. You are coming 
 back to where you were." Boswell. 
 " Dr. Mayo is always taking a return 
 postchaise, and going the stage over 
 again. He has it at half price." John- 
 son. " Dr. Mayo, like other champions 
 for unlimited toleration, has got a set of 
 words*. Sir, it is no matter, politically, 
 whether the magistrate be right or wrong. 
 Suppose a club were to be formed to 
 drink confusion to King George the 
 Third, and a happy restoration to Charles 
 the Third ; this would be very bad with 
 
   Dr. Mayo's calm temper and >iteHd.v per- 
 severance rendered him au adminihle snbjeot 
 for the exercise of Dr. Johnson's powerful 
 abilities. He never HiiKihed : but, after reite- 
 rated blows, remauied seeniine^ly unmoved as 
 at the first. The scintillations 'of Johnson's 
 genius Dashed every time he was siruek. with- 
 out his receiving any injury. Hence lie ob- 
 tained the epithet of* The Literary Anvil." 
 
 respect to the State ; but eveiy member 
 of that club must either conform to its 
 rules, or be turned out of it. Old Baxter, 
 I remember, maintains, that the magis- 
 trate should ' tolerate all things that are 
 tolerable.' This is no gootl definition of 
 toleration upon any principle; but it 
 shows that he thought some things were 
 not tolerable." Topjlady. "Sir, you have 
 untwisted this ditficult subject with great 
 dexterity." 
 
 During this argument. Goldsmith sat in 
 restless agitation, from a wish to get iu 
 and shine. Finding himself excluded, 
 he had taken his hat to go away, but 
 remained for some time with it in his 
 hand, like a gamester, who at the close 
 of a long night lingers for a little while 
 to see if he can have a favourable open- 
 ing to finish with success. Once when 
 he was beginning to speak he found him- 
 self overpowered by the loud voice of 
 Johnson, who was at the opposite end of 
 the table, and did not perceive Gohl- 
 smith's attempt. Thus disappointed of 
 his wish to obtain the attention of the 
 company. Goldsmith in a passion threw 
 down his hat, looking angrily at Johnson, 
 and exclaiming in a bitter tone, *' Take 
 if." — When Toplady was going to speak, 
 Johnson uttered some sound, which led 
 Goldsmith to think that he was beginning 
 again, and taking the words from Top- 
 lady. Upon which he seized this oppor- 
 tunity of venting his own envy and spleen, 
 under the pretext of supporting another 
 person : " Sir (said he to Johnson), the 
 gentleman has heard you patiently for 
 an hour: pray allow us now to hear 
 him." Johnson (sternly). " Sir, I was 
 not interrupting the gentleman. I was 
 only giving him a signal of my attention. 
 Sir, you are impertinent." Goldsmith 
 made no reply, but continued in the com- 
 pany for some time. 
 
 A gentleman present ventured to ask 
 Dr. Johnson if there was not a material 
 difference as to toleration of opinions 
 which lead to action, and opinions merely 
 speculative; for instance, would it be 
 wrong in the magistrate to tolerate those 
 who preach against the doctrine of the 
 Trinity? Johnson was highly oft'ended, 
 and said, ** I wonder, sir, how a gentle- 
 man of your piety can introduce this 
 subject in a mixed company." He told 
 me afterwards, that the impropriety was 
 that perhaps some of the company might 
 have talked on the subject in such terms 
 as might have shocked him ; or he might 
 have been forced to appear in their eyes 
 a narrow-minded man. The gentleman, 
 with submissive deference, said, he bad 
 only hinted at the question from a desire 
 to hear Dr. Johnson's opinion upon it. 
 Johnson. " Why then, sir, I think that 
 
238 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 permitting men to preach any opinion 
 contrary to the doctrine of the established 
 church tends, in a certain degree, to lessen 
 the authority of the church, and conse- 
 quently to lessen the influence of reli- 
 gion." *' It may be considered (said the 
 gentleman), whether it would not be 
 politick to tolerate in such a case." John- 
 son. " Sir, we have been talking of 
 right : this is another question. I think 
 it is not politick to tolerate in such a 
 case." 
 
 Though he did not think it fit that so 
 awful a subject should be introduced in 
 a mixed company, and therefore at this 
 time waved the theological question ; yet 
 his own orthodox belief in the sacred 
 mystery of (he Trinity is evinced, be- 
 yond doubt, by the following passage in 
 his private devotions : " O Lord, hear 
 my prayer, for Jesus Christ's sake ; to 
 whom with thee and the Holy Ghost, 
 three persons and one God, be all 
 honour and glory, world without end. — 
 Amen*." 
 
 BosWELL. ** Pray, Mr. Dilly, how 
 does Dr. Leland's History of Ireland 
 sell?" Johnson (bursting forth with a 
 generous indignation). *' The Irish are in 
 a most unnatural state ; for we see there 
 the minority prevailing over the majo- 
 rity. There is no instance, even in the 
 ten persecutions, of such severity as that 
 which the Protestants of Ireland have 
 exercised against the Catholicks. Did 
 we tell them we have conquered them, 
 it would be above board : to punish them 
 by confiscation and other penalties, as 
 rebels, was monstrous injustice. King 
 William was not their lawful sovereign: 
 he had not been acknowledged by the 
 Parliament of Ireland when they ap- 
 peared in arms against him." 
 
 I here suggested something favourable 
 of the Roman Catholicks. Toplady. 
 *' Does not their invocation of saints 
 suppose omnipresence in the saints?" 
 Johnson. " No, sir; it supposes only 
 pluripresence ; and when spirits are di 
 veste<l of matter, it seems probable that 
 tliey should see with more extent than 
 when in an embodied state. There is, 
 therefore, no approach to an invasion of 
 any of the divine attributes in the invoca- 
 tion of saints. But I think it is will 
 worship and presumption. I see no com- 
 mand for it, and therefore think it is 
 safer not to practise it." 
 
 He and Mr. Langton and I went toge- 
 ther to the Club, where we found Mr. 
 Burke, Mr. Garrick, and some other 
 members, and amongst tiiem our friend 
 Gol(l?njilh, who sat silently brooding 
 over Johnson's reprimand to him after 
 
 * Prayers and Meditation-, p. io. 
 
 dinner. Johnson perceived this, and said 
 aside to some of us, " I'll make Gold- 
 smith forgive me ;" and then called to 
 him in a loud voice, " Dr. Goldsmith, — 
 something passed to-day where you and 
 I dined ; I ask your pardon." Goldsmith 
 answered placidly, " It must be much 
 from you, sir, that I take ill." And so 
 at once the difference was over, and they 
 were on as easy terms as ever, and Gold- 
 smith rattled away as usual. 
 
 In our way to the Club to-night, when 
 I regretted that Goldsmith would, upon 
 every occasion, endeavour to shine, by 
 which he often exposed himself, Mr. 
 Langton observed, that he was not like 
 Addison, who was content with the fame 
 of his writings, and did not aim also at 
 excellency in conversation, for which he 
 found himself unfit ; and that he said to 
 a lady who complained of his having 
 talked little in company, *' Madam, I 
 have but ninepence in ready money, but 
 I can draw for a thousand pounds." I 
 observed, that Goldsmith had a great deal 
 of gold in his cabinet, but, not content 
 with that, was always taking out his 
 purse. Johnson. " Yes, sir, and that so 
 often an empty purse!" 
 
 Goldsmith's incessant desire of being 
 conspicuous in company was the occa- 
 sion of his sometimes appearing to such 
 disadvantage as one shoidd hardly have 
 supposed possible in a man of his genius. 
 When his literary reputation had risen 
 deservedly high, and his society was 
 much couited, he became very jealous of 
 the extraordinary attention which was 
 every where paid to Johnson. One even- 
 ing, in a circle of wits, he found fault 
 with me for talking of Johnson as entitled 
 to the honour of unquestionable superi- 
 ority. ** Sir (said he) you are for making 
 a monarchy of what should be a repub- 
 lick." 
 
 He was still more mortitied when, 
 talking in a company with fluent viva- 
 city, and as he flatteied himself to the 
 admiration of all who were present, a 
 German who sat next him, and perceived 
 Johnson rolling himself as if about to 
 speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, 
 " Stay, stay, — Toctor Shouson is going 
 to say something." This was, no doubt, 
 very provoking, especially to one so 
 irritable as Gohlsmith, who frequently 
 mentioned it with strong expressions of 
 indignation. 
 
 It may also be observed, that Gold- 
 smith was sometimes content to be treated 
 with an easy familiarity, but upon occa- 
 sions would be conseqiuMitial and impor- 
 tant. An instance of this occurred in a 
 small particular. Johnson had a way of 
 contracting the names of his friends : 
 as Beauclerk, Beau ; Bos well, Bozzy ; 
 
i^TAT. G4. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Langton, Lanky ; Murphy, Mnr ; Sheri- 
 dan, Sherry. I remember one day, when 
 Tom Davies was telling that Dr. John- 
 son said, " We are all in labour for 
 a name to Goldy's play," Goldsmith 
 seemed displeased that such a liberty 
 should be taken with his name, and said, 
 ** 1 have often desired him not to call me 
 Goldy." Tom was remarkably attentive 
 to the most minute circumstance about 
 Johnson. I recollect his telling me once, 
 on my arrival in London, " Sir, our great 
 friend has made an improvement on his 
 appellation of old Mr. Sheridan. Recalls 
 him now Sherry derry," 
 
 " TO THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT 
 BROMUEY*. 
 
 "sir, 
 ** I RETURN you my sincere thanks for 
 your additions to my Dictionary ; but the 
 new edition has been published some 
 time, and therefore I cannot now make 
 use of them. Whether I shall'ever revise 
 it more I know not. If many readers 
 had been as judicious, as diligent, and as 
 communicative as yourself, my work had 
 been better. The world must at present 
 take it as it is. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 " Your most obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 " May B, 1773." 
 
 On Sunday, May 8, 1 dined with John- 
 son at Mr. Langton's with Dr. Beattie 
 and some other company. He descanted 
 on the subject of Literary Property. 
 *' There seems (said he) to be in authours 
 a stronger right of property than that by 
 occupancy ; a metaphysical right, a right, 
 as it were, of creation, which should fiom 
 its nature be perpetual ; but the consent 
 of nations is against it ; and indeed rea- 
 son and the interests of learning are 
 against it; for were it to be perpetual, 
 no book, however useful, could be univer- 
 
 * The Reverend Thomas Bagshaw, M. A. 
 who died on NovemberSO, 1787, in the seventy- 
 seventh year of his age, Ciiaplaiii of Dioiniey 
 College, in Kent, and Rector of Soiiihfleet. 
 He had resigned the cure of Hromlev Parish 
 some time before his death. For this, and 
 another letter from Dr. Johnson in 17S4 to the 
 same truly respectable man, 1 am indebted to 
 Dr. Johfi Loveday, of the Commons, a son of 
 the late learned and pions John Love<lay, F.sq. 
 of Caversham in Berkshire, who obligingly 
 transcribed them for me from the originals in 
 liis possession. This worthy gentleman, hav- 
 ing retired from business, now lives in War- 
 wickshire. The world has been lately obliged 
 to him as the Editor of the late Rev. Di. 
 Townson's excellent work. mod<:'Si!y enritled 
 •' A Discourse on the Evangelical Hi^torv, 
 from the Interment to the Ascension of oi'ii 
 Lord and feavionr Jesus Christ;" to which is 
 prefixed a iTiily interesting and pleasing 
 account of the anihoiir, by the Reverend 
 Mr. Ralph Churlon. 
 
 sally diffused amongst mankind, should 
 the proprietor take it into his head to 
 restrain its circulation. No book could 
 have the advantage of being edited with 
 notes, however necessary to its elucida- 
 tion, should the proprietor perverseiy 
 oppose it. For the general good of the 
 world, therefore, whatever valuable work 
 has once been created by an authour, 
 and issued out by him, should be under- 
 stood as no longer in his power, but as 
 belonging to the publick; at the same 
 time the authour is entitled to an ade- 
 quate reward. This he should have by 
 an exclusive right to his work for a con- 
 siderable number of years." 
 
 He attacked Lord Monboddo's strange 
 speculation on the primitive state of 
 human nature ; observing, *' Sir, it is all 
 conjecture about a thing useless, even 
 were it known to be true. Knowledge 
 of all kinds is good. Conjecture, as to 
 things useful, is good ; but conjecture as 
 to what it would be useless to know, 
 such as whether men went upon all four, 
 is very idle." 
 
 On Monday, May 9, as I was to set 
 out on my return to Scotland next morn- 
 ing, I was desirous to see as much of 
 Dr. Johnson as I could. But I first called 
 on Goldsmith to take leave of him. The 
 jealousy and envy which, though pos- 
 sessed of many most amiable qualities, 
 he frankly avowed, broke out violently 
 at this interview. Upon another occa- 
 sion, when Goldsmith confessed him'^elf 
 to be of an envious disposition, I con- 
 tended with Johnson that we ought not 
 to be angry with him, he was so candid 
 in owning it. " Nay, sir (said Johnson), 
 we must be angry that a man has such a 
 superabundance of an odious quality that 
 he cannot keep it within his own breast, 
 but it boils over." In my opinion, how- 
 ever, Goldsmith had not more of it than 
 other people have, but only talked of it 
 freely. 
 
 He now seemed very angry that John- 
 son was going to be a traveller; said 
 " he would be a dead weight for me to 
 carry, and that I should never be able 
 to lug him along through the Highlands 
 and Hebrides." Nor would he patiently 
 allow me to enlarge upon Johnson's won- 
 derful abilities ; but exclaimed, " Is he 
 like Burke, who winds into a subject 
 like a serpent?" " But (said I) Johnson 
 is the Hercules who strangled serpents in 
 his cradle," 
 
 1 dined with Dr. Johnson at General 
 Paoli's. He was obliged, by indisposi- 
 tion, to leave the company early ; he 
 appointed me, however, to meet him in 
 the evening at Mr. (now Sir Robert) 
 Chambers's in the Temple, where he 
 accordingly came, though he continued 
 
240 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 to be very ill. Chambers, as is common 
 on such occasions, prescribed various 
 remedies to him. Johnson (fretted by 
 pain). " Pr'ythee don't tease me. Stay 
 till I am well, and then you shall tell me 
 how to cure myself." He grew better, 
 and talked with a noble enthusiasm of 
 keeping up the representation of respect- 
 able families. His zeal on this subject 
 was a circumstance in his character ex- 
 ceedingly remarkable, when it is con- 
 sidered that he himself had no pretensions 
 to blood. I heard him once say, " I have 
 great merit in being zealous for subordi- 
 nation and the honours of birth ; for I 
 can hardly tell who was my grandfather." 
 He maintained the dignity and propriety 
 of male succession, in opposition to the 
 opinion of one of our friends, who had 
 that day employed Mr. Chambers to 
 draw his will, devising his estate to his 
 three sisters, in preference to a remote 
 heir male. Johnson called them ** three 
 dowdies," and said, with as high a spirit 
 as the boldest Baron in the most perfect 
 days of the feudal system, " An ancient 
 estate should always go to males. It is 
 mighty foolish to let a stranger have it 
 because he marries your daughter, and 
 takes your name. As for an estate newly 
 acquired by trade, you may give it, if 
 you will, to the dog Towser, and let him 
 keep his own name." 
 
 I have known him at times exceed- 
 ingly diverted at what seemed to others 
 a very small sport. He now laughed 
 immoderately, without any reason that 
 we could perceive, at our friend's making 
 his will; called him the testator, and 
 added, " I dare say he thinks he has 
 done a mighty thing. He won't stay till 
 he gets home to his seat in the country, 
 to produce this wonderful deed : he'll 
 call up the landlord of the tirst inn on the 
 road ; and, after a suitable preface upon 
 mortality and the uncertainty of life, will 
 tell him that he should not delay making 
 his will ; and here, sir, will he say, is 
 my will, which I have just made, with 
 the assistance of one of the ablest law- 
 yers in the kingdom; and he will read 
 it to him (laughing all the time). He 
 believes he has made this will ; but he 
 did not make it: you. Chambers, made 
 it for him. I trust you have had more 
 conscience than to make him say, ' being 
 of sound understanding ;' ha, ha, ha I 
 I hope he has left me a legacy. I'd 
 have his will turned into verse, like a 
 ballad." 
 
 In this playful manner did he run on, 
 exulting in his own pleasantry, which 
 certainly was not such as might be ex- 
 pected from the authour of " The Ram- 
 bler," bill whicli is JHif prt'served, that 
 n>y readtis may \h: aciiuaiiiU'd even with 
 
 the slightest occasional characteristicks 
 of so eminent a man. 
 
 Mr. Chambers did not by any means 
 relish this jocularity upon a matter of 
 which pars magna fuit, and seemed im- 
 patient till he got rid of us. Johnson 
 could not stop his merriment, but con- 
 tinued it all the way till he got without 
 the Temple Gate. He then burst into 
 such a fit of laughter that he appeared to 
 be almost in a convulsion ; and, in order 
 to support himself, laid hold of one of 
 the posts at the side of the foot pavement, 
 and sent forth peals so loud that in the 
 silence of the night his voice seemed 
 to resound frotn Temple Bar to Fleet 
 Ditch. 
 
 This most ludicrous exhibition of the 
 awful, melancholy, and venerable John- 
 son happened well to counteract the 
 feelings of sadne«s which I used to expe- 
 rience when parting with him for a con- 
 siderable time. I accompanied him to 
 his door, where he gave me his blessing. 
 
 He records of himself this year, " Be- 
 tween Easter and Whitsuntide, having 
 always considered that time as propitious 
 to study, I attempted to learn the Low 
 Dutch language *." It is to be observed, 
 that he here admits an opinion of the 
 human mind being influenced by seasons, 
 which he ridicules in his writings. His 
 progress, he says, was interrupted by a 
 fever, *' which, by the imprudent use of 
 a small print, left an inflammation in his 
 useful eye." We cannot but admire his 
 spirit, when we know that amidst a confi- 
 plication of bodily and mental distress, 
 he was still animated with the desire of 
 intellectual improvement f. \arious notes 
 of his studies appear on ditlcrent days, 
 in his manuscript diary of tliis year; 
 such as, *' IncJioavi Icctioncm Penta- 
 teuchi, — Finivi lectionem_ Conf. Fab. 
 Burdomim. — Legiprimum actum Tro- 
 adum, — Legi Dissertationem Clerici 
 postremam de Pent. — 2 Of Clark's 
 Sermons. — />. Apollonii pngnam Be- 
 triciam. — E. centum versus llomeri." 
 Let this serve as a specimen of what 
 accessions of literature he was perpe- 
 tually infusing into his mind, while he 
 charged himself with idleness. 
 
 This year died Mrs. Salusbury (mother 
 of Mrs. Thrale), a lady whom he appears 
 to have esteemed much, and whose me- 
 mory he honoured with an Epitaph J. 
 
 In a letter from Edinburgh, dated the 
 •iOth of May, I piessi-d iiiiii to persevere 
 in his rooliitiou tu make tl'.i- Mar the 
 
 * Praverp and iVIeditations, p. 12<). 
 
 t [Not six uioiiths before liis <leath he 
 wished me to teach him the Scale of Musick : 
 — " Dr. HnincN. t(^;ich me at least the alplia- 
 bet ofvour l.iim ..,.-<•." 15.] 
 
 J Mrs. I'n,//.i> AiMcdotesof Johnson, p. 1.31. 
 
y^TAT. 64. 
 
 projected visit to the Hebrides, of which 
 he and I had talked for many years, and 
 which I was confident would afford us 
 much entertainment. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** When your letter came to me, I was 
 so darkened by an inflammation in my 
 eye that I could not for some lime read 
 it. I can now write without trouble, and 
 can read large prints. My eye is gradu- 
 ally growing stronger ; and I hope will 
 be able to take some delight in the sur- 
 vey of a Caledonian loch. 
 
 " Chambers is going a Judge, with six 
 thousand a year, to Bengal. He and I 
 shall come down together as far as New- 
 castle, and thence I shall easily get to 
 Edinburgh. Let me know the exact 
 time when your Courts intermit. I must 
 conform a little to Chambers's occasions, 
 and he must conform a little to mine. 
 The time which you shall fix must be the 
 common point to which we will come as 
 near as we can. Except this eye, I am 
 very well. 
 
 " Beattie is so caressed, and invited, 
 and treated, and liked, and flattered by 
 the great, that I can see nothing of him'. 
 1 am in great hope that he will be well 
 provided for, and then we will live upon 
 him, at the Marischal College, without 
 pity or modesty. 
 
 " left the town without tTTking 
 
 leave of me, and is gone in deep dudgeon 
 
 to . Is not this very childish? 
 
 Where is now my legacy? 
 
 " I hope your dear lady and her dear 
 baby are both well. I shall see them too 
 when I come ; and I have that opinion 
 of your choice, as to suspect that when I 
 have seen Mrs. Boswell, I shall be less 
 willing to go away. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 *' Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, 
 July 5, 1773." 
 
 ** Write to me as soon as you can. 
 Chambers is now at Oxford." 
 
 I again wrote to him, informing him 
 that the Court of Session rose on the 
 twelfth of August, hoping to see him 
 before that time, and expressing, perhaps 
 in too extravagant terms, my admiration 
 of him, and my expectation of pleasure 
 *from our intended tour. 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I SHALL set out from London on Friday 
 the sixth of this month, and purpose not 
 to loiter much by the way. Which day 
 I shall be at Edinburgh 1 cannot exactly 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 211 
 
 tell. I suppose I must drive to an inn. 
 
 i 
 
 and send a porter to tind you. 
 
 " I am afraid Beattie will not be at 
 his College soon enough for us, and I 
 shall be sorry to miss him ; but there is 
 no staying for the concurrence of all 
 conveniences. We will do as well as 
 we can. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 <' August 3, 1773." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Not being at Mr. Thrale's when your 
 letter came, I had written the enclosed 
 paper and sealed it; bringing it hither 
 forii frank, I found yours. If any thing 
 could repress my ardour, it would be 
 such a letter as yours. To disappoint a 
 friend is unpleasing : and he that forms 
 expectations like yours must be disap- 
 pointed. Think only when you see me 
 that you see a man who loves you, and 
 is proud and glad that you love him. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your most affectionate, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " August 3, 1773." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " Newcastle, Aug. 11, 1773. 
 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I CAME hither last night, and hope, but 
 do not absolutely promise, to be in Edin- 
 burgh on Saturday. Beattie will not 
 come so soon. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 ** My compliments to your lady." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Mr. Johnson sends his compliments 
 to Mr. Boswell, being just arrived at 
 Boyd's." 
 " Saturday night." 
 
 His stay in Scotland was from the 
 18th of August, on which day he arrived, 
 till the 22d of November, when he set 
 out on his return to London ; and I be- 
 lieve ninety -four days were never passed 
 by any man in a more vigorous exer- 
 tion. 
 
 He came by the way of Berwick upon 
 Tweed to Edinburgh, where he remained 
 a few days, and then went by St. An- 
 drew, Aberdeen, Inverness, and Fort 
 Augustus, to the Hebrides, to visit which 
 was the principal object he had in view. 
 He visited the isles of Sky, Rasay, Col, 
 Mnll, Inchkenneth, and Icolmkill. He 
 travelled through Argyleshire by Inve- 
 rary, and from thence by Lochlomond 
 
242 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 and Dunbarton to Glasgow, then by 
 Loudon to Auchinleck in Ayrshire, the 
 seat of my family, and then by Hamil- 
 ton back to Edinburgh, where he again 
 spent some time. He thus saw the four 
 Universities of Scotland, its three prin- 
 cipal cities, and as much of the Highland 
 and insular life as was sufficient for his 
 philosophical contemplation. I had the 
 pleasure of accompanying him during 
 the whole of his journey. He was re- 
 spectfully entertained by the great, the 
 learned, and the elegant, wherever he 
 •went : nor was he less delighted with the 
 hospitality which he experienced in hum- 
 bler life. 
 
 His various adventures, and the force 
 and vivacity of his mind, as exercised 
 during this peregrination, upon innumer- 
 able topicks, have been faithfully, and to 
 the best of my abilities, displayed in my 
 " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides," to 
 which, as the publick has been pleased 
 to honour it by a very extensive circu- 
 lation, I bog leave to refer, as to a sepa- 
 rate and remarkable portion of his life *, 
 which may be there seen in detail, and 
 which exhibits a striking view of his 
 powers in conversation as his works do 
 of his excellence in writing. Nor can I 
 deny to myself the very flattering gratifi- 
 cation of inserting here the character 
 which my friend Mr. Courtenay has been 
 pleased to give of that vvork : 
 
 ** With Reynolds' pencil, vivid, bold, and true. 
 So fervent Boswell gives liiin to our view : 
 In every trait we see his mind expand ; 
 The master rises by the pupil's hand; 
 We love the writer, praise his happy vein. 
 Graced with the nai\ete of tiie sage Mon- 
 taigne, 
 Hence not alone are brit-hter parts display'd. 
 But e'en the specks of cliaracter pourtray'd : 
 We see the Rambler with fastiilious smile 
 Maik the lone iree, and note ihe healh-clad 
 
 isle ; 
 But when the.' heroick tale of Flora's t charms, 
 Deck'd in a kilt, lie wields a chieftain's arms: 
 The tuneftii piper sounds a mariial strain, 
 And Samuel sings, 'The King shall have his 
 oi«.'" 
 
 During his stay at Edinburgh, after his 
 K tinn from the Hebrides, he was at great 
 j.iins to obtain information concerning 
 Scotland ; and it will appear from his 
 subsequent letters that he was not less 
 
 • [The auihour was not a small gainer by 
 this extraordinary Journey; for Dr. Joiinson 
 thus writes to Mrs. Tlirale, Nov. 3, 1773: 
 " Boswell will praise my resolution and per 
 severance, and I shall in return celebrate bis 
 ifood humour and perpetual cheerfulness. 
 He has better f.Kitllies than I hid imagined; 
 more justness of di*c<:rnnient and more fecun- 
 dity of images. It is very convenient to ira«el 
 with him; for there is no house «here bt: is 
 not received with kindness and respect." 
 1.(1. 90, to Mrs. Thrale. M.] 
 
 + " The celebrated Flora Macdonald." bee 
 Ijoswell's Tour. 
 
 solicitous for intelligence on this subject 
 after his return to London. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I CAME home last night, without any 
 incommodity, danger, or weariness, and 
 am ready to begin a new journey. I 
 shall go to Oxford on Monday. 1 know 
 Mrs. Bosvi^ell wished me well to go * ; 
 her wishes have not been disappointed. 
 Mrs. Williams has received Sir A.*s 
 letter f. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to all those 
 to whom my compliments may be wel- 
 come. 
 
 " Let tlie box J be sent as soon as it 
 can, and let me know when to expect it. 
 
 " Inquire, if you can, the order of the 
 Clans : Macdonald is first, Maclean se- 
 cond ; further I cannot go. Quicken 
 Dr. Webster §. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Nov. 27, 1773." 
 
 " MR. boswell to dr. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Dec. 2, 1773. 
 
 " You shall have what information I can 
 procure as to the order of the Clans. A 
 gentleman of the name of Grant, tells me 
 that there is no settled order among 
 them ; and he says, that the Macdonalds 
 were not placed upon the right of the 
 army at Culloden; the Stuarts were. I 
 shall, however, examine witnesses of 
 every name that 1 can find here. Dr. 
 Webster shall be quickened too. I like 
 your little memorandums ; they arc symp- 
 
 * In this he showed a very acute penetra- 
 tion. My wife paid him the most assiduous 
 and respectful attention while he was our 
 guest; so that I wonder how he discovered 
 her wishing for bis departure. The truth is, 
 thai bis irregular hours and iincoutb habits, 
 such as turning the cantlles with their beads 
 downwards, wlien tliey did not burn briglit 
 enough, and letting the wax <lrop upon "the 
 carpet, could not but be disagietable to a 
 lady. Besides, she had not that hii^h admi- 
 ration of him which was felt by most of those 
 who knew him; anil, what was very natural 
 to a female mind, she ibousht ht' had too 
 much influence over her husband. She once, 
 in a little warmth, made, with more point 
 ihan justice, this remark upon that subject: 
 ** I have seen many a bi-ar led by a man'; but 
 I never before saw a man led by a bear." 
 
 t Sir Alexander Gordon, one of the I'rofes- 
 sor8 at Aberdeen. 
 
 t This was a box containing a number of 
 curious things wliicb be bad picked up in 
 ScoHand, partirularU j^onie born spoons. 
 
 § The Reverend Dr. Alexander Webster, 
 one of the ministers of l.dinburL''b, a man uf 
 distinguished abilities, who had prDUiised him 
 information concerning the iligblauds and 
 Islands of Scotland. 
 
^TAT. 64. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I 
 
 toms of your being in earnest with your 
 book of northern travels. 
 
 ** Your box shall be sent next week by 
 sea. You will find in it some pieces of 
 the broom bush, which you saw growing 
 on the old castle of Auchinleck. The 
 wood has a curious appearance when 
 sawn across. You may either have a 
 little writing standish made of it, or get 
 it formed into boards for a treatise on 
 witchcraft, by way of a suitable bind- 
 ing." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Dec. 18, 1773. 
 
 ** You promised me an inscription for a 
 print to be taken from an historical pic- 
 ture of Mary Queen of Scots being forced 
 to resign her crown, which Mr. Hamil- 
 ton at Rome has painted for me. The 
 two following have been sent to me : 
 
 * Maria Scotorum Regina meliori seculo 
 digna, jus regium civibus seditiosis invita 
 resignat.' 
 
 * Cives seditiosi Mariam Scotorum lieginani 
 sese muneri abdicare invitam cogunt.* 
 
 " Be so good as to read the passage in 
 Robertson, and see if you cannot give me 
 a better inscription. I must have it both 
 in Latin and English ; so if you should 
 not give me another Latin one, you will 
 at least choose the best of these two, and 
 send a translation of it." 
 
 ****** 
 
 His humane forgiving disposition was 
 put to a pretty strong test on his return 
 to London, by a liberty which Mr. Tho- 
 mas Davies had taken with him in his 
 absence, which was, to publish two 
 volumes entitled, " Miscellaneous and 
 fugitive Pieces," which he advertised in 
 the newspapers, " By the Authourof the 
 Rambler." In this collection, several 
 of Dr. Johnson's acknowledged writin<'s, 
 several of his anonymous performances, 
 and some which he had written for 
 others, were inserted ; but there were 
 also some in which he had no concern 
 whatever. He was at first very angry, 
 as he had good reason to be. But, upon 
 consideration of his poor friend's narrow 
 circumstances, and that he had only a 
 little profit in view, and meant no harm, 
 he soon relented, and continued his kind- 
 ness to him as formerly. 
 
 In the course of his self-examination 
 with retrospect to this year, he seems to 
 have been much dejected ; for he says, 
 January 1, 1774, " This year has passed 
 with so little improvement that I doubt 
 whether I have nut rather impaired than 
 increased my learning*:" and yet we 
 
 * Prayers and Meditations, p. 129, 
 
 243 
 
 have seen how he read and we know 
 how he talked during that period. 
 
 JJe_was now seriously engaged in 
 writing an account of our travels in the 
 Hebrides, in consequence of which I had' 
 the pleasure of a more frequent corres- 
 pondence with him. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " My operations have been hindered by 
 a cough ; at least I flatter myself that if 
 my cough had not come, I should have 
 been further advanced. But I have had 
 no intelligence from Dr. W [Web- 
 ster], nor from the Excise office, nor 
 from you. JNo account of the little bo- 
 rough f. Nothing of the Erse language. 
 I have yet heard nothing of my box. 
 
 " You must make haste and gather me 
 all you can, and do it quickly, or I will 
 and shall do without it. 
 
 ** Make njy compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, and tell her that I do not love her 
 the less for wishing me away. 1 gave 
 her trouble enough, and shall be glad, in 
 recompense, to give her any pleasure. 
 
 ** 1 would send some porter into the 
 Hebrides if I knew which way it could 
 be got to my kind friends there. Inquire, 
 and let me know. 
 
 " Make my compliments to all the 
 Doctors of Edinburgh, and to all my 
 friends, from one end of Scotland to the 
 other. 
 
 " Write to me, and send me what in- 
 telligence you can : and if any thing is 
 too bulky for the post, let me have it by 
 the carrier. I do not like trustijig winds 
 and waves. I am, dear sir, 
 
 *' Your most, &c. 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "Jan. 29, 1774." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " In a day or two after I had written the 
 last discontented letter, I received my 
 box, which was very welcome. But 
 still I must entreat you to hasten Dr. 
 Webster, and continue to pick up what 
 yon can that may be useful. 
 
 ** Mr. Oglethorpe was with me this 
 morning ; you know his errand. He was 
 not unwelcome. 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Boswell that my good in- 
 tentions towards her still continue. I 
 should be glad to do any thing that would 
 either benefit or please her. 
 
 *' Chambers is not yet gone, but so 
 hurried, or so negligent, or so proud, 
 that I rarely see him. I have, indeed, 
 for some weeks past, been very ill of a 
 cold and cough, and have been at Mrs. 
 
 t The ancient Burgh of Prestick, in Ayr* 
 
244 
 
 Thrale's that I might be taken care of. 
 I am much better ; novce redeunt in 
 prcelia vires ; but I am yet tender, and 
 easily disordered. How happy it was 
 that neither of us were ill in the He- 
 brides. 
 
 " The question of Literary Property is 
 this day before the Lords. Murphy drew 
 up the Appellants' case, that is, the plea 
 against the perpetual right. I have not 
 seen it, nor heard the decision. I would 
 not have the right perpetual. 
 
 " I will write to yon as any thing 
 occurs, and do you send me something 
 about my Scottish friends. I have very 
 great kindness for them. Let me know 
 likewise how fees come in, and when we 
 are to see you. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 ** Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, Feb. 7, 1774." 
 
 He at this time wrote the following 
 letters to Mr. Steevens, his able associate 
 in editing Shakspeare: 
 
 ** TO GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ. IN HAMP- 
 STEAD. 
 ** SIR, 
 
 ** If I am asked when I have seen Mr. 
 Steevens, you know what answer I must 
 give; if I am asked when I shall see 
 him, 1 wish you would tell me what to 
 say. 
 
 " If you have * Lesley's History of 
 Scotland,' or any other book about Scot- 
 land, except Boetius and Buchanan, it 
 will be a kindness if you send them to, 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 " Feb. 7, 1774." *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 to the same, 
 "sir, 
 " We are thinking to augment our club, 
 and 1 am desirous of nominating you, if 
 you care to stand the ballot, and can 
 attend on Friday nights at least twice in 
 five weeks : less than this is too little, 
 and rather more will be expected. Be 
 pleased to let me know before Friday. 
 *' I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most, &c. 
 " Feb. 21, 1774." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 to the same. 
 **sir, 
 " Last night you became a member of 
 the club ; if you call on me on Friday, I 
 will introduce you. A gentleman, pro- 
 posed after you, was rejected. 
 
 " I thank you for Neander, but wish 
 lie were not so fine. I will take care of 
 him. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 «' March 5, 1774." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1774. 
 
 ** to James boswell, esq. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' Dr. Webster's informations were much 
 less exact and much less determinate than 
 I expected : they are, indeed, much less 
 positive than, if he can trust his own 
 book* which he laid before me, he is 
 able to give. But I believe it will al- 
 ways be found that he who calls much 
 for information will advance his work 
 but slowly. 
 
 " I am, however, obliged to you, dear 
 sir, for your endeavours to help me, and 
 hope that between us something will 
 some time be done, if not on this, on 
 some occasion. 
 
 " Chambers is either married, or al- 
 most married, to Miss Wilton, a girl 
 sixteen, exquisitely beautiful, whom he 
 has, with his lawyer's tongue, persuaded 
 to take her chance with him in the East. 
 
 ** We have added to the club, Charles 
 Fox, Sir Charles Bunbury, Dr. Fordyce, 
 and Mr. Steevens. 
 
 ** Return my thanks to Dr. Webster. 
 Tell Dr. Robertson I have not much to 
 repl}' to his censure of my negligence ; 
 and tell Dr. Blair that since he has writ- 
 ten hither what I said to him, we must 
 now consider ourselves as even, forgive 
 one another, and begin again. I care 
 not how soon, for he is a very pleasing 
 man. Pay my compliments to all my 
 friends, and remind Lord Elibank of his 
 promise to give me all his works. 
 
 " I hope Mrs. Boswell and little Miss 
 are well. — When shall I see them again? 
 She is a sweet lady, only she was so glad 
 to see me go that I have almost a mind 
 to come again, that she may again have 
 the same pleasure. 
 
 ** Inquire if it be practicable to send a 
 small present of a cask of porter to Dun- 
 vegan, Rasay, and Col. I would not 
 wish to be thought forgetful of civilities. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " March 5, 1774." 
 
 On the 5th of March I wrote to him, 
 requesting his counsel whether I should 
 this spring come to London. I stated to 
 him on the one hand some pecuniary 
 embarrassments, which, together with 
 my wife's situation at that time, made 
 me hesitate ; and, on the other, the plea- 
 sure and improvement which my annual 
 visit to the metropolis always afforded 
 me; and particularly mentioned a pecu- 
 
 • A manuscript account drawn by Dr. Web- 
 ster of all the parishes in Scotland', as erlaln- 
 incr their Icujfth, broadlh, number of inhabi- 
 lantH, and distingumhmq; l*rot«'stants and 
 Roman Catholirks. Ilns l)0(ik had brcn trans- 
 milted to uov( riiment, and Dr. Johnson saw 
 a copy of it in Dr. Websicr's possession. 
 
;Etat 65. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 245 
 
 liar satisfaction which I experienced in 
 celebrating the festival of Easter in St. 
 Paul's cathedral ; that to my fancy it 
 appeared like going up to Jerusalem at 
 the feast of the Passover ; and that the 
 strong devotion which I felt on that oc- 
 casion diffused its influence on my mind 
 through the rest of the year. 
 
 '* TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 [Not dated, but written about the l&th of 
 March.] 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 ** I AM ashamed to think that since I re- 
 ceived your letter I have passed so many 
 days without answering it. 
 
 " I think there is no great difficulty in 
 resolving your doubts. The reasons for 
 which you are inclined to visit London 
 are, I think, not of sufficient strength to 
 answer the objections. That you should 
 delight to come once a year to the foun- 
 tain of intelligence and pleasure is very 
 natural ; but both information and plea- 
 sure must be regulated by propriety. 
 Pleasure, which cannot be obtained but 
 by unseasonable or unsuitable expense, 
 must always end in pain ; and pleasure, 
 which must be enjoyed at the expense 
 of another's pain, can never be such as 
 a worthy mind can fully delight in. 
 
 " What improvement you might gain 
 by coming to London you may easily sup- 
 ply or easily compensate by enjoining 
 yourself some particular study at home, or 
 opening some new avenue to information. 
 Edinburgh is not yet exhausted ; and I am 
 sure you will find no pleasure here which 
 can deserve either that you should anti- 
 cipate any part of your future fortune, or 
 that you should condemn yourself and 
 your lady to penurious frugality for the 
 rest of the year. 
 
 " I need not tell you what regard you 
 owe to Mrs. Boswell's entreaties ; or 
 how much you ought to study the hap- 
 piness of her who studies yours with so 
 much diligence, and of whose kindness 
 you enjoy such good effects. Life can- 
 not subsist in society but by reciprocal 
 concessions. She permitted you to ram- 
 ble last year, you must permit her now 
 to keep you at home. 
 
 " Your last reason is so serious that I 
 am unvvilling to oppose it. You must 
 remember that your image of worshiping 
 once a year in a certain place, in imita- 
 tion of the Jews, is but a comparison ; 
 and simile non est idem ; if the annual 
 resort to Jerusalem was a duty to the 
 Jews, it was a duty because it was com- 
 manded ; and you have no such com- 
 mand, therefore no such duty. It may 
 be dangerous to receive too readily, and 
 indulge too fondly opinions, from which, 
 perhaps, no pious mind is wholly disen- 
 
 gaged, of local sanctity and local devo- 
 tion. You know what strange effects 
 they have produced over a great part of 
 the Christian world. I am now writing, 
 and you, when you read this, are reading 
 under the Eye of Omnipresence. 
 
 " To what degree fancy is to be ad- 
 mitted into religious offices, it would re- 
 quire much deliberation to determine. I 
 am far from intending totally to exclude 
 it. Fancy is a faculty bestowed by our 
 Creator, and it is reasonable that all his 
 gifts should be used to his glory, that all 
 our faculties should cooperate in his wor- 
 ship ; but they are to cooperate accord- 
 ing to the will of him that gave them, 
 according to the order which his wisdom 
 has established. As ceremonies pruden- 
 tial or convenient are less obligatory 
 than positive ordinances, as bodily wor- 
 ship is only the token to others or our- 
 selves of mental adoration, so Fancy is 
 always to act in subordination to Reason. 
 We may take Fancy for a companion, 
 but must follow Reason as our guide. 
 We may allow Fancy to suggest certain 
 ideas in certain places ; but Reason must 
 always be heard, when she tells us that 
 those ideas and those places have no na- 
 tural or necessary relation. When we 
 enter a church we habitually recall to 
 mind the duty of adoration, but we must 
 not omit adoration for want of a temple ; 
 because we know, and ought to remem- 
 ber, that the Universal Lord is every 
 where present; and that, therefore, to 
 come to Jona, or to Jerusalem, though it 
 may be useful, cannot be necessary. 
 
 " Thus I have answered your letter, 
 and have not answered it negligently. I 
 love you too well to be careless when you 
 are serious. 
 
 " I think I shall be very diligent next 
 week about our travels, which I have too 
 long neglected. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most, &c. 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 ** Compliments to Madam and Miss." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The lady who delivers this has a law- 
 suit, in which she desires to make use of 
 your skill and eloquence, and she seems 
 to think that she shall have something 
 more of both for a recommendation from 
 me ; which, though I know how little 
 you want any external incitement to 
 your duty, I could not refuse her, because 
 I know that at least it will not hurt her, 
 to tell you that I wish her well. 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson," 
 " M»y 10, 1774." 
 
246 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1774. 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, May 12, 1774. 
 " Lord Hailes has begged of me to offer 
 yon his best respects, and to transmit to 
 you specimens of ' Annals of Scotland, 
 from the Accession of Malcohn Ken- 
 more to the Death of James V.' in draw- 
 ing up which his Lordship has been 
 engaged for some time. His Lordship 
 writes to me thus : ' If I conld procure 
 Dr. Johnson's criticisms, they would be 
 of great use to me in the prosecution of 
 my work, as they would be judicious and 
 true. I have no right to ask that favour 
 of him. If you could, it would highly 
 oblige me.' 
 
 •* Dr. Blair requests you may be as- 
 sured that he did not write to London 
 what you said to him, and that neither 
 by word nor letter has he made the least 
 complaint of you ; but on the contrary 
 has a high respect for you, and loves you 
 much more since he saw you in Scotland. 
 It would both divert and please you to 
 see his eagerness about this matter." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 " Streatliam, June 12, 1774. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yesterday I put the first sheets of the 
 * Journey to the Hebrides' to the press. 
 I have endeavoured to do you some jus- 
 tice in the first paragraph. It will be 
 one volume in octavo, not thick. 
 
 " It will be proper to make some pre- 
 sents in Scotland. You shall tell me to 
 whom I shall give ; and I have stipu- 
 lated twenty-five for you to give in your 
 own name. Some will take the present 
 better from me, others better from you. 
 In this you, who are to live in the place, 
 ought to direct. Consider it. Whatever 
 you can get for my purpose send me ; 
 and make my compliments to your lady 
 and both the young ones. 
 
 *' I am, SIR, your, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 
 
 " Edinburgh, June 24, 1774. 
 ** You do not acknowledge the receipt of 
 the various packets which I have sent to 
 you. Neither can I prevail with you to 
 answer my letters, though you honour 
 me with returns. You have said nothing 
 to me about poor Goldsmith*, nothing 
 about Langlon. 
 
 ** I have received for you, from the 
 Society for propagating Christian Know- 
 ledge in Scotland, the following Erse 
 books : — ' The New Testament ;' — * Bax- 
 ter's Call ;'— ' The Confession of Faith of 
 the Assembly of Divines at Westmin- 
 ster ;' — * The Mother's Catechism ;' — ' A 
 Gaelick and English Vocabulary t.' " 
 
 • Dr. Goldsmith died April 4, this year, 
 t These hooks IJr. Johnson presented to the 
 tiodleian Library. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I WISH you could have looked over my 
 book before the printer, but it could not 
 easily be. I suspect some mistakes; but 
 as I deal, perhaps, more in notions than 
 in facts, the matter is not great, and the 
 second edition will be mended, if any 
 such there be. The press will go on 
 slowly for a time, because I am going 
 into Wales to-morrow." 
 
 " I should be very sorry if I appeared 
 to treat such a character as Lord Hailes 
 otherwise than with high respect. I 
 return the sheets J, to which I have done 
 what mischief I could ; and finding it so 
 little, thought not much of sending them. 
 The narrative is clear, lively, and short. 
 " I have done worse to Lord Hailes 
 than by neglecting his sheets : I have 
 run him in debt. Dr. Home, the Presi- 
 dent of Magdalen College in Oxford, 
 wrote to me about three months ago, 
 that he purposed to reprint Walton'^s 
 Lives, and desired me to contribute to 
 the work : my answer was, that Lord 
 Hailes intended the same publication ; 
 and Dr. Home has resigned it to him. 
 His Lordship must now think seriously 
 about it. 
 
 " Of poor dear Dr. Goldsmith there is 
 little to be told more than the papers 
 have made publick. He died of a fever, 
 made, I am afraid, more violent by un- 
 easiness of mind. His debts began to 
 be heavy, and all his resources were ex- 
 hausted. Sir Joshua is of opinion that 
 he owed not less than two thousand 
 pounds. Was ever poet so trusted be- 
 fore ? 
 
 " You may, if you please, put the in- 
 scription thus: 
 
 " * Maria Scotorum Regina nata 
 15 — , a suis in exilium acta 15 — , ab 
 hospith neci data 15 — .* You must find 
 the years. 
 
 " Of your second daughter you cer- 
 tainly gave the account yourself, though 
 you have forgotten it. While Mrs. Bos- 
 well is well, never doubt of a boy. Mrs. 
 Thrale brought, I think, five girls running, 
 but while 1 was with you she had a boy. 
 '* I am obliged to you for all your 
 pamphlets, and of the last I hope to make 
 some use. I made some of the former. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most aftcctionate servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson.'* 
 " July 4, 1774." 
 
 " My compliments to all the three 
 
 ladies. 
 
 t On the corer enclosing them Dr. Johnson 
 wrote, '* If my delay has (fiven any reason for 
 supposinir that I have not a very deep sense 
 of the honour done me by asking my judjj- 
 ment, 1 am very sorry." 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 247 
 
 " TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. AT LANGTON, 
 NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You have reason to reproach me that 
 I have left your last letter so long unan- 
 swered, but I had nothing particular to 
 say. Chambers, you find, is gone far, 
 and poor Goldsmith is gone much fur- 
 ther. He died of a fever, exasperated, 
 as I believe, by the fear of distress. He 
 had raised money and squandered it by 
 every artifice of acquisition and folly of 
 expense. But let not his frailties be re- 
 membered ; he was a very great man. 
 
 " I have just begun to print my Jour- 
 ney to the Hebrides, and am leaving the 
 press to take another Journey into Wales, 
 whither Mr. Thrale is going to take pos- 
 session of, at least, five hundred a year, 
 fallen to his lady. All at Streatham that 
 are alive are well. 
 
 *' I have never lecovered from the last 
 dreadful illness, but flatter myself that I 
 grow gradually better; much, however, 
 yet remains to mend. K6^ie eXsria-ov. 
 
 " If you have the Latin version of 
 Busy, curious, thirsty fly, be so kind 
 as to transcribe and send it ; but you 
 need not be in haste, for I shall be I 
 know not where for at least five weeks. 
 I wrote the following tetrastick on poor 
 Goldsmith : 
 
 ** Toy ra<pov hco^aag tov 'OXi^ocpioto, kovIyiv 
 OTo"* fxifxr^he cjjucrif, yuT^iov %a.Pi;, s^a tto,- 
 
 KhaisTE 7ro»viT>iv, fcrro^tKov, c})u<r»)cov. 
 
 ** Please to make my most respectful 
 compliments to all the ladies, and re- 
 member me to young George and his 
 sisters. I reckon George begins to show 
 a pair of heels. 
 
 ** Do not be sullen now, but let me find 
 a letter when I come back. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "July 5, 1774." 
 
 ** TO MR, ROBERT LEVET. 
 
 "Llewenny, in Denbighshire, 
 " DEAR SIR, August 16, 177-1. 
 
 ** Mr. Thrale's affairs have kept him 
 here a great while, nor do I know ex- 
 actly when we shall come hence. I have 
 sent you a bill upon Mr, Strahan. 
 
 " I have made nothing of the Ipeca- 
 cuanha, but have taken abundance of 
 pills, and hope that they have done me 
 good. 
 
 " Wales, so far as I have yet seen of 
 it, is a very beautiful and rich country, 
 all enclosed and planted. Denbigh is not 
 a mean town. Make my compliments 
 
 to all my friends, and tell Frank I hope 
 he remembers my advice. When his 
 money is out, let him have more. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson.'* 
 
 MR. BOSWELL to dr. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Aug. 30, 1774. 
 " You have given me an inscription for 
 a portrait of Mary Queen of Scots, in 
 which you, in a short and striking man- 
 ner, point out her hard fate. But you 
 will be pleased to keep in mind, that my 
 picture is a representation of a particular 
 scene in her history ; her being forced to 
 resign her crown while she was impri- 
 soned in the castle of Lochlevin. I must, 
 therefore, beg that you will be kind 
 enough to give me an inscription suited 
 to that particular scene; or determine 
 which of the two formerly transmitted to 
 you is the best ; and at any rate favour 
 me with an English translation. It will 
 be doubly kind if you comply with my 
 request speedily. 
 
 " Your critical notes on the specimen 
 of Lord Hailes's ' Annals of Scotland ' 
 are excellent. I agreed with you on 
 every one of them. He himself objected 
 only to the alteration of free to brave, in 
 the passage where he says that Edward 
 **' departed with the glory due to the con- 
 queror of a free people.' He says, to 
 call the Scots brave would only add to 
 the glory of their conqueror. You will 
 make allowance for the national zeal 
 of our annalist. I now send a few 
 more leaves of the Annals, which I hope 
 you will peruse, and return with obser- 
 vations, as you did upon the former oc- 
 casion. Lord Hailes writes to me thus : 
 
 * Mr. Boswell will be pleased to express 
 the grateful sense which Sir David Dal- 
 rymple has of Dr. Johnson's attention to 
 his little specimen. The further speci- 
 men will show that 
 
 Even in an Edioard he can see desert.* 
 " It gives me much pleasure to hear 
 that a republication of Isaac Walton's 
 Lives is intended. You have been in a 
 mistake in thinking that Lord Hailes had 
 it in view. I remember one morning, 
 while he sat with you in my house, he 
 said, that there should be a new edition 
 of Walton's Lives; and you said that 
 
 * that they should be benoted a little.* 
 This was all that passed on that subject. 
 You must, therefore, inform Dr. Home, 
 that he may resume his plan. I enclose 
 a note concerning it; and if Dr. Home 
 will write to me, all the attention that I 
 can give shall be cheerfully bestowed 
 upon what I think a pious work, the 
 preservation and elucidation of Walton, 
 
248 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 by whose writings I have been most 
 pleasingly edified." 
 
 ******** 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Sept. 16, 1774. 
 *' Wales has probably detained you 
 longer than I supposed. You will have 
 become quite a mountaineer, by visiting 
 Scotland one year and Wales another. 
 You must next go to Switzerland. Cam- 
 bria will complain if you do not honour 
 her also with some remarks. And I tind 
 concessere columncB, the booksellers ex- 
 pect another book. I am impatient to 
 see your * Tour to Scotland and the He- 
 brides.' Might you not send me a copy 
 by the post as soon as it is printed oflf?" 
 ******** 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yesterday I returned from my Welsh 
 journey. I was sorry to leave my book 
 suspended so long ; but having an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing, with so much conveni- 
 ence, a new part of the island, I could 
 not reject it. I have been in five of the 
 six counties of North Wales ; and have 
 seen St. Asaph and Bangor, the two seats 
 of their Bishops; have been upon Pen- 
 manmaur and Snowden, and passed over 
 into Anglesea. But Wales is so little 
 different from England that it offers no- 
 thing to the speculation of the traveller. 
 
 ** When I came home, I found several 
 of your papers, with some pages of Lord 
 Hailes's Annals, which I will consider. 
 I am in haste to give you some account 
 of myself, lest you should suspect me of 
 negligence in the pressing business which 
 I find recommended to my care, and 
 which 1 knew nothing of till now, when 
 all care is vain *. 
 
 " In the distribution of my books I 
 purpose to follow your advice, adding 
 such as shall occur to me. I am not 
 pleased with your notes of remembrance 
 added to your names, for I hope I shall 
 not easily forget them. 
 
 ** I have received four Erse books 
 without any direction, and suspect that 
 they are intended for the Oxford library. 
 If that is the intention, I think it will be 
 proper to add the metrical psalms, and 
 whatever else is printed in Erse, that the 
 present may be complete. The donor's 
 name should be told. 
 
 " I wish you could have read the book 
 before it was printed, but our distance 
 does not easily permit it. 
 
 ** 1 am sorry Lord Hailes does not 
 
   F had written to him to request his jnter- 
 pdsiiion in IxIihU'oIu convict, who I thought 
 wAi very unjustly condemued. 
 
 1774. 
 
 intend to publish Walton ; I am afraid 
 it will not be done so well, if it be done 
 at all. 
 
 " I purpose now to drive the book 
 forward. Make my compliments to 
 Mrs. Boswell, and let me hear often 
 from you. 
 
 " I am, dear sir, 
 " Your affectionate humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, October 1, 1774." 
 
 This tour to Wales, which was made 
 in company with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, 
 though it no doubt contributed tO~W? 
 health and amusement, did not give an 
 occasion to such a discursive exercise of 
 his mind as our tour to the Hebrides. 
 I do not find that he kept any journal or 
 notes of what he saw there. All that I 
 heard him say of it was, that '• instead 
 of bleak and barren mountains, there 
 were green and fertile ones; and that 
 one of the castles in Wales would con- 
 tain all the castles that he had seen in 
 Scotland." 
 
 Parliament having been dissolved, and 
 his friend Mr. Thrale, who was a steady 
 supporter of government, having again to 
 encounter the storm of a contested elec- 
 tion, he wrote a short political pamphlet, 
 entitled " The Patriot," faj a(hlressed to 
 the electors of Great Britain ; a title 
 which, to factious men, who consider a 
 patriot only as an opposer of the mea- 
 sures of government, will appear strangely 
 misapplied. It was, however, written 
 with energetick vivacity ; and, except 
 those passages in which it endeavours to 
 vindicate the glaring outrage of the House 
 of Commons in the case of the Middlesex 
 election, and to justify the attempt to 
 reduce our fellow subjects in America to 
 unconditional submission, it contained an 
 admirable display of the properties of a 
 real patriot, in the original and genuine 
 sense; — a sincere, steady, rational, and 
 unbiased friend to the interests and 
 prosperity of his King and country. It 
 must be acknowledged, however, that 
 both in this and his two former pam- 
 phlets there was, amidst many powerful 
 arguments, not only a considerable por- 
 tion of sophistry, but a contemptuous 
 ridicule of his opponents, which was 
 very provoking. 
 
 ** TO MR. PERKINS f. 
 **S1R, 
 
 " You may do me a very great favour. 
 Mrs. Williams, a gentlewoman whom 
 you may have seen at Mr. Thrale's, is a 
 
 t Mr. Perkins was for a number of years the 
 woithy 8n|'eiint«'ndent of Mr. Thrale's ijreat 
 brewery, and after his death became cue of 
 
iExAT. 65. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 petitioner for Mr. Hetlierington's cha- 
 rity : petitions are this day issued at 
 Christ's Hospital. 
 
 " I am a bad manager of business in a 
 crowd ; and if I should send a mean 
 man, he may be put away without his 
 errand. I must therefore entreat that 
 you will go, and ask for a petition for 
 Anna Williams, whose paper of inquiries 
 was delivered with answers at the count- 
 ing-house of the hospital on Thursday 
 the 20th. My servant will attend you 
 thither, and bring the petition home 
 when you have it. 
 
 " The petition, which they are to give 
 us, is a form which they deliver to every 
 petitioner, and which the petitioner is 
 afterwards to fill up, and return to them 
 again. This we must have, or we cannot 
 proceed according to their directions. 
 You need, I believe, only ask for a peti- 
 tion ; if they inquire for whom you ask, 
 you can tell them. 
 
 " I beg pardon for giving you this 
 trouble ; but it is a matter of great 
 importance. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Octob. 25, 1774." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** There has appeared lately in the papers 
 an account of a boat overset between Mull 
 and Ulva, in which many passengers were 
 lost, and among them Maclean of Col. 
 We, you know, were once drowned * ; 
 I hope, therefore, that the story is either 
 wantonly or erroneously told. Pray 
 satisfy me by the next post. 
 
 " I have printed two hundred and forty 
 pages. I am able to do nothing much 
 worth doing to dear Lord Hailes's book. 
 I will, however, send back the sheets ; 
 and hope, by degrees, to answer all your 
 reasonable expectations. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale has happily surmounted 
 a very violent and acrimonious opposi. 
 tion ; but all joys have their abatement : 
 Mrs. Thrale has fallen from her horse, 
 and hurt herself very much. The rest of 
 
 the proprietors of it; and now resides in Mr. 
 Thrale's house in Somliwark, which was the 
 scene of so many literary meetino^s, and in 
 which he continues the liberal hospitality for 
 which it was eminent. Dr. Johnson esteemed 
 him much. He hung up in the counting-house 
 a fine proof of the admirable mezzotinto ol 
 Dr. Johnson, by Doughty ; and when Mrs. 
 Tiirale asked him somewhat fiippanllv, •' Why 
 do you put hirn up in the counting house J*^' 
 He answered, ♦' Because, madam, I wish to 
 have one wise man there." " Sir (said John- 
 son), I thank you. It is a very handsome 
 compliment, and I believe you speak sin- 
 cerely." 
 * In the newspapers. 
 
 249 
 
 our friends, I believe, are welL My 
 compliments to Mrs. Boswell. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 *' Your most affectionate servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson. 
 '* London, Octob. 27, 1774." 
 
 This letter, which shows his tender 
 concern for an amiable young gentleman 
 to whom he had been very much obliged 
 in the Hebrides, I have inserted accord- 
 ing to its date, though before receiving it 
 I had informed him of the melancholy 
 event that the young Laird of Col was 
 unfortunately drowned. 
 
 " to JAMES boswell, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Last night 1 corrected the last page of 
 our ' Journey to the Hebrides.' The 
 printer has detained it all this time, for 
 1 had, before I went into Wales, written 
 all except two sheets. * The Patriot' was 
 called for by my political friends on 
 Friday, was written on Saturday, and I 
 have heard little of it. So vague are 
 conjectures at a distance f. As soon as 
 I can, I will take care that copies be 
 sent to you, for I would wish that they 
 might be given before they are bought; 
 but I am afraid that Mr. Strahan will 
 send to you and to the booksellers at 
 the same time. Trade is as diligent as 
 courtesy. I have mentioned all that you 
 recommended. Pray make ray compli- 
 ments to Mrs. Boswell and the young- 
 lings. The club has, I think, not yet 
 met. 
 
 " Tell me, and tell me honestly, what 
 you think and what others say of our 
 travels. Shall we touch the continent j. 
 I am, dear sir, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Nov. 26, 1774." 
 
 In his manuscript diary of this year 
 there is the following entry ; 
 
 " Nov. 27. Advent Sunday. I con- 
 sidered that this day, being the beginning 
 of the ecclesiastical year, was a proper 
 time for a new course of life. I began 
 to rea<l the Greek Testament regularly 
 at 160 verses every Sunday. This day I 
 began the Acts. 
 
 " In this week I read Virgil's Pasto- 
 rals. I learned to repeat the Pollio and 
 Gallus. I read carelessly the first Geor- 
 gick." 
 
 t Alluding to a passage in a letter of mine, 
 where, speaking of liis~ " Journey to the He- 
 brides," I say, •' Bm has not ' 1 lie Patriot ' 
 been an interruption, by the time taken to 
 write it, and die time luxuriously spent io 
 listening to its applauses !" 
 
 t We had projected a voyase together up 
 the lialtiok, and talked of visiting some of the 
 lore northern regions. 
 
250 
 
 Such evidences of his unceasing ardour, 
 both for ** divine and human lore," when 
 advanced into his sixty-fifth year, and 
 notwithstanding his many disturbances 
 from disease, must make ns at once 
 honour his spirit, and lament that it 
 should be so grievously clogged by its 
 material tegument. It is remarkable that 
 he was very fond of the precision which 
 calculation produces. Thus we find in 
 one of his manuscript diaries, ** 12 pages 
 in 4to. Gr. Test, and 30 pages in Beza's 
 folio, comprise the whole in 40 days." 
 
 , ESQ. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO JOHN HOOLE, 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I HAVE returned your play*, which 
 you will find underscored with red, where 
 there was a word which I did not like. 
 The red will be washed off with a little 
 water. 
 
 ** The plot is so well framed, the intri- 
 cacy so artful, and the disentanglement 
 so easy, the suspense so affecting, and 
 the passionate parts so properly inter- 
 posed, that I have no doubt of its success. 
 I am, SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sa3i. Johnson." 
 
 " December 19, 1774." 
 
 The first effort of his pen in 1775 was, 
 *' Proposals for publishing the Works of 
 Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,'Y&J in three 
 volumes quarto. In his diary, January 2, 
 I find this entry : " Wrote Charlotte's 
 Proposals." But, indeed, the internal 
 evidence would have been quite sufficient. 
 Her claim to the favour of the publick 
 was thus enforced : 
 
 " Most of the pieces, as they appeared 
 singly, have been read with approbation, 
 perliaps above their merits, but of no 
 great advantage to the writer. She hopes, 
 therefore, that she shall not be considered 
 as too indulgent to vanity, or too studious 
 of interest, if from that labour which has 
 hitherto been chiefly gainful to others, 
 she endeavours to obtain at last some 
 profit to herself and her children. She 
 cannot decently enforce her claim by the 
 praise of her own performances : nor can 
 she suppose that, by the most artful and 
 laboured address, any additional notice 
 could be procured to a publication, of 
 which her Majesty has condescended to 
 be the Patroness." 
 
 ,He this year also wrote tlie Preface to 
 Baretli's " Easy Lessons in Italian and 
 English." r&J 
 
 ** to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** You never did ask for a book by the 
 post till now, and I did not think on it. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1775. 
 
 You see now it is done. I sent one to 
 the King, and I hear he likes it. 
 
 ** I shall send a parcel into Scotland 
 for presents, and intend to give to many 
 of my friends. In your catalogue you 
 left out Lord Auchinleck. 
 
 " Let me know, as fast as you read it, 
 how you like it ; and let me know if any 
 mistake is committed, or any thing im- 
 portant left out. I wish you could have 
 seen the sheets. My compliments to 
 Mrs. Boswell, and to Veronica, and to 
 all my friends. 
 
 *' I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " January 1-1, 1775." 
 
 MR. boswell to dr. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Jan. !9, 1775. 
 " Be pleased to accept of my best thanks 
 for your ' Journey to the Hebrides,' which 
 came to me by last night's post. I did 
 really ask the favour twice ; but you 
 have been even with me by granting it 
 so speedily. Bis dat qui citb dat. 
 Though ill of a bad cold, you kept me 
 up the greatest part of the last night : f(»r 
 I did not stop till I had read every word 
 of your book. I looked back to our first 
 talking of a visit to the Hebrides, which 
 was many years ago, when sitting by 
 ourselves in the Mitre Tavern, in London, 
 I think about witching time o^niyht : 
 and then exulted in contemplating our 
 scheme fulfilled, and a monumentum 
 perenne of it erected by your superiour 
 abilities. I shall only say, that your 
 book has afforded me a high gratification. 
 I shall afterwards give you my thoughts 
 on particular passages. In the mean 
 time, I hasten to tell you of your having 
 mistaken two names, which you will 
 correct in London, as I shall do here, 
 that the genllemen who deserve the valu- 
 able compliments which you paid them 
 may enjoy their honours. In page 106, 
 for Gordon read Murchison ; and in 
 page 357, for Maclean read Macleod. 
 
 ** But I am now to apply to you for 
 immediate aid in my profession, which 
 you have never refused to grant when I 
 requested it. I enclose you a petition for 
 Dr. Memis, a physician at Aberdeen, in 
 which Sir John Dalrymple has exerted 
 his talents, and which I am to answer as 
 Counsel for the managers of the Royal 
 Infirmary in that city. Mr. Jopp, the 
 Provost, who delivered to you your free- 
 dom, is one of my clients, and, as a 
 citizen of Aberdeen, you will support 
 him. 
 
 '* The fact is shortly this. In a trans- 
 lation of the charter of the Infirmary 
 from Latin into English, made under the 
 
i^TAT. 6Q. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 251 
 
 authority of the managers, the same 
 phrase in the original is in one place ren- 
 dered Physician, but when applied to 
 Dr. Memis is rendered Doctor of 3Iedi- 
 cine. Dr. Memis complained of tliis 
 before the translation was printed, but 
 was not indulged with having it altered ; 
 and he has brought an action for damages, 
 on account of a supposed injury, as if the 
 designation given to him was an inferiour 
 one, tending to make it be supposed he 
 is not a Physician, and consequently to 
 hurt his practice. My father has dis- 
 missed the action as groundless, and now 
 he has appealed to the whole Court*." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELX,, ESQ. 
 " DKAR SIR, 
 
 ** I LONG to hear how you like the book ; 
 it is, I think, much liked here. Bat Mac- 
 pherson is very furious ; can you give me 
 any more intelligence about him or his 
 Fingal? Do what you can, and do it 
 quickly. Is Lord Hailes on our side? 
 
 ** Pray let me know what 1 owed you 
 when I left you, that I may send it to 
 you. 
 
 " I am going to write about the Ame- 
 ricans. If you have picked up any hints 
 among your lawyers, who are great mas- 
 ters of the law of nations, or if your own 
 mind suggest an>* thing, let me know. 
 But mum, it is a secret. 
 
 " I will send your parcel of books as 
 soon as I can ; but I cannot do as I 
 vs^ish. However, you find every thing 
 mentioned in the book which you recom- 
 mended. 
 
 " Langton is here ; we are all that ever 
 we were. He is a worthy fellow, with- 
 out malice, though not without resent- 
 ment. 
 
 •' Poor Beauclerk is so ill that his life 
 is thought to be in danger. Lady Di 
 nurses him with very great assiduity. 
 
 '* Reynolds has taken too much to 
 strong liquorf, and seems to delight in 
 his new character. 
 
 ** This is all the news that I have ; but 
 as you love verses, I will send you a 
 few which I made upon Inchkenneth j ; 
 but remember the condition, you shall 
 not show them, except to Lord Hailes, 
 
 * lu the Court of Session of Scotland an 
 action is first tried by one of the Judges, who 
 is called the Lord Ordinary; and if either 
 party is dissatisfied, he may appeal to the 
 whole Court, consistingr of fifteen, (he Lord 
 President and fourteen other Judges, who 
 have both in and out of Court the title of 
 Lords, from the name of their estates; as 
 Lord Auchinleck, Lord Monboddo, &c. 
 
 t It should be recollected, that this fanciful 
 description of his friend was given by John- 
 son after he himself had become a water- 
 drinker. 
 
 J See them in " Journal of a Tour to the 
 Hebrides," 3d edit. p. 337. 
 
 whom I love better than any man whom 
 I know so little. If he asks you to trans- 
 cribe them for him, you may do it ; but 
 I think he must promise not to let them 
 be copied again, nor to show them as 
 mine. 
 
 " I have at last sent back Lord Hailes's 
 sheets. I never think about returning 
 them, because I alter nothing. You will 
 see that I might as well have kept them. 
 However, I am ashamed of my delay ; 
 and if I have the honour of receiving any 
 more, promise punctually to return them 
 by the next post. Make my compli- 
 ments to dear Mrs. Boswell, and to Miss 
 Veronica. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yours most faithfully, 
 " Sam. Johnson §." 
 " Jan. 1, 1775." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 "Edinburgh, Jan. 27, 1775. 
 " You rate our lawyers here too high, 
 when you call them great masters of the 
 law of nations. 
 
 ****** 
 *' As for myself, I am ashamed to say 
 I have read little and thought little on the 
 subject of America. I will be much 
 obliged to you if you will direct me 
 where I shall find the best information 
 of what is to be said on both sides. It is 
 a subject vast in its present extent and 
 future consequences. The imperfect hints 
 which now float in my mind tend rather 
 to the formation of an opinion that our 
 government has been precipitant and 
 severe in the resolutions taken against 
 the Bostonians. Well do you know that 
 I have no kindness for that race. But 
 nations or bodies of men should, as well 
 as individuals, have a fair trial, and not 
 be condemned on character alone. Have 
 we not express contracts with our colo- 
 nies, which afford a more certain founda- 
 tion of judgment than general political 
 
 § He now sent me a Latin inscription for 
 my historical picture Mary Queen of Scots, 
 and afterwards favoured me with an English 
 translation. Mr. Alderman Boydell, that emi- 
 nent Patron of the Arts, has subjoined them 
 to the engraving from my picture. 
 " Maria Scotorum Regina, 
 Hominum seditioaorum 
 Contilmcliis laxsala. 
 Minis icrrita, clamoribns victa, 
 Libello, per qtiem 
 Regno cedit, 
 Lacrimans trtpidansqiie 
 
 Nomen appnnit. 
 
 " Mary Queen of Scots, 
 
 Harassed, terrified, and overpowered 
 
 By the insults, menaces, 
 
 Anil clamours 
 Of her rebellious subjects. 
 
 Sets her haiid. 
 
 With tears and confusion. 
 
 To a resignation of the kingdom." 
 
252 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 speculations on the mutual rights of States 
 and their provinces or colonies? Pray 
 let me know immediately what to read, 
 and I shall diligently endeavour to gather 
 for you any thing that 1 can find. Is 
 Burke's speech on American taxation 
 published by himself? Is it authentick? 
 I remember to have heard yon say, that 
 you had never considered East Indian 
 affairs : though, surely, they are of much 
 importance to Great Britain. Under the 
 recollection of this I shelter myself from 
 the reproach of ignorance about the Ame- 
 ricans. If you write upon the subject I 
 shall certainly understand it. But, since 
 you seem to expect that I should know 
 something of it, without your instruction, 
 and that my own mind should suggest 
 something, I trust you will put me in 
 the way. 
 
 *' What does Becket mean by the 
 Originals of Fingal and other poems of 
 Ossian, which he advertises to have lain 
 in his shop V 
 
 ****** 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSVTELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** You sent me a case to consider, in 
 which I have no facts but what are 
 against us, nor any principles on which 
 to reason. It is vain to try to write thus 
 without materials. The fact seems to be 
 against you ; at least I cannot know nor 
 say any thing to the contrary. I am 
 glad that you like the book so well. I 
 hear no more of Macpherson. I shall 
 long to know what Lord Hailes says of 
 it. Lend it him privately. I shall send 
 the parcel as soon as I can. Make my 
 compliments to Mrs. Boswell. I am, 
 SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "Jan. i'8, 1773." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 2. 1775. 
 
 " As to Macpherson, I am anxious to 
 have from yourself a fidl and pointed 
 account of what has passed between you 
 and him. It is confidently told here, 
 that before your book came out he sent 
 to you, to let you know that he under- 
 stood you meant to deny the authenticity 
 of Ossian's poems; that the originals 
 were in his possession ; that you might 
 have inspection of them, and might take 
 the evidence of people skilled in the Erse 
 language; and that he hoped, after this 
 fair otter, you would not be so uncandid 
 as to assert that he had refused reason- 
 able proof. That you paid no regard to 
 his message, but published your strong 
 attack upon him ; and then he wrote a 
 
 letter to you in such terms as he thought 
 suited to one who had not acted as a 
 man of veracity. You may believe it 
 gives me pain to hear your conduct 
 represented as unfavourable, while I can 
 only deny what is said on the ground 
 that your character refutes it, without 
 having any information to oppose. Let 
 me, I beg it of you, be furnished with a 
 sutficient answer to any calumny upon 
 this occasion. 
 
 " Lord Hailes writes to me (for we 
 correspond more than we talk together), 
 ' As to Fingal, I see a controversy arising, 
 and purpose to keep out of its way. There 
 is no doubt that I might mention some 
 circumstances; but I do not choose to 
 commit them to paper *.' What his 
 opinion is I do not know. He says * I 
 am singularly obliged to Dr. Johnson 
 for his accurate and useful criticisms. 
 Had he given some strictures on the 
 general plan of the work, it would have 
 added much to his favours.' He is 
 charmed with your verses on Inchken- 
 neth, says they are very elegant, but 
 bids me tell you he doubts whether 
 
 ' Legitimas faciunt peclora pura pieces ' 
 be according to the rubrick : but that is 
 your concern ; for, you know, he is a 
 Presbyterian." 
 
 " TO DR. LAWRENCE + . 
 *' SIR, Feb. 7, 177-5. 
 
 " One of the Scotch physicians is now 
 prosecuting a corporation that in some 
 publick instrument have styled him Doc- 
 tor of Medicine instead of Physician. 
 Boswell desires, being advocate for the 
 corporation, to know whether Doctor of 
 Medicine is not a legitimate title, and 
 whether it may be considered as a dis- 
 advantageous distinction. I am to write 
 to-night; be pleased to tell me. I am, 
 SIR, your most, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** to james boswell, esq. 
 
 " MY DEAR BOSWEIoL, 
 
 " I AM surprised that, knowing as you do 
 the disposition of your countrymen to tell 
 lies in favour of each other j, you can be 
 at all aHecte<l by any reports that circu- 
 late among them. Macpherson never in 
 
 • [His Lonlhhip, notwithstanding his reso- 
 lution, did (-oniniit his sentiments to paper, 
 and in one of his notes affixed to his Collec- 
 tion of Old Scottish Poetry, he says, that " to 
 doubt the amluMiiicity of those nuems is a 
 reftnenient in Soepticisni indeed.'' I. B.] 
 
 t The learned and worthy Dr. Lawrence, 
 
 whom Dr. Johnson respected and loved as his 
 
 physician and friend. 
 
 I X My friend has, in this letter, relied upon 
 
 ' my testimony, with a confidence of which the 
 
 ground has escaped my recollection. 
 
;etat. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 253 
 
 his life offered me a sight of any original 
 or of any evidence of any kind ; but 
 thought only of intimidating me by noise 
 and threats, till my last answer, — that I 
 would not be deterred from detecting 
 what I thought a cheat, by the menaces 
 of a ruffian — put an end to our corres- 
 pondence. 
 
 " The state of the question is this. He, 
 and Dr. Blair, whom I consider as de- 
 ceived, say that he copied the poem from 
 old manuscripts. His copies, if he had 
 them, and I believe him to have none, 
 are nothing. Where are the manuscripts ? 
 They can be siiovvn if they exist, but 
 they were never shown. De non exis- 
 tentibus et non apparentibus, says our 
 law, eadem est ratio. No man has a 
 claim to credit upon his own word when 
 better evidence, if he had it, may be 
 easily produced. But, so far as we can 
 find, the Erse language was never writ- 
 ten till very lately for the purposes of 
 religion. A nation that cannot write, or 
 a language that was never written, has no 
 manuscripts. 
 
 " But whatever he has he never ottered 
 to show. If old manuscripts should now 
 be mentioned, I should, unless there weie 
 more evidence than can be easily had, 
 suppose them another proof of Scotch 
 conspiracy in national falsehood. 
 
 " Do not censure the expression ; you 
 know it to be true. 
 
 *' Dr. Memis's question is so narrow 
 as to allow no speculation ; and I have 
 no facts before me but those which his 
 advocate has produced against you. 
 
 " I consulted this morning the Presi- 
 dent of the London College of Physicians, 
 who says, that with us, Doctor of Phy- 
 sick (we do not say Doctor of Medicine J 
 is the highest title that a practiser of 
 physick can have; that Doctor implies 
 not only Physician but teacher of phy- 
 sick ; that every Doctor is legally a 
 Physician j but no man, not a Doctor, 
 can practise physick but by license 
 particularly granted. The Doctorate is 
 a license of itself. It seems to us a very 
 slender cause of prosecution. 
 
 « » « « 4^ W 
 
 ** I am now engaged, but in a little 
 time I hope to do all you would have. 
 My compliments to Madam and Vero- 
 nica. I am, SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Feb. 7, 1775 " " Sam. JohNSON." 
 
 What words were used by Mr. Mac- 
 pherson, in his letter to the venerable 
 Sage, I have never heard ; but they are 
 generally said to have been of a nature 
 very different from the language of lite 
 rary contest. Dr. Johnson's answer ap- 
 p peared in the newspapers of the day, and 
 
 has since been frequently republished ; 
 but not with perfect accuracy. I give it 
 as dictated to me by himself, written 
 down in his presence, and authenticated 
 by a note in his own hand-writing, 
 " This, I think, is a true copy*.^^ 
 
 " MR. JAMES MACPHERSON, 
 
 " I RECEIVED your foolish and impudent 
 letter. Any violence offered me I shall 
 do my best to repel ; and what I cannot 
 do for myself the law shall do for me. 
 I hope I shall never be deterred from 
 detecting what I think a cheat, by the 
 menaces of a ruffian. 
 
 "What would you have me retract? 
 I thought your book an imposture ; I 
 think it an imposture still. For this 
 opinion I have given my reasons to the 
 publick, which I here dare you to refute. 
 Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since 
 your Homer, are not so formidable ; and 
 what I hear of your morals inclines me 
 to pay regard not to what you shall say, 
 but to what you shall prove. You may 
 print this if you will. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Mr. Macpherson little knew the cha- 
 racter of Dr. Johnson if he supposed that 
 he could be easily intimidated; for no 
 man was ever more remarkable for per- 
 sonal courage. He had, indeed, an awful 
 dread of death, or rather, of " something 
 after death ;" and what rational man, 
 who seriously thinks of quitting all that 
 he has ever known, and going into a new 
 and unknown state of being, can be with- 
 out that dread? But his fear was from 
 reflection ; his courage natural. His fear, 
 in that one instance, was the result of 
 philosophical and religious consideration. 
 He feared death, but he feared nothing 
 else, not even what might occasion death. 
 Many instances of his resolution may be 
 mentioned. One day at Mr. Beauclerk's 
 house in the country, when two large 
 dogs were fighting, he went up to them, 
 and beat them till they separated ; and 
 at another time, when told of the danger 
 there was that a gun might burst if 
 charged with many balls, he put in six 
 or seven, and fired it off against a wall. 
 Mr. Langton told me that when they 
 were swimming together near Oxford, 
 he cautioned Dr. Johnson against a pool 
 which was reckoned particularly dan- 
 gerous ; upon which Johnson directly 
 swam into it. He told me himself that 
 one night he was attacked in the street 
 by four men, to whom he would not 
 yield, but kept them all at bay till the 
 watch came up, and carried both him 
 and them to the round-house. In the 
 playhouse at Lichfield, as Mr. Garrick 
 
 * I have deposited it in the Kritisli Museum. 
 
254 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 informed itie, Johnson having for a mo- 
 ment quitted a chair which was placed 
 for him between the side-scenes, a gen- 
 tleman took possession of it, and when 
 Johnson on his return civilly demanded 
 his seat, rudely refused to give it up ; 
 upon which Johnson laid hold of it, and 
 tossed him and the chair into the pit. 
 Foote, who so successfully revived the 
 old comedy, by exhibiting living charac- 
 ters, had resolved to imitate Johnson on 
 the stage, expecting great profits from his 
 ridicule of so celebrated a man. Johnson 
 being informed of his intention, and being 
 at dinner at Mr. Thomas Davies's the 
 bookseller, from whom I had the story, 
 he asked Mr. Davies " what was the 
 common price of an oak stick;" and 
 being answered sixpence, " Why then, 
 sir (said he), give me leave to send your 
 servant to purchase me a shilling one, 
 I'll have a double quantity ; for I am 
 told Foote means to take me off, as he 
 calls it, and I am determined the fellow 
 shall not do it with impunity." Davies 
 took care to acquaint Foote of this, which 
 effectually checked the wantonness of 
 the mimick. Mr. Macpherson's menaces 
 made Johnson provide himself with the 
 same implement of defence ; and, had he 
 been attacked, I have no doubt that, old 
 as he was, he would have made his cor- 
 poral prowess be felt as much as his 
 intellectual. 
 
 His '* Journey to the Western Islands 
 of Scotland" (a) is a most valuable per- 
 formance. It abounds in extensive philo- 
 sophical views of society, and in ingenious 
 sentiment and lively description. A con- 
 siderable part of it, indeed, consists of 
 speculations which many years before he 
 saw the wild regions which we visited 
 together probably had employed his at- 
 tention, though the actual sight of those 
 scenes undoubtedly quickened and aug- 
 mented them. Mr. Orme, the very able 
 historian, agreed with me in this opinion, 
 which he thus strongly expressed : — 
 " There are in that book thoughts which, 
 by long revolution in the great mind of 
 Johnson, have been formed and polished 
 like pebbles rolled in the ocean!" 
 
 That he was to some degree of excess 
 a trueborn Enyliahman, so as to have 
 entertained an undue prejtulice against 
 both the «-.<iuntry and the people of Scot- 
 land, nni>t he allowed. JJut it was :t 
 prejudice ..t Ww Ina.l, and not of the 
 heart. ll<- li.nl no ill will to the Srotch ; 
 for, il h. had hem (-..ii-ciniis of that, he 
 iii'vrr wom'.iI hi\c ihicAri himself into 
 the l)oH>iii of their (-(.imiry, and (rusted 
 to the protection ot its remote inliahj 
 tants with a tV-iirless roulidence. His 
 remark upon the nakedness of the coun- 
 try from its being deniuled ot trees, was 
 
 made after having travelled two hundred 
 miles along the Eastern coast, where cer- 
 tainly trees are not to be found near the 
 road ; and he said it was " a map of the 
 road " which he gave. His disbelief of 
 the authenticity of the poems ascribed to 
 Ossian, a Highland bard, was confirmed 
 in the course of his journey by a very 
 strict examination of the evidence offered 
 for it : and although their authenticity 
 was made too much a national point by 
 the Scotch, there were many respectable 
 persons in that country who did not con- 
 cur in this; so that his judgment upon 
 the question ought not to be decried, 
 even by those who differ from him. As 
 to myself, I can only say, upon a subject 
 now become very uninteresting, that 
 when the fragments of Highland poetry 
 first came out, I was much pleased with 
 their wild peculiarity, and was one of 
 those who subscribed to enable their edi- 
 tor, Mr. Macpherson, then a young man, 
 to make a search in the Highlands and 
 Hebrides for a long poem in the Erse 
 language, which was reported to be pre- 
 served somewhere in those regions. But 
 when there came forth an Epick Poetn 
 in six books, with all the common cir- 
 cumstances of former compositions of 
 that nature ; and when, upon an atten- 
 tive examination of it, there was found a 
 perpetual recurrence of the same images 
 which appear in the fragments ; and 
 when no ancient manuscript to authenti- 
 cate the work was deposited in any pub- 
 lick library, though that was insisted on 
 as a reasonable proof, who could forbear 
 to doubt? 
 
 Johnson's grateful acknow ledgments of 
 kindness received in the course of this 
 tour completely refute the brutal reflec- 
 tions which have been thrown out against 
 liim, as if he had made an ungrateful 
 return ; and his di Hcacy in sp;iring in his 
 book those who we find, from his letters 
 to Mrs. Thrale, were just objects of 
 censure, is much to be admired. His 
 candour and amiable disposition is con- 
 spicuous from his conduct, when informed 
 by Mr. Marleod (M Kas ;y, that he had 
 coniiniiud a mi.-Iake, which gave that 
 gentleman some uiieasiue. s. lie wrote 
 him a courteous and kind ii iter, and in- 
 serted in the newspapers an adveitise- 
 ment correctinu the mi lake * . 
 
 The observations ui my iVieiid Mr. 
 l)eni|)slei in a letter \->rituii to me, soon 
 atler he had r.-ad Dr. .'ohnson's book, 
 are so just and liheial that they cannot 
 be loo often r( |)eate(l : 
 
 "There is nothing in the book, from 
 
 he^innini: to end, that a Scotchman need 
 
 •i^ See "Journal of a Tourio the Hehridep," 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Mr AT. 66. 
 
 to take amiss. What he says of the 
 country is true ; and his observations on 
 the people are what must naturally occur 
 to a sensible, observing, and reflecting 
 inhabitant of a convenient metropolis, 
 where a man on thirty pounds a year 
 may be better accommodated with all 
 the little wants of life than Col or Sir 
 Allan. 
 
 ** 1 am charmed with his researches 
 concerning the Erse language, and the 
 antiquity of their manuscripts. I am 
 quite convinced ; and I shall rank Ossian 
 and his Fingals and Oscars amongst the 
 nursery tales, not the true history of our 
 country, in all time to come. 
 
 *' Upon the whole, the book cannot 
 displease, for it has no pretensions. The 
 authour neither says he is a geographer, 
 nor an antiquarian, nor very learned in 
 the history of Scotland, nor a naturalist, 
 nor a fossilist. The manners of the peo- 
 ple and the face of the country are all he 
 attempts to describe, or seems to have 
 thought of. Much were it to be wished 
 that they who have travelled into more 
 remote, and of course more curious re 
 gions, had all possessed his good sense. 
 Of the state of learning, his observations 
 on Glasgow University show he has 
 formed a very sound judgment. He un- 
 derstands our climate too; and he has 
 accurately observed the changes, how- 
 ever slow and imperceptible to us, which 
 Scotland has undergone, in consequence 
 of the blessings of liberty and internal 
 peace." 
 
 Mr. Knox, another native of Scotland, 
 who has since made the same tour, and 
 published an account of it, is equally 
 liberal. *' I have read (says he) his book 
 again and again, travelled with him from 
 Berwick to Glenelg, through countries 
 with which I am well acquainted ; sailed 
 with him from Glenelg to Rasay, Sky, 
 Rum, Col, Mull, and Icolmkill, but have 
 not been able to correct him in any 
 matter of consequence. I have often 
 admired the accuracy, the precision, and 
 the justness of what he advances, respect- 
 ing both the country and the people. 
 
 " The Doctor has every where deli- 
 vered his sentiments with freedom, and 
 in many instances with a seeming regard 
 for the benefit of the inhabitants, and the 
 ornament of the country. His remarks 
 on the want of trees and hedges for shade, 
 as well as for shelter to the cattle, are 
 well founded, and merit the thanks, not 
 the illiberal censure, of the natives. He 
 also felt for the distresses of the High- 
 landers, and explodes with great pro- 
 priety the bad management of the grounds, 
 and the neglect of timber in the He- 
 brides." 
 t Having quoted Johnson's just compli- 
 
 255 
 
 ments on the Rasay family, he says, ** On 
 the other hand, I found this family equally 
 lavish in their encomiums upon the Doc- 
 tor's conversation, and his subsequent 
 civilities to a young gentleman of that 
 country, who, upon waiting upon him at 
 London, was well received, and experi- 
 enced all the attention and regard that a 
 warm friend could bestow. Mr. Mac- 
 leod, having also been in London, waited 
 upon the Doctor, who provided a magni- 
 ficent and expensive entertainment in 
 honour of his old Hebridean acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 And, talking of the military road by 
 Fort Augustus, he says, " By this road, 
 though one of the most rugged in Great 
 Britain, the celebrated Dr. Johnson 
 passed from Inverness to the Hebride 
 Isles. His observations on the country 
 and people are extremely correct, judi- 
 cious, and instructive*." 
 
 Mr. Tytler, the acute and able vindi- 
 cator of Mary Queen of Scots, in one of 
 his letters to Mr. James Elphinstone, 
 published in that gentleman's " Forty 
 Years' Correspondence," says, " I read 
 Dr. Johnson's Tour with very great plea- 
 sure. Some few errours he has fallen 
 into, but of no great importance, and 
 those are lost in the numberless beauties 
 of his work. 
 
 ** If I had leisure, I could, perhaps, 
 point out the most exceptionable places ; 
 but at present I am in the country, and 
 have not his book at hand. It is plain 
 he meant to speak well of Scotland ; and 
 he has in my apprehension done us great 
 honour in the most capital article, tlie 
 character of the inhabitants." 
 
 His private letters to Mrs. Thrale, 
 written during the course of his journey, 
 which therefore may be supposed to 
 convey his genuine feelings at the time, 
 abound in such benignant sentiments to- 
 wards the people who showed him civi- 
 lities that no man whose temper is not 
 very harsh and sour can retain a doubt 
 of the goodness of his heart. 
 
 It is painful to i-ecollect with what 
 rancour he was assailed by numbers of 
 shallow irritable North Britons, on ac- 
 count of his supposed injurious treatment 
 of their country and countrymen in his 
 " Journey." Had there been any just 
 ground for such a charge, would the 
 virtuous and candid Dempster have given 
 his opinion of the book in the terms in 
 which I have quoted? Would the pa- 
 triotick Knoxf have spoken of it as he 
 lias done? Would Mr. Tytler, surely 
 *' a Scot, if evei Scot there were," 
 
 * Page 103. 
 
 t 1 observed with much regret, while the 
 first elition of this work was passing through 
 the press (August, 1790), that this ingenious 
 gentleman was dead. 
 
256 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 have expressed himself thus 1 And let me 
 add, that, citizen of the world as I hold 
 myself to be, I have that degree of predi- 
 lection for my natale solum, nay, I have 
 that just sense of the merit of an ancient 
 nation which has been ever renowned 
 for its valour, which in former times 
 maintained its independence against a 
 powerful neighbour, and in modern times 
 has been equally distinguished for inge- 
 nuity and industry in civilized life, that 
 I should have felt a generous indignation 
 at any injustice done to it. Johnson 
 treated Scotland no worse than he did 
 even his best friends, whose characters 
 he used to give as they appeared to him, 
 both in light and shade. Some people, 
 who had not exercised their minds suffi- 
 ciently, condemned him for censuring his 
 friends. But Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose 
 philosophical penetration and justness of 
 thinking were not less known to those 
 who lived with him than his genius in 
 his art is admired by the world, ex- 
 plained his conduct thus : " He was fond 
 of discrimination, which he could not 
 show without pointing out the bad as 
 well as the good in every character ; and 
 as his friends were those whose charac- 
 ters he knew best, they afforded him the 
 best opportunity for showing the acute- 
 ness of his judgment." 
 
 He expressed to his friend Mr. Wind- 
 ham of Norfolk his wonder at the ex- 
 treme jealousy of the Scotch, and their 
 resentment at having their country de- 
 scribed by him as it reaJly was; when, 
 to say that it was a country as good as 
 England would have been a gross false- 
 hood. " None of us (said he) would be 
 offended if a foreigner who has travelled 
 here should say, that vines and olives 
 don't grow in England." And as to his 
 prejudice against the Scotch, which 1 
 always ascribed to that nationality which 
 he observed in them, he said to the same 
 gentleman, '* When I find a Scotchman 
 to whom an Englishman is as a Scotch- 
 man, that Scotchman shall be as an 
 Englishman to me." His intimacy with 
 many gentlemen of Scotland, and his 
 employing so many natives of that coun- 
 try as his amanuenses, prove that liis 
 prejudice was not virulent; and I li;ivt 
 
 deposited in the British Museun), a iii^-i 
 
 other pieces of his writing, tlu- follow jni: 
 note in answer to one from nie, asking it 
 he wouhl in. Ml 111.- at (liim. r at the i\lilr«', 
 though a fritiid of niinr, a Si-oUhnian, 
 was to be there :—" Mr, Johnson does 
 not see why Mr. Boswcll should suppose 
 a Scotchman loss acceptable than any 
 Otlur man. H.- will !)•■ at ll.r Milre." 
 
 M\ much vahu.l Hi. iHl Dr. Haniard, 
 now Hishop .)t Killaloi', havint: one.' e\. 
 pressed to him an apprehension, that if 
 he should visit Ireland he might treat the 
 
 people of that country more unfavourably 
 ilian he had done the Scotch, he answer- 
 ed, with strong pointed double-edged wit, 
 " Sir, you have no reason to be afraid of 
 me. The Irish are not in a conspiracy 
 to cheat the world by false representa- 
 tions of the merits of their countrymen. 
 No, sir ; the Irish are a fair people ; — • 
 they never speak well of one another." 
 
 Johnson told me of an instance of 
 Scottish nationality which made a very 
 unfavourable iiTjpression upon his mind. 
 A Scotchman of some consideration in 
 London solicited him to recommend by 
 the weight of his learned authority, to be 
 master of an English school, a person of 
 whom he who recommended him con- 
 fessed he knew no more but that he was 
 his country njan. Johnson was shocked 
 at this unconscientious conduct. 
 
 All the miserable cavillings against his 
 " Journey," in newspapers, magazines, 
 and other fugitive publications, I can 
 speak from certain knowledge, only fur- 
 nished him with sport. At last there 
 came out a scurrilous volume, larger than 
 Johnson's own, filled with malignant 
 abuse, under a name, real or fictitious, of 
 some low man in an obscure corner of 
 Scotland, though supposed to be the work 
 of another Scotchman, who has found 
 means to make himself well known both 
 in Scotland and England. The effect which 
 it had upon Johnson was, to produce this 
 pleasant observation to Mr. Seward, to 
 whom he lent the book : ** This fellow 
 must be a blockhead. They don't know 
 how to go about their abuse. Who will 
 read a five shilling book against me? No, 
 sir, if they had wit, they should have 
 kept pelting me with pamphlets." 
 
 MR. BOSVVELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " rdiiihiutil), J^n. 18, 1775. 
 " You would have been very well pleased 
 if you had dined \\\\\\ me to-day. I had 
 for my guests, IMaeiinhat rie, > oung Mac- 
 lean of Col. the siieeessor of our friend, 
 a very amiable man, t!ion'j:li not marked 
 with such active qualities as hi? brother; 
 Mr. Maclean, of Torloisk in Mull, a gen- 
 tleman of Sir Allan's family ; and two 
 ot the clan Crant; so that the Highland 
 and llehriiieaii genius reigned. We had 
 a m. ai (leal of conversation about you, 
 and drank >onr health in a bumper. The 
 toast was not pioposed bv me, which is 
 a <ir.inii-.t,inee I., he i .■maVked, toe j ;iin 
 
 now so e. ..ted with > ou tiiat any 
 
 thing tlial I em >ay or do to your honour 
 has not til.' v.iliie ot an additional com- 
 pliment. It is onl\ uiving you a guinea 
 out of that treasiire of adnuration which 
 already belotigs to you, and which is no 
 hidden treasiwe ; for I suppose my admi- 
 ration of N(»n is<de\ist«'nt with the know- 
 led;:e ol m\ . haraeter. 
 
^TAT. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 257 
 
 •* I find that the Highlanders and He- 
 brideans in general are much fonder of 
 your * Journey ' than the low-country or 
 hither Scots. One of the Grants said 
 to-day, that he was sure you were a man 
 of a good heart, and a candid man, and 
 seemed to hope he should be able to 
 convince you of the antiquity of a good 
 proportion of the poems of Ossian. After 
 all that has passed, I think the matter is 
 capable of being proved to a certain de- 
 gree. I am told that Macpherson got 
 one old Erse MS. from Clanranald, for 
 the restitution of which he executed a 
 formal obligation ; and it is affirmed, 
 that the Gaelick (call it Erse or call it 
 Irish) has been written in the Highlands 
 and Hebrides for many centuries. It is 
 reasonable to suppose that such of the 
 inhabitants as acquired any learning pos- 
 sessed the art of writing as well as their 
 Irish neighbours and Celtick cousins ; 
 and the question is, can sufficient evidence 
 be shown of this 1 
 
 " Those who are skilled in ancient 
 writings can determine the age of MSS. 
 or at least can ascertain the century in 
 which they were written ; and if men of 
 veracity, who are so skilled, shall tell 
 us that MSS. in the possession of fami- 
 lies in the Highlands and isles are the 
 works of a remote age, I think we should 
 be convinced by their testimony. 
 
 *' There is now come to this city, Ra- 
 nald Macdonald from the Isle of Egg, 
 who has several MSS. of Erse poetry, 
 which he wishes to publish by subscrip- 
 tion. I have engaged to take three copies 
 of the book, the price of which is to be 
 six shillings, as I would subscribe for all 
 the Erse that can printed, be it old or 
 new, that the language may be preserved. 
 This man says that some of his manu- 
 scripts are ancient; and, to be sure, one 
 of them which was shown to me does 
 appear to have the duskiness of anti- 
 quity. 
 
 * * * Ht * # 
 
 " The inquiry is not yet quite hopeless, 
 and I should think that the exact truth 
 may be discovered if proper means be 
 used. I am, &c. 
 
 " Jamks Boswell." 
 
 ** to james boswell, esq. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM sorry that I could get no books 
 for my friends in Scotland. Mr, Strahan 
 has at last promised to send two dozen to 
 you. If they come, put the name of my 
 friends into them ; you may cut them 
 out* and paste them with a little starch 
 in the book. 
 
 '* You then are going wild about Os- 
 
 * From a list in his hand writing. 
 
 sian. Why do you think any part can 
 be proved? The dusky manuscript of 
 Egg is probably not fifty years old ; if it 
 be a hundred, it proves nothing. The 
 tale of Clanranald is no proof. Has 
 Clanranald told it? Can he prove it? 
 There are, I believe, no Erse manu- 
 scripts. None of the old families had a 
 single letter in Erse that we heard of. 
 You say it is likely that they could write. 
 The learned, if any learned there were, 
 could ; but knowing, by that learning, 
 some written language, in that language 
 they wrote, as letters had never been ap- 
 plied to their own. If there are manu- 
 scripts, let them be shown with some 
 proof that they are not forged for the 
 occasion. You say, many can remember 
 parts of Ossian. I believe all those parts 
 are versions of the English ; at least there 
 is no proof of their antiquity. 
 
 " Macpherson is said to have made 
 some translations himself; and having 
 taught a boy to write it, ordered him to 
 say that he had learnt it of his grandmo- 
 ther. The boy, when he grew up, told 
 the story. This Mrs. Williams heard at 
 Mr. Strahan's table. Don't be credulous ; 
 you know how little a Highlander can 
 be trusted. Macpherson is, so far as I 
 know, very quiet. Is not that proof 
 enough? Every thing is against him. 
 No visible manuscript : no inscription in 
 the language : no correspondence among 
 friends : no transaction of business, of 
 which a single scrap remains in t!ie an- 
 cient families. Macpherson's pretence 
 is, that the character was Saxon. If he 
 had not talked unskilfully of manuscripts, 
 he might have fought with oral tradition 
 much longer. As to Mr. Grant's infor- 
 mation, I suppose, he knows much less 
 of the matter than ourselves. 
 
 " In the mean time, the bookseller says 
 that the salef is sufficiently quick. They 
 printed four thousand. Correct your 
 copy wherever it is wrong, and bring it 
 up. Your friends will all be glad to see 
 you. I think of going myself into the 
 country about May. 
 
 " I am sorry that I have not managed 
 to send the book sooner. I have left four 
 for you, and do not restrict you absolutely 
 to follow ray directions in the distribu- 
 tion. You must use your own discretion. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well : I suppose she is now beginning to 
 forgive me. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 " Feb. 25, 1773." " Sam. Johnson." 
 On Tuesday, March 21, I arrived in 
 London; and on repairing to Dr. John- 
 
 + Of liis "Journey to the Western Islands 
 of Scotland." 
 
 S 
 
258 
 
 son's before dinner, found him in his 
 study, sitting with Mr. Peter Garrick, 
 the elder brother of David, strongly re- 
 sembling him in countenance and voice, 
 but of more sedate and placid manners. 
 Johnson informed me, that though Mr. 
 Beauclerk was in great pain, it was lioped 
 lie was not in danger, and that he now 
 wished to consult Dr. Heberden, to try 
 the etfect of a " new understanding,'" 
 Both at this interview, and in the even- 
 ing at Mr. Thrale's, where he and Mr. 
 Peter Garrick and I met again, he was 
 vehement on the subject of the Ossian 
 controversy ; observing, " We do not 
 know that there are any ancient Erse 
 manuscripts; and we have no other rea- 
 son to disbelieve that there are men with 
 three heads, but that we do not know 
 that there are any such men." He also 
 was outrageous upon his supposition that 
 my countrymen " loved Scotland better 
 than truth," saying, "All of them,— nay 
 not all, but droves of them would come 
 up and attest any thing for the honour of 
 Scotland. He also persevered in his 
 wild allegation, that he questioned if 
 there was a tree between Edinburgh and 
 the English border older than himself. I 
 assured him he was mistaken, and sng 
 gested that the proper punishment would 
 be that he should receive a stripe at every 
 tree above a hundred years old that was 
 found within tliat space. He laughed, 
 and said, " I believe I might submit to 
 it for a hauhee." 
 
 The doubts which, in my correspond- 
 ence with him, I had ventured to state 
 as to the justice and wisdom of the con- 
 duct of Great Britain towards the Ame- 
 rican colonies, while I at the same time 
 requested that he would enable me to 
 inform myself upon that momentous sub- 
 ject he had altogether disregarded ; and 
 had recently published a pamphlet, en- 
 titled " Taxation no Tyranny ; an answer 
 to the R»'soliiti<ms and Address of the 
 American Vuwzvv><."( a) 
 
 He had lung l)etore indulged most 
 unfavourable acutiments of our fellovv 
 subjects in America. Fi)r, as early as 
 1701), I was told by Dr. John Campbell 
 tiiat he had said o{ liuii!, " Sir, ilu y an- 
 a race of conviol-, and oii^hl l<. \h- thank 
 ful for any thing we allow tin in An>\\ dl 
 han^illg." 
 
 or this performance I avoided to talk 
 with him ; for I had now formed a cUai 
 and settled opiniorj, that the people ot 
 America were well warranted to resist a 
 claim that their fellow subjects in the 
 mother country should have the entire 
 command of their fortunes, by taxing 
 them without their own consent ; and 
 the extreme violence which it breathed 
 appeared to me so unsuitable to thp mild- 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775, 
 
 ness of a christian philosopher, and so 
 directly opposite to the principles of 
 peace which he had so beautifully re- 
 commended in his pamphlet respecting 
 Falkland's Islands, that I was sorry to 
 see him appear in so unfavourable a 
 light. Besides, I could not perceive in 
 it that ability of argument, or that feli- 
 city of expression, for which he was, 
 upon other occasions, so eminent. Posi- 
 tive assertion, sarcastical severity, and 
 extravagant ridicule, which he himself 
 reprobated as a test of truth, were united 
 in this rhapsody. 
 
 That this pamphlet was written at the 
 desire of those who were then in power 
 
 I have no doubt ; and, indeed, he owned 
 to me that it had been revised and cur- 
 tailed by some of them. He told me 
 that they had struck out one passage, 
 which was to this effect: " That the Co- 
 lonists could with no solidity argue from 
 their not having been taxed while in 
 their infancy, that they should not now 
 be taxed. We do not put a calf into the 
 plough; we wait till he is an ox." He 
 said, " They struck it out either critically 
 as too ludicrous, or politically as too ex- 
 asperating. I care not which. It was 
 their business. If an architect says, I 
 will build tive stories, and the man who 
 employs him says, I will have only three, 
 the employer is to decide." *' Yes, sir 
 (said I), in ordinary cases. But shoMhl 
 it be so when the architect gives his skill 
 and VAhonr gratis /'* 
 
 Unfavourable as I am constrained to 
 say my opinion of this pamphlet was, 
 yet, since it was congenial with the sen- 
 timents of numbers at that time, and as 
 every thing relating to the writings of 
 Dr. Johnson is of importance in literary 
 history, Ishall therefore insert some pas- 
 s.jges which were struck out, it does not 
 appear why, either by himself or those 
 who revised it. They appear printed in 
 a few proof leaves of it in my possession, 
 marked with corrections in his own hand- 
 writing. 1 shall distinguish them by 
 Italicks. 
 
 In the paragraph whrre hr says, tile 
 Americans wen; incittd to i csistaiK ( by 
 iMiroptan intilliiit'lice from" men nvIkhh 
 ilir\ ilKMi'^ht thcii- friends, but wiio wi'ic 
 
 II lends only to themselves," there tol- 
 loued, -" ttnd made, by f/icir sc/fis/i- 
 /n-ss, thv enemies of their eonnfyi/.'" 
 
 Ami I he next paragraph ran tinis : " On 
 Iheoii^inaleontiiversof misehiet, r, it her 
 than on those irhovi then /""■<' deluded, 
 let an in-nliMi nation pour out its ven-e 
 
 Hh' parai;iai)li wliieli eaine next U as 
 in tlirse NM.nIs: " I „h<ii<]>!l '> that 
 eounlrii in ivhich men eiin //(ii>e fur 
 advancement by favouring its enonies. 
 
^TAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 The tranquillity of stable government 
 is not always easily preserved against 
 the machinations of single innovators ; 
 but what can be the hope of quiet, when 
 factions hostile to the legislature can 
 be openly formed and openly avowed /" 
 
 After the paragraph which now con- 
 cludes the pamphlet, there t'ollowed this, 
 in which he certainly means the great 
 Earl of Chatham, and glances at a cer- 
 tain popular Lord Chancellor. 
 
 " Jf, by the fortune of war, they 
 drive us utterly away, what they will 
 do neat can only be conjectured. Jf 
 a new monarchy is erected, they will 
 want a King. He who .first takes into 
 his hand the sceptre of America should 
 have a name of good omen. William 
 boAs been known both a conqueror and 
 deliverer ; and perhaps England, how- 
 ever contemned^ might yet supply them 
 with ANOTHER WiLLLAM. H^Mgs, in- 
 deed, are not willing to be governed ; 
 and it is possible that King William 
 may be strongly inclined to guide their 
 measures: but l^Fhigs have been cheat- 
 ed like other mortals, and suffered 
 their leader to become their tyrant 
 under the name of their Protector. 
 Uliat more they will receive from 
 England no man can tell. In their 
 rudiments of empire they may want a 
 Chancellor." 
 
 Tlien came this paragraph : 
 
 " Their numbers are, at present, not 
 quite sufficient for the greatness which, 
 in some form of government or other, 
 is to rival the ancient monarchies; 
 but by Dr. Franklin's rule of progres- 
 sion, they will, in a century and a 
 quarter, be more than equal to the 
 inhabitants of Europe. When the 
 Whigs of America^ are thus multiplied, 
 let the Princes of the earth tremble in 
 their palaces. If they should continue 
 to double and to double, their own he- 
 misphere would not contain them. But 
 let not our boldest oppugners of autho- 
 rity look forward with delight to this 
 futurity of Whiggism.'^ 
 
 How it ended I know not, as it is cut 
 off abruptly at the foot of the last of 
 these proof pages. 
 
 His pamphlets in support of the mea- 
 sures of administration were published 
 on his own account, and he afterwards 
 collected them into a volume, with the 
 t jtie of '' Political Tracts, by tiie Authour 
 Q^JEeRambler," with this motto : 
 
 Fullitnr egreglo quhquis sub Principe credit 
 Servitinm; nnnquam liber tas graLior extat 
 iiaum sub Rage pio. Claudianus^ 
 
 These pamphlets drew upon him nume- 
 r^>us- attacks. Against the common wea- 
 pons of literary warfare he was hardened ; 
 
 269 
 
 but there were two instances of animad- 
 version which 1 communicated to him, 
 and from what I could judge, both from 
 his silence and his looks, appeared to me 
 to impress him much. 
 
 One was, " A Letter to Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson, occasioned by his late Political 
 Publications." It appeared previous to 
 his " Taxation no Tyranny," and \7a8 
 written by Dr. Joseph Towers. In that 
 performance Dr. Johnson was treated 
 with the respect due to so eminent a 
 man, while his conduct as a political 
 writer was boldly and pointedly arraign- 
 ed, as inconsistent with the character of 
 one, who, if he did employ his pen upon 
 politicks, " it might reasonably be ex- 
 pected should distinguish himself, not by 
 party violence and rancour, but by mo- 
 deration and by wisdom." 
 
 It concluded thus : *' I would, how- 
 ever, wish you to remember, should you 
 again address the publick under the cha- 
 racter of a political writer, that luxuriance 
 of imagination or energy of language will 
 ill compensate for the want of candour, 
 of justice, and of truth. And I shall 
 only add, that should I hereafter be dis- 
 posed to read, as 1 heretofore have done, 
 the most excellent of all jour perform- 
 ances, * The Rambler,' the pleasure 
 which I have been accustomed to find 
 in it will be much diminished by the 
 reflection that the writer of so moral, 
 so elegant, and so valuable a work was 
 capable of prostituting his talents in such 
 productions as * The False Alarm,' the 
 ' Thoughts on the Transactions respect- 
 ing Falkland's Islands,' and 'The Pa- 
 triot.' " 
 
 I am willing to do justice to the merit 
 of Dr. Towers, of whom I will say, that 
 although I abhor his Whiggish democra- 
 tical notions and propensities (for I will 
 not call them principles), I esteem him 
 as an ingenious, knowing, and very con- 
 vivial man. 
 
 The other instance was a paragraph of 
 a letter to me, from my old and most 
 intimate friend the Reverend Mr. Tem- 
 ple, who wrote the character of Gray, 
 which has had the honour to be adopted 
 botli by Mr. Mason and Dr. Johnson in 
 their accounts of that poet. The words 
 were, " How can your great, I will not 
 say your pious, but your moral friend 
 support the barbarous measures of admi- 
 nistration, which they have not the face 
 to ask even their infidel pensioner Hume 
 to defend?" 
 
 However confident of the rectitude of 
 his own mind, Johnson may have felt 
 sincere uneasiness that his conduct should 
 be erroneously imputed to unworthy mo- 
 tives by good men ; and that the influ- 
 ence of his valuable writings, should on 
 
260 
 
 that account be in any degree obstructed 
 or lessened. 
 
 He complained to a Right Honourable 
 friend of distinguished talents and very 
 elegant manners, with whom he main- 
 tained a long intimacy, and whose gene- 
 rosity towards him will afterwards ap- 
 pear, that his pension having been given 
 to him as a literary character, he had 
 been applied to by administration to 
 write political pamphlets; and he was 
 even so much irritated that he declared 
 his resolution to resign his pension. His 
 friend showed him tiie impropriety of 
 such a measure, and he afterwards ex- 
 pressed his gratitude, and said he had 
 received good advice. To that friend he 
 once signified a wish to have his pension 
 secured to him for his life ; but he neither 
 asked nor received from government any 
 reward whatsoever for his political la- 
 bours. 
 
 On Friday, March 24, I met him at 
 the Literary Club, wiiere were Mr. Beau- 
 clerk, Mr. Laugton, Mr. Colman, Dr. 
 Percy, Mr. Vesey, Sir Charles Bunbury, 
 Dr. George Fordyce, Mr. Steevens, and 
 Mr. Charles Fox. Before he came in, we 
 talked of his " Journey to the Western 
 Islands," and of his coming away," will- 
 ing to believe the second sight*," which 
 seemed to excite some ridicule. I was 
 then so impressed with the truth of 
 many of the stories of which I had been 
 told that 1 avowed my conviction, say- 
 ing, " He is only willing to believe : I 
 do believe. The evidence is enough for 
 me, though not for his great mind. What 
 will not fill a quart bottle will fill a pint 
 bottle. I am filled with belief." "Are 
 you? (said Colman) then cork it up." 
 
 I found his ** Journey ' the common 
 topick of conversation in London at this 
 time, wherever I happened to be. At 
 one of Lord Mansfield's formal Sunday 
 evening conversations, strangely called 
 Levees, his Lordship addressed me, 
 " We have all been reading your travels, 
 Mr. Boswell." I answered, " I was but 
 the humble attendant of Dr. Johnson." 
 The Chief Justice replied, with that air 
 and manner which none who ever saw and 
 heard him can forget, " He speaks ill of 
 nobody but Ossian." 
 
 Johnson was in high spirits this even 
 ing at the club, and talked with great 
 animation and success. He attacked 
 Swift, as he used to do upon all occa- 
 sions. "The 'Tale of a Tub' is so 
 much superiourto his other writings that 
 one can hardly believe he was the au- 
 tliour of it+ : there is in it such a vigour 
 
   Jolinson'd " Journey to the Wottrn 
 It;!an«l8 of Scotland," e'lir. 1785, p. 256. 
 
 t This doubt has been much aifUatcd on 
 boih sides, L tliiuk, without good reaaon. See 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 of mind, such a swarm of thoughts, so 
 much of nature, and art, and life." 1 
 wondered to hear him say of * Gulliver's 
 Travels,' " When once you have thought 
 of big men and little men, it is very easy 
 to do all the rest." I endeavoured to 
 make a stand for Swift, and tried to 
 rouse those who were much more able to 
 defend him ; but in vain. Johnson at 
 last, of his own accord, allowed very 
 great merit to the inventory of articles 
 found in the pocket of " The Man Moun- 
 tain," particularly the description of his 
 watch, which, it was conjectured, was 
 his God, as he consulted it upon all occa- 
 sions. He observed, that " Swift put 
 his name to but two things (after he had 
 a name to put), ' The Plan of Improve- 
 ment of the English Language,' and the 
 last * Drapier's Letter.' " 
 
 From Swift, there was an easy transi- 
 tion to Mr. Thomas Sheridan. — Johnson. 
 " Sheridan is a wonderful admirer of the 
 tragedy of Douglas, and presented its 
 authour with a gold medal. Some years 
 ago, at a coffee-house in Oxford, I called 
 to hi«i, * Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Sheridan, 
 how came you to give a gold medal to 
 Home for writing that foolish play V 
 This, you see, was wanton and insolent ; 
 but I meant to be wanton and insolent. 
 A medal has no value but as a stamp of 
 merit. And was Sheridan to assume to 
 himself the right of giving that stamp? 
 If Sheridan was magnificent enough to 
 bestow a gold medal as an honorary re- 
 ward of dramatick excellence, he should 
 have requested one of the Universities to 
 choose the person on whom it should be 
 conferred. Sheridan had no right to 
 give a stamp of merit : it was counter- 
 feiting Apollo's coin." 
 
 On Monday, March 27, I breakfasted 
 with him at Mr. Strahan's. He told us, 
 
 Addison^s "Freeholder," May 4, 1714; An 
 Apolog'y for the Tale of a Tub:— Dr. Hawke;)- 
 worth's Preface to Swift's Works, and Swift's 
 Letter to Tooke the Printer, and Tooke'» 
 Answer in that Collection:— Sheridan's Life 
 of Swift:— Mr. Courtenay's note on p. 3 of 
 his '* Poetical Review of the Literary and 
 Moral Character of Dr. Johnson;" an«l Mr. 
 Cooksey'8 " Essay on the Life and Cliaracler 
 of John Lord Somers, lUron of H\e8han)." 
 
 Dr. Johnson here sneaks only to the inter- 
 nal evidence. I take leaVe to differ from him, 
 having' a very hi(;h eotimation of the powers 
 of Dr. Swifi. His ••Sentiments of a Church 
 of Unfjiand Man ;" lii» " Sermon on the Tri- 
 nity," and other serious pieces prove his 
 learning as well as his acuteness in loprick 
 and metaphyHicks; and his various composi- 
 tions of a dffterent oast exhibit not only wit, 
 himiour, and ridicule; l)ut a knowledtre •* of 
 naturo, and art, and life;" a combination 
 therefore of (hose powers, when (as the •* Apo- 
 logy " says), " Ine authour was young, liis 
 invention at the height, and his reading fre»h 
 in his head," niij{lit surtly produce '• T/ie 
 Tale of a Tub." 
 
i^TAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 &6I 
 
 that he was engaged to go that evening 
 to Mrs. Abington's benefit. She was 
 visiting some ladies whom I was visiting, 
 and begged that I would come to her 
 benetit. I told her I could not hear : but 
 she insisted so much on my coming that 
 it would have been brutal to have refused 
 her." This was a speecii quite charac- 
 teristical. He loved to bring forward 
 his having been in the gay circles of 
 life ; and he was, perhaps, a little vain 
 of the solicitations of this elegant and 
 fashionable actress. He told us, the 
 play was to be '* The Hypocrite," altered 
 from Gibber's " Nonjuror," so as to 
 satirize the Methodists. '* I do not think 
 (said he) the character of the Hypocrite 
 justly applicable to the Methodists, but 
 it was very applicable to the Nonjurors. 
 I once said to Dr. Madan, a clergyman 
 of Ireland, who was a great Whig, that 
 perhaps a Nonjuror would have been less 
 criminal in taking the oaths imposed by 
 the ruling power than refusing them ; be- 
 cause refusing them necessarily laid him 
 under almost an irresistible temptation 
 to be more criminal ; for a man must 
 live, and if he precludes himself from the 
 support furnished by the establishment, 
 will probably be reduced to very wicked 
 shifts to maintain himself*." Boswell. 
 " I should think, sir, that a man who took 
 the oaths contrary to his principles was a 
 
 * This was not merely a cursory remark ; 
 for in his Life of Fcnton he observes, " With 
 many other wise and virtuous men, who at 
 that time of discord and debate [about the 
 beginning of this century] consulted consci- 
 ence well or ill informed more than interest, 
 he doubted the legality of the g-overnment; 
 and, refuging to qualify himsell for publick 
 employment by taking the oaths required, 
 left the University without a degree." This 
 conduct Johnson calls " perverseness of inte- 
 grity." 
 
 The question concerning the morality of 
 taking oaths, of whatever kind, imposed by 
 the prevailing power at the time, rather than 
 to be excluded from all consequence, or even 
 any considerable usefulness in society, has 
 been agitated with all the acuteness of casu- 
 istry. It is related, that he who devised the 
 oath of abjuration profligately boasted, that 
 he had framed a test which should " damn 
 one half of the nation and starve the other.'' 
 Upon minds not exalted to inflexible recti- 
 tude, or minds in which zeal for party is pre- 
 dominant to excess, taking that oath against 
 conviction, may have been palliated under 
 the plea of necessity, or ventured upon in 
 heat, as upon the whole producing more good 
 than evil. 
 
 At a county election in Scotland, many 
 years ago, when " -   
 
 I there was a warm contest 
 
 cession and llio>e against it, the oath of ab- 
 juration having been demanded, the freehold- 
 ers upon one side rose to go away. Upon 
 which a very sanguine gentleman, one of 
 their number, ran to the door to stop them, 
 calling out with much earnestness, "Stay, 
 stay, my friends, and let us swear the rogues 
 out of it!" 
 
 determined wicked man, because he was 
 sure he was committing perjury, whereas 
 a Nonjuror might be insensibly led to 
 do what was wrong, without being so 
 directly conscious of it." Johnson. 
 "Why, sir, a man who goes to bed to 
 his patron's wife is pretty sure that he 
 is committing wickedness." Boswell,. 
 " Did the nonjuring clergymen do so, 
 sir?" Johnson. " I am afraid many of 
 them did." 
 
 I was startled at this argument, and 
 could by no means think it convincing. 
 Had not his own father complied with 
 the requisition of government (as to which 
 he once observed to me, when I pressed 
 him upon it, " That, sir, he was to settle 
 with liimself "), he would probably have 
 thought more unfavourably of a Jacobite 
 who took the oaths : 
 
 •* had he not resembled 
 
 My father as he suore ." 
 
 Mr. Strahan talked of launching into 
 the great ocean of London, in order to 
 have a chance for rising into eminence ; 
 and, observing that many men were kept 
 back from trying tlieir fortunes there, 
 because they were born to a competency, 
 said, " Small certainties are the bane of 
 men of talents ;" which Johnson con- 
 firmed. Mr. Strahan put Johnson in 
 mind of a remark which he had made to 
 him ; *' There are few ways in which a 
 man can be more innocently employed 
 than in getting money." " The more one 
 thinks of this (said Strahan), the juster 
 it will appear." 
 
 Mr. Strahan had taken a poor boy from 
 the country as an apprentice, upon John- 
 son's recommendation. Johnson having 
 inquired after him, said," Mr. Strahan, 
 let me have five guineas on account, and 
 I'll give this boy one. Nay, if a man 
 recommends a boy, and does nothing for 
 him, it is sad work. Call him down." 
 
 I followed him into the courtyard, be- 
 hind Mr. Strahan's house ; and there I 
 had a proof of what I had heard him 
 profess, that he talked alike to all, 
 " Some people tell you that they let 
 themselves down to the capacity of their 
 hearers. I never do that. I speak uni- 
 formly, in as intelligible a manner as I 
 can." 
 
 " Well, my boy, how do you go on ?" 
 — " Pretty w ell, sir ; but they are afraid 
 I an't strong enough for some parts of 
 the business." Johnson. " Why, I shall 
 be sorry for it; for when you consider 
 with how little mental power and corpo- 
 real labour a printer can get a guinea a 
 week, it is a very desirable occupation 
 for you. Do you hear, take all the pains 
 you can ; and if this does not do, we 
 must think of some other way of life foi: 
 you. There's a guinea." 
 
262 
 
 Here was one of the many, many in- 
 stances of his active benevolence. At 
 the same time, the slow and sonorons so- 
 lemnity with which, while he bent him- 
 self down, he addressed a little thick 
 short-legged boy, contrasted witli the 
 boy's awkwardness and awe, conhi not 
 but excite some ludicrous emotions. 
 
 I met him at Drnry Lane playhouse 
 in the evening. Sir Joshua Reynolds, at 
 Mrs. Abington's request, had promised 
 to bring a body of wits to her benefit ; 
 and, having secured forty places in the 
 front boxes, had done me the honour to 
 put me in the group. Johnson sat on the 
 seat directly behind me ; and as he could 
 neither see nor hear at such a distance 
 from the stage, he was wrapped up in 
 grave abstraction, and seemed quite a 
 cloud amidst all the sunshine of glitter 
 and gaiety. I wondered at his patience 
 in sitting out a play of five acts, and a 
 farce of two. He said very little ; but 
 after the prologue to " Bon Ton " had 
 been spoken, which he could hear pretty 
 well from the more slow and distinct 
 utterance, he talked on prologue writing, 
 and observed, " Dryden has written pro- 
 logues superiour to any that David Gar- 
 rick has written ; but David Garrick has 
 written more good prologues than Dry- 
 den has done. It is wonderful that he 
 has been able to write such variety of 
 them." 
 
 At Mr. Beauclerk's, where I supped, 
 was Mr. Garrick, whom I made happy 
 with Johnson's praise of his prologues ; 
 and, I suppose, in gratitude to him, he 
 took up one of his favourite topicks, the 
 nationality of the Scotch, which he main- 
 tained in a pleasant manner, with the aid 
 of a little poetical fiction. " Come, come, 
 don't deny it: they are really national. 
 Why, now, the Adams are as liberal 
 minded men as any in the world : but, 
 I don't know how it is, all their work- 
 men are Scotch. You are, to be sure, 
 wonderfully free from that nationality : 
 but so it happens, that you employ the 
 only Scotch shoeblack in London." He 
 imitate<l the manner of his old master 
 with ludicrous exaggeration ; repealing, 
 with pauses and half whistlings inter- 
 jected, 
 
 " Os honiini snhlime dedil, — culumqite Itieri 
 Jussit,—et ereclos ad iidera— toiler e vuttns." 
 
 looking downwards all the time, and 
 while pronouncing the four last words, 
 absolutely touching the groimd with a 
 kind of contorted gesticulation. 
 
 Qarrick, however, when he pleased, 
 could imitate Johnson very exactly ; for 
 that great actor, with his distinguished 
 powers of expression which were so 
 universally admind, [xi-Mssed also an 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 admirable talent of mimickry. He was 
 always jealous that Johnson spoke lightly 
 of him. I recollect his exhibiting him 
 to me one day, as if saying, ** Davy has 
 some convivial pleasantry about him, but 
 'lis a futile fellow;" which he uttered 
 perfectly with the tone and air of John- 
 son. 
 
 I cannot too frequently request of my 
 readers, while they peruse my account 
 of Jolmsoii'sconversation, to endeavour 
 to keep in mind his deliberate and strong 
 utterance. His mode of sperikin^; was 
 indeed very impressive * ; and I wish it 
 could be preserved as musick is written, 
 according to the very ingenious method 
 of Mr. Steele +, who has shown how the 
 recitation of Mr. Garrick, and other emi- 
 nent speakers, might be transmitted to 
 posterity in score i. 
 
 Next day I dined with Johnson at 
 Mr. Thrale's. He attacked Gray, call- 
 ing him " a dull fellow." Boswei-l. " I 
 understand he was reserved, and might 
 appear dull in company ; but surely he 
 was not dull in poetry." Johnson. " Sir, 
 he was dull in company, dull in his 
 closet, dull every where. He was dull 
 in a new way, and that made many 
 people think him great. He was a me- 
 chanical poet." He then repeate<l some 
 ludicrous lines, which have escaped my 
 memory, and said, ** Is not that great, 
 like his Odes?" Mrs. Thrale maintained 
 that his Odes were melodious; upon 
 which he exclaimed, 
 
 " Weave the warp, and weave the woofi'* 
 
 » My noble friend Lord I'enihroke said 
 once to me at Wilton, with a happy plea- 
 sKotry ^nd fotne truth that. " Dr. Johnson'* 
 sayiiios wnUlit noi appear so extraordinary, 
 were it not for liis how-rcow way." The say- 
 inirs thems(>lve8 are arenerally of sterling- 
 merit; hnt, (lonbtiess, his manner was an 
 addition to their effect; and therefore should 
 be attende<l to as lUHch as may he. ft in ne- 
 cessarj, ho\»ever. to guard iho>ie who were 
 not ac9iiainted with him aaamst overcharged 
 iinit-trion'i or caricatures of his n)annfr, which 
 are frequently attempted, and many or which 
 are second hand copies from ttie late Mr. Hrn- 
 (tersoii the actor, wlio, i hough a roo<I mimick 
 of some pergoiis, did not represent Johnson 
 correctly. 
 
 t See " Frosodia Hationalis ; or, an Essay 
 towards establishtnet llie Melody and Meatiure 
 of Si»eecli, lo tie expressed and perpetuated 
 by peculiar Symbols." London, 1779. 
 
 X I u>e the phrnse in srore, as Dr. Johnson 
 has extdainetj it in his Dri-ti«>nary. •* A song 
 in ScoRK, the words with the musical notes 
 • if a sontr annexed.'' But I uiKkr^tand that 
 in ticienMfn k pn>prieiy it means all ihe parts 
 of a musical composition noted down in the 
 cliarac ters by which it is exhibited to the eye 
 of the skilful. 
 
 [it wag declamation that Steele pre'ended 
 to reduce to notation by new characters. This 
 he called the melody of speech, not the har- 
 mony, which the term in score implies. li.J 
 
Mtkt. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 263 
 
 I added, in a solemn tone, 
 
 " The winding sheet of Edward's race. 
 There is a good line." — " Ay (said lie), 
 and the next line is a good one," (pro- 
 nouncing it contemptuously) ; 
 " Give ample verge and room enough.—" 
 
 " No, sir, there are but two good stanzas 
 in Gray's poetry, which are in his* Elegy 
 in a Country Churchyard.'" He then 
 repeated the stanza, 
 ** For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey," &c. 
 
 mistaking one word ; for instead of pre- 
 cincts he said confines. He added, ** The 
 other stanza I forget." 
 
 A young lady who had married a man 
 much her inferiour in rank being men- 
 tioned, a question arose how a woman's 
 relations should behave to her in such a 
 situation; and, while I recapitulate the 
 debate and recollect what has since hap- 
 pened, I cannot but be struck in a man- 
 ner that delicacy forbids me to express. 
 While I contended that she ought to be 
 treated with an inflexible steadiness of 
 displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for mild- 
 ness and forgiveness, and, according to 
 the vulgar phrase, " making the best of 
 a bad bargain." Johnson. " Madam, 
 we must distinguish. Were I a man of 
 rank I would not let a daughter starve 
 who had made a mean marriage; but 
 having voluntarily degraded herself from 
 the station which she was originally en- 
 titled to hold, I would support her only 
 in that which she herself had chosen ; 
 and would not put her on a level with 
 my other daughters. You are to con- 
 sider, madam, that it is our duty to 
 maintain the subordination of civilized 
 society ; and when there is a gross and 
 shameful deviation from rank, it should 
 be punished so as to deter others from 
 the same perversion." 
 
 After frequently considering this sub- 
 ject, I am more and more confirmed in 
 what I then meant to express, and which 
 was sanctioned by the authority and illus- 
 trated by the wisdom of Johnson ; and I 
 think it of the utmost consequence to the 
 happiness of society, to which subordi- 
 nation is absolutely necessary. It is 
 weak and contemptible and unvvorthy in 
 a parent to relax in such a case. It is 
 sacrificing general advantage to private 
 feelings. And let it be considered, that 
 the claim of a daughter who has acted 
 thus to be restored to her former situation 
 is either fantastical or unjust. If there 
 be no value in the distinction of rank, 
 what does she suffer by being kept in the 
 situation to which she has descended? If 
 there be a value in that distinction, it 
 ought to be steadily maintained. If in- 
 
 dulgence be shown to such conduct, and 
 the offenders know that in a longer or 
 shorter time they shall be received as 
 well as if they had not contaminated 
 their blood by a base alliance, the great 
 check upon that inordinate caprice which 
 generally occasions low marriages will be 
 removed, and the fair and comfortable 
 order of improved life will be miserably 
 disturbed. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield's letters being men- 
 tioned, Johnson said, *' It was not to be 
 wondered at that they had so great a 
 sale, considering that they were the let- 
 ters of a statesman, a wit, one who had 
 been so much in the mouths of mankind, 
 one long accustomed virum volitare per 
 ova." 
 
 On Friday, March 31, I supped with 
 him and some friends at a tavern. One 
 of the company attempted, with too much 
 forwardness, to rally him on his late 
 appearance at the theatre; but had rea- 
 son to repent of his temerity. " Why, 
 sir, did you go to Mrs. Abington's bene- 
 fit ? Did you see?" Johnson. " No, 
 sir." " Did you hear?" Johnson. " No, 
 sir." " Why then, sir, did you go?" 
 Johnson. " Because, sir, she is a favou- 
 rite of the publick ; and when the pub- 
 lick cares the thousandth part for you 
 that it does for her, I will go to your 
 benefit too." 
 
 Next morning I won a small bet from 
 Lady Diana Beauclerk, by asking him 
 as to one of his particularities, which her 
 Ladyship laid I durst not do. It seems 
 he had been frequently observed at the 
 Club to put into his pocket the Seville 
 oranges after he had squeezed the juice 
 of them into the drink which he made 
 for himself. Beauclerk and Garrick 
 talked of it to me, and seemed to think 
 that he had a strange unwillingness to be 
 discovered. We could not divine what 
 he did with them ; and this was the bold 
 question to be put. I saw on his table 
 the spoils of the preceding night, some 
 fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into 
 pieces. " O, sir (said I), I now partly 
 see what you do with the squeezed 
 oranges which you put into your pocket 
 at the Club." Johnson. " I have a great 
 love for them." Boswell. " And pray, 
 sir, what do you do with them? You 
 scrape them, it seems, veiy neatly, and 
 what next?" Johnson. "Let them dry, 
 sir." Boswell. " And what next?" 
 Johnson. " Nay, sir, you shall know 
 their fate no further." Boswell. ** Then 
 the world must be left in the dark. It 
 must be said (assuming a mock so- 
 lemnity), he scraped them and let them 
 dry, but what he did with them next, he 
 never could be prevailed upon to tell." 
 Johnson. " Nay, sir, you should say it 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 264 
 
 more emphatically : — he could not be 
 prevailed upon, even by his dearest 
 Iricnds, to tell." 
 
 He had this jnorning received his 
 Diploma as Doctor of Laws from the 
 University of Oxford. He did not vaunt 
 of his new dignity, but I understood he 
 was highly pleased with it. 1 shall here 
 insert the progress and completion of 
 that high academical honour in the same 
 manner as I have traced his obtaining 
 that of Master of Arts. 
 
 To the Reverend Dr. Fothergill, 
 rice-Chancellor of the University 
 of Oxford, to be communicated to the 
 Heads of Houses, and proposed in 
 Convocation. 
 
 " MR. VICE-CHANCELLOR AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " The honour of the degree of M. A. by 
 diploma formerly conferred upon Mr. 
 Samuel Johnson, in consequence of his 
 having eminently distinguished himself 
 by the publication of a series of Essays, 
 excellently calculated to form the man- 
 ners of the people, and in which the 
 cause of religion and morality has been 
 maintained and recommended by the 
 strongest powers of argument and ele- 
 gance of language, reflected an equal 
 degree of lustre upon the University 
 ^ itself. 
 
 " The many learned labours which 
 have since that time employed the atten- 
 tion and displayed the abilities of that 
 great man, so much to the advancement 
 of literature and the benefit of the com- 
 munity, render him worthy of more 
 distinguished honours in the Republic of 
 letters: and I persuade myself that I 
 shall act agreeably to the sentiments of 
 the whole University, in desiring that it 
 may be proposed in Convocation to con- 
 fer on him the degree of Doctor in Civil 
 Law by diploma, to which I readily give 
 my consent; and am, 
 ** Mr. Vice-Chancellor and Gentlemen, 
 ** Your atfeclionate 
 
 " Friend and servant, 
 " North*." 
 " Downing Street, March 23, 1775." 
 
 Diploma. 
 
 *« CAJSCELLARIUS, Magistri, et 
 
 Scholares Universitatis Uxoniensis 
 
 omnibus ad quos presentes Literce 
 
 pervenerint, salutem in Domino 
 
 Sempiternam. 
 
 ** SciATis, virum illustrem, Samijelem 
 
 Johnson, in omni humaniorum litera- 
 
 rum genere eruditum, omniumque sci- 
 
 entiarumcomprehensionefelicissimum, 
 
 scriptis suis, ad popularium mores for- 
 
 • Extracted from the Convocation Regis- 
 ter, Oxford. 
 
 1775. 
 
 mandos summd verborum elegantiO, ac 
 sententiarum gravitate compositis, ita 
 olim inclaruisse, ut dignus videretur 
 cut ab Academid suet eximia qucedam, 
 laudis prcemia defer entur, quique vene- 
 rabilem Magistrorum Ordinem summd 
 cum dignitate cooptaretur : 
 
 " Cum verb eundem clarissimum 
 virum tot posted, tantique labores, in 
 patrid prcesertim lingud ornandd et 
 stabiliendd feliciter impen^si, itainsig- 
 niverint, ut in Literarum Bepublicd 
 Princeps jam et Primarius jure habea- 
 tur ; Nos, Cancellarius, Magistri, et 
 Scholares Universitatis Oxoniensis, 
 qud talis viri merita pari honoris re- 
 muneratione excequentur, etperpetuum 
 sucB simul laudis, nostresque ergd lite- 
 ras pr opens issimce voluntatis extetmo- 
 numentum, in solenni Convocatione 
 Doctorum et Magistrorum, Jiegentium, 
 et non Regentium, prcedictum Samu- 
 elem Johnson Doctorem in Jure Civili 
 renunciavimus et consHtuimus, eumque 
 virtute prcesentis Diplomatis singulis 
 juribus, privilegiis et honoribus, ad 
 istum gradum qudqud pertinentibus, 
 frui et gaudere jussimus. In cujus rei 
 testimonium commune Universitatis 
 Oxoniensis sigillum prcesentibus apponi 
 fecimus. 
 
 •' Datum in Domo nostrce Convo- 
 cationis die tricesimo Mensis Martii, 
 Anno Domini Millesimo septingentesi- 
 mo septuagesimo quint o *." 
 
 " Viro Reverendo Thom^ Fother- 
 gill, S. T. P. Universitatis Oxoni- 
 ensis Vice-Cancellario. 
 
 « .y. p. D. 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson. 
 
 ^^ MULTIS non est opus, ut testi- 
 
 monium quo, te prceside, Oxoniensis 
 
 nomen meum posteris commenddrunt, 
 
 * The oripiiial is in my possession. He 
 showed me ilie Diploma, and allowed me to 
 read it, but would not consent to my taliintr a 
 copy of it, fearing perhaps that I should hlaze 
 it abroad in his lifetime. His objection to 
 this appears from his 99th letter to Mrs. 
 Thrale, whom in that letter he thus scolds for 
 the grossness of her flattery of him.— *' The 
 other Oxford news is, that they have sent me 
 a degree of Doctor of Laws, with such praises 
 in the Diploma as perhaps ought to make me 
 ashamed : they are very like your praises. 1 
 wonder whether I shall show it to you." 
 
 It is remarkable that he never, so far as I 
 know, assumed his title of Doctor, but called 
 himself Mr. Johnson, as appears from many 
 of his cards or notes to myself, and I have 
 seen many from him to otherpcrsons, in which 
 he uniformly takes that designation.— I once 
 observed on his table a letter directed to him 
 with I he addition of Esqitire, and objected to 
 it as being a designation inferiour lo that of 
 Doctor; but he checked me, and seemed 
 pleased with it, because, as I conjectured, he 
 liked to be sometimes taken out of the class 
 of literary men, and to be merely genteel, — 
 nn gentituomme camme nn autre. 
 
JEtat. 66. 
 quali animo acceperim compertum fa- 
 ciam. Nemo sibi placens non Icetatur ; 
 nemo sibi non placet, qui vobis, lite- 
 rarum arbitris, placere potuit. Hoc 
 tatnen habet incommodi tantum, bene- 
 ficium, quod mihi nunquam posthdc 
 sine vestrcB famce detrimento vel labi 
 liceat vel cessare ; semperqiie sit timsn- 
 dum, ne quod mihi tam eximice laudi 
 est, vobis aliquando fiat opprobrio. 
 Fate*." 
 " 7. Id. Apr. 1773." 
 
 He revised some sheets of Lord Hailes's 
 ** Anuals of Scotland," and wrote a few 
 notes on the margin with red ink, which 
 he bade me tell his Lordship did not sink 
 into the paper, and might be wiped off 
 with a wet sponge, so that he did not 
 spoil his manuscript. — I observed to him 
 that there were very few of his friends so 
 accurate as that I could venture to put 
 down in writing what they told me as 
 his sayings. Johnson. " Why should 
 you write down my sayings V Boswell. 
 *' I write them when they are good." 
 Johnson. " Nay, you may as well write 
 down the sayings of any one else that are 
 good." But where, I might with great 
 propriety have added, can I find such 1 
 
 I visited him by appointment in the 
 evening, and we drank tea with Mrs. 
 Williams. He told me that he had been 
 in the company of a gentleman whose 
 extraordinary travels had been much the 
 subject of conversation. But I found he 
 had not listened to him with that full 
 confidence, without which there is little 
 satisfaction in the society of travellers. I 
 was curious to hear what opinion so able 
 a judge as Johnson had formed of his 
 abilities, and I asked if he was not a rnan 
 of sense. Johnson. " Why, sir, he is 
 not a distinct relater ; and 1 should say, 
 he is neither abounding nor deficient in 
 sense. I did not perceive any superiority 
 of understanding." Boswell. " But will 
 you not allow him a nobleness of resolu- 
 tion in penetrating into distant regions V 
 Johnson. *' That, sir, is not to the pre- 
 sent purpose : we are talking of sense. 
 A fighting cock has a nobleness of reso- 
 lution." 
 
 Next day, Sunday, April 2, I dined 
 with him at Mr. Hoole's. We talked of 
 Pope. Johnson. '* He wrote his * Dun- 
 ciad' for fame. That was his primary 
 motive. Had it not been for that, the 
 dunces might have railed against him till 
 they were weary, without his troubling 
 himself about them. He delighted to vex 
 them, no doubt ; but he had more delight 
 in seeing how well he could vex them." 
 
 * " The original is in the hands of Dr. Fo- 
 thergill, then Vice-Chancellor, who made this 
 ti anscript." T. Warton. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 265 
 
 The " Odes to Obscurity and Obli- 
 vion," in ridicule of " cool Mason and 
 warm Gray," being mentioned, Johnson 
 said, ** They are Colman's best things." 
 Upon its being observed that it was be- 
 lieved these Odes were made by Colman 
 and Lloyd jointly ; — Johnson. *' Nay, 
 sir, how can two people make an Ode 1 
 Perhaps one made one of them, and one 
 the other." I observed that two people 
 had made a play, and quoted the anec- 
 dote of Beaumont and Fletcher, who 
 were brought under suspicion of treason, 
 because while concerting the plan of a 
 tragedy when sitting together at a tavern, 
 one of them was overheard saying to the 
 other, " I'll kill the King." Johnson. 
 " The first of these Odes is the best ; but 
 they are both good. They exposed a 
 very bad kind of writing." Boswell. 
 " Surely, sir, Mr. Mason's ' Elfrida' is a 
 fine Poem : at least, you will allow there 
 are some good passages in it." Johnson. 
 " There are now and then some good 
 imitations of Milton's bad manner." 
 
 I often wondered at his low estimation 
 of the writings of Gray and Mason. Of 
 Gray's poetry I have, in a former part 
 of this work, expressed my high opinion ; 
 and for that of Mr. Mason I have ever 
 entertained a warm admiration. His 
 " Elfrida" is exquisite, both in poetical 
 description and moral sentiment ; and his 
 ** Caractacus " is a noble drama. Nor 
 can I omit paying my tribute of praise 
 to some of his smaller poems, which I 
 have read with pleasure, and which no 
 criticism shall persuade me not to like. 
 If I wondered at Johnson's not tasting 
 the works of Mason and Gray, still more 
 have I wondered at their not tasting his 
 works : that they should be insensible to 
 his energy of diction, to his splendour of 
 images, and comprehension of thought. 
 Tastes may differ as to the violin, the 
 flute, the hautboy, in short all the lesser 
 instruments : but who can be insensible 
 to the powerful impressions of the ma- 
 jestick organ ? 
 
 His " Taxation no Tyranny " being 
 mentioned, he said, " I think 1 have not 
 been attacked enough for it. Attack is 
 the reaction ; I never think I have hit 
 hard, unless it rebounds." Boswell. 
 " I don't know, sir, what you would be 
 at. Five or six shots of small arms in 
 every newspaper and repeated cannonad- 
 ing in pamphlets might, I think, satisfy 
 you. But, sir, you'll never make out this 
 match, of which we have talked, with a 
 certain political lady, since you are so 
 severe against her principles." John- 
 son. " Nay, sir, I have the better chance 
 for that. She is like the Amazons of old ; 
 she must be courted by the sword. But 
 I have not been severe upon her." Bos- 
 
266 
 
 WELL. " Yes, sir, you have made her 
 riiiicnlous." Johnson. ** That was al- 
 ready done, sir. To endeavour to make 
 her ridiculous is like blacking the chim- 
 ney." 
 
 I put him in mind that the landlord at 
 Ellon in Scotland said, that he heard he 
 was the greatest man in England, next 
 to Lord Mansfield. " Ay, sir (said he), 
 the exception defined the idea. A Scotch- 
 man con Id go no farther; 
 
 * Tlie force of Nature could no farther go.'" 
 
 Lady Miller's collection of verses by 
 fashionable people, which were put into 
 her Vase at Batheaston Villa, near Bath, 
 in competition for honorary prizes, being 
 mentioned, he held them very cheap : 
 *' Bouts rimes (said he) is a mere con- 
 ceit, and an old conceit now ; I wonder 
 how people were persuaded to write in 
 that manner for this lady." I named a 
 gentleman of his acquaintance who wrote 
 for the Vase. Johnson. " He was a 
 blockhead for his pains." Boswell. "The 
 Duchess of Northumberland wrote." — 
 Johnson. " Sir, the Duchess of North- 
 umberland may do what she pleases : 
 nobody will say any thing to a lady of 
 her high rank. But I should be apt to 
 throw #*#«** 's verses in his face." 
 
 I talked of the cheerfulness of Fleet 
 Street, owing to the constant quick suc- 
 cession of people which we perceive 
 passing through it. Johnson. " Why, 
 sir. Fleet Street has a very animated 
 appearance; but I think the full tide of 
 human existence is at Charing Cross." 
 
 He made the common remark on the 
 nnhappiness which men who have led a 
 busy life experience, when they retire 
 in expectation of enjoying themselves at 
 ease, and that they generally languish for 
 want of their habitual occupation, and 
 wish to return to it. He mentioned as 
 strong an instance of this as can well be 
 imagined. *♦ An eminent tallow-chandler 
 in Lonrlon, who had acquired a consider- 
 able foitune, gave up the trade in favour 
 of his foreman, and went to live at a 
 country-house near town. He soon grew 
 weary, and paid frequent visits to his old 
 shop, where he desired they might let 
 him know their melting -days, and h«> 
 would come and assist them ; which he 
 accordingly did. Here, sir, was a man, 
 to whom the most disgusting circum- 
 stances in the business to which he had 
 been used was a relief from idleness." 
 
 On Wednesday, April 5, I dined with 
 him at Messieurs Dilly's, with Mr. John 
 Scott of Amwell, the Quaker, Mr. Lang- 
 ton, Mr. Miller (now Sir John), and 
 Dr. Thomas Campbell, an Irish clergy- 
 man, whom 1 took the liberty of inviting 
 to Mr. Dilly's table, having seen him at 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 Mr. Thrale's, and been told that he had 
 come to England chiefly with a view to 
 see Dr. Johnson, for whom he entertained 
 the highest veneration. He has since 
 published " A Philosophical Survey of 
 the South of Ireland," a very entertain- 
 ing book, which has, however, one fault : 
 
 — that it assumes the fictitious character 
 of an Englishman. 
 
 We talked of publick speaking. John- 
 son. "We must not estimate a man's 
 powers by his being able or not able to 
 deliver his sentiments in publick. Isaac 
 Hawkins Brown, one of the first wits of 
 this country, got into Parliament, and 
 never opened his mouth. For my own 
 part, I think it is more disgraceful never 
 to try to speak than to try it and fail ; as 
 it is more disgraceful not to fight than to 
 fight and be beaten." This argument 
 appeared to me fallacious ; for if a man 
 has not spoken, it may be said that he 
 would have done very well if he had 
 tried ; whereas, if he has tried and failed, 
 there is nothing to be said for him. 
 " Why then (I asked), is it thought dis- 
 graceful for a man not to fight, and not 
 disgraceful not to speak in publick?" 
 Johnson. ** Because there may be other 
 reasons for a man's not speaking in pub- 
 lick than want of resolution : he may 
 have nothing to say (laughing). Where- 
 as, sir, you know courage is reckoned 
 the greatest of all virtues ; because, un- 
 less a man has that virtue, he has no 
 security for preserving any other." 
 
 He observed, that " the statutes against 
 bribery were intended to prevent upstarts 
 with money from getting into Parlia- 
 ment;" adding, that " if he were a gen- 
 tleman of landed property, he would 
 turn out all his tenants who did not vote 
 for the candidate whom he supported." 
 
 — Langton " Would not that, sir, be 
 checking the freedom of election?" John- 
 son. " Sir, the law does not mean that 
 the privilege of voting should be inde- 
 pendent of old family interest; of the 
 permanent property of the country." 
 
 On Thursday, April 6, 1 dined with 
 him at Mr. Thomas Davies's, with Mr. 
 Hicky the painter, and my old acquaint- 
 ance Mr. Moody the player. 
 
 Dr. Johnson, as usual, spoke contemp- 
 tuously of Colley Cibber. " It is won- 
 derful that a man, who for forty years 
 had lived with the great and the witty, 
 should have acquired so ill the talents of 
 conversation : and he had but half to 
 furnish ; for one half of what he said was 
 oath»." He, however, allowed consider- 
 able merit to some of his comedies, and 
 said there was no reason to believe that 
 the " Careless Husband" was not writ- 
 ten by himself. Davies said, he was the 
 first dramatick writer who introduced 
 
JEtxt. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 genteel ladies upon the stage. Johnson 
 refuted his observation by instancing 
 several such characters in comedies be- 
 fore his time. Davies (trying to defend 
 himself from a charge of ignorance). " I 
 mean genteel moral characters." " I 
 think (said Ricky), gentility and morality 
 are inseparable." Boswell. " By no 
 means, sir. The genteelest characters are 
 often the most immoral. Does not Lord 
 Chesterfield give precepts for uniting 
 wickedness and the graces? A man, 
 indeed, is not genteel when he gets 
 drunk ; but most vices may be commit- 
 ted very genteelly: a man may debauch 
 his friend's wife genteelly : he may cheat 
 at cards genteelly." HiCKV. " I do not 
 think that is genteel." Boswell. " Sir, 
 it may not be like a gentleman, but it 
 may be genteel." Johnson. " Yon are 
 meaning two different things. One means 
 exteriour grace ; the other honour. It is 
 certain that a man may be very immoral 
 with exteriour grace. Lovelace, in 'Cla- 
 rissa,' is a very genteel and a very wicked 
 character. Tom Hervey, who died t'other 
 day, though a vicious man, was one of 
 the genteelest men that ever lived." Tom 
 Davies instanced Charles the Second. 
 Johnson (taking tire at any attack upon 
 that Prince, for whom he had an extra- 
 ordinary partiality). " Charles the Se- 
 cond was licentious in his practice ; but 
 he always had a reverence for what was 
 good. Charles the Second knew his 
 people, and rewarded merit. The Church 
 was at no time better tilled than in his 
 reign. He was the best King we have 
 had from his time till the reign of his 
 preseiU Majesty, except James the Se- 
 cond, who was a very good King, but 
 unhappily believed that it was necessary 
 for the salvation of his subjects that they 
 should be Roman Catholicks. He had 
 the merit of endeavouring to do what he 
 thought was for the salvation of the souls 
 of his subjects, till he lost a great empire. 
 We, who thought that we should not be 
 saved if we were Roman Catholicks, had 
 the merit of maintaining our religion at 
 the expense of submitting ourselves to 
 the government of King William, for it 
 could not be done otherwise, — to the 
 government of one of the most worth- 
 Jess scoundrels that ever existed. No ; 
 Charles the Second was not such a man 
 
 as (naming another King). He 
 
 did not destroy his father's will. He took 
 money, indeed, from France ; but he did 
 not betray those over whom he ruled : 
 he did not let the French fleet pass ours. 
 George the First knew nothing, and de- 
 sired to know nothing; did nothing, and 
 desired to do nothing ; and the only good 
 thing that is told of him is that he wished 
 to restore the crown to its hereditary 
 
 267 
 
 successor." He roared with prodigious 
 violence against George the Second. 
 When he ceased. Moody interjected, in 
 an Irish tone, and with a comick look, 
 " Ah! poor George the Second." 
 
 I mentioned that Dr. Thomas Camp- 
 bell had come from Ireland to London, 
 principally to see Dr. Johnson. He 
 seemed angry at this observation. Da- 
 vies. " Why, yon know, sir, there came 
 a man from Spain to see Livy * ; and 
 Corelli came to England to see Purcellf, 
 and, when he heard he was dead, went 
 directly back again to Italy." Johnson. 
 " I should not have wished to be dead to 
 disappoint Campbell, had he been so 
 foolish as you represent him ; but I should 
 have wished to have been a hundred 
 miles off." This was apparently per- 
 verse ; and I do believe it was not his 
 real way of thinking: he could not but 
 like a man who came so far to see him. 
 He laughed with some complacency 
 when I told him Campbell's odd expres- 
 sion to me concerning him : " That hav- 
 ing seen such a man was a thing to talk 
 of a century hence,"— as if he could live 
 so long. 
 
 We got into an argument whether the 
 Judges who went to India might with 
 propriety engage in trade. Jfohnson 
 warmly maintained that they might," For 
 why (he urged) should not Judges get 
 riches, as well as those who deserve them 
 less?" I said, they should have sufficient 
 salaries, and have nothing to take off 
 their attention from the affairs of the 
 publick. Johnson. " No Judge, sir, can 
 give his whole attention to his office ; and 
 it is very proper that he should employ 
 what time he has to himself, to his own 
 advantage, in the most profitable man- 
 ner." ** Then, sir (said Davies, who 
 enlivened the dispute by making it some- 
 what dramatick), he may become an 
 insurer; and when he is going to the 
 bench, he may be stopped, — ' Yoiir Lord- 
 ship cannot go yet; here is a bunch of 
 invoices: several ships are about to 
 sail.' " Johnson. ** Sir, you may as well 
 say a Judge should not have a house ; 
 for they may come and tell him, * Your 
 Lordship's house is on fire;' and so, 
 instead of minding the business of his 
 Court, he is to be occupied in getting the 
 engine with the greatest speed. There 
 is no end of this. Every Judge who has 
 land trades to a certain extent in corn or 
 in cattle; and in the land itself undoubt- 
 edly his steward acts for him, and so do 
 clerks for a great merchant. A Judge 
 may be a farmer; but he is not to geld 
 his own pigs. A Judge may play a little 
 
 * Plin. Epist. Lib. ii. Ep. 3. 
 t [Mr. Davies was heie mistaken. Corelli 
 never was in England. B.] 
 
2G8 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 177.5. 
 
 at cards for his amusement; but he is 
 not to play at marbles, or chuck farthing 
 in the Piazza. No, sir; there is no pro- 
 fession to which a man gives a very great 
 proportion of his time. It is wonderful 
 when a calculation is made, how little 
 the mind is actually employed in the 
 discharge of any profession. No man 
 would be a Judge upon the condition of 
 being totally a Judge. The best employed 
 lawyer has his mind at work but for a 
 small proportion of his time : a great 
 deal of his occupation is merely mecha- 
 nical. — 1 once wrote for a magazine : I 
 made a calculation, that if I should write 
 but a page a day, at the same rate, I 
 should in ten years, write nine volumes 
 la folio, of an ordinary size and print." 
 BoswELL. •* Such as Carte's History ?" 
 Johnson. ** Yes, sir. When a man 
 writes from his own mind, he writes 
 very rapidly*. The greatest part of a 
 writer's time is spent in reading, in order 
 to write; a man will turn over half a 
 library to make one book.*' 
 
 I argued warmly against the Judges 
 trading, and mentioned Hale as an in- 
 stance of a perfect Judge, who devoted 
 himself entirely to his office. Johnson. 
 •' Hale, sir, attended to other things be- 
 side law: he left a great estate." Bos- 
 "WELi.. ** That was because what he got 
 accumulated without any exertion and 
 anxiety on his part." 
 
 While the dispute went on. Moody 
 once tried to say something on our side. 
 Tom Davies clapped him on the back, 
 to encourage him. Beauclerk, to whom 
 I mentioned this circumstance, said, 
 " that he could not conceive a more hu- 
 miliating situation than to be clapped on 
 the back by Tom Davies." 
 
 We spoke of Rolt, to whose Dictionary 
 of Commerce Dr. Johnson wrote the 
 Preface. Johnson. " Old Gardner the 
 bookseller employed Rolt and Smart to 
 write a monthly miscellany, called 'The 
 Universal Visitor.' There was a formal 
 written contract, which Allen the printer 
 saw. Gardner thought as you do of the 
 Judge. They were bound to write no- 
 thing else ; they were to have, I think, a 
 third of the profits of his sixpenny pam- 
 phlet ; and the contract was for ninety- 
 nine years. I wish 1 had thought of 
 giving this to Thurlow, in the cause 
 about Literary Property. What an ex- 
 cellent instance would it have been of 
 the oppression of booksellers towards 
 poor authoursf!" (smiling.) Davies, 
 
 * Johnson certainly did, who had a mind 
 stored with knowledge, and teeniini^ with 
 imajfery ; but the ohservation i« not applica- 
 ble to writers in general. 
 
 t There has probably been some nii«take an 
 to the terms of this Aupposcd extraordinary 
 
 zealous for the honour of tJie Trade, 
 said, Gardner was not properly a book- 
 seller. Johnson. "Nay, sir; he cer- 
 tainly was a bookseller. He had served 
 his time regularly, was a member of the 
 Stationers' Company, kept a shop in the 
 face of mankind, purchased copyright, 
 and was a bibliopole, sir, in every sense. 
 I wrote for some months in * The Uni- 
 versal Visitor,' for poor Smart, while he 
 was mad, not then knowing the terms 
 on which he was engaged to write, and 
 thinking I was doing him good. I hoped 
 his wits would soon return to him. Mine 
 returned to me, and I wrote in ' The 
 Universal Visitor' no longer." 
 
 Friday, April 7, I dined with him at 
 a Tavern, with a numerous company. 
 Johnson. " I have been reading * Twiss's 
 Travels in Spain,' which are just come 
 out. They are as good as the tirst book 
 of travels that you will take up. They 
 are as good as those of Keysler or Blain> 
 ville: nay, as Addison's j, if you except 
 the learning. They are not so good as 
 Brydone's, but they are better than Po- 
 coke's. I have not, indeed, cut the 
 leaves yet ; but I have read in them 
 where the pages are open, and 1 do not 
 suppose that what is in the pages which 
 are closed is worse than what is in the 
 open pages. — It would seem (he added), 
 that Addison had not acquired much 
 Italian learning, for we do not find it 
 introduced into his writings. The only 
 instance that I recollect is his quoting 
 ' Stavo bene; per star meglio, sto 
 qui §.' " 
 
 I mentioned Addison's having bor- 
 rowed many of his classical remarks 
 from Leandro Alberti. Mr. Beauclerk 
 said, '• It was alleged that he had bor- 
 rowed also from another Italian authour." 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, all who go to look 
 for what the Classicks have said of Italy, 
 must find the same passages || ; and I 
 
 contract, the recital of wfaicb from hearsay 
 afforded Johnson so much play for his spor- 
 tive acnteness. Or if it was worded as he 
 supposed, it is so stranfre that I should con- 
 clude it was a joke. Mr. Gardner, i am 
 assured, was a worthy and liberal man. 
 
 X [Speaking of Addison's Remarks on Italy 
 in the " Journal of a Tour to tlie Hebrides," 
 Cp. 320, 3d edit.) he says, *' It is a tedious 
 book^ and if it were not attached to Addison's 
 previous reputation, one would not think 
 much of it. Had lie written nothins^ else, liis 
 name would not have lived. Addison does 
 not seem to have Rone deep into Italian lite- 
 rature : he shows nothing' of it in his subse- 
 quent writiuics.— He shows a great deal of 
 French learning." M.j 
 
 § [Addison, nowever, does not mention 
 where this celebrated Epitaph, wliich has 
 elud(>d a very diligent inquiry, is found. M.J 
 
 II [" But if you Hiid the same applications in 
 another book, then Addison's learning falls to 
 the ground," Journal of a Tour to the He- 
 brideSf ul supra, M.] 
 
iETAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOxV. 
 
 should think it would be one of the first 
 things the Italians would do on the revival 
 of learning, to collect all that the Roman 
 authours have said of their country." 
 
 Ossian being mentioned ; — Johnson. 
 " Supposing the Irish and Erse lan- 
 guages to be the same, which I do not 
 believe, yet as there is no reason to sup- 
 pose that the inhabitants of the Highlands 
 and Hebrides ever wrote their native 
 language, it is not to be credited that a 
 long poem was preserved among them. 
 If we had no evidence of the art of 
 writing being practised in one of the 
 counties of England, we should not be- 
 lieve that a long poem was preserved 
 there, though in the neighbouring coun- 
 ties, where the same language was spoken, 
 the inhabitants could write." Beau- 
 clerk. " The ballad of Lilliburlero was 
 once in the mouths of all the people of 
 this country, and is said to have had a 
 great effect in bringing about the Revo- 
 lution. Yet I question whether any body 
 can repeat it now ; which shows how 
 improbable it is that much poetry should 
 be preserved by tradition." 
 
 One of the company suggested an in- 
 ternal objection to the antiquity of the 
 poetry said to be Ossian's, that we do 
 not find the wolf in it, which must have 
 been the case had it been of that age. 
 
 The mention of the wolf had led John- 
 son to think of other wild beasts; and 
 while Sir Joshua Reynolds and Mr, 
 Langton were carrying on a dialogue 
 about something which engaged them 
 earnestly, he, in the midst of it, broke 
 out, ** Pennant tells of Bears." — [What 
 he added, I have forgotten.] They went 
 on, which he, being dull of hearing, did 
 not perceive, or, if he did, was not will- 
 ing to break off his talk ; so he continued 
 to vociferate his remarks, and Bear 
 (" like a word in a catch" as Beauclerk 
 said), was repeatedly heard at intervals, 
 which coming from him who, by those 
 who did not know him, had been so 
 often assimilated to that ferocious ani- 
 mal, while we who were sitting around 
 could hardly stifle laughter, produced a 
 very ludicrous effect. Silence having 
 ensued, he proceeded : " We are told 
 that the black bear is innocent; but I 
 should not like to trust myself with him." 
 Mr. Gibbon muttered, in a low tone of 
 voice, " 1 should not like to trust myself 
 with t/ou." This piece of sarcastick plea- 
 santry was a prudent resolution, if ap- 
 plied to a competition of abilities. 
 
 Patriotism having become one of our 
 topicks, Johnson suddenly uttered, in a 
 strong determined tone, an apophthegm, 
 at which many will start : " Patriotism 
 is the last refuge of a scoundrel." But 
 let it be considered that he did not mean 
 
 2m 
 
 a real and generous love of our country, 
 but that pretended patriotism which so 
 many, in all ages and countries, have 
 made a cloak for self interest. I main- 
 tained that certainly all patriots were not 
 scoundrels. Being urged (not by John- 
 son) to name one exception, I mentioned 
 an eminent person whom we all greatly 
 admired. Johnson. " Sir, I do not say 
 that he is not honest ; but we have no 
 reason to conclude from his political 
 conduct that he is honest. Were he to 
 accept a place from this ministry, he 
 would lose that character of firmness 
 which he has, and might be turned out 
 of his place in a year. This ministry is 
 neither stable nor grateful to their friends, 
 as Sir Robert Walpole was : so that he 
 may think it more for his interest to take 
 his chance of his party coming in." 
 
 Mrs. Pritchard being mentioned, he 
 said, *' Her playing was quite mechani- 
 cal. It is wonderful how little mind she 
 had. Sir, she had never read the tra- 
 gedy of Macbeth all through. She no 
 more thought of the play out of which 
 her part was taken than a shoemaker 
 thinks of the skin, out of which the piece 
 of leather, of which he is making a pair 
 of shoes, is cut." 
 
 On Saturday, April 8, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Thrale's, where we met the 
 Irish Dr. Campbell. Johnson had sup- 
 ped the night before at Mrs. Abington's 
 with some fashionable people whom he 
 named ; and he seemed much pleased 
 with having made one in so elegant a 
 circle. Nor did he omit to pique his 
 mistress a little with jealousy of her 
 housewifery ; for he said (with a smile), 
 " Mrs. Abington's jelly, my dear lady, 
 was better than yours." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale, who frequently practised 
 a coarse mode of flattery, by repeating 
 his bons mots in his hearing, told us that 
 he had said, a certain celebrated actor 
 was just fit to stand at the door of an 
 auction room with a long pole, and cry 
 " Pray, gentlemen, walk in ;" and that 
 a certain authour, upon hearing this, had 
 said that another still more celebrated 
 actor was fit for nothing better than that, 
 and would pick your pocket after you 
 came out. Johnson. ** Nay, my dear 
 lady, there is no wit in what our friend 
 added ; there is only abuse. You may 
 as well say of any man that he will pick 
 a pocket. Besides, the man who is 
 stationed at the door does not pick peo- 
 ple's pockets ; that is done within, by 
 the auctioneer." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale told us that Tom Davies ^ 
 repeated, in a very bold manner, the 
 story of Dr. Johnson's first repartee to 
 me, which I have related exactly*. He 
 
 * P. 118. 
 
270 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 made me say, ** I was born in Scot- 
 land," instead of " I come from Scot- 
 land;" so tliat Johnson's saying, "That, 
 sir, is what a great mriny of your coun- 
 trymen cannot help," had no point, or 
 even meaning : and that upon tliis being 
 mentioned to Mr. Fitzherbert, he ob- 
 served, " It is not every man that can 
 carry a hon mot." 
 
 On Monday, April la, I dined with 
 him at General Oglethorpe's, with Mr. 
 Langton and the Irish Dr. Campbell, 
 whom the General had obligingly given 
 me leave to bring with me. This learned 
 gentleman was thus gratified with a very 
 high intellectual feast, by not only being 
 in company with Dr. Johnson, but witli 
 General Oglethorpe, who had been so 
 long a celebrated name both at home 
 and abroad *. 
 
 I must, again and again, entreat of my 
 readers not to suppose that my imper- 
 fect record of conversation contains the 
 whole of what was said by Johnson, or 
 other eminent persons who lived with 
 him. What I have preserved, however, 
 has the value of the most perfect authen- 
 ticity. 
 
 He this day enlarged upon Pope's 
 melancholy remark, 
 
 " Man never is, but always to be ble«t." 
 He asserted that the present was never 
 a happy state to any human being ; but 
 that, as every part of life, of which we 
 are conscious, was at some point of time 
 a period yet to come, in which felicity 
 was expected, there was some happiness 
 produced by hope. Being pressed upon 
 this subject, and asked if he really was 
 of opinion that though, in general, hap 
 piness was very rare in human life, a 
 man was not sometimes happy in the 
 
 * Let me here be allowed to pay my tribute 
 of most sincere graiiiude to tlie memory of 
 that excelleui person, my iniimacy with 
 whom \sdh the more valuable to me because 
 my first acquaintance wiih him was unex- 
 pected and unsolicited. Soon after the pub- 
 lication of my " Account of Corsica,'' he did 
 me the honour to call on me, and approach- 
 ing me Willi a frank courteous air, said, " My 
 name, sir, is Oqlethorpe, and I wish to be 
 acquainted with \o.i.' I w;is ih.i a liiile li.it- 
 lered to be iIkis a.ldn >^>e(l by an t mmini 
 man, of wliom I IlkI read in \'o\<v, I'lum iii\ 
 early ye.n>, 
 
 »' Or, driven hv stion 
 Will fly. like O^leili, 
 
 . pole 
 
 »l, 
 
 I was fortunate enoug^b to be found worthy o( 
 his good opinion, ins >inuch that i not only 
 was invited to make one indie many respect- 
 able ronipauies whom be entertained at his 
 table, but had a cover at hin liospitable hoard 
 every day when I happened to be disen 
 gaged; and in his society I never failed to 
 enj(*y learned and aniiu.iled conversation, 
 seasonel with genuine ^entinl('nl.■' of viiiuc 
 and leligioii. 
 
 moment that was present, he answered, 
 " Never, but when he is drunk," 
 
 He urged General Oglethorpe to give 
 the world his Life. He said, " I know 
 no man whose Life would be more inter- 
 esting. If I were furnished with mate- 
 rials, I should be very glad to write 
 itf." 
 
 Mr. Scott of Arawell's Elegies were 
 lying in the room. Dr. Johnson observed 
 " They are very well ; but such as twenty 
 people might write." Upon this I took 
 occasion to controvert Horace's maxim., 
 
 " mediocribus esse poetis 
 
 Noil JDi non homines uon concessere colum- 
 ns " 
 
 for here (I observed) was a very middle 
 rate poet, who pleased many readers, 
 and therefore poetry of a middle sort 
 was entitled to some esteem ; nor could 
 I see why poetry should not, like every 
 thing else, have ditferent gradations of 
 excellence, and consequently of value. 
 Johnson repeated the common remark, 
 that *' as there is no necessity for our 
 liaving poetry at all, it being merely a 
 luxury, an instrument of pleasure, it can 
 have no value, unless when exquisite in 
 its kind." I declared myself not satis- 
 tied. " Why, then, sir (said he), Ho- 
 race and you must settle it." He was 
 not much in the humour of talking. 
 
 No more of his conversation for some 
 days appears in my journal, except that 
 when a gentleman told Irim he had 
 bought a suit of lace for his lady, he said, 
 " Well, sir, you have done a good thing 
 and a wise thing." ** I have done a good 
 thing (said the gentleman), but I do not 
 know that I have done a wise thing." 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir; no money is better 
 spent than what is laid out for domes- 
 tick satisfaction. A man is pleased that 
 his wife is dressed as well as other peo- 
 ple ; and a wife is ploasid that she is 
 dressed." 
 
 On Friday, April 14, being Good Fri- 
 day, I repaired to him in the morning, 
 according to my usual custom on that 
 <I;tV, aiicl breakfasted with him. 1 ob- 
 served that lie fa. ted so very strictly that 
 lie (lid not even tasti' bread, and took no 
 milk with liis lea; 1 suppose because it 
 IS ;. kind of animal loixl. 
 
 He entered iijioii tlu. stale of the nation, 
 and thus discoursed : " Sir, tlH> m eat 
 
 t The General seemed mnMilini; 'o enter 
 upon it at this time; but upon a subsequent 
 occasion he coniniunicated to me a number of 
 panicularii, which I have committed to writ- 
 ing; but I was not sufficiently diligent in 
 '•biaimug more from him, not appienending 
 that his friends were so soon to lose him; 
 lor, notwithstanding his great age, he was 
 very liealhy an<l vigoiou>, aiicl was at last 
 . anie.l <p(T l)V a vio1.mii hwr, uliicb is ofltu 
 iilal at an\ \unn,\ <<i life. 
 
JEvKT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 271 
 
 misfortune now is, that government has 
 too little power. All that it has to be- 
 stow must of necessity be given to sup- 
 port itself; so that it cannot reward 
 merit. No man, for instance, can now 
 be made a Bishop for his learning and 
 piety * ; his only chance for promotion is 
 his being connected with somebody who 
 has parliamentary interest. Our several 
 ministers in this reign have outbid each 
 other in concessions to the people. Lord 
 Bute, though a very honourable man — a 
 man who meant well, — a man who had 
 his blood full of prerogative, — was a 
 theoretical statesmat}, — a book minister, 
 — and thought this country could be go- 
 verned by the influence of the Crown 
 alone. Then, sir, he gave up a great 
 deal. He advised the King to agree that 
 the Judges should hold their pfaces for 
 life, instead of losing them at the acces- 
 sion of a new King. Lord Bute, I sup- 
 pose, thought to make the King popular 
 by this concession ; but the people never 
 minded it ; and it was a most impolitick 
 measure. There is no reason why a 
 Judge should hold his office for life more 
 than any other person in the publick 
 trust. A Judge may be partial otherwise 
 than to the Crown : we have seen Judges 
 partial to the populace. A Judge may 
 become corrupt, and yet there may not 
 be legal evidence against him. A Judge 
 may become froward from age. A Judge 
 may grow unfit for his office in many 
 ways. It was desirable that there should 
 be a possibility of being delivered from 
 him by a new King. That is now gone 
 by an act of Parliament ex ffratid of the 
 Crown, Lord Bute advised the King to 
 give up a very large sum of money t, 
 for which nobody thanked him. It was 
 of consequence to the King but nothing 
 to the publick, among whom it was 
 divided. When I say Lord Bute ad- 
 vised, I iTiean that such acts were done 
 when he was minister, and we are to 
 
 * From tills too just observation there are 
 some eminent exceptions. 
 
 t Tiie money arising from the property of 
 the prizes taken betore the declaration of 
 war, which were given to his Majesty by the 
 peace of Paris, and aiiiounted to upwards of 
 700,0001. and from the lands in the ceded 
 islands, which were estimated at 200,oooZ. 
 more. Surely, there was a noble munificence 
 in this gift from a Monarch to his people. 
 And let it be remembered, that diirijig the 
 Earl of Bute's administration, the King was 
 graciously pleased to give up the hereditary 
 revenues of the Crown, and to accept, instead 
 of them, of the limited sum of 800,000/. a year; 
 upon which Blackstone observes, that '< The 
 hereditary revenues, being put under the 
 same management as the other brandies of 
 the public patrimony, will produce more, and 
 be belter collected, than heretofore; and the 
 publick is a gainer of upwards of 100,000/. 
 jjcr annum by this disinterested bounty of his 
 .Majesty." Book I. chap. viii. p. 3;j0. 
 
 suppose that he advised them. — Lord 
 Bute showed an undue partiality to 
 Scotchmen. He turned out Dr. Nichols, 
 a very eminent man, from being physi- 
 cian to the King, to make room for one 
 of his countrymen, a man very low in 
 his profession. He had ********* * 
 and *•** to go on errands for him. He 
 had occasion for people to go on errands 
 for him ; but he sliould not have had 
 Scotchmen ; and, certainly, he should 
 not have suffered them to have access to 
 hin> before the first people in England.** 
 
 I told him, that the admission of one 
 of them before the first people in Eng- 
 land, which had given the greatest 
 offence, was no more than what happens 
 at every minister's levee, where those 
 who attend are admitted in the order 
 that they have come, which is better 
 than admitting them according to their 
 rank ; for if that were to be the rule, a 
 man who has waited all the morning 
 might have the mortification to see a 
 peer, newly come, go in before him, 
 and keep him waiting still. Johnson. 
 " Trne, sir; but **** should not have 
 come to the levee to be in the way of 
 people of consequence. He saw Lord 
 Bute at all times; and could have said 
 what he had to say at any time, as well 
 as at the levee. There is now no Prime 
 Minister: there is only an agent for go- 
 vernment in the House of Commons. 
 We are governed by the Cabinet : but 
 there is no one head there since Sir 
 Robert Walpole's time." Bosw^kll. 
 " What then, sir, is the use of Parlia- 
 ment?" Johnson. "Why, sir, Parlia- 
 ment is a large council to the King ; and 
 the advantage of such a council is having 
 a great number of men of property con- 
 cerned in the legislature, who, for their 
 own interest, will not consent to bad 
 laws. And you must have observed,, 
 sir, the administration is feeble and 
 timid, and cannot act with that autho- 
 rity and resolution which is necessary. 
 Were I in power, I would turn out every 
 man who dared to oppose me. Govern- 
 ment has the distribution of offices that 
 it may be enabled to maintain its autho- 
 rity." 
 
 " Lord Bute (he added) took down, 
 too fast, without building up something, 
 new." BoswELL. " Because, sir, he 
 found a rotten building. The politicak 
 coach was drawn by a set of bad horses ; 
 it was necessary to change them." John- 
 son. " But he should have changed them 
 one by one.*' 
 
 I told him that I had been informed 
 by Mr. Orme that many parts of the 
 East Indies were better mapped than the 
 Highlands of Scotland. Johnson. *' Thai 
 a country may be mapped it must be 
 
272 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 travelled over." *' Nay (said I, mean- 
 ing to laugh with him at one of his pre- 
 judices), can't you say it is not worth 
 mapping ?" 
 
 As we walked to St. Clement's church, 
 and saw several shops open upon this 
 most solemn fast day of the Christian 
 world, I remarked, that one disadvantage 
 arising from the immensity of London 
 was that nobody was heeded by his 
 neighbour ; there was no fear of censure 
 for not observing Good Friday, as it 
 ought to be kept, and as it is kept in 
 country towns. He said, it was, upon 
 the whole, very well observed even in 
 London. He, however, owned, that 
 London was too large ; but added, " It 
 is nonsense to say the head is too big for 
 the body. It would be as much too big, 
 though the body were ever so large ; that 
 is to say, though the country were ever 
 so extensive. It has no similarity to a 
 head connected with a body." 
 
 Dr. Wetherell, Master of University 
 College, Oxford, accompanied us home 
 from church ; and after he was gone, 
 there came two other gentlemen, one of 
 whom uttered the commonplace com- 
 plaints, that by the increase of taxes 
 labour would be dear, other nations 
 would undersell us, and our commerce 
 would be ruined. Johnson (smiling). 
 '* Never fear, sir. Our commerce is in 
 a very good state ; and suppose we had 
 no commerce at all, we could live very 
 well on the produce of our own country." 
 I cannot omit to mention, that I never 
 knew any man who was less disposed to 
 be querulous than Johnson. Whether 
 the subject was his own situation, or the 
 state of the publick, or the state of hu- 
 man nature in general, though he saw 
 the evils, his mind was turned to reso- 
 hrtion, and never to whining or com- 
 plaint. 
 
 We went again to St. Clement's in 
 the afternoon. He had found fault with 
 the preacher in the morning for not 
 choosing a text adapted to the day. The 
 preacher in the afternoon had chosen one 
 extremely proper : " It is tinished." 
 
 After the evening service, he said, 
 ** Come, you shall go home with me, 
 and sit just an hour." But he was better 
 than his word ; for after we had drunk 
 tea with Mrs. Williams, he asked me to 
 J4<) up to his study with him, where we 
 sat a long while together in a serene un- 
 ci istinbed frame of mind, sometimes in 
 silence, and sometimes conversing, as 
 we felt ourselves inclined, or, more pro- 
 perly speaking, as he was inclined ; for, 
 (luring all the course of my long intimacy 
 with him, my respectful attention never 
 abated, and my wish to hear him was 
 such that I constantly watched every 
 
 dawning of communication from that 
 great and illuminated mind. 
 
 He observed, '* All knowledge is of 
 itself of some value. There is nothing 
 so minute or inconsiderable that I would 
 not rather know it than not. In the 
 same manner, all power, of whatever 
 sort, is of itself desirable. A man would 
 not submit to learn to hem a ruffle of his 
 wife or his wife's maid ; but if a mere 
 wish could attain it, he would rather 
 wish to be able to hem a ruffle." 
 
 He again advised me to keep a jour- 
 nal fully and minutely, but not to men- 
 tion such trifles as that meat was too 
 much or too little done, or that the wea- 
 ther was fair or rainy. He had, till very 
 near his death, a contempt for the notion 
 that the weather affects the human 
 frame. 
 
 I told him that our friend Goldsmith 
 had said to me that he had come too late 
 into the world, for that Pope and other 
 poets had taken up the places in the 
 Temple of Fame ; so that as but a few 
 at any period can possess poetical repu- 
 tation, a man of genius can now hardly 
 acquire it. Johnson. " That is one of 
 the most sensible things I have ever 
 heard of Goldsmith. It is difficult to get 
 literary fame, and it is every day grow- 
 ing more difficult. Ah, sir, that should 
 make a man think of securing happiness 
 in another world, which all who try sin- 
 cerely for it may attain. In comparison 
 of that, how little are all other things ! 
 The belief of immortality is impressed 
 upon all men, and all men act under 
 an impression of it, however they may 
 talk, and though, perhaps, they may 
 be scarcely sensible of it." I said, it 
 appeared to me that some people had 
 not the least notion of immortality ; and 
 I mentioned a distinguished gentleman 
 of our acquaintance. Johnson. " Sir, if 
 it were not for the notion of immortality, 
 he would cut a throat to fill his pockets!" 
 When I quoted this to Beauclerk, who 
 knew much more of ll-.e gentleman than 
 we did, he said, in his acid manner, ** He 
 would cut a throat to fill his pockets, if 
 it were not for fear of being hanged." 
 
 Dr. Johnson proceeded : " Sir, there 
 is a great cry about infidelity : but there 
 are, in reality, very few infidels. I have 
 heard a person, originally a Quaker, but 
 now, I am afraid, a Deist, say, that he 
 did not believe there were, in all Eng- 
 land, above two hundred infidels." 
 
 He was pleased to say, *' If you come 
 to settle here, wc will have one day in 
 the week on which we will meet by our- 
 selves. That is the happi<'st conversa- 
 tion where there is no competition, no 
 vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of 
 sentiments." In his private register thi- 
 
;Etat, 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 273 
 
 evening is thus marked, " Boswell sat 
 with me till night; we had some serious 
 talk*." It also appears from the same 
 record, that after I left him he was occu- 
 pied in religious duties, in " giving Fran- 
 cis, his servant, some directions for pre- 
 paration to communicate; in reviewing 
 his life, and resolving on better conduct." 
 The humility and piety which he disco- 
 vers on such occasions is truly edifying. 
 No saint, however, in the course of his 
 religious warfare was more sensible of 
 the unhappy failure of pious resolves 
 than Johnson. He said one day, talk- 
 ing to an acquaintance on this subject, 
 " Sir, Hell is paved with good inten- 
 tions f." 
 
 On Sunday, April IG, being Easter 
 Day, after having attended the solemn 
 service at St. Paul's, I dined with Dr. 
 Johnson and Mrs. Williams. I main 
 tained that Horace was wrong in placing 
 happiness in ?iil admirari, for that I 
 thought admiration one of the most agree- 
 able of all our feelings ; and I regretted 
 that I had lost much of my disposition to 
 admire, which people generally do as 
 they advance in life. Johnson. '* Sir, 
 as a man advances in life, he gets what 
 is better than admiration, — ^judgment to 
 estimate things at their true value." I 
 still insisted that admiration was more 
 pleasing than judgment, as love is more 
 pleasing than friendship. The feeling of 
 friendship is like that of being comfort 
 ably filled with roast beef; love, like 
 being enlivened with champagne. John- 
 son. " No, sir ; admiration and love are 
 like being intoxicated with champagne; 
 judgment and friendship like being enli- 
 vened. Waller has hit upon the same 
 thought with you j^ but I don't believe 
 you have borrowed from Waller. I 
 wish you would enable yourself to bor- 
 row more." 
 
 He then took occasion to enlarge on 
 the advantages of reading, and combated 
 the idle superficial notion, that know- 
 ledge enough niay be acquired in con- 
 versation. " The foundation (said he) 
 must be laid by reading. General prin- 
 ciples must be had from books, which, 
 however, must be brought to the test of 
 real life. In conversation you never get 
 
   Prayers and Meditations, p. 138. 
 
 t [This is a proverbial sentence. " Hell 
 (says Herbert) is full of ^ood nieaninsjs and 
 wishinffs." Jacula Prudenium, p. ill edit. 
 1661. M.] 
 
 J " Amorei ! as sweet and good 
 As the most delicious foo'd : 
 Which but tasted does impart 
 Life and gladness to the heart, 
 bacharissa's beauty's wine, 
 Which to madn^-ss does incline; 
 Such a liquor as no brain 
 That is mortal can sustain." 
 
 a system. What is said upon a subject 
 is to be gathered from a hundred people. 
 The parts of a truth which a man gets 
 thus arc at such a distance from each 
 other tW^gtt^ he never attains to a full 
 view." 
 
 *' to ben^ 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE inquired more minutely about 
 the medicine for the rheumatism, which 
 I am sorry to hear that you still want. 
 The receipt is this : 
 
 " Take equal quantities of flour of sul- 
 phur and flour of mustard seed, make 
 them into an electuary with honey or 
 treacle; and take a bolus as big as a 
 nutmeg several times a day, as you can 
 bear it : drinking after it a quarter of a 
 pint of the infusion of the root of lovage. 
 
 ** Lovage, in Ray's * Nomenclature,' 
 is Levisticum : perhaps the Botanists 
 may know the Latin name. 
 
 " Of this medicine I pretend not to 
 judge. There is all the appearance of its 
 efficacy, which a single instance can 
 afford : the patient was very old, the 
 pain very violent, and the relief, I think, 
 speedy and lasting. 
 
 " My opinion of alterative medicine 
 is not high, but quid tentasse nocehit ? 
 if it does harm, or does no good, it may 
 be omitted ; but that it may do good, 
 you have, I hope, reason to think is de- 
 sired by, 
 
 " Sir, your most affectionate, 
 " Humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " April 17, 1775." 
 
 On Tuesday, April 18, he and I were 
 engaged to go with Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 to dine with Mr. Cambridge, at his beau- 
 tiful villa on the banks of the Thames, 
 near Twickenham. Dr. Johnson's tardi- 
 ness was such that Sir Joshua, who had 
 an appointment at Richmond early in 
 the day, was obliged to go by himself on 
 horseback, leaving his coach to Johnson 
 and me. Johnson was in such good 
 spirits that every thing seemed to please 
 him as we drove along. 
 
 Our conversation turned on a variety 
 of subjects. He thought portrait paint- 
 ing an improper empFoyment for a wo- 
 man. " Publick practice of any art (he 
 observed), and staring in men's faces, is 
 very indelicate in a female." I happened 
 to start a question, whether when a man 
 knows that some of his intimate friends 
 are invited to the house of another friend, 
 with whom they are all equally intimate, 
 he may join them without an invitation. 
 Johnson. " No, sir; he is not to go 
 when he is not invited. They may be 
 invited on purpose to abuse him " 
 (smiling). 
 
 '/ 
 
274 
 
 As a curious instance liow little a man 
 knows, or wishes to know, his own cha- 
 racter in the world, or, rather as a con- 
 vincing proof that Johnson's roughness 
 was only external, and did not proceed 
 from his heart, I insert the following 
 dialogue. Johnson. " It is wonderful, 
 sir, how rare a quality good humour is 
 in life. We meet with very few good 
 humoured men." I mentioned four of 
 our friends, none of whom he would 
 allow to be good humoured. One was 
 acid, another was muddy, and to the 
 others he had objections which have 
 escaped me. Then, shaking his head 
 and stretching himself at ease in the 
 coach, and smiling with much more 
 complacency, he turned to me and said, 
 " I look upon myself ^^ a good humoured 
 fellow." The epithet /eZZow, applied to 
 the great Lexicographer, the stately Mo- 
 ralist, the masterly Critick, as if he had 
 been Sam, Johnson, a mere pleasant 
 companion, was higlily diverting ; and 
 this light notion of himself struck me 
 with wonder. I answered, also, smiling, 
 ** No, no, sir ; that will not do. You 
 are good natured, but not good humour- 
 ed : you are irascible. You have not 
 patience with folly and absurdity. I 
 believe you would pardon them, if there 
 were time to deprecate your vengeance ; 
 but punishment follows so quick after 
 sentence that they cannot escape." 
 
 I had brought with me a great bundle 
 of Scotch magazines and newspapers, in 
 which his ** Journey to the Western 
 Islands" was attacked in every mode; 
 and I read a great part of them to him, 
 knowing they would afltbrd him enter- 
 tainment. I wish the writers of them 
 had been present : they would have been 
 sutticiently vexed. One ludicrous imita- 
 tion of his style, by Mr. Maclaurin, now 
 one of the Scotch Judges, with the title 
 of Lord Dreghorn, was distinguished by 
 him from the rude mass. *' This (said 
 he) is the best. But 1 would caricature 
 my own style much better myself." He 
 defended his remark upon the general 
 insutficiency of education in Scotland ; 
 and conlirmed to me the authenticity of 
 his witty saying on the learning of the 
 Scotch ; — ** Their learning is like bread 
 in a besieged town : every man gels a 
 little, but no man gets a full n)eal." 
 •' There is (said he) iii Scotland a dilfii- 
 sion of learning, a certain portion of it 
 widely and thinly spread. A merchant 
 has as much learning as one of their 
 clergy." 
 
 Hji talked of Isaac Walton's Lives, 
 which was one of his most favouritr 
 books. IJr. Donne's Life, he said, was 
 the most perfect of them. He- obnti %«•(!, 
 that " it was wonderful that \N ;il;t)ii. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 who was in a very low situation in life, 
 should have been familiarly received by 
 so many great men, and that at a time 
 when the ranks of society were kept 
 more separate than they are now." He 
 supposed that Walton had then given up 
 his business as a linen-draper and semp- 
 ster, and was only an authour*; and 
 added, ** that he was a great panegyrist." 
 BaswELL. '* No quality will get a man 
 more friends than a disposition to admire 
 the qualities of others. I do not mean 
 (iHttery, but a sincere admiration." John- 
 son. ** Nay, sir, flattery pleases very ge- 
 nerally. In the tirst place, the flatterer 
 may think what he says to be true : but, 
 in the second place, whether he thinks 
 so or not, he certainly thinks those whom 
 he flatters of consequence enough to be 
 flattered." 
 
 No sooner had we made our bow to 
 Mr. Cambridge, in his library, than 
 Johnson ran eagerly to one side of the 
 room intent on poring over the backs of 
 the books t. Sir Joshua observed (aside), 
 " He runs to the books as I do to the 
 pictures : but I have the advantage. I 
 can see much more of the pictures than 
 he can of the books." Mr. Cambridge, 
 upon this, politely said, ♦' Dr. Johnson, 
 I am going, with your pardon, to accuse 
 myself, for I have the same custom 
 which 1 perceive you have. But it seems 
 odd that one should have such a desire 
 to look at the backs of books." Johnson, 
 ever ready for contest, instantly started 
 from his reverie, wheeled about and an- 
 swered, " Sir, the reason is very plain. 
 Knowledge in of two kijuLs. We know 
 a subject ourselves, or we know wheie 
 we can fmd information upon it. When 
 we inquire into any subject, the Hrst 
 thing we have to do is to know what 
 books have treated of it. This leads us 
 to look at catalogues, and the backs of 
 books in libraries." Sir Joshua observed 
 to me the extraonlinary proinpiitiide 
 with which Johnson flew upon an argu- 
 ment. ** Yes (said I), he has no formal 
 preparation, no flourishing with his 
 
 • [Jolmsou's conjecture was erroneous. 
 WultdU did noiredre from bu-<iuess till lo4a. 
 But in lt)44 Dr. Knig, Bishop of Chiciie-ier, 
 in a \itUvA- prefixed lo his Lives, meulious his 
 liavinif heeu laniiliarly aequainted wiih him 
 for iony year? : and in 16al he was bo inti- 
 mate with Ur. Donn*-, th^t he was one of the 
 friends mIio attended liim on his deathbed. 
 J. B.— O ] 
 
 t f I'he (irgi liine he dined with me. he was 
 shown into my hook room, and insianlly 
 pored over th'c lettering oi each volume 
 within his reach. My collection of bor)ks U 
 very miscellaneous, and I feared there might 
 tic somt: anions: them that he would not like. 
 But bcj-inji the number of volumes very < on- 
 ■>iderabl«', he said, *' Vou are an honest man, 
 lo have formed so great an accuuiulatiun of 
 knowledge." U.J 
 
i^lTAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 sword ; he is through your body in an 
 instant." 
 
 Johnson was here solaced with an ele- 
 gant entertainment, a very accomplished 
 family, and much good company ; among 
 whom was Mr. Harris of Salisbury, who 
 paid him many compliments on his 
 " Journey to the Western Islands." 
 
 The common remark as to the utility 
 of reading history being made ; — John- 
 son. " We must consider how very little 
 history there is ; I mean real authentick 
 history. That certain Kings reigned, and 
 certain battles were fought, we can de- 
 pend upon as true ; bnt all the colouring, 
 all the philosophy of history is conjec- 
 ture." JtJoswELii. " Then, sir, you would 
 reduce ail history to no better than an 
 almanack, a mere chronological series of 
 remarkable events." Mr. Gibbon, who 
 must at that time have been employed 
 upon his history, of which he published 
 the first volume in the following year, 
 was present ; but did not step forth in 
 defence of that species of writing. He 
 probably did not like to trust himself 
 with Johnson * 1 
 
 Johnson observed, that the force of our 
 early habits was so great that, though 
 reason approved, nay, though our senses 
 relished a different course, almost every 
 man returned to them. I do not believe 
 there is any observation upon human 
 nature better founded than this; and in 
 many cases, it is a very painful truth ; 
 for where early habits have been mean 
 and wretched, the joy and elevation re- 
 sulting from better modes of life must be 
 damped by the gloomy consciousness of 
 being under an almost inevitable doom 
 to sink back into a situation which we 
 recollect with disgust. It surely may be 
 prevented, by constant attention and un- 
 remitting exertion to establish contrary 
 habits of superiour eflicac}'. 
 
 •' The Beggar's Opera," and the com- 
 mon question, whether it was pernicious 
 in its effects, having been introduced ; — 
 Johnson. " As to tliis matter, which has 
 been very much contested, I myself am 
 of opinion that more influence has been 
 ascribed to * The Beggar's Opera' than 
 it in reality ever had ; for 1 do not be- 
 lieve that any man was ever made a 
 rogue by being present at its representa 
 tion. At the same time 1 do not deny 
 that it may have some influence, by 
 making the character of a rogue familiar, 
 and in some degree pleasing +." Then 
 
 * See p. 269. 
 
 t A very eminent pliysician, wliose disceni- 
 iiietit is as acute and penetrating' in Jii'lj;ing' 
 of the human character as it is in his own 
 profession, remarked on<;e at a chib where 1 
 was, that a lively young^ man, fond of plea- 
 sure, and wiihoni money, would hardly resist 
 a solicitation from his niistress to tfo upon the 
 
 collecting himself, as it were, to give a 
 heavy stroke : " There is in it such a 
 lahefactation of all principles as may- 
 be injurious to morality." 
 
 While he pronounced this response, 
 we sat in a comical sort of restraint, 
 smothering a laugh, which we were 
 afraid might bursf out. In his life of 
 Gay, he has been still more decisive as 
 to the inefliciency of '* The Beggar's 
 Opera" in corrupting society. But I 
 have ever thought somewhat differently ; 
 for, indeed, not only are the gaiety and 
 heroism of a highwayman very capti- 
 vating to a youthful imagination, but the 
 arguments for adventurous depredation 
 are so plausible, the allusions so lively, 
 and the contrasts with the ordinary arid 
 more painful modes of acquiring pro- 
 perty are so artfully displayed that it 
 requires a cool and strong judgment to 
 resist so imposing an aggregate : yet, I 
 own, I should be very sorry to have 
 " The Beggar's Opera" suppressed; for 
 there is in it so much of real London 
 life, so nuich brilliant wit, and such a 
 variety of airs, which, from early asso- 
 ciation of ideas, engage, soothe, and en- 
 liven the mind, that no performance 
 which the theatre exhibits delights me 
 iTiore. 
 
 The late " worthy " Duke of Queens- 
 berry, as Thomson, in his " Seasons," 
 justly characterises him, told me that 
 when Gay showed him " The Beggar's 
 Opera," his Grace's observation was, 
 " This is a very odd thing. Gay ; I ant 
 satisfied that it is either a very good 
 thing, or a very bad thing." It proved 
 the former, beyond the warmest expec- 
 tations of the anthour or his friends. Mr. 
 Cambridge, however, showed us to-day, 
 that there was good reason enough to 
 doubt concerning its success. He was 
 told by Quin, that during the first night 
 of its appearance it was long in a very 
 dubious state ; that there was a disposi- 
 tion to damn it, and that it was saved by 
 the song, 
 
 " Oh, ponder well! be not severe!" 
 the audience being much affected by the 
 innocent looks of Polly, when she came 
 to those two lines, which exhibit at once 
 a painful and ridiculous image, 
 
 «' For on the rope that han^s my Dear, 
 
 Depends poor Polly's lite." 
 
 hif^liway, immediately after heing- present at 
 the representation of " The Bea:Ki*'''s Ojiera." 
 I ha-e been told of an ing^enious observation 
 by Mr. Gibbon, that " I he Beggar's Opera 
 may, perhaps, have someiimeo increased the 
 number of liig-hwaymen ; but that it has had 
 a beneficial effect in refininqr that ciass of 
 men, makioar them less ferocious, more polite, 
 in short, niore like gentlemen." Upon this 
 Air, Cuurtenay said, that " Gay was the 
 Orpheus of highwaymen." 
 
2T6 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 Qiiin himself had so bad an opinion of it 
 that lie refused the part of Captain Mac 
 heath, and gave it to Walker, who ac- 
 quired great celebrity by his grave yet 
 animated performance of it. 
 
 We talked of a young gentleman's 
 marriage with an eminent singer, and his 
 determination tliat she should no longer 
 sing in public, though his father was very 
 earnest s^he should, because her talents 
 would be liberally rewarded, so as to 
 make her a good fortune. It was ques- 
 tioned whether the young gentleman, 
 who had not a shilling in the world, but 
 w as blessed with very uncommon talents, 
 was not foolishly delicate, or foolishly 
 proud, and his father truly rational with- 
 out being mean. Johnson, with all the 
 high spirit of a Roman senator, exclaim- 
 ed, ** He resolved wisely and nobly to 
 be sure. He is a brave man. Would 
 not a gentleman be disgraced by having 
 his wife singing publickly for hire? No, 
 sir, there can be no doubt here. I know 
 not if I should not prepare myself for a 
 publick singer, as readily as let my wife 
 be one." 
 
 Johnson arraigned the modern poli- 
 ticks of this country, as entirely devoid 
 of all principle of whatever kind. ** Po- 
 liticks (said he) are now nothing more 
 than means of rising in the world. With 
 this sole view do men engage in politicks, 
 and their whole conduct proceeds upon 
 it. How different in that respect is the 
 state of the nation now from what it was 
 in the time of Charles the First, during 
 the Usurpation, and after the Restora- 
 tion, in the time of Charles the Second. 
 Hudibras affords a strong proof how 
 much hold political principles had then 
 npon the minds of men. There is in 
 Hudibras a great deal of bullion which 
 will always last. But to be sure the 
 brightest strokes of his wit owed their 
 force to the impression of the characters 
 ■which was upon men's minds at the 
 time ; to their knowing them at table 
 and in the street ; in short, being fami- 
 liar with them ; and above all, to his 
 satire being directed against those whom 
 a little while before they had hated and 
 feared. The nation in general has ever 
 been loyal, has been at all times attached 
 to the monarch, though a few daring 
 rebels have been wonderful I v powerful 
 for a time. The murder of Charles the 
 First was undoubtedly not committed 
 with the approbation or consent of the 
 people. Had that been the case, Parlia- 
 ment would not have ventured to con- 
 sign the regicides to their desei-ved 
 punishment. And we know what exu- 
 berance of joy there was when Charles 
 the Second was restored. If Charles 
 the Second had bent all his mind to it, 
 
 had made it his sole object, he might 
 have been as absolute as Louis the Four- 
 teenth." A gentleman observed he 
 would have done no harm if he had. 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir, absolute princes 
 seldom do any harm. But they who 
 are governed by them are governed by 
 chance. There is no security for good 
 government." Cambridge. '* There have 
 been many sad victims to absolute go- 
 vernment." Johnson. " So, sir, have 
 there been to popular factions." Bos- 
 well. " The question is, which is worst, 
 one wild beast or many?" 
 
 Johnson praised "The Spectator," par- 
 ticularly the character of Sir Roger de 
 Coverley. He said, " Sir Roger did not 
 die a violent death, as has been generally 
 fancied. He was not killed ; he died 
 only because others were to die, and 
 because his death afforded an opportunity 
 to Addison for some very fine writing. 
 We have the example of Cervantes 
 making Don Quixote die.— I never could 
 see why Sir Roger is represented as a 
 little cracked. It appears to me that the 
 story of the widow was intended to have 
 something superinduced upon it ; but the 
 superstructure did not come." 
 
 Somebody found fault with writing 
 verses in a dead language, maintaining 
 that they were merely arrangements of so 
 many words, and laughed at the Univer- 
 sities of Oxford and Cambridge, for send- 
 ing forth collections of them not only 
 in Greek and Latin, but even in Syri- 
 ack, Arabick, and other more unknown 
 tongues. Johnson. " I would have as 
 many of these as possible ; I would have 
 verses in every language that there are 
 the means of acquiring. Nobody ima- 
 gines that a University is to have at once 
 two hundred poets, but it should be able 
 to show two hundred scholars. Pieresc's 
 death was lamented, I think, in forty 
 languages. And I would have had, at 
 every coronation, and every death of a 
 king, every Gaudium, and every IjUC- 
 tus, University verses in as many lan- 
 guages as can be acquired. 1 would 
 have the world to be thus told, ' Here 
 is a school where every thing may be 
 learnt.' " 
 
 Having set out next day on a visit to 
 the Earl of Pembroke, at Wilton, and to 
 my friend, Mr. Temple*, at Mamhead, 
 in Devonshire, and not having returned 
 to town till the second of May, I did not 
 see Dr. Johnson for a considerable time ; 
 and, during the remaining part of my stay 
 in London, kept very imperfect notes of 
 his conversation, which had I, according 
 to my usual custom, written out at large 
 soon after the time, much might have 
 
 • Pajfe 259. 
 
.'Etat. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 277 
 
 been preserved which is now irretriev- 
 ably lost. I can now only record some 
 particular scenes and a few fragments of 
 his memorabilia. But to make some 
 amends for my relaxation of diligence in 
 one respect, I have to present ray readers 
 with arguments upon two law cases with 
 which he favoured me. 
 
 On Saturday, the 6th of May, we 
 dined by ourselves at the Mitre, and he 
 dictated to me what follows, to obviate 
 the complaint already mentioned *, which 
 had been made in the form of an action 
 in the Court of Session, by Dr. Memis, 
 of Aberdeen, that in the same transla- 
 tion of a charter in which physicians 
 were mentioned he was called Doctor of 
 Medicine. 
 
 " There are but two reasons for which 
 a physician can decline the title of Doc- 
 tor of Medicine, because he supposes 
 himself disgraced by the doctorship, or 
 supposes the doctorship disgraced by him- 
 self. To be disgraced by a title which 
 he shares in common with every illustri- 
 ous name of his profession, with Boer- 
 haave, with Arbuthnot, and with Cullen, 
 can surely diminish no man's reputation. 
 It is, I suppose, to the doctorate, from 
 which he shrinks, that he owes his right 
 of practising physick. A Doctor of Me- 
 dicine is a physician under the protection 
 of the laws, and by the stamp of autho- 
 rity. The physician who is not a Doctor 
 usurps a profession, and is authorized 
 only by himself to decide upon health 
 and sickness, and life and death. That 
 this gentleman is a Doctor his diploma 
 makes evident ; a diploma not obtruded 
 upon him, but obtained by solicitation, 
 and for which fees were paid. With what 
 countenance any man can refuse the title 
 which he has either begged or bought is 
 not easily discovered. 
 
 " All verbal injury must comprise in 
 it either some false position or some un- 
 necessary declaration of defamatory truth. 
 That in calling him Doctor, a false appel- 
 lation was given him, he himself will not 
 pretend, who, at the same time that he 
 complains of the title, would be offended 
 if we supposed him to be not a Doctor. 
 If the title of Doctor be a defamatory 
 truth, it is time to dissolve our colleges ; 
 for why should the public give salaries to 
 men whose approbation is reproach? It 
 may likewise deserve the notice of the 
 publick to consider what help can be 
 given to the professors of physick, who 
 all share with this unhappy gentleman 
 the ignominious appellation, and of whom 
 the very boys in the street are not afraid 
 to say, There goes the Doctor. 
 
 *' What is implied by the term Doctor 
 
 I 
 
 * Page 250. 
 
 is well known. It distinguishes him to 
 whom it is granted as a man who has 
 attained such knowledge of his profession 
 as qualifies him to instruct others. A 
 Doctor of Laws is a man who can form 
 lawyers by his precepts. A Doctor of 
 Medicine is a rrian who can teach the art 
 of curing diseases. This is an old axiom 
 which no man has yet thought fit to deny, 
 Nil dat quod non habet. Upon this 
 principle to be Doctor implies skill, for 
 nemo docet quod non didicit. In Eng- 
 land whoever practises physick, not being 
 a Doctor, must practise by a licence : 
 but the doctorate conveys a licence in 
 itself. 
 
 " By what accident it happened that 
 he and the other physicians were men- 
 tioned in different terms, where the terms 
 themselves were equivalent, or where in 
 effect that which was applied to him w as 
 the most honourable, perhaps they who 
 wrote the paper cannot now remember. 
 Had they expected a lawsuit to have 
 been the consequence of such petty vari- 
 ation, I hope they would have avoided 
 itf. But, probably, as they meant no 
 ill, they suspected no danger, and there- 
 fore consulted only what appeared to 
 them propriety or convenience." 
 
 A few days afterwards I consulted 
 him upon a cause, Paterson and others 
 against Alexander and others, which 
 had been decided by a casting vote in 
 the Court of Session, determining that 
 the Corporation of Stirling was corrupt, 
 and setting aside the election of some of 
 their officers, because it was proved that 
 three of the leading men who influenced 
 the majority, had entered into an un^ 
 justifiable compact, of which, however, 
 the majority were ignorant. He dictated 
 to me, after a little consideration, the 
 following sentences upon the subject : 
 
 *' There is a difference between majo- 
 rity and superiority ; majority is applied 
 to number, and superiority to power; 
 and power, like many other things, is to 
 be estimated non numero sed pondere. 
 Now though the greater number is not 
 corrupt, the greater weight is corrupt, 
 so that corruption predominates in the 
 borough, taken collectively, though, per- 
 haps, taken numerically, the greater part 
 may be uncorrupt. That borough which 
 is so constituted as to act corruptly is in 
 the eye of reason corrupt, whether it be 
 by the uncontrolable power of a few, or 
 by an accidental pravity of the multi- 
 tude. The objection, in which is urged 
 the injustice of making the innocent 
 suffer with the guilty, is an objection not 
 
 t 111 justice to Dr. Memis, though \ was 
 against him as an Advocate, I must niention, 
 that he objecte<l to the variation very ear- 
 ueslly before tlie translation was pript^^il off. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 278 
 
 only against society, but against tlie pos- 
 sibility of society. All societies, great 
 and small, subsist upon this condition ; 
 that as the individuals derive advantages 
 from union, they may likewise suffer 
 inconveniences ; that as those wlio do 
 nothing, and sometimes those who do ill, 
 will have the honours and emoluments of 
 general virtue and general prosperity, so 
 those likewise who do nothing, or per- 
 haps do well, must be involved in the 
 consequences of predominant corrup- 
 tion." 
 
 This in my opinion Was a very nice 
 case ; but tlie decision was affirmed in 
 the House of Lords. 
 
 On Monday, May 8, we went together 
 and visited the mansions of Bedlam. I 
 had been informed that he had once been 
 there before with Mr. Wedderburne(now 
 Lord Loughborough), Mr. Murphy, and 
 Mr. Foote; and I had heard Foote give 
 a very entertaining account of Johnson's 
 happening to have his attention arrested 
 by a man who was very furious, and 
 who, while beating his straw, supposed 
 it was William Duke of Cumberland, 
 whom he was punishing for his cruelties 
 in Scotland, in 1746*. There was no- 
 thing peculiarly remarkable this day ; 
 but the general contemplation of insanity 
 was very affecting. I accompanied him 
 home, and dined and drank tea with 
 him. 
 
 Talking of an acquaintance of ours, 
 distinguished for knowijig an uncommon 
 variety of miscellaneous articles both in 
 antiquities and polite literature, he ob- 
 served, " You know, sir, he runs about 
 with little weight upon his mind." And 
 talking of another very ingenious gentle- 
 man, who from the warmtli of his temper 
 was at variance with many of his ac- 
 quaintance, and wished to avoid them, 
 he said, " Sir, he leads the life of an 
 outlaw." 
 
 On Friday, May 12, as he had been so 
 good as to assign me a room in his house, 
 where I might sleep occasionally when 1 
 happened to sit with him to a late hour, 
 I took possession of it this night, found 
 every thing in excellent order, and was 
 attended by honest Francis with a most 
 civil assiduity. I asked Johnson w hether 
 I might go to a consultation with another 
 lawyer upon Sunday, as that appeared 
 to me to be doing work as mucli in my 
 way as if an artisan should work on the 
 day apprt)priated for religious rest. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, when you are of conse- 
 quence enough to oppose the practice of 
 
 * My very lionoiirable friend GeiuTid Sir 
 Ceorife How'ard, wlio vjived in the Duke of 
 Ciiiii()erland'8 army, has avsuied rr.e thar rho 
 cruellies were nut iiii| ulal>le to his Royal 
 lliffliiiess, 
 
 177^ 
 
 consulting upon Sunday, you should do 
 it: but you may go now. It is not cri- 
 minal, though it is not what one should 
 do who is anxious for the preservation 
 and increase of piety, to which a pecu- 
 liar observance of Sunday is a great 
 help. The distinction is clear between 
 what is of moral and what is of ritual 
 obligation." 
 
 On Saturday, May 13, I breakfasted 
 with him by invitation, accompanied by 
 Mr. Andrew Crosbie, a Scotch Advo- 
 cate, whom he had seen at Edinburgh, 
 and the Hon. Colonel (now General) 
 Edward Stopford, brother to Lord Cour- 
 town, who was desirous of being intro- 
 duced to him. His tea and rolls and 
 butter and whole breakfast apparatus 
 were all in such decorum, and his beha- 
 viour was so courteous that Colonel Stop- 
 ford was quite surprised, and wondered 
 at his having heard so much said of 
 Johnson's slovenliness and roughness. I 
 have preserved nothing of what passed, 
 except that Crosbie pleased him much 
 by talking learnedly of alchymy, as to 
 which Johnson was not a positive unbe- 
 liever, but rather delighted in considering 
 w hat progress had actually been made in 
 the transmutation of metals, what near 
 approaches there had been to the making 
 of gold ; and told us that it was affirmed, 
 that a person in tlie Russian dominions 
 had discovered the secret, but died with- 
 out revealing it, as imagining it would 
 be prejudicial to society. He added, that 
 it was not impossible but it might in 
 time be generally known. 
 
 It being asked whether it was reason- 
 able for a man to be angry at another 
 whom a woman had preferred to him? — 
 Johnson. " I do not see, sir, that it is 
 reasonable for a man to be angry at 
 another whom a woman has preferred to 
 him : but angry he is, no doubt ; and he 
 is loath to be angry at himself." 
 
 Before setting out for Scotland on the 
 23d, I was frequently in his company at 
 different places, but during this period 
 have recorded only two remarks : one 
 concerning Garrick : " He has not Latin 
 onongh. He finds out the Latin by the 
 meaning rather than the meaning by the 
 Latin." Ami another concerning writers 
 of travels, who, he observed, "were more 
 defective than any other writers." 
 
 I passed many hours with him on the 
 17th, of which I find all my memorial 
 is, " much laughing." It should seem 
 he had that day been in a humour for 
 jocularity and merriment, and upon such 
 occasions I never knew a man laugh 
 more heartily. We may suppose that 
 the high relish of a state so different from 
 his habitual glootn produced more than 
 ordinary exertions of that distinguishing 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 faculty of man, which has puzzled phi- 
 losophers so much to explain. Johnson's 
 laugh was as remarkable as any circum- 
 stance in his manner. It was a kind of 
 good humoured growl. Tom Davies de- 
 scribed it drolly enough : " He laughs 
 like a rhinoceros." 
 
 " TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIB, 
 
 " I HAVE an old amanuensis in great dis- 
 tress. I have given what I think I can 
 give, and begged till I cannot tell where 
 to beg again. I put into his hands this 
 morning four guineas. If you could col- 
 lect three guineas more, it would clear 
 him from his present difficulty. 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " May 21, 1775." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I MAKE no doubt but you are now 
 safely lodged in your own habitation, 
 and have told all your adventures to 
 Mrs. Boswell and Miss Veronica. Pray 
 teach Veronica to love me. Bid her not 
 mind mamma. 
 
 " Mrs. Tlirale has taken cold, and been 
 very much disordered, but I hope is 
 grown well. — Mr. Langton went yester- 
 day to Lincolnshire, and has invited 
 Nicolaida * to follow him. Beauclerk 
 talks of going to Bath. I am to set out 
 on Monday ; so there is nothing but dis- 
 persion. 
 
 " I have returned Lord Hailes's enter- 
 taining sheets, but must stay till I come 
 back for more, because it will be incon- 
 venient to send them after me in my 
 vagrant state. 
 
 " I promised Mrs. Macaulayt that I 
 would try to serve her son at Oxford. I 
 have not forgotten it, nor am unwilling 
 to perform it. If they desire to give him 
 an English education, it should be con 
 sidered whether they cannot send him 
 for a year or two to an English school 
 If he comes immediately from Scotland, 
 he can make no figure in our Universi- 
 ties. The schools in the north, I believe, 
 are cheap ; and when I was a young 
 man were eminently good. 
 
 " There are two little books published 
 by the Foulis, Telemachus and Collins's 
 poems ; each a shilling; I would be glad 
 to have them. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos 
 well, though she does not love me. You 
 see what perverse things ladies are, and 
 how little fit to be trusted with feudal 
 
 * A learned Greek. 
 
 t Wife of the Reverend Mr. Kenneth Mac- 
 aulay, aiithour of " The History of St.Kilda." 
 
 279 
 
 estates. When she mends and loves 
 me, there may be more hope of her 
 daughters. 
 
 will not send compliments to my 
 friends by name, because I would be 
 loath to leave any out in the enumera- 
 tion. Tell them, as you see them, how 
 well I speak of Scotch politeness, and 
 Scotch hospitality, and Scotch beauty, 
 and of every thing Scotch, but Scotch 
 oat-cakes and Scotch prejudices. 
 
 " Let me know the answer of Rasay, 
 and the decision relating to Sir Allan j. 
 " I am, MY DEAREST SIR, with great 
 affection, 
 
 ** Your most obliged and 
 
 *' Most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " May 27, 1775." 
 
 After my return to Scotland I wrote 
 three letters to him, from which I extract 
 the following passages : 
 
 " I have seen Lord Hailes since I came 
 down. He thinks it wonderful that you 
 are pleased to take so much pains in 
 revising his ' Annals.' I told him that 
 you said you were well rewarded by the 
 entertainment which you had in reading 
 them." 
 
 " There has been a numerous flight of 
 Hebrideans in Edinburgh this summer, 
 whom I have been happy to entertain at 
 my house. — Mr. Donald Macqueen§ and 
 Lord Monboddo supped with me one 
 evening. They joined in controverting 
 your proposition, that the Gaelick of the 
 Highlands and Isles of Scotland was not 
 written till of late." 
 
 " My mind has been somewhat dark 
 this summer. I have need of your warm- 
 ing and vivifying rays ; and I hope I 
 shall have them frequently. I am going 
 to pass some time with my father at 
 Auchinleck." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM returned from the annual ramble 
 into the middle counties. Having seen 
 nothing I had not seen before, I have 
 nothing to relate. Time has left that part 
 of the island few antiquities; and com- 
 merce has left the people no singularities. 
 I was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, 
 glad to come home ; which is, in other 
 words, I was, I am afraid, weary of 
 being at home, and weary of being 
 abroad. Is not this the state of life? 
 But, if we confess this weariness, let us 
 
 I A lawsiiitcanied on by Sir Allan Maclean, 
 Chief of his Clan, to recover certain parts of 
 his family estates front the Duke of Are\-le. 
 
 § A very learned minister in tiie Isle of Sky, 
 wiiom both Dr. Johnson and I have nipntioned 
 with regard. 
 
280 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 not lament it ; for all the wise and all 
 the good say that we may cure it, 
 
 1775. 
 
 * For the black fumes which rise in 
 your mind, I can prescribe nothing but 
 that you disperse them by honest busi- 
 ness or innocent pleasure, and by reading, 
 sometimes easy and sometimes serious. 
 Change of place is useful ; and I hope 
 that your residence at Auchinleck will 
 have many good eflfects. 
 
 " That I should have given pain to 
 Rasay, I am sincerely sorry ; and am 
 therefore very much pleased that he is 
 no longer uneasy. He still thinks that I 
 have represented him as personally giving 
 up the Chieftainship. I meant only that 
 it was no longer contested between the 
 two houses, and supposed it settled, per- 
 haps, by the cession of some remote 
 generation, in the house of Dunvegan. 
 I am sorry the advertisement was not 
 continued for three or four times in the 
 paper. 
 
 " That Lord Monboddo and Mr. Mac- 
 queen should controvert a position con- 
 trary to the imaginary interest of literary 
 or national prejudice might be easily 
 imagined ; but of a standing fact there 
 ought to be no controversy : if there are 
 men with tails,catch an homo caudatus ; 
 if there was writing of old in the High- 
 lands or Hebrides, in the Erse language, 
 produce the manuscripts. Where men 
 write they will write to one another, and 
 some of their letters, in families studious 
 of their ancestry, will be kept. In Wales 
 there are many manuscripts. 
 
 ** I have now three parcels of Lord 
 Hailes's history, which I purpose to re- 
 turn all the next week : that his respect 
 for my little observations should keep his 
 work in suspense, makes one of the evil? 
 of my journey. It is in our language, I 
 think, a new mode of history which tells 
 all that is wanted, and, I suppose, all 
 that is known, without laboured splen- 
 dour of language, or atfected subtilty of 
 conjecture. The exactness of his datcj; 
 raises my wonder. He seems to have 
 the closeness of Henault without his 
 constraint. 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale was so entertained with 
 your Journal * that she almost read her- 
 self blind. She has a great regard for 
 you. 
 
 " Of Mrs. Boswell, though she knows 
 in her heart that she does not love me, I 
 am always glad to hear any good, and 
 hope that she and the little dear ladies 
 will have neither sickness nor any other 
 afllictioD. But she knows that she does 
 
 « My "Journal of aTowrtolhe Hebrides," 
 wliich that lady read in the original manu- 
 script. 
 
 not care what becomes of me, and for 
 that she may be sure that I think her 
 very much to blame. 
 
 •' Never, my dear sir, do you take it 
 into your head to think that I do not love 
 you ; you may settle yourself in full con- 
 fidence both of my love and my esteem ; 
 I love you as a kind man, I value you as 
 a worthy man, and hope in time to reve- 
 rence you as a man of exemplary piety. 
 I hold you, as Hamlet has it, * in my 
 heart of hearts,' and, therefore, it is little 
 to say, that 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, August 27, 1775." 
 
 ** SIR, 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 ** If in these papers t there is little alte- 
 ration attempted, do not suppose me 
 negligent. I have read them perhaps 
 more closely than the rest ; but I find 
 nothing worthy of an objection. 
 
 " Write to me soon, and write often, 
 and tell me all your honest heart. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' August 30, 1775." 
 
 to the same. 
 
 ** MY dear SIR, 
 
 " I now write to you, lest in some of 
 your freaks and humours you should 
 fancy yourself neglected. Such fancies 
 I must entreat you never to admit, at 
 least never to indulge ; for my regard for 
 you is so radicated and fixed that it is 
 become part of my mind, and cannot be 
 effaced but by some cause uncommonly 
 violent ; therefore, whether I write or 
 not, set your thoughts at rest. I now 
 write to tell you that I shall not very 
 soon write again, for I am to set out 
 to-morrow on another journey. 
 ****** 
 
 ** Your friends are all well at Streat- 
 ham, and in Leicester Fields J. Make 
 my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, if she 
 is in good humour with me. 
 •' I am, SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " September 14, 1775." 
 
 What he mentions in such light terms 
 as, ** I am to set out to-morrow on ano- 
 ther journey," I soon afterwards disco- 
 vered was no It — th.iii a lour to France 
 with Mr. and Mi,-, iliiuic. This was 
 the only time in hia lite that he went 
 upon the Continent. 
 
 t Another parcel of Lord Hailes's " Annals 
 of Scotland,'* 
 X Where Sir Joshua Reynolds lived. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 281 
 
 *' TO MR. ROBERT LEVETT. 
 
 Sept. 18, I77i, 
 " DEAR SIR, Calais. 
 
 ** We are here in France, after a very- 
 pleasing passage of no more than six 
 hours. I know not when I shall write 
 again, and therefore I write now, though 
 you cannot suppose that I have much to 
 say. You have seen France yourself. 
 From this place we are going to Rouen, 
 and from Rouen- to Paris, where Mr. 
 Thrale designs to stay about five or six 
 weeks. We have a regular recommenda- 
 tion to the English resident, so we shall 
 not be taken for vagabonds. We think 
 to go one way and return another, and 
 for as much as we can, I will try to 
 speak a little French ; I tried hitherto 
 but little, but I spoke sometimes. If I 
 heard better, I suppose I should learn 
 faster. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 to the same. 
 " DEAR SIR, Paris, Oct. 22, 1775. 
 
 ** We are still here, commonly very busy 
 in looking about us. We have been to- 
 day at Versailles. You have seen it, and 
 I shall not describe it. — We came yester- 
 day from Fontainbleau, where the Court 
 is now. We went to see the King and 
 Queen at dinner, and the Queen was so 
 impressed by Miss * that she sent one of 
 the gentlemen to inquire who she was. 
 I find all true that you have ever told 
 me at Paris. Mr. Thrale is very liberal, 
 and keeps us two coaches, and a very 
 fine table ; but I think our cookery very 
 bad. Mrs. Thrale got into a convent of 
 English nuns, and I talked with her 
 through the grate, and I am very kindly 
 used by the English Benedictine friars. 
 But upon the whole 1 cannot make 
 much acquaintance here ; and though 
 the churches, palaces, and some private 
 houses are very magnificent, there is no 
 very great pleasure after having seen 
 many in seeing more ; at least the plea- 
 sure, whatever it be, must some time 
 have an end, and we are beginning to 
 think when we shall come home. Mr. 
 Thrale calculates that as we left Streat- 
 ham on the fifteenth of September, we 
 shall see it again about the fifteenth of 
 November. 
 
 " I think I had not been on this side 
 of the sea five days before I found a 
 sensible improvement in my health. I 
 ran a race in the rain this day, and beat 
 Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow, and 
 speaks French, I think, quite as well as 
 English. 
 
 * Mis.s Thrale. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to Mrs. Wil- 
 liams ; and give my love to Francis ; 
 and tell my friends that I am not lost. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your affectionate humble, &c. 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " to dr. samuel johnson. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Oct. 24, 1775. 
 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " If I had not been informed that you 
 were at Paris, you should have had a 
 letter from me by the earliest opportu- 
 nity, announcing the birth of my son, on 
 the 9lh instant ; I have named him Alex- 
 ander, after my father. I now write, 
 as I suppose your fellow traveller, Mr. 
 Thrale, will return to London this week, 
 to attend his duty in Parliament, and 
 that you will not stay behind him. 
 
 " 1 send another parcel of Lord Hailes's 
 * Annals.* I have undertaken to solicit 
 you for a favour to him, which he thus 
 requests in a letter to me : ' I intend soon 
 to give you " The Life of Robert Bruce," 
 which you will be pleased to transmit to 
 Dr. Johnson. I wish that you could 
 assist me in a fancy which I have taken, 
 of getting Dr. Johnson to draw a charac- 
 ter of Robert Bruce, from the account 
 that I give of that prince. If he finds 
 materials for it in my work, it will be a 
 proof that I have been fortunate in se- 
 lecting the most striking incidents.' 
 
 " I suppose by ' The Life of Robert 
 Bruce,'' his Lordship means that part 
 of his 'Annals' which relates the his- 
 tory of that prince, and not a separate 
 work. 
 
 *' Shall we haveM Journey to Paris* 
 from you in the winter? You will, I 
 hope, at any rate be kind enough to give 
 me some account of your French travels 
 very soon, for I am very impatient. 
 What a different scene have you viewed 
 this autumn from that which you viewed 
 in autumn 1773 ! 
 
 " I ever am, my dear sir, 
 
 ** Your much obliged and 
 
 ** Aflectionate humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 " to JAMES BOSWEIiL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM glad that the young Laird is born, 
 and an end, as I hope, put to the only 
 difterence that you can ever have with 
 Mrs. Boswell f. I know that she does 
 not love me ; but I intend to persist in 
 wishing her well till I get the better of 
 her. 
 
 " Paris is, indeed, a place very diffe- 
 rent from the Hebrides, but it is to a 
 
 t This alludes to my old feudal principle of 
 preferring male to female succession. 
 
282 
 
 hasty traveller not so fertile of novelty, 
 nor affords so many opportunities of re- 
 mark. I cannot pretend to tell the pub- 
 lick any thing of a place better known to 
 many of my readers than to myself. We 
 can talk of it when we meet. 
 
 " I shall go next week to Streatham, 
 from whence I pinpose to send a parcel 
 of the ' History' every post. Concerning 
 the character of Bruce, I can only say 
 that I do not see any great reason for 
 writing it; but I sha'll not easily deny 
 what Lord Hailes and you concur in 
 desiring. 
 
 " I have been remarkably healthy all 
 the jonrney, and hope yon and your 
 family have known only that trouble and 
 danger which has so happily terminated. 
 Among all the congratulations that yon 
 m^y receive, I hope you believe none 
 more warm or sincere than those of, 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' November 16, 1775." 
 
 " TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD*. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " This week I came home from Paris. I 
 have brought you a little box, which I 
 thought pretty ; but I know not whether 
 it is properly a snutf-box, or a box for 
 some other use. I will send it when I 
 can find an opportunity. I have been 
 through the whole journey remarkably 
 well— My fellow travellers were the 
 same whom you saw at Lichfield, only 
 we took Baretti with us. Paris is not so 
 fine a place as you would expect. The 
 palaces and churches, however, are very 
 splendid and magnificent ; and what 
 would please you, there are many very 
 fine pictures ; but I do not think their 
 way of life commodious or pleasant. 
 
 " Let me know how jour health has 
 been all this while. I hope the fine sum- 
 mer has given you strength sufficient to 
 encounter the winter. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to all my 
 friends ; and, if your fingers will let you, 
 write to me, or let your maid write, if it 
 be troublesome to you. 
 
 I am, DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** Your most atiectionate 
 
 '* Humble servant, 
 
 •* Sam. Johnson." 
 
 •' Nov. 16, 1775." 
 
 • There can be no doubt that many years 
 previous lo 1775, he corresnoiuleti with this 
 lady, who was his step-dauijhter, but none of 
 liii earlier letters to her have been preservcfl. 
 
 [Since the death of the auihotir stveral of 
 Johnson's letters to Mrs. Lucy I'orrer, written 
 l)efore 1775. were ohliefinifly communicated by 
 llie Rev. Dr. Vvre lo Mr. Maione, and are 
 printed in ilie present edition. M.j 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 ** DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " Some weeks ago I wrote to you to tell 
 you that I was just come home from a 
 ramble, and hoped that I should have 
 hoard from you. 1 am afraid winter has 
 laid hold on your fingers, and hinders you 
 from writing. However, let somebody 
 write, if you cannot, and tell me how 
 you do, and a little of what has happened 
 at Lichfield among ouV friends. I hope 
 you are all well. 
 
 " When I was in France, I thought 
 myself growing young, but am afraid 
 that cold weather will take part of ray 
 new vigour from me. Let us, however, 
 take care of ourselves, and lose no part 
 of our health by negligence. 
 
 " I never knew whether you received 
 the Commentary on the New Testament, 
 and the Travels, and the glasses. 
 
 " Do, my dear love, write to me ; and 
 do not let us forget each other. This is 
 the season of good wishes, and I wish 
 you all good. I have not lately seen 
 Mr. Porter t, nor heard of him. Is he 
 with you? 
 
 " Be pleased to make my compliments 
 to Mrs. Adey, and Mrs. Cobb, and all 
 my friends; and when I can do any 
 good, let me know. 
 
 " I am, DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " Yours most affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " December, 1775." 
 
 It is to be regretted that he did not 
 write an account of his travels in France ; 
 for as he is reported to have once said 
 that ** he could write the Life of a 
 Broomstick," so, notwithstanding so 
 many former travellers have exhausted 
 almost every subject for remark in that 
 great kingdom, his very accurate obser- 
 vation, and peculiar vigour of thought 
 and illustration would have produced a 
 valuable work. During his visit to it, 
 which lasted but about two months, he 
 wrote notes or minutes of what he saw. 
 He promised to show me them, but I 
 neglected to put him in mind of it ; and 
 the greatest part of them has been lost, 
 or perhaps destroyed in a precipitate 
 burning of his papers a few days before 
 his death, which must ever be lamented : 
 one small paper book, however, entitled 
 *' France II." has been preserved, and 
 Is in my possession. It is a diurnal 
 register of his life and observations, from 
 the 10th of October to the 4th of Novem- 
 ber, inclusive, being twenty-six days, 
 and shows an extraordinary attention to 
 various minute particulars. Being the 
 
 t Son of Mrs. Johnson, by her first hus- 
 band. 
 
;Etat. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 283 
 
 only memorial of this tonr that remains, 
 my readers, I am confident, will peruse 
 it with pleasure, though his notes are 
 very short, and evidently written only to 
 assist his own recollection. 
 
 " Oct. 10, Tuesday. We saw the 
 Ecole Militaire, in which one hundred 
 and fifty young boys are educated for 
 the army. They have arms of different 
 sizes, according to the age ; — flints of 
 wood. The building is very large, but 
 nothing fine except the council room. 
 The French have large squares in the 
 windows ;• — they make good iron pali- 
 sades. Their meals are gross. 
 
 " We visited the Observatory, a large 
 building of a great height. The upper 
 stones of the parapet very large, but not 
 cramped with iron. The flat on the top 
 is very extensive; but on the insulated 
 part there is no parapet. Though it was 
 broad enough, I did not care to go upon 
 it. Miips were printing in one of the 
 rooms. 
 
 " We walked to a small convent of the 
 Fathers of the Oratory. In the reading 
 desk of the refectory lay the Lives of 
 the Saints. 
 
 " Oct. 11. Wednesday. We went to 
 see Hotel de Chatlois, a house not very 
 large, but very elegant. One of the 
 rooms was gilt to a degree that I never 
 saw before. The upper part for servants 
 and their masters was pretty. 
 
 " Thence we went to Mr. Monville's, 
 a house divided into small apartments, 
 furnished with effeminate and minute 
 elegance.— Porphyry. 
 
 " Thence we went to St. Roque's 
 Church, which is very large; — the lower 
 part of the pillars incrusted with marble. 
 — Three chapels behind the high altar ; — 
 the last a mass of low arches. — Altars, I 
 believe, all round. 
 
 " We passed through Place de Ven- 
 ddme, a fine square, about as big as 
 Hanover Square. — Inhabited by the high 
 families. — Lewis XIV. on horseback in 
 the middle. 
 
 '* Monville is the son of a farmer- 
 general. In the house of Chatlois is a 
 room furnished with japan, fitted up in 
 Europe. 
 
 *' We dined with Boccage, the Mar- 
 quis Blanchetti, and his lady. — The 
 sweetmeats taken by the Marchioness 
 Blanchetti, after observing that they were 
 dear. Mr. Le Roy, Count Manucci, the 
 Abbe, the Prior, and Father Wilson, 
 who staid with me till I took him home 
 in the coach. 
 
 " Bathiani is. gone. 
 
 " The French have no laws for the 
 maintenance of their poor. — Monk not 
 necessarily a priest. — Benedictines rise 
 at four ; — are at church an hour and 
 
 half; at church again half an hour be- 
 fore, half an hour after dinner ; and again 
 from half an hour after seven to eight, 
 iliey may sleep eight hours. — Bodily 
 labour wanted in monasteries. 
 
 " The poor taken to hospitals, and 
 miserably kept. — Monks in the convent 
 fifteen : — accounted poor. 
 
 " Oct. 12. Thursday. We went to the 
 Gobelins. — Tapestry makes a good pic- 
 ture;— imitates flesh exactly. — One piece 
 with a gold ground ; — the birds not ex- 
 actly coloured. — Thence we went to the 
 King's cabinet ; — very neat, not, per- 
 haps, perfect. — Gold ore. — Candles of the 
 candle free. — Seeds. — Woods. — Thence 
 to Gagnier's house, where I saw rooms 
 nine, furnished with a profusion of wealth 
 and elegance which I never had seen 
 before. — Vases. — Pictures. — The dragon 
 china. — The lustre said to be of crystal, 
 and to have cost 3,5001. — The whole fur- 
 niture said to have cost 125,0001. — Da- 
 mask hangings covered with pictures. — 
 Porphyry. — This house struck me.— Then 
 we waited on the ladies to Monville's. — 
 Captain Irwin with us*. — Spain. County 
 towns all beggars. — At Dijon he could 
 not find the way to Orleans. — Cross roads 
 of France very bad. — Five soldiers. — 
 Woman. — Soldiers escaped. — The Colo- 
 nel would not lose five men for the death 
 of one woman.— The magistrate cannot 
 seize a soldier but by the Colonel's per- 
 mission. — Good inn at Nismes. — Moors 
 of Barbary fond of Englishmen. — Gibral- 
 tar eminently healthy ;— it has beef from 
 Barbary. — There is a large garden. — Sol- 
 diers sometimes fall from the rock. 
 
 " Oct. 13. Friday. I staid at home 
 all day, only went to find the prior, who 
 was not at home. — I read something in 
 Canus f. — ]Vec admiror, nee inultum 
 laudo. 
 
 " Oct. 14. Saturday. We went to the 
 house of Mr. Argenson, which was almost 
 wainscoted with lookingglasses, and co- 
 vered with gold. — The ladies' closet 
 wainscoted with large squares of glass 
 over painted paper. They always place 
 mirrours to reflect their rooms. 
 
 " Then we went to Julien's, the Trea- 
 surer of the Clergy :— 30,0001. a year.— 
 The house has no very large room, but 
 is set with mirrours, and covered with 
 gold. — Books of wood here, and in ano- 
 ther library. 
 
 "AtD********'sI looked into the 
 books in the lady's closet, and, in con- 
 
 * The rest of this paragraph appears to 
 be a minute of what was told by Captain 
 Irwin. 
 
 t Melchi< r Canus, a celebrated Spanish 
 Dominican, who died at Toledo, in 1560. He 
 wrote a treatise Be Locis Tluologicis, in 
 twelve books. 
 
284 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 tempt, showed them to Mr. T.— Prince 
 Titi; Bibl. des Fees, and other books. 
 — She was otfended, and shut up, as we 
 heard afterwards, her apartment. 
 
 *' Then we went to Julien Le Roy, the 
 King's watchmaker, a man of character 
 in his business, who showed a small 
 clock made to find the longitude.— A 
 decent man. 
 
 "Afterwards we saw the Palais Mar- 
 chand, and the Courts of Justice, civil 
 and criminal.— Queries on the Sellette. 
 — This building has the old Gothick pas- 
 sages, and a great appearance of anti- 
 quity. — Three hundred prisoners some- 
 times in the gaol. 
 
 "Much disturbed; hope no ill will 
 be*. 
 
 ** In the afternoon I visited Mr. Freron 
 the journalist. He spoke Latin very 
 scantily, but seemed to understand me. 
 — His house not splendid, but of commo- 
 dious size. — His tamily, wife, son, and 
 daughter, not elevated but decent. — 1 
 was pleased with my reception. — He is 
 to translate my books, which I am to 
 send him with notes. 
 
 " Oct. 15. Sunday. At Choisi, a 
 royal palace on the banks of the Seine, 
 about 7 m. from Paris. — ^The terrace 
 noble along the river. — The rooms nume- 
 rous and grand, but not discriminated 
 from other palaces. — The chapel beauti- 
 ful, but small. — China globes — Inlaid 
 tables — Labyrinth. — Sinking table. — 
 Toilet tables. 
 
 " Oct. 16. Monday. The Palais Royal 
 very grand, large, and lofty. — A very 
 great collection of pictures. — Three of 
 Raphael. — Two Holy Family. — One 
 small piece of M. Angelo. — One room of 
 Rubens. — I thought the pictures of Ra- 
 phael tine. 
 
 " The Tuileries. — Statues. — Venus. — 
 Mn. and Anchises in his arms. — Nilus. 
 — Many more. The walks not open to 
 mean persons. — Chairs at night hired for 
 two sous a piece. — Pont tournant. 
 
 "Austin nuns. — Grate. — Mrs. Fermor, 
 Abbess. — She knew Pope, and thought 
 
 him disagreeable. — Mrs. has many 
 
 books ; has seen life. — Their frontlet dis- 
 agreeable. — Their hood. — Their life easy. 
 — Rise about five ; hour and half in cha- 
 pel. — Dine at ten. — Another hour and 
 half at chapel ; half an hour about three, 
 and half an hour more at seven: — four 
 hours in chapel. — A large garden. — 
 Thirteen pensioners. — Teacher com- 
 plained. 
 
 " At the Boulevards saw nothing, yet 
 was glad to be there. — Rope-dancing and 
 farce. — Egg dance. 
 
 * This passage, which bo many think super- 
 etitiouH, reDiinds me of ArclibisUop Laud's 
 Diary. 
 
 " N. [Note.] Near Paris, whether on 
 week-days or Sundays, the roads empty. 
 " Oct. 17. Tuesday. At the Palais 
 Marchand I bought 
 
 A snufi-box, 24 L. 
 
 6 
 
 Table book 15 
 
 Scissars 3 p [pair] 18 
 
 63—2 12 6 
 
 " We heard the lawyers plead — N. As 
 many killed at Paris as there are days 
 in the year. — Chambre de Question — 
 Tournelle at the Palais Marchand. — An 
 old venerable building. 
 
 " The Palais Bourbon, belonging to the 
 Prince of Conde. Only one small wing 
 shown ; — lofiy : — splendid ; — gold and 
 glass. — The battles of the great Conde 
 are painted in one of the rooms. The 
 present Prince a grandsire at thirty-nine. 
 
 " The sight of palaces and other great 
 buildings leaves no very distinct images, 
 unless to those who talk of them. As I 
 entered, my wife was in my mindt: 
 she would have been pleased. Having 
 now nobody to please, I am little 
 pleased. 
 
 " N. In France there is no middle 
 rank. 
 
 " So many shops open that Sunday is 
 little distinguished at Paris. — The pa- 
 laces of Louvre and Tuileries granted out 
 in lodgings. 
 
 *' In the Palais de Bourbon, gilt 
 globes of metal at the fire-place. 
 
 " The French beds commended. — 
 Much of the marble only paste. 
 
 " The Colosseum a mere wooden build- 
 ing, at least much of it. 
 
 " Oct. 18. Wednesday. We went to 
 Fontainebleau, which we found a large 
 mean town, crowded with people. — The 
 forest thick with woods, very extensive. 
 — Manucci secured us lodgings. — The ap- 
 pearance of the country pleasant. — No 
 hills, few streams, only one hedge. — I 
 remember no chapels nor crosses on the 
 road. — Pavement still, and rows of trees. 
 
 " N. Nobody but mean people walk 
 in Paris. 
 
 " Oct. 19. Thursday. At Court, we 
 saw the apartments ; — the King's bed- 
 chamber and council-chamber extremely 
 splendid. — Persons of all ranks in the 
 external rooms through which the family 
 passes;— servants and masters. — Brunei 
 with us the second time. 
 
 '* The introductor came to us ; — civil 
 to me. — Prestniting. — 1 had scruples. — 
 Not necessary. — We went and saw the 
 King and Queen at dinner. — We saw the 
 
 t IliB tender affection for his departed wife, 
 of which there are many evidences in his 
 " Prayers and Mediialioni-," appears very 
 feelingly in this passage. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 .g^TAT. 66. 
 
 other ladies at dinner. — Madame Eliza- 
 beth, with the Princess of Guimene. At 
 night we went to a comedy. I neither 
 saw nor heard. — Drunken women. — 
 Mrs. Th. preferred one to the other. 
 
 " Oct. 20. Friday. We saw the Queen 
 mount in the forest — Brown habit ; rode 
 aside : one lady rode aside. — The Queen's 
 horse light gray ; — martingale. — She gal- 
 loped.— We then went to the apartments, 
 and admired them. — Then wandered 
 through the palace. — In the passages, 
 stalls, and shops. — Painting in Fresco, 
 by a great master, worn out. — We saw 
 the King's horses and dogs. — The dogs 
 almost ail English. — Degenerate. 
 
 *' The horses not much commended. — 
 The stables cool; tiie kennel filthy. 
 
 *' At night the ladies went to the opera. 
 I refused, but should have been wel- 
 come. 
 
 " The King fed himself with his left 
 hand as we. 
 
 " Saturday, 21. In the night I got 
 round. — We came home to Paris. — I 
 think we did not see the chapel. — Tree 
 broken by the wind.— The French chairs 
 made all of boards painted. 
 
 " N. Soldiers at the court of justice. — 
 Soldiers not amenable to the magistrates. 
 — Dijon woman*. 
 
 " Faggots in the palace. — Every thing 
 slovenly, except in the chief rooms. — 
 Trees in the roads, some tall, none old, 
 many very j'oung and small. 
 
 " Women's saddles seem ill made. — 
 Queen's bridle woven with silver. — Tags 
 to strike the horse. 
 
 " Sunday, Oct. 22. To Versailles, a 
 mean town. Carriages of business pass- 
 ing. — Mean shops against the wall. — 
 Our way lay through Seve, where the 
 China manufacture. — Wooden bridge at 
 Seve, in the way to Versailles. — The pa- 
 lace of great extent. — The front long ; I 
 saw it not perfectly. — The Menagerie. 
 Cygnets dark ; their black feet ; on the 
 ground ; tame. — Halcyons, or gulls. — 
 Stag and hind, young. — Aviary, very 
 large : the net, wire. — Black Stag of 
 China, small. — Rhinoceros, the horn 
 broken and pared away, which, I sup- 
 pose, will grow ; the basis, I think, four 
 inches 'cross ; the skin folds like loose 
 cloth doubled over his body, and cross 
 his hips; a vast animal, though young ; 
 as big, perhaps, as four oxen. — l"he young 
 elephant, with his tnsks just appearing, 
 — The brown bear put out his paws; — 
 all very tame. — The lion. — The tigers I 
 did not well view. — The camel, or dro- 
 medary with two bunches called the 
 Huguinf, taller than any horse. — Two 
 
 * See pase 283. 
   ^' ' thet 
 
 one bunch. 
 
 285 
 
 camels with one bunch. — Among the 
 birds was a pelican, who being let out, 
 went to a fountain, and swam about to 
 catch fish. His feet well webbed : he 
 dipped his head, and turned his long bill 
 sidewise. He caught two or three fish, 
 but did not eat them. 
 
 *' Trianon is a kind of retreat appen- 
 dant to Versailles. It has an open por- 
 tico ; the pavement and, I think, the 
 pillars of marble. — There are many rooms, 
 which I do not distinctly remember — A 
 table of porphyry, about five feet long, 
 and between two and three broad, given 
 to Louis XIV. by the Venetian State. — 
 In the council room almost all that was 
 not door or window was, I think, look- 
 ingglass. — Little Trianon is a small pa- 
 lace like a gentleman's house. — The upper 
 floor paved with brick. — Little Vienne. 
 — The court is ill paved. — The rooms at 
 the top are small, fit to sooth the ima- 
 gination with privacy. In the front of 
 Versailles are small basons of water on 
 the terrace, and other basons, I think, 
 below them. There are little courts. — 
 The great gallery is wainscoted with mir- 
 rours, not very large, but joined by 
 frames. I suppose the large plates were 
 not yet made. — The playhouse was very 
 large. — The chapel I do not remember if 
 we saw — we saw one chapel, but I am 
 not certain whether there or at Trianon. 
 — The foreign office paved with bricks. 
 — The dinner half a Louis each, and, I 
 think, a Louis over. — Money given at 
 Menagerie, three livres ; at palace, six 
 livres. 
 
 " Oct. 23. Monday. Last night I 
 
 wrote to Levet. We went to see the 
 
 lookingglasses wrought. They come from 
 Normandy in cast plates, perhaps the 
 third of an inch thick. At Paris they 
 are ground upon a marble table, by rub- 
 bing one plate upon another with grit 
 between them. The various sands, of 
 which there are said to be five, I could 
 not learn. The handle, by which the 
 upper glass is moved, has the form of a 
 wheel, which may be moved in all direc- 
 tions. The plates are sent up with their 
 surfaces ground, but not polished, and so 
 continue till they are bespoken, lest time 
 should spoil the surface, as we were told. 
 Those that are to be polished are laid on 
 a table covered with several thick cloths, 
 hard strained, that the resistance may be 
 equal ; they were then rubbed with a 
 hand rubber, held down hard by a con- 
 trivance which I did not well understand. 
 The powder which is used last seemed 
 to me to be iron dissolved in aqua fortis : 
 they called it, as Baretti said, marc de 
 Veau forte, which he thought was dreg?. 
 They mentioned vitriol and saltpetre. 
 The cannon ball swam in the quicksilver. 
 
286 THE LIFE OF 
 
 To silver them, a leaf of beaten tin is laid, 
 and rubbed with quicksilver, to which it 
 unites. Then more quicksilver is poured 
 upon it, which, by its mutual [attraction] 
 rises very high. Then a paper is laid at 
 the nearest end of the plate, over which 
 the glass is slided till it lies upon the 
 plate, having driven much of the quick- 
 silver before it. It is then, I think, 
 pressed upon cloth, and then set sloping 
 to drop the superfluous mercury ; the 
 slope is daily heightened towards a per- 
 pendicular. 
 
 "In the way I saw the Greve, the 
 mayor's house, and the Bastile. 
 
 " We then went to Sans-terre, a 
 brewer *. He brews with about as much 
 malt as Mr. Thrale, and sells his beer at 
 the same price, though he pays no duty 
 for malt, and little more than half as 
 much for beer. Beer is sold retail at 6d. 
 a bottle. He brews 4000 barrels a year. 
 There are seventeen brewers in Paris, of 
 whom none is supposed to brew more 
 than he ; — reckoning them at 3000 each, 
 they make 51,000 a year. — They make 
 their malt, for malting is here no 
 trade. 
 
 ** The moat of the Bastile is dry. 
 
 ** Oct. 24. Tuesday. We visited the 
 King's library. — 1 saw the Speculum 
 humance Salvationis, rudely printed 
 with ink, sometimes pale, sometimes 
 black ; part supposed to be with wooden 
 types, and part with pages cut in boards. 
 — The Bible, supposed to be older than 
 that of Mentz, in 62 ; it has no date, it 
 is supposed to have been printed with 
 wooden types. — I am in doubt ; the print 
 is large and fair, in two folios. — Another 
 book was shown me, supposed to have 
 been printed with wooden types; — I 
 think, Durandi Sanctuarium in 58. 
 This is inferred from the difterence of 
 form sometimes seen in the same letter, 
 which might be struck with different 
 puncheons. — The regular similitude of 
 most letters proves better that they are 
 metal. — I saw nothing but the Speculum 
 which I had not seen, I think, before. 
 
 "Thence to the Sorbonne.— The library 
 very large, not in lattices like the King's. 
 Marhonne and Durandi, q. collection 
 14 vol. Scriptores de rebus Callicis, 
 many folios. — IJistoire Ccncoloyique of 
 France, 1) vol. — Gallia ('hristiana, the 
 first edition, 4to. the last, f. 12 vol.— The 
 Prior and Librarian dined [with us] : — 
 I waited on them home. — Their garden 
 pretty, with covered walks, but small ; 
 yet may hold many students.— The Doc- 
 tors of the Sorbonne are all equal ; — 
 
   [The delectable niffi-in, wlio aficrwards 
 coudiicietl Louis the Sixiecnth to tlie scaf- 
 fold, and eommaiided lh« troops that guarded 
 it during his luuider. M.J 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1775. 
 
 choose those who succeed to vacancies. 
 —Profit little. 
 
 " Oct. 25. Wednesday. I went with 
 the Prior to St. Cloud, to see Dr. Hooke. 
 — We walked round the palace, and had 
 some talk. — I dined with our whole com- 
 pany at the Monastery. — In the library, 
 Beroald, — Cymon, — Titus, from Boc- 
 cace. — Oratio Proverbialis to the Vir- 
 gin, from Petrarch ; Falkland to San- 
 dys ; — Dryden's Preface to the third 
 vol. of Miscellanies t. 
 
 " Oct. 26. Thursday. We saw the 
 China at Stive, cut, glazed, painted. 
 Bellevue, a pleasing house, not great : 
 fine prospect. — Meudon, an old palace. 
 Alexander in Porphyry : hollow between 
 eyes and nose, thin cheeks.— Plato and 
 Aristotle. — Noble terrace overlooks the 
 town. — St. Cloud. — Gallery not very 
 high nor grand, but pleasing. — In the 
 rooms, Michael Angelo, drawn by him- 
 self, Sir Thomas More, Des Cartes, Bo- 
 chart, Naudeeus, Mazarine. — Gilded 
 wainscot, so common that it is not mind- 
 ed. Gough and Keene. — Hooke came to us 
 at the inn. — A message from Drumgold. 
 
 " Oct. 27. Friday. I staid at home. 
 
 — Gough and Keene, and Mrs. S 's 
 
 friend dined with us. — This day we be- 
 gan to have a fire. — The weather is grown 
 very cold, and I fear has a bad effect 
 upon my breath, which has grown much 
 more free and easy in this country. 
 
 " Sat. Oct. 28. I visited the Grand 
 Chartreux built by St. Louis. — It is built 
 for forty, but contains only twenty-four, 
 and will not maintain more. — The friar 
 that spoke to us had a pretty apartment. 
 — Mr. Baretti says four rooms ; I re- 
 member but three. — His books seemed 
 to be French. — His garden was neat; he 
 gave me grapes. — We saw the Place de 
 Victoirc, with the statues of the King, 
 and the captive nations. 
 
 ** We saw the palace and gardens of 
 Luxembourg, but the gallery was shut. 
 — We climbed to the top stairs. — I dined 
 with Colbrooke, who had much com- 
 pany : — Foote, Sir George Rodney, 
 Motteux, Udson, Taaf. — Called on the 
 Prior, and found him in bed. 
 
 "Hotel — a guinea a day. — Coach, 
 three guineas a week. — Valet de place, 
 three I. a <lay. — Avant-coureuVyH guinea 
 a week. — Ordinary dinner, six I. a head. 
 — Our ordinary seems to be about five 
 guineas a day. — Our extraordinary ex- 
 penses, as diversions, gratuities, clothes, 
 I cannot reckon. — Our travelling is ten 
 guineas a day. 
 
 " White stockings, 181. t Wig— Hat. 
 
 t Heiiiean:;, I suppose, th.u lie read these dif- 
   -'■■'elie r   ' ' '*- 
 
 ferent pie('Ci>,while lie remained iu the lihi 
 
 t [i. e. 16 livres. Two pair of wliiie 
 
 ><tocking:8 were probably purchased. IM.] 
 
iExAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 287 
 
 " Sunday, Oct. 29. We saw the 
 boarding-school. — The Enfans trouves. 
 — A room with about eighty-six children 
 in cradles, as sweet as a parlour. — They 
 lose a third ; take in to perhaps more 
 than seven [years old] ; put them to 
 trades ; pin to them the papers sent with 
 them. — Want nurses. — Saw their chapel. 
 
 *' Went to St. Eustatia ; saw an innu- 
 merable company of girls, catechised, in 
 many bodies, perhaps 100 to a catechist. 
 — Boys taught at one time, girls at ano- 
 ther. — The sermon ; the preacher wears 
 a cap, which he takes off at the name : 
 — his action uniform, not very violent. 
 
 " Oct. 30. Monday. We saw the 
 library of St. Germain. — A very noble 
 collection. — Codex Divinorum Officio- 
 rum, 1459: — a letter, square like that 
 of the Offices, perhaps the same. — The 
 Codex, by Fust and Gernsheym. — 
 Meursius, 12 v. fol. — Amadis, in 
 French, 3 v. fol.— Catholicon sine colo- 
 phone, but of 1460. — Two other editions *, 
 one by Augustin. de Civitate 
 
 Dei, without name, date, or place, but 
 of Fust's square letter as it seems. 
 
 ** I dined with Col. Drumgold ; had a 
 pleasing afternoon. 
 
 *' Some of the books of St. Germain's 
 stand in presses from the wall, like those 
 at Oxford. 
 
 *' Oct. 31. Tuesday. I lived at the 
 Eenedictines ; meagre day ; soup meagre, 
 herrings, eels, both with sauce ; fried 
 fish ; lentils, tasteless in themselves. In 
 the library ; where 1 found Maffeus's 
 de Histoj'id Jndicd : Promontorium 
 fiectere, to double the Cape. 1 parted 
 very tenderly from the Prior and Fi iar 
 Wilkes. 
 
 " Mattre des Arts, 2 y.—Bacc. 
 Theol. 3 y.~ Licentiate, 2 y. — Doctor 
 Th. 2 y. in all 9 years.— For the Docto- 
 rate three disputations. Major, Minor, 
 Sorbonica. — Several colleges suppress- 
 ed, and transferred to that which was 
 the Jesuit's College. 
 
 ** Nov. 1. Wednesday. We left Paris. 
 — St. Denis, a large town; the church 
 not very large, but the middle aisle is 
 very lofty and awful.— On the left are 
 chapels built beyond the line of the wall, 
 which destroy the symmetry of the sides. 
 The organ is higher above the pavement 
 than any I have ever seen. — The gates 
 
 * I have looked in vain into De Bute, 
 Meerman, Maliaire, and other lypographical 
 books, for llie two editions of the '* Calholi- 
 cow,"whiih J)r. Joluison mentions here, with 
 names whieii I cannot make out. I read " one 
 b^ Latinus, oie bv BoeUivns." 1 iiave depo- 
 sited tlie original iVIS. in the. British Mnscnni, 
 where rlje curious may st-e it. My grateful 
 acknowledg:nients are due to Mr. Pianta lor 
 the trouble he was pleased to take iu aiding 
 uiy researches. 
 
 are of brass. — On the middle gate is 
 the history of our Lord. — The painted 
 windows are historical, and said to be 
 eminently beautiful.— We were at ano- 
 ther church belonging to a convent, of 
 which the portal is a dome ; we could 
 not enter further, and it was almost 
 dark. 
 
 " Nov. 2. Thursday. We came this 
 day to Chantilly, a seat belonging to the 
 Prince of Conde. — This place is emi- 
 nently beautified by all the varieties of 
 waters starting up in fountains, falling in 
 cascades, running in streams, and spread 
 in lakes. — The water seems to be too 
 near the house. — All this water is brought 
 from a source or river three leagues off, 
 by an artificial canal, which for one 
 league is carried under ground.— The 
 house is magnificent. — The cabinet seems 
 well stocked ; what I remember was, the 
 jaws of a hippopotamus, and a young 
 hippopotamus preserved, which, how- 
 ever, is so small that 1 doubt its reality. 
 — It seems too hairy for an abortion, and 
 too small for a mature birth. — Nothing 
 was in spirits ; all was dry. — The dog ; 
 the deer; the ant-bear with long snout. 
 — The toucan, long broad beak. — The 
 stables were of very great length. — The 
 kennel had no scents. — There was a 
 mockery of a village. — The Menagerie 
 had few animalsf. — Two faussansj, or 
 Brasilian weasels, spotted, very wild. — 
 There is a forest, and, I think, a park. — 
 I walked till I was very weary, and next 
 morning felt my feet battered, and with 
 pains in the toes. 
 
 " Nov. 3. Friday. We came to 
 Compeigne, a very large town, with a 
 royal palace built round a pentagonal 
 court. — The court is raised upon vaults, 
 and has, I suppose, an entry on one side 
 by a gentle rise. — Talk of painting. — 
 The church is not very large, but very 
 elegant and splendid. — 1 had at first 
 great difficulty to walk, but motion grew 
 continually easier. — At night we came to 
 Noyon, an episcopal city. — The cathe- 
 dral is very beautiful, the pillars alter- 
 nately Gothick and Corinthian. — We 
 
 t The writing is so bad hen; that the names 
 of several of the animals could not be de» i- 
 phered without much more acquaintance with 
 natural history than J possess. — Dr. Blagdeii, 
 with his usual politeness, most obligingly ex- 
 amined the MS. To ihat gentleman, and to 
 Dr. Gray of the British Museum, who also 
 very reallily assisted me, I beg leave to ex- 
 press uiy best thanks. 
 
 t It is written by Johnson, from the French 
 pronunciation of fossane. It should be ob- 
 served, that the person who showed this 
 Menagerie was mi>taken in supposing the 
 fossane and the Brasiiian weasel to be tiie 
 same, t\ie fossane being a different animal* 
 and a native of Madagascar. I (ind thtni, 
 however, upon one plate in Pennant's •' Sy- 
 nopsis of Quadrupeds." 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 288 
 
 entered a very noble parochial church. — 
 Noyon is walled, and is said to be tlnee 
 miles round. 
 
 *' Nov. 4. Saturday. We rose very 
 early, and came through St. Quintin to 
 Cambray, not long after three. We went 
 to an English nunnery, to give a letter to 
 Father Welsh, the confessor, who came 
 to visit us in the evening. 
 
 " Nov. 5. Sunday. We saw the Ca- 
 thedral. — It is very beautiful, with cha- 
 pels on each side. — The choir splendid. 
 — ^The balustrade in one part brass. — The 
 NefF very high and grand. The altar 
 silver as far as it is seen. — The vestments 
 very splendid. — At the Benedictines 
 church " 
 
 Here his Journal* ends abruptly. 
 Whether he wrote any more after this 
 time, I know not ; but probably not 
 much, as he arrived in England about 
 the 12th of November. These short 
 notes of his tour, though they may seem 
 minute taken singly, make together a 
 considerable mass of information, and 
 exhibit such an ardour of inquiry and 
 acuteness of examination as, I believe 
 are found in but few travellers, especially 
 at an advanced age. They completely 
 refute the idle notion which has been 
 propagated, that he could not see ; and, 
 if he had taken the trouble to revise and 
 digest them, he undoubtedly could have 
 expanded them into a very entertaining 
 narrative. 
 
 When I met him in London the fol- 
 lowing year, the account which he gave 
 me of his French tour was, " Sir, I have 
 seen all the visibilities of Paris, and 
 around it ; but to have formed an ac- 
 quaintance with the people there would 
 have required more time than I could 
 stay. 1 was just beginning to creep 
 into acquaintance by means of Colonel 
 Drumgold, a very high man, sir, head of 
 IJ Ecole Militaire, a most complete cha- 
 racter, for he had first been a professor 
 of rhetorick, and then became a soldier. 
 And, sir, 1 was very kindly treated by 
 the English Benedictines, and liave a 
 cell appropriated to me in their con- 
 vent." 
 
 He observed, ** The great in France 
 live very magnificently, but the rest very 
 jiiiserably. There is no happy middle 
 state as in England. The shops of Paris 
 are mean; the meat in the markets is 
 such as would be sent to a gaol in Eng- 
 land ; and Mr. Thrale justly observed, 
 that the cookery of the French was forced 
 
 * My worthy and iiii,MMiious friend Mr. An- 
 drew Lumimden, by his accurate ai^quaintance 
 with France, enabled me to make out m.uiy 
 proper names which Dr. Johnson bad writtfn 
 indislinctly, and sumeiimes sijclt erroneously. 
 
 1775. 
 
 upon them by necessity; for they could 
 not eat their meat, unless they added 
 some taste to it. The French are an in- 
 delicate people ; they will spit upon any 
 
 place. At Madame 's, a literary 
 
 lady of rank, the footman took the sugar 
 in his fingers, and threw it into my cofTee. 
 I was going to put it aside ; but hearing 
 it was made on purpose for me, I e'en 
 tasted Tom's fingers. The same lady 
 would needs make tea cl VAmjloise. The 
 spout of the teapot did not pour freely ; 
 she bade the footman blow into it. France 
 is worse than Scotland in every thing but 
 climate. Nature has done more for the 
 French ; but they have done less for 
 themselves than the Scotch have done." 
 
 It happened that Foote was at Paris at 
 the same time with Dr. Johnson, and his 
 description of my friend while there was 
 abundantly ludicrous. He told me, that 
 the French were quite astonished at his 
 figure and manner, and at his dress, 
 which he obstinately continued exactly 
 as in London t; — his brown clothes, 
 black stockings, and plain shirt. He 
 mentioned, that an Irish gentleman said 
 to Johnson, " Sir, you have not seen the 
 best French players." Johnson. " Play- 
 ers, sir! I look on them as no better than 
 creatures set upon tables and joint-stools 
 to make faces and produce laughter, like 
 dancing dogs." — '* But. sir, you will 
 allow that some players are better than 
 others?" Johnson. " Yes, sir, as some 
 dogs dance better than others." 
 
 While Johnson was in France, he was 
 generally very resolute in speaking La- 
 lio. It was a maxim with him that a 
 man should not let himself down, by 
 speaking a language which he speaks 
 imperfectly. Indeed, we must have often 
 observed how inferiour, how much like 
 a child a man appears, who speaks a 
 broken tongue. When Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, ^t one of the dinners of the Royal 
 Academy, presented him to a French- 
 man of great distinction, he would not 
 deign to speak French, but talked Latin, 
 though his Excellency did not under- 
 stand it, owing, perhaps, to Johnson's 
 
 t [Mr. Foote seems to have embellished a 
 little in saying tliat Johnson (lid not alter bis 
 dress at Paris; as in his Journal is a memo- 
 randum about vvhite stockings, \\\f;, and 
 hat. In another nlare wc are told that 
 " dnriiiR bis travels in Fr.iiice he was fur- 
 iii.".lied with a French made wig ol handsome 
 construction." That Johnson was not inat- 
 temive to bis a]ipearance is certain from a 
 « ircumstance related by Mr. Steevens, and 
 inserted bv Mr. Hoswell, between June 15 and 
 June -ja. 1784. I. H.l 
 
 [Mr. Blakeway's observation is further con- 
 firmed by a nole in Johnson's «liary (quoted 
 by Sir John Hawkinn, Life of Johnxon, p. 
 ■517), by which it appears, that be laid out 
 thirty pounds iu clothes for his French Jour- 
 ney, m.] 
 
iETAT. 66. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 English pronunciation : yet upon ano- 
 ther occasion he was observed to speak 
 French to a Frenchman of high rank, 
 who spoke English ; and being asked 
 the reason, with some expression of snr- 
 
 ^ prise, — he answered, "because I think 
 iry French is as good as his English." 
 ^lioHgh Johnson understood French per- 
 
 I fectly, he could not speak it readily, as I 
 "Have observed at his tirst interview with 
 General Paoli, in 1769 ; yet he wrote it, 
 I imagine, pretty well, as appears from 
 some of his letters in Mrs. Piozzi's col- 
 lection, of which I shall transcribe one : 
 
 A Madame La Comtesse de . 
 
 *' July 16, 1775. 
 " Oui, Madame, le moment est arrive, 
 et ilfaut que je parte. Mais pourquoi 
 faut il partir ? Est ce que je nVen- 
 nuye ? Je m'ennuyerai aiUeurs. Est 
 ce que je cherche ou quelque plaisir, ou 
 quelque soulagem,ent ? Je ne cherche 
 rien, je n'espere rien. Alter voir ce 
 que j^ai vu, tire un peu rejoui, un peu 
 degoute, m,e resouvenir que la vie se 
 passe en vain, m,e ptaindre de moi, 
 m,^endurcir aux dehors ; void le tout 
 de ce qu^on compte pour las delices de 
 Vannee. Que Dieu vous donne, Ma- 
 dame, tous les agretnens de la vie, avec 
 un esprit qui peut en jouir sans s'y 
 livrer trop." 
 
 Here let me not forget a curious anec- 
 dote, as related to me by Mr. Beauclerk, 
 which I shall endeavour to exhibit as 
 well as I can in that gentleman's lively 
 manner; and in justice to him it is pro- 
 per to add, that Dr. Johnson told me I 
 might rely both to tiie correctness of his 
 memory and the fidelity of his narrative. 
 ** When Madame de Boufflers was first 
 in England (said Beauclerk), she was 
 desirous to see Johnson. I accordingly 
 went with her to his chambers in the 
 Temple, where she was entertained with 
 his conversation for some time. When 
 our visit was over, sl'e and I left him, 
 and were got into Inner Temple Lane, 
 when all at once I heard a noise liUe 
 thunder. This was occasioned by John- 
 son, who, it seems, upon a little recollec- 
 tion, had taken it into his head that he 
 ought to have done the honours of his 
 literary residence to a foreign lady of 
 quality, and eager to show himself a man 
 of gallantry, was hurrying down the stair- 
 case in violent agitation. He overtook 
 us before we reached the Temple-gate, 
 and brushing in between me and Madame 
 de Boufflers, seized her hand, and con- 
 ducted her to her coach. His dress wa'^ 
 a rusty brown morning suit, a pair of old 
 shoes by way of slippers, a little shriveled 
 wig sticking on the top of his head, and 
 
 289 
 
 the sleeves of his shirt and the knees of 
 his breeches hanging loose. A consider- 
 able crowd of people gathered round, 
 and were not a little struck by this singu- 
 lar appearance." 
 
 He spoke Latin with wonderful fluency 
 and elegance. When Pere Boscovich 
 was in England, Johnson dined in com- 
 pany with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, 
 and at Dr. Douglas's, now Bishop of 
 Salisbury. Upon both occasions that 
 celebrated foreigner expressed his asto- 
 nishment at Johnson's Latin conversa- 
 tion. When at Paris, Johnson thus 
 characterised Voltaire to Freron the Jour- 
 nalist : " Vir est acerrimi ingenii et 
 paucarum literarum.^' 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Eilinburgh, Dec. 5, 1775. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Mr. Alexander Maclean, the young 
 Laird of Col, being to set out to-morrow 
 for London, I give him this letter to 
 introduce him to your acquaintance. The 
 kindness which you and I experienced 
 from his brother, whose unfortunate death 
 we sincerely lament, will make us always 
 desirous to shovv attention to any branch 
 of the family. Indeed, you have so 
 much of the true Highland cordiality 
 that I am sure you would have thought 
 me to blame if I had neglected to recom- 
 mend to you this Hebridean prince, in 
 whose island we were hospitably enter- 
 tained. I ever am with respectful attach- 
 ment, MY dear sir, 
 
 *' Your most obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 Mr. Maclean returned with the most 
 agreeable accounts of the polite attention 
 with which he was received by Dr. John- 
 son. 
 
 In the course of this year Dr. Burney 
 informs me that *• he very frequently 
 met Dr. Johnson at Mr. Thrale's, at 
 Streatham, where they had many long 
 conversations, often sitting up as long as 
 the tire and candles lasted, and much 
 longer than the patience of the servants 
 subsisted." 
 
 A few of Johnson's sayings, which 
 that gentleman recollects, should here be 
 inserted. 
 
 " I never take a nap after dinner but 
 when I have had a bad night, and then 
 the nap takes me." 
 
 '* The writer of an Epitaph should not 
 be considered as saying nothing but what 
 is strictly true. Allowance must be made 
 for some degree of exaggerated praise. 
 In lapidary inscriptions a man is not 
 upon oath." 
 
290 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ** There is now less flogging in onr 
 great scliools than formerly, but llien 
 less is learned there ; so that what the 
 boys get at one end they lose at the 
 other." 
 
 " More is learned in publick than in 
 private schools, from emulation ; there 
 is the collision of mind with mind, or 
 the radiation of many minds pointing to 
 one centre. Though few boys make their 
 own exercises, yet if a good exercise is 
 given up, out of a great number of boys, 
 it is made by somebody." 
 
 " 1 hate by-roads in education. Edu- 
 cation is as well known, and has long 
 been as well known as ever it can be. 
 Endeavouring to make children prema- 
 turely wise is useless labour. Suppose 
 they have more knowledge at five or six 
 years old than other children, what use 
 can be made of it? It will be lost before 
 it is wanted, and the waste of so mucii 
 time and labour of the teacher can never 
 be repaid. Too much is expected from 
 precocity, and too little performed. 
 
 Miss was an instance of early 
 
 cultivation, but in what did it terminate? 
 In marryrng a little Presbyterian parson 
 who keeps an infant boarding-school, so 
 that all her employment now is 
 
 * To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.' 
 
 She tells the children, * This is a cat, 
 and that is a dog, with four legs and a 
 tail; see there! you are much better 
 than a cat or a dog, for you can speak.' 
 If I had bestowed such an education on 
 a daughter, and had discovered that she 
 thought of marrying such a fellow, I 
 would have sent her to the Congress." 
 
 " After having talked slightingly of 
 musick, he was observed to listen very 
 attentively while Miss Thrale played on 
 the harpsichord, and with eagerness he 
 called to her, * Why don't you dash away 
 like Burney ?' Dr. Burney upon this 
 said to him, * I believe, sir, we shall 
 make a musician of you at last.' John- 
 son with candid complacency replied, 
 * Sir, I shall be glad to have a new sense 
 given to me.* " 
 
 " He had come down one morning to 
 the breakfast-room, and been a consider- 
 able time by himself before any body 
 appeared. When on a subsequent day 
 he was twitted by Mrs. Thrale for being 
 very late, which he generally was, he 
 defended himself by alluding to the ex- 
 traordinary morning when he had been 
 too early. ' Madam, I do not like to 
 come down to vacuity.' " 
 
 " Dr. Burney having remarked that 
 Mr. Garrick was begiiming to look old, 
 he said, * Why, sir, you are not to won- 
 der at that ; no man's face has had more 
 wear and tear.'" 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 1775 
 
 Not having heard from him for a long^ 
 time than I supposed he would be siler 
 I wrote to him, December 18, not in go< 
 spirits. *' Sometimes I have been afra 
 that the cold which has gone over Euro] 
 this year like a sort of pestilence h 
 seized you severely : sometimes my im 
 gination, which is upon occasions pro 
 tick of evil, hath figured that you n^ 
 have somehow taken oflfence at s* 
 part of my conduct." 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEVR SIR, 
 
 " Never dream of any oflfence. He 
 should you offend me? I consid ^ -^y o 
 friendship as a possession, vtWtfi 1 lute; 
 
 to?rif!(»' (f i I y\)U Taiietn^nriitgnnm 
 
 l.Hwent if ever by my^uTrTshould k: 
 it. However, when such suspicions fi 
 their way into your mind, always gi 
 them vent; I shall make haste to d 
 perse them ; but hinder their first ingrt 
 if you can. Consider such thoughts 
 morbid. 
 
 ** Such illness as may excuse my omi 
 sion to Lord Hailes, I cannot honest 
 plead. I have been hindered, I kno 
 not how, by a succession of petty o 
 structions. I hope to mend immediatel 
 and to send next post to his Lordslii 
 Mr. Thrale would have written to yoii 
 I had omitted ; he sends his coinp 
 ments, and wishes to see you. 
 
 " You and your lady will now ha\ 
 no more wrangling about feudal inheii 
 ance. How does the young Laird < 
 Auchinleck? I suppose Miss Veronii 
 is grown a reader and discourser. 
 
 " I have just now got a cough, but 
 has never yet hindered me froju sleej 
 ing; I have had quieter nights than ar 
 common with me. 
 
 " I cannot but rejoice that Joseph 
 has had the wit to find the way back, li 
 is a fine fellow, and one of the best ti , 
 vellers in the world. 
 
 '* Young Col brought me your lettti 
 He is a very pleasing" youth. I took hii 
 two days ago to the Mitre, and we dini < 
 together. 1 was as civil as I had tii 
 means of being. 
 
 " 1 have had a letter from Rasa> 
 acknowledging, with great a|)pearanc 
 of satisfaction, the insertion in the Ediii 
 burgh paper. I am very glad that it wa 
 done. 
 
 '* My compliments to Mrs. Boswel 
 who does not love me ; and of all th 
 rest, I need only send them to those tha 
 
 * Jo«cph Ritter, a Hohemian, who was i 
 my Bervice many ye.irf, and attended 1) 
 JonnHou and me in otir Tour lo the Hel>ri>lr 
 
JEt.vt. ()G. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 £91 
 
 do ; and I am afraid it will give you 
 very little trouble to distribute iheni. 
 
 ** I am, MY UE\R, UE\R SIR, 
 
 " Your atfectionate humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Dfcember 23, 1775." 
 
 In 1776, Johnson wrote, so far as I can 
 i^cover, nothing for the publick : but 
 
 ■;it his mind was still ardent, and fraught 
 ■yjfh generous wishes to attain to still 
 higher degrees of literary excellence, is 
 ^ved by his private notes of this year, 
 which I shall insert in their proper 
 place. 
 
 • " TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I HAVE at last sent you all Lord Hailes's 
 papers. While I was in France, I looked 
 very often into Renault ; but Lord Hailes, 
 in my opinion, leaves him far and far 
 behind. Why I did not despatch so short 
 a perusal sooner, when I look back, I 
 am utterly unable to discover : but human 
 moments are stolen away by a thousand 
 petty impediments which leave no trace 
 behind them. I have been afflicted, 
 through the whole Christmas, with the 
 general disorder, of which the worst 
 cfiect was a cough, which is now much 
 mitigated, though the country, on which 
 I look from a window^ at Streatham, is 
 now covered with a deep snow. Mrs. 
 Williams is very ill : every body else is 
 as usual. 
 
 *' Among the papers I found a letter to 
 you, which I think you had not opened ; 
 and a paper for * The Chronicle,' which 
 I suppose it not necessary now to insert. 
 I return them both. 
 
 •* I have, within these few days, had 
 the honour of receiving Lord Hailes's 
 first volume, for which I return my most 
 respectful thanks. 
 
 " I wish you, ray dearest friend, and 
 your haughty lady (for I know she does 
 not love me), and the young ladies, and 
 the young Laird, all happiness. Teach 
 the young gentleman, in spite of his 
 mamma, to think and speak well of, 
 
 *' SIR, 
 
 '* Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "Jan. 10, 1776." 
 
 At this time was in agitation a matter 
 of great consequence to me and my 
 family, which I should not obtrude upon 
 the vvorld, were it not that the part 
 which Dr. Johnson's friendship for me 
 made him take in it was the occasion of 
 an exertion of his abilities, which it 
 would be injustice to conceal. That what 
 he wrote upon the subject may be under- 
 stood, it is necessary to give a state of 
 the question, which I shall do as brielly 
 as I can. 
 
 In the year 1504, the barony or manour 
 of Auchinleck (pronounced Affleck), m 
 Ayrshire, which belonged to a family of 
 the same name with the lands, having 
 fallen to the Crown by forfeiture, James 
 the Fourth, King of Scotland, granted it 
 to Thomas Boswell, a branch of an an- 
 cient family in the county of Fife, styling 
 him in the charter, " dilecto familiari 
 nostra j''^ and assigning, as the cause of 
 the grant, " pro bono et fideli sercitio 
 nobis prcestito." Thomas Boswell was 
 slain in battle, fighting along with his 
 Sovereign, at the fatal field of Floddon, 
 in 1513. 
 
 From this very honourable founder of 
 our family the estate was transmitted, in 
 a direct series of heirs male, to David 
 Boswell, my father's great grand uncle, 
 who had no sons, but four daughters, 
 who were all respectably married, the 
 eldest to Lord Cathcart. 
 
 David Boswell, being resolute in the 
 military feudal principle of continuing 
 the male succession, passed by his daugh- 
 ters, and settled the estate on his nephew 
 by his next brother, who approved of 
 the deed, and renounced any pretensions 
 which he might possibly have in prefer- 
 ence to his son. But the estate having 
 been burthened with large portions to the 
 daughters and other debts, it was neces- 
 sary for the nephew to sell a considerable 
 part of it, and what remained was still 
 much incumbered. 
 
 The frugality of tlie nephew preserved, 
 and, in some degree, relieved the estate. 
 His son, my grandfather, an eminent 
 lawyer, not only repurchased a great 
 part of what had been sold, but acquired 
 other lands ; and my father, who was 
 one of the Judges of Scotland, and had 
 added considerably to the estate, now 
 signified his inclination to take the privi- 
 lege allowed by our law*, to secure it 
 to his family in perpetuity by an entail, 
 which, on account of his marriage arti- 
 cles, could not be done without my 
 consent. 
 
 In the plan of entailing the estate I 
 heartily concurred with him, though I 
 was the first to be restrained by it ; but 
 we unhappily differed as to the series of 
 heirs which should be established, or in 
 the language of our law, called to the 
 succession. My father had declared a 
 predilection for heirs general, that is, 
 males and females indiscriminately. He 
 was willing, however, that all males de- 
 scending from his grandfather should be 
 preferred to females ; but would not ex- 
 lend that privilege to males deriving their 
 descent from a higher source. I, on the 
 
 * Acts of Parliament of Scotland, ICiSS, 
 Cap. 22, 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 292 
 
 other hand, had a zealous partiality for 
 heirs male, however remote, which I 
 maintained by arguments which appeared 
 to me to have considerable weight*. 
 And in the particular case of our family 
 I apprehended that we were under an 
 implied obligation, in honour and good 
 faith, to transmit the estate by the same 
 tenure which we held it, which was as 
 heirs male, excluding nearer females. I 
 therefore, as I thought conscientiously, 
 objected to my father's scheme. 
 
 My opposition was very displeasing 
 to my father, who was entitled to great 
 respect and deference ; and I had reason 
 to apprehend disagreeable consequences 
 from my noncompliance with his wishes. 
 After much perplexity and uneasiness I 
 wrote to Dr. Johnson, stating the case, 
 with all its difficulties, at full length, and 
 earnestly requesting that he would con- 
 sider it at leisure, and favour me with 
 his friendly opinion and advice. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I WAS much impressed by your letter, 
 and if I can form upon your case any 
 resolution satisfactory to myself, will 
 very gladly impart it : but whether I am 
 equal to it I do not know. It is a case 
 compounded of law and justice, and re- 
 quires a mind versed in juridical disqui- 
 sitions. Could not you tell your whole 
 mind to Lord Hailes? He is, you know, 
 both a Christian and a Lawyer. I sup- 
 pose he is above partiality, and above 
 loquacity : and, I believe, he will not 
 think the time lost in which he may 
 quiet a disturbed or settle a wavering 
 mind. Write to me as any thing occurs 
 to you; and if I find myself stopped by 
 want of facts necessary to be known, 1 
 will make inquiries of you as my doubts 
 arise. 
 
 * As first, the opinion of some distinguished 
 naturalists, that om species is trnnsmitte<l 
 through males only, the female beint; all 
 along no more than a nidus, or nurse, as 
 Mother Earth is to plants of every sort; wnicb 
 notion seems to he contirined by that rest of 
 scripture, " He was yet in the loins of his 
 FATHER when Melchisecleck met him " (Heh. 
 vii. 10.); and consequently that a ninn's 
 grandson by a datijfhttr, instead of beinsr hin 
 surest descendant, as is vulu^arly said, hai^, 
 in reality, no connection whatever with his 
 blood. — And secondly, independent of ihis 
 theory (which, if true, should completely ex- 
 clude heirs ^reneral), that if the preference of 
 a male to a female, without regard to prinio- 
 greniture (as a son, though much young-tr, 
 nay, even a grandson by a son, to a daugb- 
 ter), be once admitted, as it universally is, it 
 must be equally reasonable and proper in the 
 most remote degree of descent from an ori- 
 
 finil proprietor ofanestate.as in the nearest: 
 ecau-ie, — howevtT distant from the represen- 
 laiive at the time,— that remote heir mal»^. 
 npon the failure of those nearer to the origi- 
 
 1770. 
 
 If your former resoKuions should be 
 found only fanciful, you decide rightly 
 in judging that your father's fancies may 
 claim the preference ; but whether they 
 are fanciful or rational is the question. 1 
 really think Lord Hailes could help us. 
 
 *' Make my compliments to dear Mrs. 
 Boswell ; and tell her, that I hope to be 
 wanting in nothing that I can contribute 
 to bring you all out of your troubles. I 
 am, DEAR SIR, most atfectionately, 
 ** Your liumble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Jan. 15, 1776." 
 
 TO THK SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM going to write upon a question 
 which requires more knowledge of local 
 law, and more acquaintance with the 
 general rules of inheritance, than I can 
 claim ; but I write because you request 
 it. 
 
 " Land is like any other possession, 
 by natural right wholly in the power of 
 its present owner ; and may be sold, 
 given, or bequeathed, absolutely or con- 
 ditionally, as judgment shall direct or 
 passion incite. 
 
 " But natural right would avail little 
 without the protection of law ; and the 
 primary notion of law is restraint in the 
 exercise of natural right. A man is 
 therefore, in society, not fully master of 
 what he calls his own, but he still retains 
 all the power which law does not take 
 from him. 
 
 " In the exercise of the right which 
 law either leaves or gives, regard is to be 
 paid to moral obligations. 
 
 " Of the estate which we are now 
 considering, your father still retains such 
 possession, with such power over it, that 
 he can sell it and do with the money 
 what he will, without any legal impedi- 
 ment. But when he extends his power 
 
 na I proprietor thun be is, becomes in fact the 
 ncart-si male to him, and is, therefore, pre- 
 terable as his representative to a female 
 descendant. — A 'ittle extension of mind will 
 enable us easily to perceive that a son's son, 
 in continual ion to whatever lenijth of time, 
 is preferable to a son's daui^bler in the suc- 
 cession to an ancient inheritance; in which 
 regani should be had to the representation of 
 the original proprietor, and not to that of one 
 of his descendants. 
 
 I am aware of Ulackstone's admirable de- 
 monstration of the reasonableness of the legal 
 succession, upon the principle of there being 
 the greatest probability that the nearest heir 
 of the person who last dies proprietor of an 
 estate is of the blood of the first purchaser. 
 But supposing a pedigree to be carefully 
 authenticated ibrouah all its biancbes, in- 
 stead of mare prnbnbility there will be a en- 
 tainty that the nearest fieir male, at whatever 
 period, has the same right of blood with the 
 rtrst heir male, namely, the original pur- 
 chaser's eldest son. 
 
JEtxt, 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 beyond his own life, by settling the order 
 of succession, the law makes your con- 
 sent necessary. 
 
 " Let us suppose that he sells the land 
 to risk the money in some specious ad- 
 venture, and in that adventine loses the 
 whole ; his posterity would be disap- 
 pointed ; but they could not think them- 
 selves injured or robbed. If he spent it 
 upon vice or pleasure, his successors could 
 only call him vicious and voluptuous ; 
 they could not say that he was injurious 
 or unjust. 
 
 "He that may do more may do less. 
 He that, by selling or squandering, ma> 
 disinherit a whole family, may cer- 
 tainly disinherit part by a partial settle- 
 ment. 
 
 " Laws are formed by the manners 
 and exigencies of particular times, and 
 it is but accidental that they last longer 
 than their causes : the limitation of feu- 
 dal succession to the male aiose from the 
 obligation of the tenant to attend his 
 chief in war. 
 
 " As times and opinions are always 
 changing, I know not whether it be not 
 usurpation to prescribe rules to posterity, 
 by presuming to judge of what we cannot 
 know ; and I know not whether I fully 
 approve either your design or your fa- 
 ther's to limit that succession which de- 
 scended to you unlimited. If we are to 
 leave sartum, tectum to posterity, what 
 we have without any merit of our own 
 received from our ancestors, should not 
 choice and free-will be kept unviolated l 
 Is land to be treated with more reve- 
 rence than liberty ? — If this consideration 
 should restrain your father from disin- 
 heriting some or the males, does it leave 
 you the power of disinheriting all the 
 females 1 
 
 " Can the possessor of a feudal estate 
 make any will? (Ian he appoint out of 
 the inheritance any portions to his daugh- 
 ter? There seems to be a very shadowy 
 diflFerence between the power of leaving 
 land and of leaving money to be raised 
 from land ; between leaving an estate to 
 females, and leaving the male heir in 
 eflfect only their steward. 
 
 " Suppose at one time a law that 
 allowed only males to inherit, and during 
 the continuance of this law many estateis 
 to have descended, passing by the fe- 
 males, to remoter heirs. Suppose after- 
 wards the law repealed in correspondence 
 with a change of manners, and women 
 made capable of inheritance ; would not 
 the tenure of estates be changed? Could 
 the women have no benefit from a law 
 made in their favour? Must they be 
 passed by upon moral principles for ever 
 because they were once excluded by a 
 legal prohibition? Or may that which 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. $93 
 
 passed only to males by one law pass 
 likewise to females by another? 
 
 " You mention your resolution to 
 maintain the right of your brothers* : I 
 do not see how any of their rights are 
 invaded. 
 
 " As your whole difficulty arises from 
 the act of your ancestor, who diverted 
 the succession from the females, you 
 inquire, very properly, what were his 
 motives, and what was his intention ; 
 for you certainly are not bound by his 
 act more than he intended to bind you, 
 nor hold your land on harder or stricter 
 terms than those on which it was granted. 
 
 " Intentions must be gathered from 
 acts. When he left the estate to his 
 nephew, by excluding bis daughters, was 
 it, or was it not in his power to have 
 perpetuated the succession to the males? 
 If he could have done it, he seems to 
 have shown, by omitting it, that he did 
 not desire it to be done, and upon your 
 own principles, you will not easily 
 prove your right to destroy that capa- 
 city of succession which your ancestors 
 have left. 
 
 " If your ancestor had not the power 
 of making a perpetual settlement ; and 
 if, therefore, we cannot judge distinctly 
 of his intentions, yet his act can only 
 be considered as an example ; it makes 
 not an obligation. And, as you observe, 
 he set no example of rigorous adherence 
 to the line of succession. He that over- 
 looked a brother would not wonder that 
 little regard is shown to remote rela- 
 tions. 
 
 " As the rules of succession are, in a 
 great part, purely legal, no man can be 
 supposed to bequeath any thing but upon 
 legal terms ; he can grant no power 
 which the law denies ; and if he makes 
 no special and definite limitation, he 
 confers all the power which the law 
 allows. 
 
 " Your ancestor, for some reason, dis- 
 inherited his daughters ; but it no more 
 follows that he intended this act as a 
 rule for posterity than the disinheriting 
 of his brother. 
 
 ** If, therefore, you ask by what right 
 your father admits daughters to inherit- 
 ance, ask yourself, first, by what right 
 you require them to be excluded ? 
 
 " It appears, upon reflection, that your 
 father excludes nobody ; he only admits 
 nearer females to inherit before males 
 more remote ; and the exclusion is purely 
 consequential. 
 
 " These, dear sir, are my thoughts, 
 immethodical and deliberative ; but, per- 
 haps, you may tind in them some glim- 
 mering of evidence. 
 
 * Which term I applied lo all the heirs male* 
 
294 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 " I cannot, however, but again recom- 
 mend to yon a conference with Lord 
 Hailes, whom yon know to be both a 
 Lawyer and a Christian. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, though she does not love me. I 
 am, SIR, 
 
 '* Your affectionate servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Feb. 3, 1773." 
 
 I had followed his recommendation 
 and consulted Lord Hailes, who upon 
 this subject had a firm opinion contrary 
 to mine. His Lordship obligingly took 
 the trouble to write me a letter, in which 
 he discussed with legal and historical 
 learning the points in which I saw much 
 dilliculty, maintaining that " the succes- 
 sion of heirs general was the succession, 
 by the law of Scotland, from the throne 
 to the cottage, as far as we can learn it 
 by record;" observing that the estate of 
 our family had not been limited to heirs 
 male : and that though an heir male had 
 in one instance been chosen in preference 
 to nearer females, that had been an arbi- 
 trary act, which had seemed to be best 
 in the embarrassed state of affairs at that 
 time; and the fact was, that upon a fair 
 computation of the value of land and 
 money at the time, applied to the estate 
 and the burthens upon it, there was 
 nothing given the heir male but the ske- 
 leton of an estate. *' The plea of con- 
 science (said his Lordship), which you 
 put, is a most respectable one, especially 
 when conscience and sel^f are on diffe- 
 rent sides. But I think that conscience 
 is not well informed, and that self and 
 she ought on this occasion to be of a 
 side." 
 
 This letter, which had considerable 
 influence upon my mind, I sent to Dr. 
 Johnson, begging to hear from him again 
 upon this interesting question. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWEIX, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Having not any acquaintance with the 
 laws or customs of Scotland, I endea- 
 voure<l to consider your question upon 
 general principles, and found nothing of 
 much validity that I could oppose to 
 this position : * He who inherits a fief 
 unlimited by his ancestors, inherits the 
 power of limiting it according to his own 
 judgment or opinion.' If this be true, 
 yon niay join with your father. 
 
 " Further consideration produces ano- 
 ther conclusion : 'He who receives a fief 
 unlimited by his ancestors, gives his 
 heirs some reason to complain if he does 
 not transmit it Hnlimite<l to posterity. 
 For why should he make the state of 
 others worse than his own, without a 
 
 reason V If this be true, though neither 
 you nor your father are about to do what 
 is quite right, but as your father violates 
 (I think) the legal succession least, he 
 seems to be nearer the right than your- 
 self. 
 
 " It cannot but occur that ' Women 
 have natural and equitable claims as well 
 as men, and these claims are not to be 
 capriciously or lightly superseded or in- 
 fringed.' When fiefs implied military 
 service, it is easily discerned why females 
 could not inherit them ; but that reason 
 is now at an end. As manners make 
 laws, manners likewise repeal them. 
 
 " These are the general conclusions 
 which I have attained. None of them 
 are very favourable to your scheme of 
 entail, nor perhaps to any scheme. My 
 observation, that only he who acquires 
 an estate may bequeath it capriciously*, 
 if it contains any conviction, includes 
 this position likewise, that only he who 
 acquires an estate may entail it caprici- 
 ously. But I think it may be safely pre- 
 sumed that ' he who inherits an estate 
 inherits all the power legally concomit- 
 ant ;' and that * He who gives or leaves 
 unlimited an estate legally limitable must 
 be presumed to give that power of limi- 
 tation which he omitted to take away, 
 and to commit future contingencies to 
 future prudence.' In these two positions 
 I believe Lord Hailes will advise yon to 
 rest ; every other notion of possession 
 seems to me full of difficulties, and em- 
 barrassed with scruples. 
 
 ** If these axioms be allowed, you have 
 arrived now at full liberty without the 
 help of particular circumstances, which, 
 however, have in your case great weight. 
 You very rightly observe that he who 
 passing by his brother gave the inherit- 
 ance to his nephew could limit no more 
 than he gave; and by Lord Hailes's esti- 
 mate of fourteen years' purchase, what 
 he gave was no more than you may easily 
 entail according to your own opinion, if 
 that opinion should finally prevail. 
 
 " Lord Hailes's suspicion, that entails 
 are encroachments on the dominion of 
 Providence, may be extended to all 
 hereditary privileges and all permanent 
 institutions ; I do not see why it may 
 not be extended to any provision for the 
 present hour, since all care about futurity 
 proceeds upon a supposition that we 
 know at least in some degree what will 
 be future. Of the future we certainly 
 know nothing ; but we may form con- 
 jectures from the past; and the power of 
 forming conjectures includes, in my opi- 
 nion, the duty of acting in conformity to 
 
 * I had reminded liiin of liis observation, 
 mentioned, p. 240. 
 
tEtat. fir. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 295 
 
 that probability which we discover. Pro- 
 vidence gives the power, of which reason 
 teaches the use. 1 am, dear sir, 
 
 ** Your most faithful servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Feb. 9, 1776." 
 
 " I hope I shall get some ground now 
 with Mrs. Boswell ; make my compli- 
 ments to her and the little people. 
 
 " Don't burn papers ; they may be 
 safe enough in your own box, — you will 
 vvish to see them hereafter." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** To the letters which I have written 
 about your great question I have nothing 
 to add. If your conscience is satisfied, 
 you have now only your prudence to 
 consult. I long for a letter, that I may 
 know how this troublesome and vexatious 
 question is at last decided *. I hope that 
 it will at last end well. Lord Hailes's 
 letter was very friendly and very season- 
 able, but I think his aversion from entails 
 has something in it like superstition. 
 Providence is not counteracted by any 
 means which Providence puts into our 
 power. The continuance and propaga- 
 tion of families makes a great part of the 
 Jewish law, and is by no means prohibited 
 in the Christian institution, though the 
 necessity of it continues no longer. He- 
 reditary tenures are established in all 
 civilized countries, and are accompanied 
 in most with hereditary authority. Sir 
 William Temple considers our constitu- 
 tion as defective, that there is not an 
 unalienable estate in land connected with 
 a peerage : and Lord Bacon mentions, as 
 a proof that the Turks are Barbarians, 
 their want of Stirpes, as he calls them, 
 or hereditary rank. Do not let your 
 mind, when it is freed from the sup- 
 posed necessity of a rigorous entail, be 
 entangled with contrary objections, and 
 think all entails unlawful, till you have 
 cogent arguments, which I believe you 
 will never find. I am afraid of scruples. 
 ** I have now sent all Lord Hailes's 
 papers; part I found hidden in a drawer 
 in which I had laid them for security, 
 
 * The entail framed by my father with 
 various judicious clauses was settled by him 
 and me, settline: the esiate upon the heirs male 
 of his grandfather, which 1 found had been 
 already done by rav grandfather imperfectly, 
 but 60 as to be defeated only by selling tlie 
 lands. I was freed by Dr. Johnson from 
 scruples of conscientious obligation, and 
 could, therefore gratifv my father. Dut my 
 opinion and partiality for male succession, in 
 its full extent, remained unshaken. Yet let 
 me not be thought harsh or unkind to daugh- 
 ters : for my notion is that they should be 
 treated with great affection and tenderness, 
 and always participate of the prosperity of 
 the family. 
 
 and had forgotten them. Part of these 
 are written twice ; I have returned both 
 the copies. Part I had read before. 
 
 " Be so kind as to return Lord Hailes 
 my most respectful thanks for his first 
 volume : his accuracy strikes me w ith 
 wonder; his narrative is far snperiour to 
 that of Henault, as I have formerly men- 
 tioned. 
 
 " I am afraid that the trouble which 
 my irregularity and delay has cost him is 
 greater, far greater than any good that I 
 can do him will ever recompense ; but if I 
 have any more copy, I will try to do better. 
 
 " Pray let me know if Mrs. Boswell is 
 friends with me, and pay my respects to 
 Veronica and Euphemia and Alexander. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " February 15, 1776." 
 
 MR. BOSW^ELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 20, 1776. 
 «♦*«*# 
 " You have illuminated my mind, and 
 relieved me from imaginary shackles of 
 conscientious obligation. Were it neces- 
 sary, I could immediately join in an 
 entail upon the series of heirs approved 
 by my father ; but it is better not to act 
 too suddenly." 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWELL. 
 ** DE.AR SIR, 
 
 " I AM glad that what I could think or 
 say has at all contributed to quiet your 
 thoughts. Your resolution not to act till 
 your opinion is confirmed by more deli- 
 beration is very just. If you have been 
 scrupulous, do not be rash. I hope that 
 as you think more, and take opportunities 
 of talking with men intelligent in ques- 
 tions of property, you will be able to free 
 yourself from every difficuity. 
 
 " When I wrote last, 1 sent, I think, 
 ten packets. Did you receive them all? 
 
 " You must tell Mrs. Boswell that I 
 suspected her to have written without 
 your knowledge t, and therefore did not 
 return any answer, lest a clandestine 
 correspondence should have been perni- 
 ciously discovered. I will write to her 
 
 soon. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " I am, DCAR SIR, 
 
 ** Most affectionately yours, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Feb. 24, 1770." 
 
 Having communicated to Lord Hailes 
 what Dr. Johnson wrote concerning the 
 question which perplexed me so much, 
 his lordship wrote to me ; " Your scrii- 
 
 t A letter to him on the inreresling subject 
 of the family settlement, which I had read. 
 
296 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 pies have prodirced more fruit than I ever 
 expected from them ; an excellent disser- 
 tation on general principles of morals and 
 law^." 
 
 I wrote to Dr. Johnson on the 20th of 
 February, complaining of melancholy, 
 and expressing a strong desire to be witli 
 him ; informing him that tlie ten packets 
 came all safe : that Lord Hailes was 
 much obliged to him, and said he had 
 almost wholly removed his scruples against 
 entails. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE not had your letter half an 
 hour: as you lay so much weight upon 
 my notions, I should think it not just to 
 delay my answer. 
 
 " I am very sorry that your melan- 
 choly should return, and should be sorry 
 likewise if it could have no relief but 
 from ray company. My counsel you 
 may have when you are pleased to re- 
 quire it ; but of my company you cannot 
 in the next month have much, for Mr. 
 Thrale will take me to Italy, he says, on 
 the 1st of April. 
 
 '* Let me warn you very earnestly 
 against scruples. I am glad that you are 
 reconciled to your settlement, and think 
 it a great honour to have shaken Lord 
 Hailes's opinion of entails. Do not, how- 
 ever, hope wholly to reason away your 
 troubles ; do not feed them witli atten- 
 tion, and they will die imperceptibly 
 away. Fix your thoughts upon your 
 business, fill your intervals with company, 
 and sunshine will again break in upon your 
 mind. If you will come to me, you nmst 
 come very quickly ; and even then I 
 know not but we may scour the country 
 together, for I have a mind to see Ox- 
 ford and Lichfield before I set oat on this 
 long Journey. To this I can only add that 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 " Humble servant, 
 " March 5, 1776." *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Very early in April we leave England, 
 and in the beginning of the next week 1 
 shall leave London for a short time ; of 
 this I think it necessary to inform you, 
 that you may not be disappointed in any 
 of your enterprises. I had not fully re- 
 solved to go into the country before this 
 day. 
 
 '* Please to make my compliments to 
 Lord Hailes ; and mention very parti- 
 cularly to Mrs. Boswell my hope that 
 she is reconciled to, sir, 
 
 '• Your faithful servant, 
 
 '• Sam. Johnson." 
 
 « March 12, 1776." 
 
 Above thirty years ago the heirs of 
 Lord Chancellor Clarendon presented 
 the Universiiy of Oxford with the conti- 
 nuation of his History, and such other of 
 his Lordship's manuscripts as had not 
 been published, on condition that the 
 profits arising from their publication 
 should be applied to the establishment of 
 a Manege in the University. The gift 
 was accepted in full convocation. A 
 person being now recommended to Dr. 
 Johnson, as fit to superintend this pro- 
 posed riding school, he exerted himself 
 with that zeal for which he was remark- 
 able upon every similar occasion. But, 
 on inquiry into the matter, he found that 
 the sclieme was not likely to be soon 
 carried into execution ; the profits arising 
 from the Clarendon press being, from 
 some mismanagement, very scanty. This 
 having been explained to him by a re- 
 spectable dignitary of tlie church, who 
 had good means of knowing it, he wrote 
 a letter upon the subject, which at once 
 exhibits his extraordinary precision and 
 acuteness, and his warm attachment to 
 his Alma Mater. 
 
 " to the reverend dr. WETHERELL, MAS- 
 TER OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OL.FORD. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Few things are more unpleasant than 
 the transaction of business with men who 
 are above knowing or caring what they 
 have to do ; such as the trustees for Lord 
 Corubury's insiilution will, perhaps, ap- 
 pear when you have read Dr. ******»>s 
 letter. 
 
 "The last partof the Doctor's letter is of 
 great importance. Tlie complaint* which 
 he makes I have heard long ago, and did 
 not know but it was redressed. It is 
 unhappy that a practice so erroneous has 
 not been altered ; for altered it must be, 
 or our press will be useless with all its 
 privileges. The booksellers, who, like 
 all other men, have strong prejudices in 
 their own favour, are enough inclined to 
 think the practice of printing and selling 
 books by any but themselves an encroach- 
 ment on the rights of their fraternity; 
 and have need of stronger inducements 
 to circulate academical publications than 
 those of another ; for, of that mutual 
 cooperation by which the general trade is 
 carried on, tlie University can bear no 
 part. Of those whom he neither loves 
 nor fears, and from whom he expects no 
 reciprocation of good offices, why shouhl 
 any man promote the interest but for 
 profit? I suppose, with all our scholas- 
 tick ignorance of mankind, we are still 
 
   I suppose the complaint was, tliat the 
 trustees ot the Oxford press diu not allow the 
 Lon<ion booksellers a siirticicnt piofit upon 
 vemiiug lUeir publicaiiuiis. 
 
^TAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 too knowing to expect that the booksel- 
 lers will erect themselves into patrons, 
 and buy and sell under the influence of a 
 disinterested zeal lor the promotion of 
 learning. 
 
 " To the booksellers, if we look for 
 either honour or profit from our press, 
 not only their common profit, but some- 
 thing more must be allowed ; and if 
 books, printed at Oxford, are expected 
 to be rated at a high price, that price 
 must be levied on the publick, and paid 
 by the ultimate purchaser, not by tl<e 
 iatermediale agents. What price shall 
 be set upon the book is, to the book- 
 sellers, wholly inditierent, p.ovided that 
 they gain a proportionate profit by nego- 
 tiating the sale. 
 
 '* Why books printed at Oxford siiould 
 be particularly dear I am, however, un- 
 able to find. — We pay no rent ; we in- 
 herit many of our insirumenis and mate- 
 rials ; lodging and victuals are cheaper 
 than at London; and, therefore, work- 
 manship ooght, at least, not to be dealer. 
 Our exoenses are natorally less than those 
 of booksellers; and in most cases, com- 
 munities are content with less piofit than 
 indivi<luals. 
 
 *' It is, perhaps, not considered thropgh 
 how many hands a book often passes 
 before it comes into those of tl)e reader ; 
 or what part of the profit each hand must 
 retain, as a motive for transmitting it to 
 the next. 
 
 " We will call our primary agent in 
 London, Mr. Cadell, who receives our 
 books from us, gives them room in his 
 warehouse, and issues them on demand ; 
 by him they are sold to Mr. Dilly, a 
 wfiolesale bookseller, who sends them 
 into the countiy ; and t''e last seller 
 the countrv bookseller. Here are three 
 profits to be paid between the printer 
 and the reader, or, in the style of com- 
 merce, between the manufacturer and 
 the consumer; and if any of these pro- 
 fits is too penuriously distributed, the 
 process of commerce is interrupted. 
 
 *' We are now come to the practical 
 question, what is to be done? You will 
 tell me, with reason, that I have said 
 nothing, till I declaie how much, accord- 
 ing to my opinion of the ultimate price 
 ought to be distriDuted through the whole 
 succession of sale. 
 
 " The deduction, I am afraid, wi'l ap- 
 pear very great : but let it be considered 
 before it is refused. We must allow, for 
 profit, between thirty and thirty- five per 
 cent, belvveen six and seven shillings in 
 the pound ; that is, for every book wliich 
 costs the last buyer twenty shilUngs, we 
 must charge Mr. Cadell with something 
 less than fourteen. We must set the 
 copies at fourteen shillings each, and 
 
 297 
 
 superadd what is called the quarterly- 
 book, or for every hundred books so 
 charged we must deliver a hundred and 
 four. 
 
 " The profits will then stand thus: 
 
 ** Mr. Cadell, who runs no hazard and 
 gives no credit, will be paid for ware- 
 house room and attendance by a shilling 
 profit on each book, and his chance of 
 the quartet ly book. 
 
 " Mr. Dilly, who buys the book for 
 fifteen shillings, and who will expect 
 the quarterly book if he takes five and 
 twenty, will send it to his country cus- 
 tomer at sixteen and sixpence, by which, 
 at the hazard of loss and the certainty of 
 long credit, he gains tiie regular profit of 
 ten per cent, which is expected in the 
 wholesale trade. 
 
 *' The country bookseller, buying at 
 sixteen and sixpence, and commonly 
 trusting a considerable time, gains but 
 three and sixpence, and if he trusts a year, 
 not much more than two and sixpence ; 
 otherwise than as he may, perhaps, take 
 as long credit as he gives. 
 
 " With less profit than this, and more 
 you see he cannot have, the country 
 bookseller cannot live ; for his receipts 
 are small, and his debts sometimes bad. 
 
 " Tlius, dear sir, 1 have been incited 
 by Dr. *******'§ letter to give you a 
 detail of the circulation of books, which, 
 perhaps, every man has not had oppor- 
 tunity of knowing ; and which those who 
 know it do not, perhaps, always dis- 
 tinctly consider. 
 
 ** I am, &c. 
 j^ " Sam. Johnson*." -^ 
 
 •nviarch 12, 1776." 
 
 • li'L_ Having arrived in London late on 
 ^^' Friday, the 15th of March, 1 hastened 
 l^ hext morning to wait on Dr. Johnson at 
 Ills house ; but found he was removed 
 from Johnson's Court, No. 7, to Bolt 
 Cout-t, No. 8, still keeping to his favourite 
 IPleet Street. My reflection at the lime 
 upon this change as marked in my Jour- 
 nal, is as fol'ows : ** 1 felt a foolish re- 
 gret that he had left a court which bore 
 his namet ; but it was not foolish to be 
 afiected with some tenderness of regard 
 for a place in which 1 had seen him a 
 great deal, from whence I had often 
 issued a better and a happier man than 
 wi)en I went in, and which had often 
 ap()eared to my imagination while 1 trod 
 
 * I am happy in giving this full au'l clear 
 8ta(e»ient to the publick, to vjodicaie, by the 
 auiliorilv of the greatest aurlioiu- of his age, 
 that respcctahle body of men, the booksellers 
 of London, from vulgar reflections, as if their 
 profi.s were exorbitant, when, in truth. Dr. 
 Johns-on has here allowed them more than 
 Ihey usually demand. , ^ .. ^ 
 
 t He said, when in Scotland, that tie was 
 Johnson of that Ilh. 
 
208 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 its pavement, in the solemn darkness of 
 tlie night, to be sacred to wisdom and 
 piety." Being informed that he was at 
 Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough, I hastened 
 thither, and found Mrs. Thrale and him 
 at breakfast. I was kindly welcomed. 
 In a moment he was in a full glow of 
 conversation, and I felt myself elevated 
 as if brought into another state of being. 
 Mrs. Thrale and I looked to each other 
 while he talked, and our looks expressed 
 our congenial admiration and affection 
 for him. I shall ever recollect this scene 
 with great pleasure. I exclaimed to her, 
 " I am now, intellectually, Hermippus 
 redivlvus*, I am quite restored by him, 
 by transfusion o( mind.'' "There are 
 many (she replied) who admire and re- 
 spect Mr. Johnson ; but you and I love 
 him." 
 
 He seemed very happy in the near 
 pj'ospect of going to Italy with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Thrale. " But (said he), before 
 leaving Eingland I am to take a jaunt to 
 Oxford, Birmingham, my native city 
 Lichfield, and my old friend. Dr. Tay- 
 lor's, at Ashbourne, in Derbyshire. I 
 shall go in a few days, and you, Boswell, 
 shall go with me." I was ready to 
 accompany him ; being willing even to 
 leave London to have the pleasure of his 
 conversation. 
 
 I mentioned with much regret the 
 extravagance of the representative of a 
 great family in Scotland, by which there 
 was danger of its being ruined ; and as 
 Johnson respected it for its antiquity, 
 he joined with me in thinking it would, 
 be happy if this person should die. Mrs/ 
 Thrale seemed shocked at this, as fend^llnyx 
 barbarity ; and said, " I do not under:°7felt, 
 stand this preference of the estate to its 
 owner; of the land to the man who 
 walks upon that land." Johnson. ** Nay, 
 madam, it is not a preference of the land 
 to its owner ; it is the preference of a 
 family to ati individual. Here is an 
 establishment in a country, which is of 
 importance for ages, not only to the 
 chief but to his people ; an establish- 
 ment which extends upwards and down- 
 wards ; that this should be destroyed by 
 one idle fellow is a sad thing." 
 
 He said, " Entails are good, because 
 it is good to preserve in a country serieses 
 of men, to whom the people are accus- 
 tomed to look up as to their leaders. 
 But I am for leaving a quantity of land 
 in commerce, to excite industry and keep 
 money in the country ; for if no land 
 were to be bought in the country, there 
 would be no encouragement to acquire 
 wealth, because a family coidd not be 
 «cc I founded there ; or if it were acquired, it 
 ^ must be carried away to another country 
 • See p. 126. 
 
 1776. 
 where land may be bought. And al- 
 though the land in every country will 
 remain the same, and be as fertile where 
 tiere is no money as where there is, yet 
 all that portion of the happiness of civil 
 lie, which is produced by money circu- 
 lating in a country, would be lost." 
 j^oswELb. " Then, sir, would it be for the 
 ntry that all its lands 
 ■' Johnson. " So far, 
 ces good it would be 
 ge ; for then that country would 
 have as much money circulating in it as 
 it is worth. But to be sure this would 
 be counterbalanced by disadvantages at- 
 tending a total change of proprietors." 
 
 I expressed my opinion that the power 
 of entailing should be limited thus : "That 
 there should be one-third or perhaps one- 
 half of the land of a country kept free 
 for commerce ; that the proportion al- 
 lowed to be entailed should be parcelled 
 out so that no family could entail above 
 
 certain quantity. Let a family, ac- 
 cording to the abilities of its representa- 
 tives, be richer or poorer in dilferent 
 generations, or always rich if its repre- 
 sentatives be always wise : but let its 
 bsolute permanency be moderate. In 
 this way we should be certain of there 
 being always a number of established 
 roots ; and as in the course of nature, 
 there is in every age an extinction of 
 some families, there would be continual 
 openings for men ambitious of perpe- 
 tilitji^ to plant a stock in the entail 
 4(found+." Johnson. " Why, sir, man- 
 kind will be better able to regulate the 
 system of entails, when the evil of too 
 npKli land being locked up by them is 
 "* ' that we can do at present when it is 
 not felt." 
 
 I mentioned Dr. Adam Smith's book 
 on " The Wealth of Nations," which was 
 just published, and that Sir John Pringle 
 liad observed to me, that Dr. Smith, 
 who had never been in trade, could not 
 be expected to write well on that subject 
 any more than a lawyer upon physick. 
 Johnson. " He is mistaken, sir: a man 
 who has never been engaged in trade 
 himself may undoubtedly write well 
 upon trade, and there is nothing which 
 requires more to be illustrated by philo- 
 
 t The privilege of perpctuatin;; in a family 
 an estate and arms indf/easitjlt/ from genera- 
 lion to generation is enjoyed by none of his 
 Majesty's subjects except "in Scotland, where 
 the legal fiction of fne and recovery is un- 
 known. It in a privilege so proud that I 
 should think it would he pioper to have the 
 rcise of" it dt-pendtnl on ihe ro>al prpro- 
 gative. It seems ahsurd «o permit the power 
 of perpetuating their representmion to men, 
 who liavin;; had no eminent merit, have truly 
 no name. The King, as tlie impartial father 
 of Ills people, woultl never refuse to grant the 
 privilege to those who deserved it. 
 
^t 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 JEr.vr. G7." 
 
 sopliy than trade does. As to mere 
 wealth, that is to say, money^Tt is clear 
 Hiat one nation or one indiv^ldual cannot 
 increase its store but by making another 
 poorer: bnt trade procures what is more 
 valuable, tiie reciprocation of the pecu- 
 liar advantages of different countries. A 
 merchant seldom thinks but of his own 
 particular trade. To write a good book 
 upon it a man must have extensive views. 
 It is not necessary to have practised to 
 write well upon a subject." I men- 
 tioned law as a subject on which no man 
 could write well without practice. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, in England, where so 
 mucli money is to be got by the practice 
 of the law, most of our writers upon it 
 have been in practice ; though Black- 
 stone had not been much in practice 
 when he published his * Commentaries.' 
 But upon the Continent the great writers 
 on law have not all been in practice : 
 Grotius, indeed, was; but Puflfendorf 
 was not, Burlamaqui was not." 
 
 When we had talked of the great con- 
 sequence which a man acquired by being 
 employed in his profession, I suggested 
 a doubt of the justice of the general opi- 
 nion, that it is improper in a lawyer to 
 solicit employment; for why, I urged, 
 should it not be equally allowable to soli- 
 cit that as the means of consequence, as 
 it is to solicit votes to be elected a mem- 
 ber of Parliament? Mr. Strahan had 
 told me that a countryman of his and 
 mine, who had risen to eminence in the 
 law, had, when first making his way, 
 solicited him to get him employed in 
 city causes. Johnson. " Sir, it is wrong 
 to stir up lawsuits ; but when once it is 
 certain that a lawsuit is to go on, there 
 is nothing wrong in a lawyer's endea- 
 voujing that he shall have the benefit 
 rather than another." Boswell. ** You 
 would not solicit employment, sir, if 
 you were a lawyer." Johnson. " No, 
 sir ; but not because I should think it 
 wrong, but because I should disdain 
 it." This was a good distinction, which 
 will be felt by men of just pride. He 
 proceeded : *' However, I would not 
 have a lawyer to be wanting to himself 
 in using fair means. I would have him 
 to inject a little hint now and then to 
 prevent his being overlooked." 
 
 Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch 
 Militia, in supporting which his lordship 
 had made an able speech in the House 
 of Commons, was now a pretty general 
 topick of conversation. — Johnson. " As 
 Scotland contributes so little landtax to- 
 wards the general support of the nation, 
 it ought not to have a militia paid out of 
 the general fund, unless it should be 
 thought for the general interest, that 
 Scotland should be protected from an 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 299 
 
 invasion, which no man can think will 
 happen ; for what enemy would invade 
 Scotland, where there is nothing to be 
 got? No, sir; now that the Scotch have 
 not the pay of English soldiers spent 
 among them, as so many troops are sent 
 abroad, they are trying to get money 
 another way, by having a militia paid. 
 If they are afraid, and seriously desire 
 to have an armed force to defend them, 
 they should pay for it. Your scheme is 
 to retain a part of your landtax, by 
 making us pay and clothe your militia." 
 BoswELL. " You should not talk of we 
 and you, sir : there is now a Union." 
 Johnson. " There must be a distinction 
 of interest, while the proportions of land- 
 tax are so unequal. If Yorkshire should 
 say, * Instead of paying our. landtax we 
 will keep a greater number of militia,' it 
 would be unreasonable." In this argu- 
 ment my friend was certainly in the 
 wrong. The landtax is as unequally 
 proportioned between different parts of 
 England as between England and Scot- 
 land ; nay, it is considerably unequal in 
 Scotland itself. But the landtax is but 
 a small part of the numerous branches of 
 publick revenue, all of which Scotland 
 pays precisely as England does. A 
 French invasion made in Scotland would 
 soon penetrate into England. 
 
 He thus discoursed upon supposed 
 obligation in settling estates: — '* Where 
 a man gets the unlimited property of an 
 estate, there is no obligation upon him 
 in justice to leave it to one person rather 
 than to another. There is a motive of 
 preference from kindness, and this kind- 
 ness is generally entertained for the 
 nearest relation. If I owe a particular 
 man a sum of money, I am obliged to 
 let that man have the next money I get, 
 and cannot in justice let another have it : 
 but if I owe money to no man, I may- 
 dispose of what I get as I please. There 
 is not a dehitum justitice to a man's 
 next heir ; there is only a debitum, carl- 
 tatis. It is plain, then, that I have mo- 
 rally a choice, according to my liking. 
 If I have a brother in want, he has a 
 claim from affection to my assistance ; 
 but if I have also a brother in want, 
 whom I like better, he has a preferable 
 claim. The right of an heir at law is 
 only this, that he is to have the succes- 
 sion to an estate, in case no other person 
 is appointed to it by the owner. His 
 right is merely preferable to that of the 
 King." 
 
 We got into a boat to cross over to 
 Blackfriars; and as we moved along the 
 Thames I talked to him of a little vo- 
 lume which, altogether unknown to him, 
 was advertised to be published in a few 
 days, under the title of ** Johnsontana, 
 
aOO THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1776. 
 
 or Bons Mots of Dr. Johnson." JoBAfc- [ night in Fleet Street. *' A gentlewoman 
 SON. *t Sii-,^. it.,ifl_.<t— mrgj^ impudent (said he) begged I wonld give her my 
 thing." BoswcLL. " Pray, sir, could | arm to assist her in crossing tli 
 
 you have no redress if you were to pro- 
 secute a publisher for bringing out, under 
 your name, what you never said, and 
 ascribing to yoo dull stupid nonsense, or 
 making you swear profanely, as many 
 ignorant relators of your bons mots do ?" 
 Johnson. " ISo, sir; there will always 
 be some trulh mixed with the talsehood, 
 and how can it be ascertained how much 
 is true and how much is false? Besides, 
 sir, what damages would a jury give me 
 for having been represented as swear- 
 ing?" EoswELL. " I think, sir, you 
 should at least disavow such a publica- 
 tion, because the world and posterity 
 might with, much plausible foondalion 
 say, ' Here is a volume which was puo- 
 lickly advertised and came out in Dr. 
 Johnson's own time, and, by his silence, 
 was admitted by him to be genuine." 
 Johnson. " Lshall give myself no trou- 
 b i ««»i d > t»B t^tTe matter." 
 
 He was, perhaps, above suffering from 
 such spurious publications ; but I could 
 not help thinking, that many men would 
 be much injured in their reputation, by 
 having absurd and vicioos sayings im-' 
 puted to them ; and that redress ought in 
 such cases to be given. 
 
 He said " The value of every story 
 depends on its being true. A story is a 
 picture either of an individual or of hu- 
 man nature in general ; if it be false, it 
 is a picture of nothing. For instance : 
 suppose a man should tell that Johnson, 
 before setting out for Italy, as he had to 
 cross the Alps, sat down to make himself 
 wings. This many people would believe; 
 but it would be a picture of nothing. 
 ******* (naming a worthy friend of 
 oursyused to think a story a story, till 1 
 sliewed him that truth was essential to 
 it.** I observed, Kiat Foote entertained 
 MlB with stories which were not true ; but 
 that, indeed, it was properly not as nar- 
 ratives that Foote's stories pleased us, 
 but as collections ot' ludicrous images. 
 Johnson. " Foote is quite impartial, for 
 he tells lies of every body." 
 
 The importance of strict and scrupulous 
 veracity cannot be too often inculcated. 
 Johnson was known to be so rigidly 
 attentive to it that even in his common 
 conversation the slightest circumstance 
 was mentioned with exact precision. 
 The knowledge of his having such 
 
 the street, 
 which I accordingly did ; upon which 
 she offered me a shilling, supposing me 
 to be the watchman. I perceived that 
 she was somewhat in liquor." This, if 
 told by most people, would have been 
 thought an invention ; when told by 
 Johnson, it was believed by his friends as 
 much as if they had seen what passed. 
 
 We landed at the Temple Stairs, where 
 we parted. 
 
 I found him in the evening in Mrs. 
 Williams's room. We talked of religious 
 orders. He said, " Itjs as, unreasonable 
 for a man to '40 into a Carthusian colT?*** 
 **8at Jor f^ar 4jt" being immoral, as l\)r a 
 man<4o cut olf his hands for fear he / 
 shoiild steal. There is; indeed, great re- ^ 
 solution in the immediate act of dismem- v 
 bering himself; but when that is once 
 done, he has no longer any merit : for J 
 though it is out of his power to steal, yet   
 he may all his life be a thief in his heart. — . 
 So when a man has once become a Car- "- 
 thusian, he is obliged to continue so, .\; 
 whether he chooses it or not. XUeir ' 
 silence, too, is absurd. We read in the 
 4jrosj)ei of the aipostles being sent to 
 preach, but not to hold their tongues. 
 All severity that does not tend to increase 
 good or pi event evil is idle. I said to 
 the Lady Abbess of a convent, * Madam, 
 you are here, not for the love of virtue, 
 but the fear of vice.' She said, * She 
 should remember this as long as she 
 lived.'" I thought it hard to give her 
 this view of her situation, when she could 
 not help it; and, indeed, I wondere<l at 
 the whole of what he now said ; because, 
 both in his "Rambler" and "Idler,'* 
 he treats religious austerities with much 
 solemnity of respect. 
 
 Finding him still persevering in his 
 abstinence from wine, I ventured to 
 speak to him of it.— Johnson. " Si*-, I 
 have no objection to a man's drinking 
 wine, if he can do it in moderation. I 
 found myself apt to go to excess in it, 
 and therefore, after having been for some 
 time without it, on account of illness, I 
 thought it better not to return to it. Every 
 man is to judge for himself, according to 
 the effects which he cvperiences. One 
 of tlie fathers tells us, he found fasting 
 made him so peevish that he dhl not 
 practise it." 
 
 Though he often enlarged upon the evil 
 
 have a perfect reliance on the truth ot 
 every thing that he told, however it 
 might have been doubted if told by man_> 
 others. As an instance of this, I may 
 
 lated as having happened to him one 
 
 inc'()le and habit made his friends iXJtintoxicalion, he was by no mears harsh 
 
 and untorgiving to those who indulged in 
 
 occasional excess in wine. One of his 
 
 friends, I well remember, came to sup 
 
 ^ at a tavern with him and some other 
 
 ntion an odd incident which be re-,^ntlemen, and too plainly discovered 
 
 that he bad drunk too much at dinner. 
 
illTAT. G7. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 SOI 
 
 When one who loved mischief, thinking 
 to produce a severe censure, asked John- 
 son, a few days afterwards, " Well, sir, 
 what did your friend say to you, as an 
 apology for being in such a situation V 
 Johnson answered, " Sir, he said all that 
 a man should say : he said he was sorr> 
 for it." 
 
 I heard him once give a very judicious 
 practical advice upon this subject: *'~.A 
 man who has been drinking wine at ill 
 freely should never go into a newjeom- 
 pany. With those who have pa|;ta1ien of 
 wine with him he may be npeffy well in 
 unison ; but he willgst>Jwrt51y be offensive 
 or appear rkiic»+ol!sto other people." 
 "•^..^..Jie-^ttowed very great influence to 
 education. " I do not deny, sir, but 
 there is some original difterence in minds ; 
 but it is nothing in comparison of what 
 is formed by education. We may in- 
 stance the science of numbers, which all 
 minds are equally capable of attaining; 
 yet we find a prodigious difference in the 
 powers of different men, in that respect, 
 after they are grown up, because their 
 minds have been more or less exercised 
 J in it ; and I think the same cause will 
 explain the difference of excellence in 
 other things, gradations admitting always 
 some difference in the first principles." 
 
 This is a difficult subject ; but it is best 
 to hope that diligence may do a great 
 deal. We are sure of what it can do. 
 in increasing our mechanical force aajj 
 dexterity. ^ *s,.-^i»^ 
 
 1 again visited hiilv.,on Monday. He 
 look occasion to enlavgg'V as he oiten did, 
 upon the wi'etchedneBi.of a sea life. " A 
 ship is wdrse than a gaol. There is in a 
 \ gaol better air, better company, better 
 \conveniency of every kind; and a si)ip/ 
 'has the addil'-onal disadvantage of bein^" 
 in danger. When men come to like i\ 
 seaiife, they are not fit to live oij^iaocL" 
 .'* Then (said I) it would be cruel in ft-, 
 'jfather to breed his son to the sea." 
 ,t JOHNSON. ** It would be cruel in a father 
 who thinks as I do. Men go to sea, be- 
 fore they know the unhappiiiess of that 
 way of life ; and when they have come 
 to know it, they cannot escape from it, 
 because it is then too late to choose ano- 
 ther profession; as indeed is generally 
 the case with men, when they have once 
 engaged in any particular way of life." 
 
 On Tuesday, March 19, which was 
 fixed for our pioposed jaunt, we met in 
 the morning at the Somerset coffee-house 
 in the Strand, where we were taken up 
 by the Oxford coach. He was accom- 
 panied by Mr. Gwyn, the architect ; and 
 a gentleman of Merton College, whom 
 we did not know, had the fourth seat. 
 We soon got into conversation ; for it 
 was very remarkable of Johnson, that 
 
 the presence of a stranger had no restraint 
 upon his talk. I observed that Garrick, 
 who was about to quit the stage, would 
 soon have an easier life. Johnson. ** I 
 doubt (hat, sir." Boswell. " Why, sir, 
 he will be Atlas with the burthen off his 
 back." Johnson. " But I know not, sir, 
 if he will be so steady without his load. 
 However, he should never p'ay any 
 more, but be entirely the gentleman, 
 and not partly the player: he should no 
 longer subject himself to be hissed by a 
 mob, or to be insolently treated by per- 
 formers, whom he used (o rule with a 
 high hand, and who would gladly reta- 
 liate." BoswELL. " I think he should 
 play once a year for the benefit of de- 
 cayed actors, as it has been said he means 
 to do." Johnson. " Alas, sir! he will 
 soon be a decayed actor himself." 
 
 Johnson expressed his disapprobation 
 of ornamental architecture, such as mag- 
 nificent columns supporting a portico, or 
 expensive pilasters supporting merely 
 tiieir own capitals, ** because it consumes 
 labour disproportionate to its utility." 
 For the same reason he satirized statu- 
 ary. *' Painting (said he) consumes la- 
 bour not disproportionate to its effect ; 
 biit a fellow will hack half a year at a 
 ulock of marble to make something in 
 si one that hardly resembles a man. The 
 value of statuary .is owing to its dlffi- 
 cutty. You would iSot value the iinest 
 head cut upon a carrot." Here he seemed 
 to me to be strangely deficient in taste ; 
 for surely statuary is a noble art of imi- 
 tation, and preserves a wonderful expres- 
 sion of the varieties of the human frame ; 
 and although it must be allowed that the 
 circumstances of ditficuhy enhance the 
 value of a marble head, we should con- 
 sider, that if it requires a long time in 
 the performance, it has a proportionate 
 value in durability. 
 
 Gwyn was a fine lively rati ling fellow. 
 Dr. Johnson kept him in subjection, but 
 with a kindly authority. The spirit of 
 the artist, however, rose against what he 
 tliouglit a Gothick attack, and he made a 
 brisk defence. " What, sir, will you 
 allow no value to beauty in architecture 
 or in staliiary? Why should we allow it 
 then in writing? Why do you take the 
 trouble to give us so many fine allusions, 
 and bright images, and elegant phrases? 
 You might convey all your instruction 
 without these ornaments." Johnson 
 smiled with complacency ; but said, 
 " Why, sir, all these ornaments are use- 
 ful, because they obtain an easier recep- 
 tion for truth ; but a building is not at 
 all more convenient for being decorated 
 with superfluous carved work." 
 
 Gwyn at last was lucky enough to make 
 one reply to Dr. Johnson which he al- 
 
302 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 177C. 
 
 lowed to be excellent. Johnson censured 
 him for taking down a church whicli 
 might have stood many years, and build- 
 ing a new one at a different place, for no 
 other reason but that there might be a 
 direct road to a new bridge ; and his ex- 
 pression was, ** You are taking a church 
 out of the way, that the people may go 
 in a straight line to the bridge." — No, sir 
 (said Gwyn), I am putting the church in 
 the way, that the people may not ^o out 
 of the way." Johnson (with a hearty 
 loud laugh of approbation). " Speak no 
 more. Rest your colloquial fame upon 
 this." 
 
 Upon our arrival at Oxford, Dr. Jolm- 
 son and I went directly to University 
 College, but were disappointed on find- 
 ing that one of the fellows, his friend 
 Mr. Scott, who accompanied him from 
 Newcastle to Edinburgh, was gone to the 
 country. We put up at the Angel iim, 
 and passed the evening by ourselves in 
 easy and familiar conversation. Talking 
 of constitntiQnal4»elancholy, he observed, 
 ^'A'^m'an so afflicted, sir, must divert 
 distressing thoughts, and hot combat with 
 them." BosWELL. " May not he think 
 them down, sir?" Johnson. " No, sir. 
 To attempt to think them down is mad- 
 ness. He should have a lamp constantly 
 burning in his bedcliamber during the 
 night, and if wakefully disturbed, take a 
 book, and read, and compose himself to 
 rest. To have the management of the 
 mind is a great art, and it may be at- 
 tained in a considerable degree by expe- 
 rience and habitual exercise." Boswell. 
 " Should not he provide amusements for 
 himself? Would it not, for instance, be 
 right for him to take a course of chymis- 
 try V Johnson. " Let him take a course 
 of chymistry, or a course of rope-dancing, 
 or a course of any thing to which he is 
 inclined at the time. Let him contrive 
 to have as many retreats for his mind as 
 he can, as many things to which it can 
 fly from itself. Burton's * Anatomy of 
 Melancholy ' is a valuable work. It is, 
 perhaps, overloaded with quotation. But 
 there is a great spirit and great power in 
 what Burton says, when he writes from 
 his own mind." 
 
 Next mornine wr visited Dr. Wcthe- 
 rell, master of I diversity ColUgi-, with 
 whom Dr. Johnson conferred <)n the most 
 advantageous mode of disposing of the 
 books printed at the Clarendon press, on 
 which subject his letter has been inserted 
 in a former page. I often had occasion 
 to remark, Johnson loved business, loved 
 to have his wisdom actually operate on 
 r<Ml life. Dr. Wetherell and I talked of 
 him without reserve in his own piesence. 
 Wjrrili UKi.!,. " I woiilfl have uivt ii liini 
 a imndred uuiiieas if lie would iiavc 
 
 written a preface to his * Political Tracts,' 
 by way of a Discourse on the British 
 Constitution." Boswell. " Dr. John- 
 son, though in his writings, and upon all 
 occasions, a great friend to the const i--^ 
 tution both in church and state, has never'^ 
 written expressly in support of either,-'^ 
 There is really a claim upon him foi^ 
 both. I am sure he could give a volum. 
 of no great bulk upon each, which wouia*- 
 comprise all the substance, and with his 
 spirit woidd effectually maintain them. 
 He should erect a fort on the confines of 
 each." I could perceive that he was 
 displeased with this dialogue. He burst 
 out, *' Why should /be always writing?" 
 1 hoped he was conscious that the debt 
 was just, and meant to discharge it, 
 though he disliked being dunned. 
 
 We then went to Pembroke College, 
 and waited on his old friend Dr. Adams, 
 the master of it, whom I found to be 
 a most polite, pleasing, commimicative 
 man. Before his advancement to the 
 headship of his college, I had intended 
 to go and visit him at Shrewsbury, where 
 he was rector of St. Chad's, in order to 
 get from him what particulars he could 
 recollect of Johnson's academical life. 
 He now obligingly gave me part of that 
 authentick information which, with what - 
 I afterwards owed to his kindness, will 
 be found incorporated in its proper place 
 in this work. 
 
 Dr. Adams had distinguiilicd him elf 
 by an able answer to J)avid Hiune's 
 " Essay on Miracles." He told me he 
 had once dined in company with Hume 
 in London : that Hume shook hands with 
 him, and said, *' You have treated me 
 much better thaji I deserve ;" and that 
 they exchanged visits. I took the liberty 
 to object to treating an infidel writtr 
 with smooth civility. Where there is a 
 controversy concerning a passage in a 
 classick aulhour, or concerning a question 
 in antiquities, or any other subject in 
 which human happiness is not deeply 
 interested, a man may treat his antago- 
 nist with politeness and even respect. 
 But where the controversy is concerning 
 the truth of religion, it is of such vast 
 importance to him who maintains it, to 
 obtain the victory, that the person of an 
 opponent ought not to be spared. I fa 
 man firmly believes that religion is an 
 invaluable treasure, he will consider a 
 writer who endeavours to deprive man- 
 kind of it as a robber ; he will look upon 
 him as odious, though the intidel might 
 think himself in the right. A robber who 
 reasons as the gang do in the •* Beggar's 
 Opera," wlio call themselves practical 
 philosophers, and may have as much 
 sincerity as pcinicious speculative phi- 
 los()|.luMs, is not tlie less an object of 
 
JEr\'r. G7. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 303 
 
 jnst indignation. An abandoned profli 
 gate may think tiiat it is not wrong to 
 debauch my wife ; but shall I, therefore, 
 not detest him ? And if I catch him in 
 naking an attempt, shall I treat him 
 /ith politeness? No, I will kick him 
 'own stairs, or run him through the 
 >dy ; that is, if I really love my wife, 
 have a true rational notion of honour. 
 -.1 Infidel then shall not be treated 
 handseBrefjrtiy a Christian, merely be- 
 e^5^Jieeri_deav&urs to rob with Inge- 
 nuit^/^Tm) declare, however, that I am 
 "(Exceedingly unwilling to be provoked to 
 anger, and could I be persuaded that 
 truth would not suffer from a cool mode- 
 ration in its defenders, I should wish to 
 preserve good humour, at least, in every 
 controversy ; nor, indeed, do I see why 
 a man should lose his temper while he 
 does all he can to refute an opponent. 
 I think ridicule may be fairly used 
 against an infidel ; for instance, if he be 
 an ugly fellow, and yet absurdly vain of 
 his person, we may contrast his appear- 
 ance with Cicero's beautiful image of 
 -Virtue, could she be seen. Johnson 
 coincided with me, and said, " When a 
 man voluntarily engages in an important 
 _^ controversy, he is to do all he can to 
 ..j£ssen his antagonist, because authority 
 from personal respect has much weight 
 ^'With most people, and often more than 
 reasoning. If my antagonist writes bad 
 1 tugnage, though that may not be essen- 
 tial to the question, I will attack him for 
 his bad language." Adams. " You would 
 not jostle a chimney sweeper." John- 
 son. " Yes, sir, if it were necessary to 
 jostle him down." 
 
 Dr. Adams told us, that in some of 
 the Colleges at Oxford, the fellows had 
 excluded the students from social inter- 
 course with them in the common room. 
 Johnson. " They are in the right, sir : 
 there can be no real conversation, no 
 fair exertion of mind amongst them, if 
 the young men are by ; for a man who 
 has a character does not choose to stake 
 it in their presence." Boswell. " But, 
 sir, may there not be very good coitvcr- 
 saff'on witlvout a teon test for su periority ?" 
 Johnson. " No animated conversation, 
 sir ; for it cannot be but one or other 
 whi come ofFsuperiour. I do not mean 
 that the victor must have the better of 
 the argument, for he may take the weak 
 side ; but his superiority of parts and 
 knowledge will necessarily appear : and 
 he to whom he thus shows himself supe- 
 riour is lessened in the eyes of ^he young 
 men. You know it was said, * Mallem 
 cum Scaligero err are qud.m cum Clavio 
 recth sapere.' In the same manner take 
 Bentley's and Jason de Nores' Com- 
 ments upon Horace, you will admire 
 
 Bentley more when wrong than Jason 
 when right." 
 
 We walked with Dr. Adams into the 
 master's garden, and into the common 
 room. Johnson (after a reverie of me- 
 ditation). ** Ay! Here I used to play at 
 draughts with Phil. Jones and Fludyer. 
 Jones loved beer, and did not get very 
 forward in the church. Fludyer turned 
 out a scoundrel, a Whig, and said he 
 was ashamed of having been bred at Ox- 
 ford. He had a living at Putney, and 
 got under the eye of some retainers to 
 the court at that time, and so became a 
 violent Whig : but he had been a scoun- 
 drel all along to be sure." Boswell. 
 *' Was he a scoundrel, sir, in any other 
 way than that of being a political scoun- 
 drel? Did he cheat at draughts?" John- 
 son. " Sir, we never played iov money." 
 
 He then carried me to visit Dr. Bent- 
 ham, Canon of Christ Church, and Di- 
 vinity professor, with whose learned 
 and lively conversation we were much 
 pleased. He gave us an invitation to 
 dinner, which Dr. Johnson told me 
 was a high honour. " Sir, it is a great 
 thing to dine with the Canons of Christ 
 Church." We could not accept his in- 
 vitation, as we were engaged to dine at 
 University College. We had an excel- 
 lent dinner there, with the Masters and 
 Fellows, it being St. Cuthbert's day, 
 which is kept by them as a festival, as 
 he was a saint of Durham, with which 
 this college is much connected. 
 
 We drank tea with Dr. Home, late 
 President of Magdalen College, and 
 Bishop of Norwich, of whose abilities, 
 in different respects, the publick has had 
 eminent proofs, and the esteem annexed 
 to whose character was increased by 
 knowing him personally. He had talked 
 of publishing an edition of Walton's 
 Lives, but had laid aside that design, 
 upon Dr. Johnson's telling him, from 
 mistake, that Lord Hailes intended to do 
 it. I had wished to negotiate between 
 Lord Hailes and him, that one or other 
 should perform so good a work. John- 
 son. •' In order to do it well, it will be 
 necessary to collect all the editions of 
 Walton's Lives. By way of adapting 
 the book to the taste of the present age, 
 they have, in a late edition, left out a 
 vision which he relates Dr. Donne had, 
 but it should be restored ; and there 
 should be a critical catalogue given of 
 the works of the difterent persons whose 
 lives were written by Walton, and there- 
 fore their works must be carefully read 
 by the editor." 
 
 We then went to Trinity College, 
 where he introduced me to Mr. Thomas 
 Warton, with whom we passed a part of 
 the evening. We talked of biography. 
 
304 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 — Johnson. " It is rarely well executed. 
 They only who live with a man can 
 write his life with any genuine exactness 
 and discrimination ; and few people who 
 had lived with a man know what to re- 
 mark about him. The chaplain of a late 
 '- Bishop, whom I was to assist in writing 
 some memoirs of his lordship, could tell 
 
 « me scarcely any thing*." 
 
 ■^ 1 said, Mr. Robert Dodsley's life 
 
 j^ should be written, as he had been so 
 
 much connected with the wits of his 
 
 ^i time, and by his literary merit had raised 
 himself from the station of a footman. 
 
 '^^ Mr. Warton said, he had published a 
 little volume under the title of " The 
 Muse in Livery." Johnson. " I doubt 
 whether Dodsley's b» other would thank 
 
 "; • a man who should write his life; yet 
 Dodsley himself was not unwilling that 
 his original low condition should be re- 
 collected. When Lord Lyttel ton's * Dia- 
 logues of the Dead' came out, one of 
 which is between Apicius, an ancient 
 epicure, and Dartineuf, a modern epi-/ 
 cure, Dods'ey said to me, * I knew' 
 Dartineuf well, for I was once his 
 footman.' " 
 
 Biography le<l us to speak of Dr. John 
 Campbell, who had written a consider- 
 able part of the " Biographia Brilan- 
 nica." Johnson, though he valued him 
 highly, was of opinion that there was not 
 80 much in his great work, *' A Pol'iical 
 Survey of Great Britain," as the world 
 had been taught to expect + ; and had 
 said to me, that he believed Campbell's 
 disappointment on account of the bad 
 success of that work had killed him. He 
 this evening observed of it, "That work 
 was his death." Mr. Wailon, not ad- 
 verting io his meaning, answered, " I 
 believe so ; from the great attention he 
 bestowed on it." Johnson. " iNay, sir, 
 he died of want of attention, if he died 
 at all by that book." 
 
 We talked of a work much in vogue 
 at that time, written in a very melliiu- 
 ous style, but which, under pretext of 
 another subject, contained much artful 
 intidelity. 1 said it was not fair to attack 
 us imexpectedly ; he siiould have warned 
 us of our danger, before we entered his 
 garden of flowery eloquence, by adver- 
 tising, *' Spring guns and men traps set 
 here." The aiilhoor had been an Oxo- 
 
 * It ha*) been mentioned lo me by an arcu- 
 r.ite Kiiiflish Irieiul, tliar Or. Johosion couUl 
 iievrr liave used ihe phrase a'mosl uo.hihg, 
 as nut beintr EngliHb; and ihereiore I iiave 
 
 Fill another in ith place. At Ihe same lime, 
 am not quite convinced it. is not ^ooA Knir- 
 linh. For the best writers use ihis (thrase, 
 " liltte or nothing ;^^ i. e. almost so little as 
 to he noihins^. 
 
 + Yet surely it is a very nsefiil work, and of 
 w-onderfiil research and labour fur one man to 
 h<ive executed. 
 
 nian, and was remembered <here fo 
 having " turned Papist." I observed 
 that as he had changed several times— 
 iVom the Church of England to the Chnrcl 
 of Rome,— from the Church of Rome t( 
 infidelity, — I did not despair yet of see 
 ing him a method ist preacher. Johnson 
 (laughing). '♦ It is said, that his rang< 
 has been more extensive, and that he hai 
 once been Mahometan. However, nov 
 that he has published his infidelity, hi 
 will probably pers'st in it." Boswell 
 '• I am not quite sure of that, sir." 
 
 I mentioned Sir Richard Steele havini 
 published his " Christian Hero," will 
 the avowed purpose of obliging himsel 
 to lead a religious life ; yet, that his con 
 duct was by no means strictly suitable.' 
 Johnson. " Steele, I believe, practisec 
 the lighter vices." 
 
 Mr. Warton, being engaged, could no 
 sup with us at oin- inn ; we had therefon 
 another evening by oiirselve?. I aske( 
 /Johnson, whether a man's being forwarc 
 to make himself known to eminent peo 
 pie, and seeing as much of liie, and get 
 ting as much information as he could ii 
 every way was not yet lessenmg himsel 
 by his forwardness. Johnson. " Nc 
 sir ; a man always makes himself greate. 
 as he increases his knoMfledge." 
 
 I censured some ludicrous fantasticl 
 dialogues between two coach horses ant 
 other such stuff, which Baretli had latel; 
 published. He joined with me and said 
 '^-^ioJJiios odd will do long. * Tristran 
 Siiaudy;' dWi not last." I expressed : 
 desire to be acquainted with a lady wht 
 had been much talked of and universally 
 celebrated for extraordinary adc>ress anc 
 insinuation. Johnson. " Never be'ievt 
 extraordinary characters which you heai 
 of people. Depend upon it, sir, they art 
 exaggeratetl. Ton do not see one mar 
 shoot a great deal higher than another.' 
 I mentioned Mr. Burke. Johnson 
 " Yes ; Burke is an extraordinary man 
 His stream of mmd is perpetual." It i: 
 very pleasing to me to record, that John 
 son's high estimation of the talents o 
 this gentleman was .jniform fiom theii 
 early acquaintance. Sir Joshua Rey 
 nolds informs me, that when Mr. Burk< 
 was first elected a member of Parlia 
 tiient, and Sir John Hawkins expressec 
 a wonder at his attaining a seat, Johnsor 
 said, " Now we who know Mr. Burk< 
 I- now that he will be one of the first met 
 in the country." A.nd once, when John- 
 son was ill, and unable to exert himseli 
 as much as usual without fatigue, Mr. 
 Burke having been mentioned, he said, 
 " Thai fellow calls Ibrth all my powers. 
 Were I to see Burke now, it would kill 
 me." So much was he accustomed to 
 consider conversation as a contest, and 
 
^TAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 305 
 
 such was his notion of Burke as an oppo- 
 nent. 
 
 Next morning, Thursday, March 21, 
 we set out in a postchaise to pursue our 
 ramble. It was a delightful day, and we 
 rode through Blenheim Park. When I 
 looked at the magnificent bridge built by 
 John Duke of Marlborough, over a small 
 rivulet, and recollected the epigram made 
 upon it — 
 
 *' The lofty arch his high amhilion shows, 
 The stream an emblem of his bounty flows :" 
 
 and saw that now, by the genius of 
 Brown, a magnificent body of water was 
 collected, I said, " They have drowned 
 the Epigram." I observed to him, while 
 in the midst of the noble scene around 
 us, ** You and I, sir, have, I think, seen 
 together the extremes of what can be 
 seen in Britain — the wild rough island of 
 Mull, and Blenheim Park." 
 
 We dined at an excellent inn at Cha- 
 pel-house, where he expatiated on the 
 felicity of England in its taverns and 
 inns, and triumphed over the French for 
 not having, in any perfection, the tavern 
 life. " There is no private house (said 
 he) in which people can enjoy themselves 
 so well as at a capital tavern. Let there 
 be ever so great plenty of good things, 
 ever so much grandeur, ever so much 
 elegance, ever so much desire that every 
 body should be easy, in the nature of 
 things it cannot be : there must always 
 be some degree of care and anxiety. 
 The master of the house is anxious to 
 entertain his guests ; the guests are anxi- 
 ous to be agreeable to him : and no man, 
 but a very impudent dog indeed, can as 
 freely command what is in another man's 
 house as if it were his own. Whereas, 
 at a tavern, there is a general freedom 
 from anxiety. You are sure you are 
 welcome : and the more noise you make, 
 the more trouble you give, the more good 
 things you call for, the welcomer you 
 are. No servants will attend you with 
 the alacrity which waiters do, who are 
 incited by the prospect of an immediate 
 reward in proportion as they please. 
 No, sir; there is nothing which has yet 
 been contrived by man, by which so 
 much happiness is psodnced as by a 
 good tavern or inn *." He then re- 
 
 * Sir Jolin Hawkins has preserved very few 
 Memorabilia of Johnson. There is, however, 
 to be foiini), in his bulky tome, a very e.vcel- 
 leiir one upon this subject. " In contradiction 
 to those, who, having a wife and children, 
 prefer domestick enjoyments to those wiiich 
 a tavern affords, I have heard him assert, 
 thnt a tavern chair vas the throne of human 
 felicity.— ' A-i soon (said he) as I enter the 
 door of a iHvern, I experience an oblivion of 
 r rare, and a freedom from solicitude: when 1 
 am seated, I find the master courteous, and 
 the servants obsequious to my call ; anxious 
 
 peated, with great emotion, Shenstone's 
 lines: 
 
 *' Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round, 
 Where'er his staeres may ha%'e been, 
 
 May sigh to think he still h.is found 
 The warmest welcome at an inn t." 
 
 My illustrious friend, I thought, did 
 not sufficiently admire Shenstone. That 
 ingenious and elegant gentleman's opi- 
 nion of Johnson appears in one of his 
 letters to Mr. Greaves, dated Feb. 9, 
 176©. " I have lately been reading one 
 or two volumes of the Rambler ; who, 
 excepting against some few hardnesses]; 
 in his manner, and the want of more 
 examples to enliven, is one of the most 
 nervous, most perspicuous, most concise, 
 most harmonious prose writers I know. 
 A learned diction iinproves by time." 
 
 In the afternoon, as we were driven 
 rapidly along in the postchaise, he said 
 to me, " Life has not many things better 
 than this." 
 
 We stopped at Stratford-upon-Avon, 
 and drank tea and coffee ; and it pleased 
 me to be with him upon the classick 
 ground of Shakspeare's native place. 
 
 He spoke slightingly of " Dyer's 
 Fleece." — " The subject, sir, cannot be 
 made poetical. How can a man write 
 poetically of serges and druggets? Yet 
 you will hear many people talk to you 
 gravely of that excellent poem, The 
 Fleece." Having talked of Grainger's 
 *' Sugar Cane," I mentioned to him Mr. 
 Langton's having told me that this poem, 
 when read in manuscript at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, had made all the assembled 
 wits burst into a laugh, when, after much 
 blank-verse pomp, the poet began a new 
 paragraph thus : 
 
 " Now, Muse, let's sing oi rats." 
 And what increased the ridicule was, 
 that one of the company, who slily over- 
 looked the reader, perceived that the 
 word had been originally mice, and had 
 
 to know and ready to supply my wants : wine - 
 there exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me 
 to free conversation and an interchange of 
 discourse with those whom I most love: i 
 dogmatize and am contradicted, and in this 
 conflict of opinion and sentiments 1 find 
 delight."' 
 
 t We happened to lie this night at the 
 inn at Henley, where Shenstone wrote these 
 lines*. 
 
 t •• He too ofteu makes use of the abstract 
 for the concrete.'''' 
 
 * I give them as they are found in the cor- 
 rected edition of his Works, published after 
 his death. In Dodsley's collection the stanza 
 ran thus : 
 " Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round, 
 
 W hate'er his various tour has been. 
 May sigh to think how oft he found 
 His warmest welcome at an Inn." 
 
306 
 
 been altered to rats, as more digni- 
 fied *." 
 
 This passage does not appear in the 
 printed work. Dr. Grainger, or some of 
 liis friends, it should seem, having be- 
 come sensible that introducing even rats 
 in a grave poem might be liable to ban- 
 ter. He, however, could not bring him- 
 self to relinquish the idea; for they are 
 thus, in a still more ludicrous manner, 
 periphrastically exhibited in his poem as 
 it now stands : 
 
 " Nor with less waste die whisker'd vermin 
 
 • ace, 
 A countless clan, despoil the lowland cane." 
 
 Johnson said, that Dr. Grainger was 
 an agreeable man ; a man who would do 
 any good that was in his power. His 
 translation of TibuUus, he thought, was 
 very well done ; but " The Sugar Cane, 
 a Poem," did not please him + ; for, he 
 exclaimed, " What could he make of a 
 sugar canel One might as well write the 
 ' Parsley Bed, a Poem ;' or * The Cab- 
 bage Garden, a Poem.' " Boswell. 
 " You must then pickle your cabbage 
 with the sal atticum." Johnson. '* You 
 know there is already ' The Hop Garden, 
 a Poem :' and, I think, one could say 
 a great deal about cabbage. The poem 
 might begin with the advantages of civi- 
 lized society over a rude state, exempli- 
 fied by the Scotch, who had no cabbages 
 till Oliver Cromwell's soldiers introduced 
 them ; and one might thus show how arts 
 are propagated by conquest, as they were 
 
 * Such is this little laughable incident, 
 which has been often related. Dr. Percy, the 
 Cisliop of Uromore, who was an intimale 
 friend of Dr. Graine;-er, and has a particular 
 rt'gard for his memory, has communicated to 
 me the following explanation : 
 
 " Tlie f»assage in question was originally 
 not liable to such a perversion; for the au- 
 ihour, having occasion in that part of his work 
 to mention the havock made by rats and mice, 
 had introduced the subject in a kind of mock 
 heroick.and a parody of Homer's battle of the 
 frogs and mice, invoking the Muse of the old 
 Grecian bird in an elegant and well turned 
 manner. In that state I had seen it; but after- 
 wards, unknown to me and other friends, he 
 had been persuaded, contrary to his own bet- 
 ter jufiirmeiH, to alter it so as to produce the 
 imliickv effect above mentioned." 
 
 The abo\e was written by the bishop when 
 he had not the Poem itsell to recur to, an<l 
 though the account given was true of it at 
 one period, yet as Dr. Grainger afterwards 
 altered the passage in question, the remarks 
 in the text do not now apply to the printed 
 poem. 
 
 The bishop gives this character of Dr. 
 Graingj'r; — "He was not only a m;tn of 
 genius and learning, but had ma"ny excellent 
 virtues; being one of the most generous, 
 friendly, and benevolent men I ever knew." 
 
 + Dr. Johnson said to me, " Percy, sir, 
 was angry with mc for laughing at the Snjj.ir 
 Cdue: for he had a mind to make a great 
 thing of Grainger's rats." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 by the Roman arms." He seemed to be 
 much diverted with the fertility of his 
 own fancy. 
 
 I told him that I heard Dr. Percy was 
 writing the history of the wolf in Great 
 Britain. Johnson. " The wolf, sir ! why 
 the wolf? Why does he not write of the 
 bear, which we had formerly ? Nay, it 
 is said we had the beaver. Or why does 
 he not write of the gray rat, the Hanover 
 rat, as it is called, because it is said to 
 have come into this country about the 
 time that the family of Hanover came? 
 I should like to see The History of the 
 Gray Rat, by Thomas Percy, D. D. 
 Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty 
 (laughing immoderately)." Boswell. " I 
 am afraid a court chaplain conld not de- 
 cently write of the gray rat." John.son. 
 '* Sir, he need not give it the name of 
 the Hanover rat." Thus could he indulge 
 a luxuriant sportive imagination when 
 talking of a friend whom he loved and 
 esteemed. 
 
 He mentioned to me the singular hfs- 
 tory of an ingenious acquaintance. " He 
 had practised physick in various situa- 
 tions with no great emolument. A West 
 India gentleman, whom he delighted by 
 his conversation, gave him a bond for a 
 handsome annuity during his life, on the 
 condition of his accompanying him to the 
 West Indies, and living with him there 
 for two years. He accordingly embarked 
 with the gentleman ; but upon the voyage 
 fell in love with a young woman who 
 happened to be one of the passengers, 
 and married the wench. From the im- 
 prudence of his disposition he quarreled 
 with the gentleman, and declared he 
 would have no connection with him. So 
 he forfeited the annuity. He settled as a 
 physician in one of the Leeward Islands. 
 A man was sent out to him merely to 
 compound his medicines. This fellow set 
 up as rival to him in his practice of phy- 
 sick, and got so much the better of him 
 in the opinion of the people of the island 
 that he carried away all the business, 
 upon which he returned to England, and 
 soon after died." 
 
 On Friday, March 22, having set out 
 eaily from Henley, where we had lain 
 the preceding night, we arrived at Bir- 
 mingham about nine o'clock, and, after 
 breakfast, went to call on his old school- 
 fellow, Mr. Hector. A very stupid maid, 
 who opened the tloor, told us that " her 
 master was gone out ; he was gone to the 
 country ; she could not tell when he 
 would return." In short, she gave us a 
 miserable reception; and Johnson ob- 
 served, ** She would have behaved no 
 better to people who wanted him in the 
 way of his profession." He said to her, 
 '• My name is Johnson ; tell him I callc<l. 
 
^TAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Will yon remember the name?" She 
 answered with nistick simplicity, in the 
 Warwickshire pronunciation, " I don't 
 understand you, sir," — " Blockhead (said 
 he), I'll write." I never heard the word 
 blockhead applied to a woman before, 
 though I do not see why it should not 
 when there is evident occasion for it*. 
 He, however, made another attempt to 
 make her understand him, and roared 
 loud in her ear, " Johnson," and then 
 she catched the sound. 
 
 We next called on Mr. Lloyd, one of 
 the people called Quakers. He too wag 
 not at home, but Mrs. Lloyd was, and 
 received us courteously, and asked us to 
 dinner. .Johnson said to me, *' After the 
 uncertainty of all human things at Hec- 
 tor's, this invitation came very well." 
 We walked about the town, and he was 
 pleased to see it increasing. 
 
 I talked of legitimation by subsequent 
 marriage, which obtained in the Roman 
 law, and still obtains in the law of Scot- 
 land. Johnson. " I think it a bad thing ; 
 because the ciiastity of women being of 
 the utmost importance, as all property 
 depends upon it, they who forfeit it 
 should not have any possibility of being 
 restored to good character ; nor should 
 the children by an illicit connection at- 
 tain the full right of lawful children by 
 the posteriour consent of the oftending 
 parlies." His opinion upon this subject 
 deserves consideration. Upon his prin- 
 ciple there may, at times, be a hardship, 
 and seemingly a strange one, upon indi- 
 viduals ; but the general good of society 
 is better secured. And, after all, it is 
 unreasonable in an individual to repine 
 that he has not the advantage of a state 
 which is made different from his own by 
 the social institution under which he is 
 born. A woman does not complain that 
 her brother, who is younger than she, 
 gets their common father's estate. Why 
 then should a natural son complain that 
 a younger brother, by the same parents 
 lawfully begotten, gets if? The operation 
 of law is similar in both cases. Besides, 
 an illegitimate son, who has a younger 
 legitimate brother by the same father and 
 mother, has no stronger claim to the fa- 
 ther's estate than if that legitimate brother 
 
 * My worthy friend Mr. Lansrton, to whom 
 I am under inniunerable oblioations in the 
 course of mv Johnsonian History, has fur- 
 nished me w'iih a droll illustration of this 
 question. An honest carpenter, after g-ivin;? 
 some anecdote in his presence, of liie ill 
 treatment which lie had received from a citrr- 
 gynian's wife, who was a noted termaganr, 
 and whom he accused of unjust dealing in 
 some transaction wiih him, added, " I took 
 care to let her know what I thought of 
 her." And being asked, " What did you 
 say I" answered, " I told her she was a sco'un- 
 dieC 
 
 3or 
 
 had only the same father, from whom 
 alone the estate descends. 
 
 Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; 
 and in a little while we met Friend 
 Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It 
 gave me pleasure to observe the joy 
 which Johnson and he expressed on 
 seeing each other again. Mr. Lloyd and 
 I left them together, while he obligingly 
 showed me some of the manufactures of 
 this very curious assemblage of artificers. 
 We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, 
 where we were entertained with great 
 hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had 
 been married the same year with their 
 Majesties, and like them had been 
 blessed with a numerous family of fine 
 children, their numbers being exactly 
 the same. Johnson said, " Marriage is 
 the best state for a man in general ; and 
 every man is a worse man in proportion 
 as he is unfit for the married state." 
 
 I have always loved the simplicity of 
 manners, and the spiritual mindedness 
 of the Quakers ; .and talking with Mr. 
 Lloyd, I observed, that the essential 
 part of religion was piety, a devout in- 
 tercourse with the Divinity ; and that 
 many a man was a Quaker without 
 knowing it. 
 
 As Dr. Johnson had said to me in the 
 morning, while we walked together, that 
 he liked individuals among the Quakers, 
 but not the sect ; when we were at Mr. 
 Lloyd's I kept clear of introducing any 
 questions concerning the peculiarities of 
 their faith. But I having asked to look 
 at Baskerville's edition of " Barclay's 
 Apology," Johnson laid hold of it; and 
 the chapter on baptism happening to 
 open, Johnson remarked, " He says there 
 is neither precept nor practice for bap- 
 tism in the scriptures; that is false." 
 Here he was the aggressor, by no means 
 in a gentle manner ; and the good Qua- 
 kers had the advantage of him ; for he 
 had read negligently, and had not ob- 
 served that Barclay speaks of infant 
 baptism; which they calmly made him 
 perceive. Mr. Lloyd, however, was in 
 a great mistake; for when insisting that 
 the rite of baptism by water was to cease, 
 when the spiritual administration of 
 Christ began, he maintained, that John 
 the Baptist said, " My baptism shall de- 
 crease, but ^is shall increase." Whereas 
 the words are, " He must increase, but 
 1 must decrease t." 
 
 One of them having objected to the 
 " observance of days and months and 
 years," Johnson answered, *' The Church 
 does not superstitiously observe days, 
 merely as days, but as memorials of im- 
 portant facts. Christmas might be kept 
 
 t John, iii. 30. 
 
308 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 as well upon one day of the year as ano- 
 ther; but there should be a stated day 
 for commemorating the birth of our Sa- 
 viour, because there is danger that what 
 may be done on any day will be neg- 
 lected." 
 
 He said to me at another time, " Sir, 
 the holidays observed by our church are 
 of great use in religion." There can be 
 no doubt of this in a limited sense ; I 
 mean if the number of such consecrated 
 portions of time be not too extensive. 
 The excellent Mr. Nelson's *' Festivals 
 and Fasts," which has, I understand, the 
 greatest sale of any book ever printed in 
 England, except the Bible, is a most 
 valuable help to devotion ; and in addi- 
 tion to it I would recommend two ser- 
 mons on the same subject by Mr. Pott, 
 Archdeacon of St. Albans, equally dis- 
 tinguished for piety and elegance. I am 
 sorry to have it to say, that Scotland is 
 the only Christian country, Catholick or 
 Protestant, where the great events of our 
 religion are not solemnly commemo- 
 rated by its ecclesiastical establishment 
 on days set apart for the purpose. 
 
 Mr. Hector was so good as to accom- 
 pany me to see the great works of Mr. 
 JSolton, at a place which he has called 
 Soho, about two miles from Birmingham, 
 which the very ingenious proprietor 
 showed me himself to the best advan- 
 tage. I vvished Johnson had been with 
 us : for it was a scene which I should 
 have been glad to contemplate by his 
 light. The vastness and the contrivance 
 of some of the machinery would have 
 " matched his mighty mind." I shall 
 never forget Mr. Bolton's expression to 
 me, " I sell here, sir, what all the world 
 desires to have— power." He had about 
 seven hundred people at work. I con- 
 templated him as an iron chieftain, and 
 he seemed to be a father to his tribe. 
 One of them came to him, complaining 
 grievously of his landlord for having dis- 
 trained his goods. '* Your landlord is in 
 the right, Smith (said Bolton). But I'll 
 tell you what : find you a friend who will 
 lay down one half of your rent, and Pll 
 lay down the other half; and you shall 
 have your goods again." 
 
 From Mr. Hector I now learnt many 
 particulars of Dr. Johnson's early life, 
 which, with others that he gave me at 
 ditferent times since, have contributed to 
 the formation of this work. 
 
 Dr. Johnson said to me in the morn- 
 ing, " You will see, sir, at Mr. Hector's, 
 his sister, Mrs. Careless, a clergyman's 
 widow. She was the first woman with 
 whom I was in love. It dropt out of my 
 head imperceptibly ; but she and I shall 
 always have a kindness for each other." 
 He laughed at ttic notion that a man can 
 
 never be really in love but once, and 
 considered it as a mere romantick fancy. 
 On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. 
 Hector took me to his house, where we 
 found Johnson sitting placidly at tea with 
 his Jirst love; who, though now ad- 
 vanced in years, was a genteel woman, 
 very agreeable and well bred. 
 
 Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the 
 state of one of their schoolfellows, Mr. 
 Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which 
 he thus described : " He obtained, I be- 
 lieve, considerable preferment in Ireland, 
 but now lives in London, quite as a vale- 
 tudinarian, afraid to go into any house 
 but his own. He takes a short airing in 
 his postchaise every day. He has an 
 elderly woman whom he calls cousin, 
 who lives with him, and jogs his elbow 
 when his glass has stood too long empty, 
 and encourages him in drinking, in which 
 he is very willing to be encouraged ; not 
 that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious 
 njan, but he is alvvays muddy. He con- 
 fesses to one bottle of port every day, 
 and he probably drinks more. He is 
 quite unsocial; his conversation is quite 
 monosyllabical ": and when, at my last 
 visit, I asked him what o'clock it was, 
 that signal of my departure had so pleas- 
 ing an effect on him that he sprung up 
 to look at his watch like a greyhound 
 bounding at a hare." When Johnson 
 took leave of Mr. Hector, he said, 
 " Don't grow like Congreve; nor let me 
 grow like him when you are near me." 
 When he again talked of Mrs. Care- 
 less to-night, he seemed to have had his 
 alfection revived : for he said, " If I 
 had married her, it might have been as 
 happy for me." Bosweli.. " Pray, sir, 
 do you not suppose that there are fifty 
 women in the world, with any one of 
 whom a man may be as happy as with 
 any one woman in particular?" John- 
 son. " Ay, sir, fifty thousand." Bos- 
 well. ** Then, sir, you are not of opi- 
 nion with some who imagine that certain 
 men and certain women are made for 
 each other ; and that they cannot be 
 happy if they miss their counterparts." 
 Johnson. " To be sure not, sir. I be- 
 lieve marriages would in general be as 
 happy, and often more so, if they were 
 all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon 
 a due consideration of th'e characters and 
 circumstances, without the parties hav- 
 
 ng any choice in the matter." 
 
 1 wished to have staid at Birmingham 
 to-night, to have talked more with Mr. 
 Hector; but my friend was impatient to 
 reach his native city ; so we drove on 
 that stage in the dark, and were long 
 pensive and silent. When we came 
 within the focus of the Lichfield lamps, 
 " Now (said he) we are getting out of a 
 
^TAT, 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 309 
 
 state of death." We put up at the Three 
 Crowns, not one of the great inns, but a 
 good old fashioned one, which was kept 
 by Mr. Wilkins, and was the very next 
 house to that in wliich Johnson was born 
 and brought up, and whicli was still his 
 own property*. We had a comfortable 
 supper, and got into higli spirits. I felt 
 all my Toryism glow in this old capital 
 of Staffordshire. I could have offered 
 incense yenio loci; and I indulged in 
 libations of that ale which Boniface, in 
 " The Beaux Stratagem,'' recommends 
 with such an eloquent jollity. 
 
 Next morning he introduced me to 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter, his step-daughter. 
 She was now an old maid, with much 
 simplicity of manner. She had never 
 been in London. Her brother, a Cap- 
 tain in the navy, had left her a fortune 
 of ten thousand pounds; about a third 
 of which she had laid out in building a 
 stately house, and making a handsome 
 garden, in an elevated situation in Lich- 
 fleld. Johnson, when here by himself, 
 used to live at her house. She reve- 
 renced him, and he had a parental ten- 
 derness for her. 
 
 We then visited Mr. Peter Garrick, 
 who had that morning received a letter 
 from his brother David, announcing our 
 coming to Lichfield. He was engaged 
 to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to 
 sleep at his house. Johnson, however, 
 would not quit his old acquaintance, 
 Wilkins, of the Three Crowns. The 
 family likeness of the Garricks was very 
 striking ; and Johnson thought that Da- 
 vid's vivacity was not so peculiar to 
 himself as was supposed. " Sir (said 
 he), I don't know but if Peter had culti- 
 vated all the arts of gaiety as much as 
 David has done, he might have been as 
 brisk and lively. Depend upon it, sir, 
 vivacity is much an art, and depends 
 greatly on habit." I believe there is a 
 good deal of truth in this, notwithstand- 
 ing a ludicrous story told me by a lady 
 abroad, of a heavy German Baron, who 
 had lived much with the young English 
 at Geneva, and was ambitious to be as 
 lively as they : with which view, he, with 
 assiduous exertion, was jumping over 
 the tables and chairs in his lodgings ; 
 and when the people of the house ran in 
 and asked, with surprise, what was the 
 matter, he answered, '* Sh' apprens 
 t'etrefifJ^ 
 
 We dined at our inn, and had with us 
 a Mr. Jackson, one of Johnson's school- 
 
 * ( went through the house where my illiis 
 trious friend w as born, with a reverence with 
 which it doubtless will lon^ be visited. An 
 engraved view of it, with the adjacent build- 
 inars, ig in " The Gentleman's Magazine" for 
 Februarv, 1785. 
 
 fellows, whom he treated with much 
 kindness, though he seemed to be a low 
 man, dull and untaught. He had a 
 coarse gray coat, black waistcoat, greasy 
 leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled 
 wig ; and his countenance had the ruddi- 
 ness which betokens one who is in no 
 haste to *' leave his can." He drank 
 only ale. He had tried to be a cutler at 
 Birmingham, but had not succeeded ; 
 and now he lived poorly at home, and 
 had some scheme of dressing leather in 
 a better manner than common ; to his 
 indistinct account of which. Dr. Johnson 
 listened with patient attention, that he 
 might assist him with his advice. Here 
 was an instance of genuine humanity and 
 real kindness in this great man, who has 
 been most unjustly represented as alto- 
 gether harsh and destitute of tenderness. 
 A thousand such instances might have 
 been recorded in the course of his long 
 life ; though that his temper was warm 
 and hasty, and his manner often rough, 
 cannot be denied. 
 
 1 saw here, for the first time, oat ale ; 
 and oat cakes, not hard as in Scotland, 
 but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were 
 served at breakfast. It was pleasant to 
 me to find that " Oats,'" the "food of 
 horses," were so much used as the food 
 of the people in Dr. Johnson's own 
 town. He expatiated in praise of Lich- 
 field and its inhabitants, who, he said, 
 were " the most sober, decent people in 
 England, the genteelest in proportion to 
 their wealth, and spoke the purest Eng- 
 lish." I doubted as to the last article of 
 this eulogy : for they had several pro- 
 vincial sounds; as there, pronounced 
 like fear, instead of like fair; once 
 pronounced woonse, instead of wunse, 
 or wonce. Johnson himself never got 
 entirely free of those provincial accents. 
 Garrick sometimes used to take him off', 
 squeezing a lemon into a punchbowl 
 with uncouth gesticulations, looking 
 round the company, and calling out, 
 " Who's for poonsh\ ?" 
 
 Very little business appeared to be 
 going forward in Lichfield. 1 found, 
 however, two strange manufactures for 
 so inland a place, sail-cloth and streamers 
 for ships; and I observed them making 
 some saddle-cloths, and dressing sheep- 
 skins : but, upon the whole, the busy 
 hand of industry seemed to be quite 
 slackened. " Surely, sir (said I), you 
 are an idle set of people." '* Sir (said 
 
 t [Garrick himself, like the Lichfieldians, 
 always ^AxA—rshupreme, shnperior. B.] 
 
 [This is still the vulgar pronunciation of 
 Ireland, where the pronunciation of the Eng- 
 lish language is doubtless that which gene- 
 rally prevailed in England in the time of 
 Queen t;iizat>eth, M-] 
 
310 
 
 Jolinson), we are a city of pliilosophers ; 
 we work with onr heads, and make the 
 boobies of Biimingham work for us with 
 their hands." 
 
 There was at this time a company of 
 players performing at Lichfield. The 
 jnanager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compli- 
 ments, and begged leave to wait on Dr. 
 Johnson. Johnson received him very 
 c'ourteonsly, and he drank a glass of wine 
 with ns. He was a plain, decent, well 
 behaved man, and expressed his grati- 
 tude to Dr. Johnson for having once got 
 hi in permission from Dr. Taylor at Ash- 
 bourne to piay there upon moderate 
 terms. Garrick's name was soon intro- 
 duced. Johnson. " Garrick's conversa- 
 tion is gay and grotesque. It is a dish 
 of all sorts, but all good things. There 
 is no solid meat in it ; there is a want of 
 sentiment in it. Not but that he has 
 sentiment sometimes, and sentiment too 
 very powerful and very pleasing : but it 
 has not its full proportion in his conver- 
 sation." 
 
 When we were by ourselves, he told 
 me, '* Forty years ago, sir, I was in love 
 with an actress here, Mrs. Emmet, who 
 acted Flora in * Hob in the Well,'" 
 \Vhat merit this lady had as an actress, 
 or what was her figure, or her manner, I 
 have not been informed ; but, if we may 
 believe Mr. Garrick, his old master's 
 taste in theatrical merit was by no means 
 refined ; he was not an elegans forma- 
 riim spectator. Garrick used to tell 
 tliat Johnson said of an actor who played 
 Sir Harry Wildair at Lichfield, " There 
 is a courtly vivacity about the fellow ;" 
 when in fact, according to Garrick's ac- 
 count, ** he was the most vulgar rufhan 
 that ever went upon boards " 
 
 We had promised Mr. Stanton to be 
 at his theatre on Monday. Dr. Johrjson 
 Jocularly proposed me to write a Pro- 
 logue for the occasion : ** A Prologue by 
 James Boswell, Esq. from the Hebrides." 
 I was really inclined to take the hint. 
 Methotight, " Prologue spoken before 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson, at Lichfield, 1776," 
 would have sounded as well as " Pro- 
 logue spoken before the Duke of York, 
 at Oxford," in Charles the Second's 
 time. Much might have been said of 
 what Lichfield had done for Shakspeare, 
 by producing Johnson and Garrick. But 
 1 found he was averse to it. 
 
 We went and viewed the museum of 
 Mr. Richard Green, apothecary here, 
 who told me he was proud of being a 
 relation of Dr. Johnson's. It was, truly, 
 a wonderful collection, both of antiqui- 
 ties and natural curiosities, and ingeni- 
 ous works of art. He had all the articles 
 accurately arranged, with their names 
 upon labels, printed at his own little 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 press ; and on the staircase leading to it 
 was a board, with the names of contri- 
 butors marked in gold letters. A printed 
 catalogue of the collection was to be had 
 at a bookseller's. Johnson expressed his 
 admiration of the activity and diligence 
 and good fortune of Mr. Green, in get- 
 ting together, in his situation, so great a 
 variety of things; and Mr. Green told 
 me that Johnson once said to him, " Sir, 
 I should as soon have thought of build- 
 ing a man of war as of collecting such a 
 museum." Mr. Green's obliging alacrity 
 in showing it was very pleasing. His 
 engraved portrait, with which he has 
 favoured me, has a motto truly character- 
 istical of his disposition, *' Nemo sibi 
 vivat." 
 
 A physician being mentioned who had 
 lost his practice, because his whimsically 
 changing his religion had made people 
 distrustful of him, I maintained that this 
 was unreasonable, as religion is uncon- 
 nected with medical skill. Johnson. 
 " Sir, it is not unreasonable ; for when 
 people see a man absurd in wtjat they 
 understand, they may conclude the same 
 of him in what they do not understand. 
 If a physician were to take to eating of 
 horseflesh, nobody would employ him ; 
 though one may eat hoiseflesh and be a 
 very skilful physician. If a man were 
 educated in an absurd religion, his con- 
 tinuing to profess it would not hurt him, 
 though his changing to it would*." 
 
 We drank tea and colFee at Mr. Pe- 
 ter Garrick's, where was Mrs. Aston, 
 one of the maiden sisters of Mrs. Walms- 
 ley, wife of Johnson's first friend, and 
 sister also of the lady of whom Johnson 
 used to speak with the warmest admira- 
 tion, by the name of Molly Aston, who 
 was afterwards married to Captain Bro- 
 die of the navy. 
 
 On Sunday, March 24, we breakfasted 
 with Mrs. Cobb, a widow lady, who 
 lived in an agreeable sequestered place 
 close by the town, called the Friary, it 
 having been formerly a religious house. 
 She and her niece, Miss Adey, were 
 great admirers of Dr. Johnson ;' and he 
 behaved to them with a kindness and 
 easy pleasantry, such as we see between 
 old and intimate acquaintance. He ac- 
 companied Mrs. Cobb to St. Mary's 
 church, and 1 went to the cathedral, 
 where I was very much delighted with 
 the musick, finding it to be peculiarly 
 solemn, and accordant with the words of 
 the service. 
 
 We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, 
 who was in a very lively humour, and 
 verified Johnson's saying, that if he had 
 
 * [I'olhPieil! a Quaker, and Schomherer a 
 Jew, had the Rroatcst praciioe of any iwo 
 physicians of tlMir time. If. J 
 
JEtxt. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 311 
 
 cultivated gaiety as much as his brother 
 David, he might have equally excelled 
 ill it. He was to-day quite a London 
 narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes 
 with that earnestness and attempt at 
 mimickry which we usually find in the 
 wits of the metropolis. Dr. Johnson 
 went with me to the cathedral in the 
 afternoon. It was grand and pleasing 
 to contemplate this illustrious writer, 
 now full of fame, worshiping in " the 
 solemn temple" of his native city. 
 
 I returned to tea and coft'ee at Mr. Pe- 
 ter Garrick's, and then found Dr. John- 
 son at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, 
 Canon Residentiary, who inhabited the 
 Bishop's palace, in which Mr. Walms- 
 ley lived, and which had been the scene 
 of many happy hours in Johnson's early 
 life. Mr. Seward had, with ecclesiasti- 
 cal hospitality and politeness, asked me 
 in the morning, merely as a stranger, to 
 dine with him ; and in the afternoon, 
 when I was introduced to him, he asked 
 Dr. Johnson and me to spend the even- 
 ing and sup with him. He was a gen- 
 teel, well bred, dignified clergyman, had 
 travelled with Lord Charles Fitzroy, 
 uncle of the present Duke of Grafton, 
 who died when abroad, and he had lived 
 much in the great world. He was an 
 ingenious and literary man, had pub- 
 lished an edition of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, and written verses in Dods- 
 ley's collection. His lady was the 
 daughter of Mr. Hunter, Johnson's first 
 schoolmaster. And now, for the first 
 time, I had the pleasure of seeing his 
 celebrated daughter. Miss Anna Seward, 
 to whom I have since been indebted for 
 many civilities, as well as some obliging 
 communications concerning Johnson. 
 
 Mr. Seward mentioned to us the ob- 
 servations which he had made upon the 
 strata of eartii in volcanoes, from which 
 it appeared, that they were so very dif- 
 ferent in depth at ditferent periods that 
 no calculation whatever could be made 
 as to the time required for their forma- 
 tion. This fully refuted an antimosaical 
 remark introduced into Captain Bry- 
 done's entertaining tour, I hope heed- 
 lessly, from a kind of vanity w hieh is too 
 common in those who have not sufficiently 
 studied the most important of all sub- 
 jects. Dr. Johnson, indeed, had said 
 before, independent of this observation, 
 " Shall all the accumulated evidence of 
 the history of the world;— shall the au- 
 thority of what is unquestionably the 
 most ancient writing be overturned by 
 an uncertain remark such as this V 
 
 On Monday, March 25, we break- 
 fasted at Mrs. Lucy Porter's. Johnson 
 had sent an express to Dr. Taylor's, ac- 
 quainting him of our being at Lichfield, 
 
 and Taylor had returned an answer that 
 his postchaise should come for us this 
 day. While we sat at breakfast, Dr. 
 Johnson received a letter by the post, 
 which seemed to agitate him very much. 
 When he had read it, he exclaimed, 
 " One of the most dreadful things that 
 has happened in my time." The phrase 
 mp time, like the word age, is usually 
 understood to refer to an event of a 
 publick or general nature. I imagined 
 something like an assassination of the 
 King — like a gunpowder plot carried 
 into execution — or like another fire of 
 London. When asked, " What is it, 
 sir?" he answered, " Mr. Thrale has lost 
 his only son !" This was, no doubt, a 
 very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale, which their friends would con- 
 sider accordingly ; but from the manner 
 in which the intelligence of it was com- 
 municated by Johnson, it appeared for 
 the moment to be comparatively small. 
 I, however, soon felt a sincere concern, 
 and was curious to observe, how Dr. 
 Johnson would be aft'ected. He said, 
 '* This is a total extinction to their family 
 as much as if they were sold into capti- 
 vity." Upon my mentioning that Mr: 
 Thrale had daughters who might inherit 
 his wealth ; — " Daughters (said Johnson, 
 warmly), he'll no more value his daugh- 
 ters than — " I was going to speak. — 
 " Sir (said he), don't you know how 
 you yourself think? Sir, he wiahes to 
 propagate his name." In short, I saw 
 male succession strong in his mind, even 
 where there was no name, no family of 
 any long standing. I said, it was lucky 
 he was not present when this misfortune 
 happened. Johnson. " It was lucky for 
 me. People in distress never think that 
 you feel enough." Boswell. " And, 
 sir, they will have the hope of seeing 
 you, which will be a relief in the mean 
 time ; and when you get to them, the 
 pain will be so far abated that they will 
 be capable of being consoled by you, 
 which, in the first violence of it, 1 be- 
 lieve, would not be the case." Johnson. 
 "No, sir; violent pain of mind, like 
 violent pain of body, mutit be severely 
 felt." Boswell. " 1 own, sir, I have 
 not so much feeling for the distress of 
 others as some people have, or pretend 
 to have: but I know this, that I would 
 do all in my power to relieve them." 
 Johnson. " Sir, it is affectation to pretend 
 to feel the distress of others as much as 
 they do themselves. It is equally so, as 
 if one should pretend to feel as much pain 
 while a friend's leg is cu tting otF as he does. 
 No, sir ; you have expressed the rational 
 and just nature of sympathy. I would 
 have gone to the extremity of the earth 
 to have preserved this boy." 
 
312 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 He was soon quite calm. The letter 
 was from Mr. Thrale's clerk, and con- 
 cluded, " I need not say how much they 
 wish to see you in London.'' He said, 
 " We shall hasten back from Taylor's." 
 
 Mrs. Lncy Porter and some other 
 ladies of the place talked a great deal of 
 him when he was out of the room, not 
 only with veneration but affection. It 
 pleased me to tind that he was so much 
 beloved in his native city. 
 
 Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the pre- 
 ceding night, and her sister, Mrs. Gas- 
 trel, a widow lady, had each a house, 
 and garden, and pleasure-ground, prettily 
 situated upon Stowhill, a gentle emi- 
 nence adjoining to Lichfield. Johnson 
 walked away to dinner there, leaving 
 me by myself without any apology : I 
 wondered at this want of that facility of 
 manners, from which a man has no diffi- 
 culty in carryitig a friend to a house 
 where he is intimate ; I felt it very un- 
 pleasant to be thus left in solitude in a 
 country town, where I was an entire 
 stranger, and began to think myself un- 
 kindly deserted : but I was soon relieved, 
 and convinced that my friend, insteaci 
 of being deficient in delicacy, had con- 
 ducted the matter with perfect propriety, 
 for I received the following note in his 
 handwriting : " Mrs. Gastrel, at the 
 lower house on Stowhill, desires Mr. 
 Boswell's company to dinner at two." 
 I accepted of the invitation, and had 
 here another proof how amiable his cha- 
 racter was in the opinion of those who 
 knew him best. I was not informed till 
 afterwards, that Mrs. Gastrel's husband 
 was the clergyman, who, while he lived 
 at Stratford-upon-Avon, where he was 
 proprietor of Shakspeare's garden, with 
 Gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry 
 tree*, and, as Dr. Johnson told me, did 
 it to vex his neighbours. His lady, I 
 have reason to believe, on the same au- 
 thority, participated in the guilt of what 
 the enthusiasts of our immortal bard 
 deem almost a species of sacrilege. 
 
 After dinner. Dr. Johnson wrote a 
 letter to Mrs. ThraIe,on the death of her 
 son. I said it would be very distressing 
 to Thrale, but she would soon forget it, 
 as she had so many things to think of. 
 Johnson. " No, sir, Thrale will forget it 
 first. She has many things that she map 
 think ot. /fr lia- many things that he 
 7nusf ihiiik ot." 'J'liis was a very just 
 remark upon the dilterent effects of those 
 light pursuits which occupy a vacant and 
 easy mind, and those serious engagements 
 
 * See an acciiraic atnl aninialed statement 
 of Mr. Giistrerh hirh inty, by Mr Mnlone. in 
 a note oii '• Sonu! AcciMint oi ilie Life of V\il- 
 IJaiM Sliaksfieare," prelixed to his adniirahle 
 edilioa ot ilie I'oct's works, vol. i. p. lis. 
 
 1776. 
 
 which arrest attention, and keep us from 
 brooding over grief. 
 
 He observed of Lord Bute, " It was 
 said of Augustus, that it would have been 
 better for Rome that he had never been 
 born, or had never died. So it would 
 have been better for this nation, if Lord 
 Bute had never been minister, or had 
 never resigned." 
 
 In the evening we went to the Town 
 Hall, which was converted into a tem- 
 porary theatre, and saw " Theodosius," 
 with "The Stratford Jubilee." 1 was 
 happy to see Dr. Johnson sitting in a 
 conspicuous part of the pit, and receiving 
 affectionate homage from all his acquaint- 
 ance. We were quite gay and merry. 
 I afterwards mentioned to him that I 
 condemned myself for being so when 
 poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were in such 
 distress. Johnson. *' You are wrong, 
 sir ; twenty years hence Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale will not suffer much pain from 
 the death of their son. Now, sir, you 
 are to consider that distance of place, as 
 well as distance of time, operates upon 
 the !iuman feelings. I would not have 
 you be gay in the presence of the dis- 
 tressed, because it would shock them ; 
 but you may be gay at a distance. Pain 
 for the loss of a friend, or of a relation 
 whom we love, is occasioned by the want 
 which we feel. In time the vacuity is 
 filled with something else, or sometimes 
 the vacuity closes up of itself.*' 
 
 Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearson, another 
 clergyman here, supped with us at our 
 inn, and after they left us, we sat up late 
 as we used to do in London. 
 
 Here I shall record some fraginents 
 of my friend's conversation during this 
 jaunt. - 
 
 " Marriage, sir, is much more neces- 
 sary to a man than to a woman : for he 
 is much less able to supply himself with 
 (lomestick comforts. You will recollect 
 my saying to some ladies the other day, 
 that 1 had often wondered why young 
 women should marry, as they have so 
 much more freedom, and so much more 
 attention paid to them while unmarried 
 than when married. I indeed did not 
 mention the strong reason for their mar- 
 rying — the mechanical reason." Bos- 
 well. " Why that is a strong one. But 
 does not imagination make it much 
 more important than it is in reality? Is 
 it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in 
 us as well as in women?" Johnson. 
 ** Why, yes, sir ; but it is a delusion 
 that is always beginning again." Bos- 
 well. " I don't know but there is, upon 
 the whole, more misery than happiness 
 produced by that passion." Johnson. 
 '* I don't think ?<>, sir." 
 
 '* Never speak of a man in his own 
 
JEtxt. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 313 
 
 presence. It is always indelicate, and 
 may be oflFensive." 
 
 *' Questioning is not the mode of con- 
 versation among gentlemen. It is as- 
 suming a superiority ; and it is particu- 
 larly wrong to question a man concerning 
 himself. There may be parts of liis 
 former life which he may not wish to be 
 made known to other persons, or even 
 brought to his own recollection." 
 
 *' A man should be careful never to 
 tell tales of himself to his own disadvan- 
 tage. People may be amused and laugh 
 at the time, but they will be remembered 
 and brought out against him upon some 
 subsequent occasion." 
 
 " Much may be done if a man puts 
 his whole mind to a particular object. 
 By doing so Norton * has made himself 
 the great lawyer that he is allowed to 
 be." 
 
 I mentioned an acquaintance of mine, 
 a sectary, who was a very religious man, 
 who not only attended regularly on pub- 
 lick worship with those of his commu- 
 nion, but made a particular study of the 
 Scriptures, and even wrote a commen- 
 tary on some parts of them, yet was 
 known to be very licentious in indulging 
 himself with women ; maintaining that 
 men are to be saved by faith alone, and 
 that the Christian religion had not pre- 
 scribed any lixed rule for the intercourse 
 between the sexes. Johnson. *' Sir, 
 there is no trusting to that crazy piety." 
 
 I observed that it was strange how 
 well Scotchmen were known to one ano- 
 ther in their own country, though born 
 in very distant counties ; for we do not 
 find that the gentlemen of neighbouring 
 counties in England are mutually known 
 to each other. Johnson, with his usual 
 acuteness, at once saw and explained the 
 reason of this ; " Why, sir, you have 
 Edinburgh, where the gentlemen from 
 all your counties meet, and which is not 
 so large but they are all known. There 
 is no such common place of collection in 
 England, except London, where from its 
 great size and diffusion many of those 
 who reside in contiguous counties of 
 England may long remain unknown to 
 each other." 
 
 On Tuesday, March 26, there came 
 for us an equipage properly suited to a 
 wealthy well-beneficed clergyman : Dr. 
 Taylor's large, roomy postchaise, drawn 
 by four stout plump horses, and driven 
 by two steady jolly postillions, which 
 conveyed us to Ashbourne ; where I 
 found my friend's schoolfellow living 
 upon an establishment perfectly corre- 
 sponding with his substantial creditable 
 
 * [Sir Fletcher Norton, afterwards Speaker 
 of the House ofCouimons, and in iTSacitaied 
 BdronCrantley. M.] 
 
 equipage : his house, garden, pleasure- 
 grounds, table, in short every thing goody 
 and no scantiness appearing. Every man 
 should form such a plan of living as he 
 can execute completely. Let him not 
 draw an outline wider than he can fill 
 up. I have seen many skeletons of show 
 and magnificence which excite at once 
 ridicule and pity. Dr. Taylor had a good 
 estate of his own, and good preferment 
 in the church, being a prebendary of 
 Westminster, and rector of Bosworth. 
 He was a diligent justice of the peace, 
 and presided over the town of Ashbourne, 
 to the inhabitants of which I was told he 
 was very liberal ; and as a proof of this 
 it was mentioned to me, he had, the pre- 
 ceding winter, distributed two hundred 
 pounds among such of them as stood in 
 need of his assistance. He had conse- 
 quently a considerable political interest 
 in the county of Derby, which he em- 
 ployed to support the Devonshire family ; 
 for though the schoolfellow and friend of 
 Johnson, he was a Whig. I could not 
 perceive in his character much congeni- 
 ality of any sort with that of Johnson, 
 who, however, said to me, " Sir, he has 
 a very strong understanding." His size, 
 and figure, and countenance, and man- 
 ner were that of a hearty English 'Squire, 
 with the parson superinduced : and I 
 took particular notice of his upper ser- 
 vant, Mr. Peters, a decent grave man, in 
 purple clothes, and a large white wig, like 
 the butler or major domo of a bishop. 
 
 Dr. Johnson and Dr. Taylor met with 
 great cordiality ; and Johnson soon gave 
 him the same sad account of their school- 
 fellow, Congreve, that he had given to 
 Mr. Hector ; adding a remark of such 
 moment to the rational conduct of a man 
 in the decline of life, that deserves to be 
 imprinted upon every mind : " There is 
 nothing against which an old man should 
 be so much upon his guard as putting 
 himself to nurse." Innumerable have 
 been the melancholy instances of men 
 once distinguished for firmness, resolu- 
 tion, and spirit, who in their latter days 
 have been governed, like children, by 
 interested female artifice. 
 
 Dr. Taylor commended a physician 
 who was known to him and Dr. Johnson, 
 and said, " I fight many battles for him, 
 as many people in the country dislike 
 him." Johnson. " But you should con- 
 sider, sir, that by every one of your vic- 
 tories he is a loser ; for, every man of 
 whom you get the better will be very 
 angry, and resolve not to employ him ; 
 whereas if people get the better of you 
 in argument about him, they'll think, 
 ' We'll send for Dr. * * * * * neverthe- 
 less.'" This was an observation deep 
 and sure in human nature. 
 
314 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Next day we talked of a book in which 
 an eminent judge was arraigned before 
 the bar of the piibiick, as liaving pro- 
 nounced an unjust decision in a great 
 cause. Dr. Johnson maintained that this 
 publication would not give any uneasi- 
 ness to the judge. '* For (said he), either 
 he acted honestly, or he meant to do 
 injustice. If he acted honestly, his own 
 consciousness will protect him ; if he 
 meant to do injustice, he will be glad to 
 see the man who attacks him so much 
 vexed." 
 
 Next day, as Dr. Johnson had ac- 
 quainted Dr. Taylor of the reason for his 
 returning speedily to London, it was re- 
 solved that we should set out after dinner. 
 A few of Dr. Taylor's neighbours were 
 his guests that day. 
 
 Dr. Johnson talked with approbation 
 of one who had attained to the state of 
 the philosophical wise man, that is, to 
 have no want of any thing. " Then, sir 
 (said I), the savage is a wise man." 
 " Sir (said he), I do not mean simply 
 being without, — but not having a want." 
 I maintained, against this proposition, 
 that it was better to have fine clothes, 
 for instance, than not to feel the want of 
 them. Johnson. " No, sir ; fine clothes 
 are good only as they supply the want ot 
 other means of procuring respect. Was 
 Charles the Twelfth, thiiik you, less re- 
 spectetl for his coarse blue coat and black 
 stock 1 And you find the King of Prussia 
 dresses plain, because the dignity of his 
 character is sufficient." I here brought 
 myself into a scrape, for I heedlessly 
 said, " Would not you, sir, be the better 
 for velvet embroidery V Johnson. " Sir, 
 you put an end to all argument when you 
 introduce your opponent himself. Have 
 you no better manners? There is your 
 vjant.'* I apologized bj' saying, I had 
 mentioned him as an instance of one who 
 wanted as little as any man in the world, 
 and yet, perhaps, might receive some 
 additional lustre from dress. 
 
 Having left Ashbourne in the evening, 
 we stopped to change horses at Derby, 
 and availed ourselves of a moment to 
 enjoy the conversation of my country- 
 man. Dr. Butter, then physician there. 
 He was in great indignation because 
 Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch 
 militia had been lo.'tt. Dr. Johnson was 
 as violent against it. " I am glad (said 
 he), that Parliament has had the spirit 
 to throw it out. You wanted to take 
 advantage of the timidity of our scoun- 
 drels" (meaning, I suppose, the minis- 
 try). It may be observed, that he used 
 the epithet scoundrel very commonly, 
 not quite in the sense in which it is gene- 
 rally understood, but as a strong term of 
 disapprobation ; as when he abruptly an 
 
 1776. 
 
 swered Mrs. Thrale, who had asked him 
 how he did, " Ready to become a scoun- 
 ilrel, madam ; with a little more spoiling 
 you will, I think, make me a complete 
 rascal * :" — he meant, easy to become a 
 capricious and self-indulgent valetudina- 
 rian ; a character for which I have heard 
 him express great disgust. 
 
 Johnson had with him upon this jaunt, 
 " II Palmerino d'Inghilterra," a ro- 
 mance praised by Cervantes; but did 
 not like it much. He said, he read it for 
 the language, by way of preparation for 
 his Italian expedition. — We lay this night 
 at Loughborough. / 
 
 On Thursday, March 28, we pursued 
 our journey. I mentioned that old Mr. 
 Sheridan complained of the ingratitude 
 of Mr. Wedderburne and General Fraser, 
 who had been much obliged to him when 
 they were young Scotchmen entering 
 upon life in England. Johnson. ** Why, 
 sir, a man is very apt to complain of the 
 ingratitude of those who have risen far 
 above him. A man, when he gets into 
 a higher sphere, into other habits of life, 
 cannot keep up all his former connec- 
 tions. Then, sir, those who knew him 
 formerly upon a level with themselves 
 may think that they ought still to be 
 treated as on a level, which cannot be; 
 and an acquaintance in a former situa- 
 tion may bring out things which it would 
 be very disagreeable to have mentioned 
 before higher company, though, perhaps, 
 every body knows of them." He placed 
 this subject in a new light to me, and 
 showed that a man who has risen in the 
 world must not be condemned too harshly 
 for being distant to former acquaintance, 
 even though he may have been much 
 obliged to them. It is, no dotibt, to be 
 wished that a proper degree of attention 
 should be shown by great men to their 
 early friends. But if, either from obtuse 
 insensibility to diflference of situation, or 
 presumptuous forwardness, which will 
 not submit even to an exteriour observ- 
 ance of it, the dignity of high place can- 
 not be preserved, when they are admitted 
 into the company of those raised above 
 the state in which they once were, en- 
 croachment must be repelled and the 
 kinder feelings sacrificed. To one of the 
 very fortunate persons whom I have 
 mentioned, namely, Mr. Wedderburne, 
 now Lord Loughborough, I must do the 
 justice to relate, that I have been assured 
 by another early acquaintance of his, old 
 Mr. Macklin, who assisted in improving 
 his pronunciation, that he found him very 
 grateful. — Macklin, I suppose, had not 
 pressed upon his elevation with so much 
 eagerness as the gentleman who com- 
 
 * Anecdotes of Johnson, p. 176, 
 
iEXAT. 07. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 315 
 
 plained of him. Dr. Johnson's remark 
 as to the jealousy entertained of our 
 friends who rise far above us is certainly 
 very just. By tins was withered the 
 early friendsliip between Charles Towns- 
 hend and Akenside ; and many similar 
 instances might be adduced. 
 
 He said, " It is commonly a weak 
 man who marries for love." We then 
 talked of marrying women of fortune ; 
 and I mentioned a common remark, that 
 a man may be, upon the whole, richer 
 by marrying a woman with a very small 
 portion, because a woman of fortune will 
 be proportionally expensive : whereas a 
 woman who brings none will be very 
 moderate in expenses. Johnson. " De- 
 pend upon it, sir, this is not true. A 
 woman of fortune, being used to the 
 handling of money, spends it judiciously : 
 but a woman who gets the command of 
 money for the first time upon her mar- 
 riage, has such a gust in spending it that 
 she throws it away with great profu- 
 sion." 
 
 He praised the ladies of the present 
 age, insisting that they were more faith- 
 ful to their husbands, and more virtuous 
 in every respect than in former times, 
 because their understandings were better 
 cultivated. It was an undoubted proof 
 of his good sense and good disposition 
 that he was never querulous, never prone 
 to inveigh against the present times, as 
 is so common when superficial minds are 
 t)n the fret. On the contrary, he was 
 willing to speak favourably of his own 
 age; and, indeed, maintained its supe- 
 riority in every respect, except in its 
 reverence for government ; the relaxa- 
 tion of which he imputed, as its grand 
 cause, to the shock which our monarchy 
 received at the Revolution, though ne- 
 cessary ; and, secondly, to the timid 
 concessions made to faction by successive 
 administrations in the reign of his pre- 
 sent Majesty. I am happy to think that 
 he lived to see the Crown at last i ecover 
 its just influence. 
 
 At Leicester we read in the newspaper 
 that Dr. James was dead. I thought that 
 the death of an old schoolfellow, and one 
 with whom he had lived a good deal in 
 London, would have affected my fellow 
 traveller much : but he only said, " Ah ! 
 poor Jamy." Afterwards, however, when 
 we were in the chaise, he said, with more 
 tenderness, '* Since I set out on this 
 jaunt I have lost an old friend and a 
 young one ; — Dr. James and poor Harry" 
 (meaning Mr. Thrale's son). 
 
 Having lain at St. Alban's, on Thurs- 
 day, March 28, we breakfasted the next 
 morning at Barnet. I expressed to him 
 a weakness of mind which I could not 
 help ; an uneasy apprehension that my 
 
 wife and children, who were at a great 
 distance from me, might, perhaps, be ill. 
 " Sir (said he), consider how foolish you 
 would think it in them, to be apprehen- 
 sive that you are ill." This sudden turn 
 relieved me for the moment ; but I after- 
 wards perceived it to be an ingenious 
 fallacy*. I might, to be sure, be satis- 
 fied that they had no reason to be appre- 
 hensive about me, because I knew that I 
 myself was well: but we might have a 
 mutual anxiety without the charge of 
 folly ; because each was, in some de- 
 gree, uncertain as to the condition of the 
 other. 
 
 I enjoyed the luxury of our approach 
 to London, that metropolis which we 
 both loved so much, for the high and 
 varied intellectual pleasure which it fur- 
 nishes. I experienced immediate hap- 
 piness while whirled along with such a 
 companion, and said to him, '* Sir, you 
 observed one day at General Oglethorpe's, 
 that a man is never happy for the present 
 but when he is drunk. Will you not add, 
 — or when driving rapidly in a post- 
 chaise 7" Johnson. " No, sir, you are 
 driving rapidly from something or to 
 something." 
 
 Talking of melancholy, he said, " Some 
 men, and very thinking men too, have 
 not those vexing thoughts +. Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds is the same all the year round. 
 Beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, 
 is the same. But I believe most men 
 have them in the degree in which they 
 are capable of having them. If I were 
 in the country, and were distressed by 
 that malady, I would force myself to 
 take a book ; and every time I did it I 
 should find it the easier. Melancholy, 
 
 * [Surely it is no fallacy, but a sound and 
 rational arg'ument. He who is perfectly well, 
 and apprehensive concerning the state of ano- 
 ther at a distance from him, knows to a cer- 
 tainty that the fears of that person concerning 
 his liealtli are imaginary and delusive; and 
 hence has a rational ground for supposing 
 that his own apprehensions concerning his 
 absent wife or friend are equally unfounded. 
 M.] 
 
 t The phrase " vexing thoughts," is, I 
 think, very expressive. It has been familiar 
 to me from my childhood; for it is to be 
 found in the " Psalms in Metre," used in the 
 churches (I believe I should say kirksj of Scot- 
 land, Psalm xliii. 5. 
 
 " Why art thon then cast down, my soul? 
 What should discourage thee ! 
 
 And why with vexing thoughts art thou 
 Disquieted in me!" 
 Some allowance must no doubt be made for 
 early prepossession. Rut at a maiurer period 
 of life, after looking at various metrical ver- 
 sions of the Psalms, I am well satisfied that 
 the version used in Scotland is, upon the 
 whole, the best; and that it is vain ro think 
 of having a better. It has in general a sim- 
 plicity and HHCtion of sacred Poesy : and in 
 inany"parts its transfusion is admirable. 
 
316 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 by every 
 
 1776. 
 
 indeed, should be diverted 
 means but drinking." 
 
 We stopped at Messieurs Diliys, book- 
 sellers in the Poultry ; from whence he 
 hurried away, in a hackney coach, to 
 Mr. Thrale's in the Borough. 1 called 
 at his house in the evening, having pro- 
 mised to acquaint Mrs. Williams of his 
 safe return ; when, to my surprise, 1 
 found him sitting with her at tea, and, 
 as I thought, not in a very good humour : 
 for, it seems, when he had got to Mr. 
 Thrale's, he found the coach was at the 
 door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miss 
 Thrale, and Signor Baretti, their Italian 
 master, to Bath. This was not showing 
 the attention which might have been ex- 
 pected to the " Guide, Philosopher, and 
 Friend ;" the Imlac who had hastened 
 from the country to console a distressed 
 mother, who he understood was very 
 anxious for his return. — They had, I 
 found, without ceremony, proceeded on 
 their intended journey. I was glad to 
 understand from him that it was still 
 resolved that his tour to Italy with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Thrale should take place, of 
 which he had entertained some doubt, 
 on account of the loss which they had 
 suffered ; and his doubts afterwards ap- 
 peared to be well founded. He observed, 
 indeed very justly, that "their loss was 
 an additional reason for their going 
 abroad ; and if it had not been fixed that 
 he should have been one of the party, he 
 would force them out; but he would not 
 advise them unless his advice was asked, 
 lest they might suspect that he recom- 
 mended what he wished on his own 
 account." I was not pleased that his in- 
 timacy with Mr. Thrale's family, though 
 it no doubt contributed much to his com- 
 fort and enjoyment, was not without 
 some degree of restraint : not, as has 
 been grossly suggested, that it was re- 
 quired of him as a task to talk for the 
 entertainment of them and their com- 
 pany ; but that he was not quite at his 
 ease ; which, however, might partly be 
 owing to his own honest pride — that dig- 
 nity of mind which is always jealous of 
 appearing too compliant. 
 
 On Sunday, March 31, I called on 
 him, and showed him as a curiosity which 
 1 had discovered, his " Translation of 
 Lobo's Account of Abyssinia," which 
 Sir John Pringle had U-nt nif, it being 
 then little known as one ul his works. 
 He said, " Takt- no notice of it," or 
 " don't talk ot it." He seemed to think 
 it beneath liim, tliough done at six and 
 twenty. 1 said lo him, " Your style, sir, 
 is much improved simt' yon translated 
 this." He answered \\itli a M)it of tri- 
 umphant smile, " Sir, 1 hope it is." 
 
 On Wednesday, April .'J, in the morn- 
 
 ing, I found him very busy putting his 
 books in order, and as they were gene- 
 rally very old ones, clouds of dust were 
 flying around him. He had on a pair of 
 large gloves such as hedgers use. His 
 present appearance put me in mind of 
 my uncle Dr. Boswell's description of 
 him, *' A robust genius, born to grapple 
 with whole libraries." 
 
 I gave him an account of a conversa- 
 tion which had passed between me and 
 Captain Cook, the day before, at dinner 
 at Sir John Pringle's ; and he was much 
 pleased with the conscientious accuracy 
 of that celebrated circumnavigator, who 
 set me right as to many of the exagger- 
 ated accounts given by Dr. Hawkesworth 
 of his Voyages. 1 told him that while I 
 was with the Captain, I catched the en- 
 thusiasm of curiosity and adventure, and 
 felt a strong inclination to go with him 
 on his next voyage. Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, a man does feel so, till he considers 
 how very little he can learn from such 
 voyages." Bosw^ell. " But one is car- 
 ried away with the general grand and 
 indistinct notion of A Voyage round the 
 World." Johnson. " Yes, sir, but a 
 man is to guard himself against taking a 
 thing in general." I said I was certain 
 that a great part of what we are told by 
 the travellers to the South Sea must be 
 conjecture, because they had not enough 
 of the language of those countries to un- 
 derstand so much as they have related. 
 Objects falling under the observation of 
 the senses might be clearly known ; but 
 every thing intellectual, every thing ab- 
 stract — politicks, morals, and religion, 
 must be darkly guessed. Dr. Johnson 
 was of the same opinion. He upon ano- 
 ther occasion, when a friend mentioned 
 to him several extraordinary facts, as 
 communicated to him by the circumna- 
 vigators, slily observed, ** Sir, I never 
 before knew how much I was respected 
 by these gentlemen ; they told vie none 
 of these things." 
 
 He had been in company with Omai, 
 a native of one of the South Sea Islands, 
 after he had been some liinc in this 
 coimtry. He was stiuck \\\\.\\ llu; ele- 
 gance of his bchavioin-, and accoimted 
 for it thus: " Sir, he had passed his 
 time, while in I'iniiiand, only in the best 
 conjpany ; so that all that he had ac- 
 quired of our manners was gentet I. As 
 a proof of this, sir, Lord Mulgrave and 
 he dined one day at Streatham ; they 
 sat with their backs to the light fronting 
 me, so that 1 coidd not see distinctly ; 
 and there was so little of the savage in 
 Omai, that I was atVaid to speak to 
 either, lesl 1 should mistake one for the 
 other." 
 
 We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 JEiwr. 67. 
 
 Tavern, after the rising of the House of 
 Lords, where a branch of the litigation 
 concerning the Douglas Estate, in which 
 I was one of the counsel, was to come 
 on. I brought with me Mr. Murray, 
 Solicitor General of Scotland, now one 
 of the Judges of the Court of Session, 
 with the title of Lord Henderland. I 
 mentioned Mr. Solicitor's relation, Lord 
 Charles Hay, with whom I knew Dr. 
 Johnson had been acquainted. Johnson. 
 " I wrote something for Lord Charles ; 
 and I thought he had nothing to fear from 
 a court-martial. I suffered a great loss 
 when he died ; he was a mighty pleasing 
 man in conversation, and a reading man. 
 The character of a soldier is high. They 
 who stand forth the foremost in danger, 
 for the community, have the respect of 
 mankind. An ofhcer is much more re- 
 spected than any other man who has as 
 little money. In a commercial country, 
 money will always purchase respect. 
 But you find an officer, who has, pro- 
 perly speaking, no money, is every where 
 well received and treated with attention. 
 The character of a soldier always stands 
 him in stead." Boswell. " Yet, sir, I 
 think that common soldiers are worse 
 thought of than other men in the same 
 rank of life ; such as labourers." John- 
 son. " Why, sir, a common soldier is 
 usually a very gross man, and any qua- 
 lity which procures respect may be over- 
 whelmed by grossness. A man of learning 
 may be so vicious or so ridiculous that 
 you cannot respect him. A common 
 soldier, too, generally eats more than he 
 can pay for. But when a common sol- 
 dier is civil in his quarters, his red coat 
 procures him a degree of respect." The 
 peculiar respect paid to the military cha- 
 racter in France was mentioned. Bos- 
 w^ELL. " I should think that where military 
 men are so numerous, they would be less 
 valued as not being rare." Johnson. 
 *' Nay, sir, wherever a particular cha- 
 racter or profession is high in the estima- 
 tion of a people, those who are of it will 
 be valued above other men. We value 
 an Englishman high in this country, and 
 yet Englishmen are not rare in it." 
 
 Mr. Murray praised the ancient philo- 
 sophers for the candour and good humour 
 with which those of different sects dis- 
 puted with each other. Johnson. " Sir, 
 they disputed with good humour, because 
 they were not in earnest as to religion. 
 Had the ancients been serious in their 
 belief, we should not have had their Gods 
 exhibited in the manner we find them 
 represented in the Poets. The people 
 would not have suffered it. They dis- 
 puted with good humour upon the fan- 
 ciful theories, because they were not 
 interested in the truth of them : when a 
 
 31T 
 
 man has nothing to lose, he may be in 
 good humour with his opponent. Ac- 
 cordingly you see in Lucian, the Epicu- 
 rean, who argues only negatively, keeps 
 his temper ; the Stoick, who has some- 
 thing positive to. preserve, grows angry. 
 Being angry with one who controverts 
 an opinion which you value is a necessary 
 consequence of the uneasiness which you 
 feel. Every man who attacks my belief 
 diminishes in some degree my confidence 
 in it, and therefore makes me uneasy ; 
 and I am angry with him who makes me 
 uneasy. Those only who believed in re- 
 velation have been angry at having their 
 faith called in question; because they 
 only had something upon which they 
 could rest as matter of fact." Murray. 
 " It seems to me that we are not angry 
 at a man for controverting an opinion 
 which we believe and value ; we rather 
 pity him." Johnson. " Why, sir ; to be 
 sure, when you wish a man to have that 
 belief which you think is of infinite ad- 
 vantage, you wish well to him ; but your 
 primary consideration is your own quiet. 
 If a madman were to come into this 
 room with a stick in his hand, no doubt 
 we should pity the state of his mind ; but 
 our primary consideration would be to 
 take care of ourselves. We should knock 
 him down first, and pity him afterward?. 
 No, sir ; every man will dispute with 
 great good humour upon a subject in 
 which he is not interested. I will dis- 
 pute very calmly upon the probability of 
 another man's son being hanged ; but if 
 a man zealously enforces the probability 
 that my own son will be hanged, I shall 
 certainly not be in a very good humour 
 with him." I added this illustration : 
 If a man endeavours to convince me 
 that my wife, whom I love very much, 
 and in whom I place great confidence, is 
 a disagreeable woman, and is even un- 
 faithful to me, I shall be very angry, for 
 he is putting me in fear of being un- 
 happy." Murray. '* But, sir, truth will 
 always bear an examination." Johnson. 
 " Yes, sir, but it is painful to be forced 
 to defend it. Consider, sir, how should 
 you like, though conscious of your inno^ 
 cence, to be tried before a jury for a 
 capital crime, once a week." 
 
 We talked of education at great schools ; 
 theadvantages and disadvantages of which 
 Johnson displayed in a luminous man- 
 ner ; but his arguments preponderated so 
 much in favour of the benefit which a 
 boy of good parts might receive at one 
 of them, that I have reason to believe 
 Mr. Murray was very much influenced 
 by what he had heard to-day, in his de- 
 termination to send his own son to West- 
 minster school.— I have acted in the 
 same manner with regard to my own 
 
318 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 two sons ; having placed the eldest at 
 Eton, and the second at Westminster. 
 I cannot say which is best. But in jus- 
 tice to both those noble seminaries, I 
 with high satisfaction declare, that my 
 boys have derived from them a great 
 deal of good, and no evil : and I trust 
 they will, like Horace, be grateful to 
 their father for giving them so valuable 
 an education. 
 
 I introduced the topick, which is often 
 ignorantly urged, that the Universities of 
 England are too rich* ; so that learning 
 does not flourish in them as it would do 
 if those who teach had smaller salaries, 
 and depended on their assiduity for a 
 great part of their income.. Johnson. 
 *' Sir, the very reverse of this is the 
 truth ; the English Universities are not 
 rich enough. Our fellowships are only 
 sufficient to support a man during his 
 studies to fit him for the world, and 
 accordingly in general they are held no 
 longer than till an opportunity offers of 
 getting away. Now and then, perhaps, 
 there is a fellow who grows old in his 
 college ; but this is against his will, un- 
 less he be a man very indolent indeed 
 A hundred a year is reckoned a good 
 fellowship, and that is no more than is 
 necessary to keep a man decently as a 
 scholar. We do not allow our fellows to 
 marry, because we consider academical 
 institutions as preparatory to a settle- 
 ment in the world. It is only by being 
 employed as a tutor that a fellow can 
 obtain any thing more than a livelihood. 
 To be sure, a man who has enough with- 
 out teaching will probably not teach ; for 
 we would all be idle if we could. In the 
 same manner, a man who is to get no- 
 thing by teaching will not exert himself. 
 Gresham College was intended as a place 
 of instruction for London ; able profes- 
 sors were to read lectures gratis, tliey 
 contrived to have no scholars ; whereas, 
 if they had been allowed to receive but 
 sixpence a lecture from each scholar, 
 they would have been emulous to have 
 had many scholars. Every body will 
 agree that it should be the interest of 
 those who teach to have scholars ; and 
 this is the case in our Universilies. That 
 they are too rich is certainly not true ; 
 for they have nothing good enough to 
 keep a man of eminent learning with 
 them for his life. In the foreign Univer- 
 sities a professorship is a high thing. It 
 is as much almost as a man can make by 
 his learning; and therefore we find the 
 
 » Dr. Adam Smitk, who was for sonic time 
 a professor in llie Uni»ei!>iiv of Glaajjow, has 
 lUtered, in hiw " VVealtii of Nations," sonis 
 rt'declions npon this subject wlihli are cer- 
 tainly not well founded, and seem to be invi- 
 dious. 
 
 most learned men abroad are in the Uni- 
 versities. It is not so with us. Our 
 Universities are impoverished of learning 
 by the penury of their provisions. I 
 wish there were many places of a thou- 
 sand a year at Oxford, to keep first rate 
 men of learning from quitting the Univer- 
 sity." Undoubtedly if this were the case, 
 Literature would have a still greater dig- 
 nity and splendour at Oxford, and there 
 would be grander living sources of in- 
 struction. 
 
 I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneasi- 
 ness on account of a degree of ridicule 
 carelessly thrown on his deceased father, 
 in Goldsmith's ** History of Animated 
 Nature," in which that celebrated mathe- 
 matician is represented as being subject 
 to fits of yawning so violent as to render 
 him incapable of proceeding in his lec- 
 ture ; a story altogether unfounded, but 
 for the publication of which the law would 
 give no reparation f. This led us to agi- 
 tate the question, whether legal redress 
 could be obtained, even when a man's 
 deceased relation was calumniated in a 
 publication. Mr. Murray maintained 
 there should be reparation, unless the 
 autliour could justify himself by proving 
 the fact. Johnson. " Sir, it is of so much 
 more consequence that truth should be 
 told, than that individuals should not be 
 made uneasy, that it is much better that 
 the law does not restrain writing freely 
 concerning the characters of the dead. 
 Damages will be given to a man who is 
 calumniated in his lifetime, because he 
 may be hurt in his worldly interest, or at 
 least hurt in his mind : but the law does 
 not regard that uneasiness which a man 
 feels on having his ancestor calumniated. 
 That is too nice. Let him deny what is 
 said, and let the matter have a fair chance 
 by discussion. But if a man could say 
 nothing against a character but what he 
 can prove, history could not be written ; 
 for a great deal is known of men of which 
 proof cannot be brought. A minister may 
 be notoriously known to take bribes, and 
 yet you may not be able to prove it." 
 Mr. Murray suggested, that the authour 
 should be obliged to show some sort of 
 evidence, though he would not require a 
 strict legal proof : but Johnson firmly and 
 resolutely opposed any restraint what- 
 ever, as adverse to a free investigation of 
 the characters of mankind j. 
 
 + Dr. Goldsmith was dead before Mr. Mac- 
 lannn di«'ov(?red llie ludicrous c-rrour. But 
 IMr. Nouise, the bookseller, who was the pro- 
 prietor of ilie work, upon being applied to hy 
 Sir John l*riu<>:le, agreed very handsomely to 
 h-Ave llie leaT on which it was contained can- 
 eled, and reprinted without it at his own 
 expense. 
 
 f WhHt Dr. Johnson has here said, is un- 
 doubtedly good sense: yet I am afraid thai 
 
iETAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 On Thursday, April 4, having called 
 on Dr. Johnson, I said, it was a pity that 
 truth was not so firm as to bid defiance 
 to all attacks, so that it might be shot at 
 
 law, though defined by Lord Coke '* the per- 
 fection of reason," is not altogether wil/i him / 
 for it is held in the books, that an attack on 
 the reputation even of a dead man may be 
 punished as a libel, because tending to a 
 breach of the peace. There is, however, I 
 believe, no modern decided case to that effect; 
 fn the King's Bencii, Trinity Term, 1790, the 
 question occurred on occasion of an indict- 
 ment, T/ie King v. Tophum, who, as a pro- 
 prietor of a newspaper entitled " The World," 
 was found guilty of a libel against Earl 
 Cowper, deceased, because certain injurious 
 charges against his Lordship were pu»)lished 
 in that paper. An arrest of judgment having 
 been moved for, the case was afterwards so- 
 lemnly argued. My friend Mr. Const, whom 
 I delight in having an opportunity to praise, 
 not only for his abilities but his manners; a 
 
 fentleman whose ancient German blood has 
 een mellowed in England, and who may be 
 truly said to unite the Baron and the Barris- 
 ter, was one of the Counsel for Mr. Topham. 
 He displayed much learning and ingenuity 
 upon the general question; which, however, 
 was not decided, as the Court granted an 
 arrest chiefly on the informality of the indict- 
 ment. No man has a higher reverence for the 
 law of England than 1 have ; but, with all 
 deference, I cannot help thinking that prose- 
 cution by indictment, if a defendant is never 
 to be allowed to justify, must often be very 
 oppressive, unless Juries, whom 1 am more 
 and more confirmed in holding to be judges 
 of law as well as of fact, resolutely interpose. 
 Of late an act of Parliament has passed de- 
 claratory of their full right to one as well as 
 the other, in matter of libel; and the bill hav- 
 ing been brought in by a popular gentleman, 
 many of his party have in most extravagant 
 terms declaimed on the wonderful acquisition 
 to the liberty of thJ; press. For my own part 
 I ever was clearly of opinion that this right 
 was inherent in the Aery constitution ot a 
 Jury, and indeed in sense and reason inse- 
 parable from their important function. To 
 establish it, therefore, by statute is, I think, 
 narrowing its foundation, which is the broad 
 and deep basis of Common Law. Would it not 
 rather weaken the right of primogeniture, or 
 any other old and universally acknowledjfed 
 right, should the legislature pass an acf in 
 favour of it 1 lr> my " Letter to the People of 
 Scotland, against diminishing the number of 
 the Lords of Session," published inl78.5, there 
 is the loUowing passage, which, as a concise, 
 and I hope a fair and rational state of the 
 matter, 1 presume to quote: " The Juries of 
 England are Judges of law as well as o\fact 
 in many civil, and in all criminal trials. That 
 my principles of resistance may not be misap- 
 prehended any more than niv principles of 
 submission, I protest that F shouUI be the last 
 man in the world to encourage Juries to con- 
 tradict rashly, wantonly, or perverselv, the 
 opinion of the Judges. On the contrary, I 
 would have them listen respectfully to the 
 a»lvice they receive from the Bench, by which 
 they may often he well directed in forming 
 their own opinion ; which, ' and not another's,' 
 is the opinion they are to return upon their 
 oaths. But where, after due attention to all 
 that the Judge has said, they are decidedly 
 ot a different opinion from him, they liave not 
 only a power and a right, but thev are bound 
 in conscience to bring in a verdict accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 S19 
 
 as much as people chose to attempt, and 
 yet remain unhurt. Johnson. " Then, 
 sir, it would not be shot at. Nobody 
 attempts to dispute that two and two 
 make four : but with contests concerning 
 moral truth human passions are generally 
 mixed, and therefore it must ever be 
 liable to assault and misrepresentation." 
 
 On Friday, April 5, being Good Fri- 
 day, after having attended the morning 
 service at St. Clement's church, I walked 
 home with Johnson. We talked of the 
 Roman Catholick religion. Johnson. 
 " In the barbarous ages, sir, priests and 
 people were equally deceived ; but after- 
 wards there were gross corruptions intro- 
 duced by the clergy, such as indulgences 
 to priests to have concubines, and the 
 worship of images, not, indeed, incul- 
 cated, but knowingly permitted." He 
 strongly censured the licensed stews at 
 Rome. BoswELL. " So then, sir, yon 
 would allow of no irregular intercourse 
 whatever between the sexes?" John- 
 son. " To be sure I would not, sir. I 
 would punish it much more than it is 
 done, and so restrain it. In all countries 
 there has been fornication, as in all 
 countries there has been theft; but there 
 may be more or less of the one, as welt 
 as of the other, in proportion to the force 
 of law. All men will naturally commit 
 fornication, as all men will naturally 
 steal. And, sir, it is very absurd to 
 argue, as has been often done, that pro- 
 stitutes are necessary to prevent the vio- 
 lent effects of appetite from violating the 
 decent order of life ; nay, should be per^ 
 mitted, in order to preserve the chastity, 
 of our wives and daughters. Depend 
 upon it, sir, severe laws, steadily en- 
 forced, would be sufficient against those 
 evils, and would promote marriage." 
 
 I stated to him this case : — " Suppose 
 a man has a daughter, who he knows 
 has been seduced, but her misfortune is 
 concealed froin the world ; should he 
 keep her in his house? Would he not, 
 by doing so, be accessary to imposition? 
 And, perhaps, a worthy, unsuspecting 
 man might come and marry this woman, 
 unless the father inform him of the truth." 
 Johnson. *' Sir, he is accessary to no 
 imposition. His daughter is in his 
 house ; and if a man courts her, he takes 
 his chance. If a friend, or, indeed, if 
 any man asks his opinion whether he 
 should marry her, he ought to advise 
 him against it, without telling why, be- 
 cause his real opinion is then required^ 
 Or, if he has other daughters who know 
 of her frailty, he oughf not to keep her 
 in his house. You are to consider the 
 state of life is this ; we are to judge of 
 one another's characters as well as we 
 can ; and a man is not bound, in honesly 
 
320 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 or honour, to tell us the faults of his 
 daughter or of himself. A man who has 
 debauched his friend's daughter is not 
 obliged to say to every body — " Take 
 care of me ; don't let me into your house 
 without suspicion. I once debauched a 
 friend's daughter. I may debauch yours." 
 
 Mr. Thrale called upon him, and ap- 
 peared to bear the loss of his son with a 
 manly composure. There was no affec- 
 tation about him ; and he talked, as 
 usual, upon indifferent subjects. He 
 seemed to me to hesitate as to the in- 
 tended Italian tour, on which, I flattered 
 myself, he and Mrs. Thrale, and Dr. 
 Johnson were soon to set out ; and, 
 therefore, I pressed it as much as I 
 could. I mentioned that Mr. Beau- 
 clerk had said, that Baretti, whom they 
 were to carry with them, would keep 
 them so long in the little towns of his 
 own district, that they would not have 
 time to see Rome. I mentioned this 
 to put them on their guard. Johnson. 
 ** Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk 
 for supposing that we are to be directed 
 by Baretti. No, sir; Mr. Thrale is to 
 go by my advice to Mr. Jackson* (the 
 all knowing), and get from him a plan 
 for seeing the most that can be seen in 
 the time that we have to travel. We 
 must, to be sure, see Rome, Naples, 
 Florence, and Venice, and as much more 
 as we can." (Speaking with a tone of 
 anfniation.) 
 
 When I expressed an earnest wish for 
 his remarks on Italy, he said, " I do not 
 see that I could make a book upon Italy ; 
 yet I should be glad to get two hundred 
 pounds or five hundred pounds by such 
 a work." This showed both that a jour 
 nal of his Tour upon the Continent was 
 not wholly out of his cor,templalion, and 
 that he uniformly adhered to that strange 
 opinion which his indolent disposition 
 made him utter : " No man but a block- 
 head ever wrote except for money." 
 Nunierous instances to refute this will 
 occur to all who are versed in the his- 
 tory of literature. 
 
 He gave us one of the ni;iii\ -k( tclit .- 
 of character whicii wen; trtasund in \i\> 
 mind, and whicli he was wont to pro- 
 duce quite unexpccttdly in a very enter- 
 taining manner. " I hUtly (said he) 
 received a letter I'loin ili-' T^ast Indii.s, 
 troiu a genthiiiaii whom I loiinnl 
 knew \v\y wdi ; he iiad rt'lui lud I'kh 
 that country with a handsome loitunt 
 as it was reckoned, before me:iii> wtr 
 found to acijuire those inmieiise sum 
 
   A gentleman wiio, from his extraordinary 
 ((tores of kiiowiedKe, has been atyled omtiis- 
 cient. Johnson, I lliink vers properly, altered 
 it to all knowing, as it is ,i rafmni sola 
 appropriated to the Su])m me r.einL'. 
 
 which have been brought from thence of 
 late ; he was a scholar and an agreeable 
 man, and lived very prettily in London 
 till his wife died. After her death he took 
 to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he 
 had. One evening he lost a thousand 
 pounds to a gentleman whose name I 
 am sorry I have forgotten. Next morn- 
 ing he sent the gentleman five hundred 
 pounds, with an apology that it was all 
 he had in the world. The gentjieman 
 sent the money back to him, declaring 
 he would not accept of it; and adding, 
 
 that if Mr. had occasion for five 
 
 hundred pounds more, he would lend it 
 to him. He resolved to go out again to 
 the East Indies, and make his fortune 
 anew. He got a considerable appoint- 
 ment, and I had some intention of ac- 
 companying him. Had I thought then 
 as I do now, I should have gone : but 
 at that time I had objections to quitting 
 England." 
 
 It was a very remarkable circum- 
 stance about Johnson, whom shallow- 
 observers have supposed to have been 
 ignorant of the world, that very few men 
 had seen greater variety of characters ; 
 and none could observe them better, as 
 was evident from the strong, yet nice 
 portraits which he often drew. I have 
 frequently thought that if he had made 
 out what the French call un catalogue 
 raisonne of all the people who had 
 passed under his observation, it would 
 have afforded a very rich fund of instruc- 
 tion and entertainment. The suddenness 
 with which his accounts of some of them 
 started out in conversation was not less 
 pleasing than surprising. I remember 
 he once observed to me, " It is wonder- 
 ful, sir, what is to be found in London. 
 The most literary conversation that I 
 ever enjoyed was at the table of Jack 
 Ellis, a money scrivener, behind the 
 Royal Exchange, with whom I at one 
 period used to dine generally once a 
 weekf." 
 
 + Tliis iMr. Ellis wae. I helieve, the last of 
 iliit profession calleci Scriveners, which is 
 one of the London companies, but of which 
 ilie business is no longer curied on sepa- 
 rately, hut is transacted by attorneys and 
 others He was a ni.ui of literature and ta- 
 lents. He was the authour ofa Hudihrastick 
 version of Mapho-us's Canto, in addition to 
 ihe iEneid; of some poems in Dndsley's col- 
 Uclions; and various other small pieces; but 
 being a very modest man, never put his nante 
 to any thing. He showed me a translation 
 which he had made of Ovid's Epistles, very 
 prettily done. There is a good engraved pur- 
 trait of him by Fether, from a picture by Fry, 
 which hangs in the hall of the ScrivenerV 
 Company. [ visited him October 4, 1790, in 
 his ninety-third year, and found his judgment 
 distinr-l and clear, and his memory, though 
 
/Etat. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 321 
 
 Volumes would be required to contain 
 a list of his numerous and various ac- 
 quaintance, none of whom he ever for- 
 got ; and could describe and discriminate 
 them all with precision and vivacity. 
 He associated with persons the most 
 widely ditferent in manners, abilities, 
 rank, and accomplishments. He was at 
 once the companion of the brilliant Co- 
 lonel Forrester, of the guards, who wrote 
 " The Polite Philosopher," and of the 
 awkward and uncouth Robert Levett ; 
 of Lord Thurlow, and Mr. Sastres, the 
 Italian master; and has dined one day 
 with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating 
 Lady Craven* and the next with good 
 Mrs. Gardiner, the tallow chandler, on 
 Snow Hill. 
 
 On my expressing my wonder at his 
 discovering so much of the knowledge 
 peculiar to different professions, he told 
 me, " I learned what I know of law 
 chiefly from Mr. Ballowf, a very able 
 inan. I learned some too from Cham- 
 bers ; but was not so teachable then. 
 One is not willing to be taught by a 
 young man." When I expressed a wish 
 to know more about Mr. Ballovv, John- 
 son said, " Sir, I have seen him but 
 once these twenty years. The tide of 
 life has driven us different ways." I 
 was sorry at the time to hear this ; but 
 whoever quits the creeks of private con- 
 nexions, and fairly gets into the great 
 ocean of London, will, by imperceptible 
 degrees, unavoidably experience such 
 cessations of acquaintance. 
 
 " My knowledge of physick (he added) 
 I learned from Dr. James, whom I 
 helped in writing the proposals for his 
 Dictionary, and also a little in the Dic- 
 tionary itself j. 1 also learned from Dr. 
 
 serve him very well, after a litrle recollection. 
 It was agreeable to observe, liiai he was free 
 from the discontent and fretfulness which too 
 often molest old age. He in the summer of 
 that year walked to Rotherhithe, where lie 
 dined, and walked home in the evening. He 
 died on the 31st of December, 1791. 
 
 * Lord Macartney, who, with his other dis- 
 tinsuished qualities, is remarkable also for an 
 elegant pleasantry, told me that he met John- 
 son at Lady Craven's, and that he seemed 
 jealous of any interference: "So (said his 
 Lordship, smiling), I kepi bacA." 
 
 t There is an account of him in Sir John 
 Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. '244. 
 
 [Mr. Thomas Ballow was authour of an ex- 
 cellent Treatise of Equity, printed anony- 
 mously in 1742, and laiely republished with 
 very valuable additions, by John Fonbianque, 
 Esq. 
 
 Mr. Ballow died suddenly in London, July 
 26, 1782, aged seventy-five, and is mentioned 
 Jn the Gentleman's Magazine for that year as 
 " a great Greek Scholar, and famous "for his 
 knowledge of the old philosophy." M.] 
 
 t 1 have in vain endeavoured to find out 
 what pans Johnson wrote for Dr. James. 
 Perhaps medical men may. 
 
 Lawrence, but was then grown more 
 stubborn." 
 
 A curious incident happened to-day 
 while Mr. Thrale and I sat with him. 
 Francis announced that a large packet 
 was brought to him from the post office, 
 said to have come from Lisbon, and it 
 was charged seven pounds ten shillinys. 
 He would not receive it, supposing it to 
 be some trick, nor did he even look at 
 it. But upon inquiry afterwards he 
 found that it was a real packet for him, 
 from that very friend in the East Indies 
 of whom he had been speaking ; and the 
 ship which carried it having come to 
 Portugal, this packet, with others, had 
 been put into the post office at Lisbon. 
 
 I mentioned a new gaming club, of 
 which Mr. Beauclerk had given me an 
 account, where the members played to 
 a desperate extent. Johnson. ** De- 
 pend upon it, sir, this is mere talk. Who 
 is ruined by gaming? You will not find 
 six instances in an age. There is a 
 strange rout made about deep play : 
 whereas you have many more people 
 ruined by adventurous trade, and yet we 
 do not hear such an outcry against it." 
 Thrale. " There may be few people ab- 
 solutely ruined by deep play ; but very 
 many are much hurt in their circum- 
 stances by it." Johnson. " Yes, sir, 
 and so are very many by other kinds 
 of expense." I had heard him talk once 
 before in the same manner; and at Ox- 
 ford he said, " he wished he had learned 
 to play at cards." The truth, however, 
 is, that he loved to display his ingenuity 
 in argument ; and therefore would some- 
 times in conversation maintain opinions 
 which he was sensible were wrong, but 
 in supporting which, his reasoning and 
 wit would be most conspicuous. He 
 would begin thus : " Why, sir, as to the 
 good or evil of card playing — " " Now 
 (said Garrick) he is thinking which side 
 he shall take." He appeared to have 
 a pleasure in contradiction, especially 
 when any opinion whatever was deli- 
 vered with an air of confidence ; so that 
 there was hardly any topick, if not one 
 of the great truths of religion and mo- 
 rality, that he might not have been 
 incited to argue either for or against. 
 Lord Elibank§ had the highest admira- 
 tion of his powers. He once observed to 
 me, ** Whatever opinion Johnson main- 
 tains, I will not say that he convinces 
 me ; but he never fails to show me that 
 he has good reasons for it." I have 
 heard Johnson pay his lordship this high 
 compliment: 
 
 *' I never was in Lord Elibank's com- 
 pany without learning something." 
 
 § Patrick, Lord Elibank, who died in 1778. 
 Y 
 
322 THE LIFE OF 
 
 We sat together till it wa? too late for 
 tiie alternoon service. Thrale said, he 
 had come with intention to go to church 
 with US. We went at seven to evening 
 prayers at St. Clement's Church, after 
 having drunk coflTee ; an indnlgence 
 which, I understood, Johnson yielded to 
 on this occasion in compliment to Thrale. 
 
 On Sunday, April 7, Easter Day, after 
 having been at St. Paul's cathedral, I 
 came to Dr. Johnson, according to my 
 usual custom. It seemed to me, that 
 there was always something peculiarly 
 mild and placid in his manner upon this 
 holy festival, the commemoration of the 
 most joyful event in the history of our 
 world, the resurrection of our Lord and 
 Saviour, who, having triumphed over 
 death and the grave, proclaimed immor- 
 tality to mankind. 
 
 I repeated to him an argument of a 
 lady of my acquaintance, who main- 
 tained that her husband's having been 
 guilty of numberless infidtlities released 
 her from conjngal obligations, because 
 they were reciprocal. Johnson. " This 
 is miserable stutf, sir. To the contract 
 of marriage, besides the man and wife, 
 there is a tliird party — Society ; and if 
 it be considered as a vow — Gou : and, 
 therefore, it cannot be dissolved by their 
 consent alone. La\\s are not made for 
 particular cases, but for men in general. 
 A woman may be unhappy with her 
 husband ; but she cannot be freed from 
 him without the approbation of the civil 
 and ecclesiastical power. A man may 
 be unhappy because he is not so rich as 
 another; but he is not to seize upon 
 another's property with his own hand." 
 BoswELL. " But, sir, this lady does not 
 want that the contract should be dis- 
 solved ; she only argues that she may 
 indulge herself in gallantries with equal 
 freedom as her husband does, provided 
 she takes care not to introduce a spurious 
 issue into his family. You know, sir, 
 what Macrobius has told of Julia*." 
 Johnson. " This lady of yours, sir, I 
 think, is very tit for a brollu-l." 
 
 Mr. Macbean, authour of the " Dic- 
 tionary of Ancient Geogiapliy " came in. 
 He mentioned that he had been forty 
 \ ears absent from Scotland. " Ah, Bos- 
 \vell! (said Johnson, smiling,) what would 
 \ou give to be forty years from Scot- 
 \.uu\V' I said, " I should not like to be 
 M. Ion" al)S( ul from the seat of my an- 
 cestors." 'Ihis gcntlcinan, Mrs. "Wil- 
 liams, and Mr. I^cvt tt dined witii ns. 
 
 Dr. Johnson nindc a k mark, which 
 both Mr. Macbean ;iih1 1 llion.^ht new. 
 It was this : that " {hv l;i\v au.iin.M u<ni\ 
 is for the pioh clion of cudiloi- as well 
 
 * " IS'niKjiKiiii nil III nisi nari j'lcna tullo 
 ftftontn." Lib. ii. c. vi. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 as debtors ; for if there were no such 
 check, people would be apt, from the 
 temptation of great interest, to lend to 
 desperate persons, by whom they would 
 lose their money. Accordingly there 
 are instances of ladies being ruined, by 
 having injudiciously sunk their fortunes 
 for high annuities, which, after a few 
 years, ceased to be paid, in consequence 
 of the ruined circumstances of the bor- 
 rower." 
 
 Mrs. Williams was very peevish ; and 
 I wondered at Johnson's patience with 
 her now, as I had often done on similar 
 occasions. The truth is, that his humane 
 consideration of the forlorn and indigent 
 state in which this lady was left by her 
 father induced him to treat her with the 
 utmost tenderness, and even to be de- 
 sirous of procuring her amusement, so as 
 sometimes to incommode niany of his 
 fi lends by carrying her with him to their 
 houses, where, from her manner of eat- 
 ing, in consequence of her blindness, she 
 could not but otfend the delicacy of per- 
 sons of nice sensations. 
 
 After coifee, we went to afternoon 
 service in St. Clement's church. Ob- 
 serving some beggars in the street as we 
 walked along, I said to him I supposed 
 there was no civilized country in the 
 world where the misery of want in the 
 lowest classes of the people was pre- 
 vented. Johnson. ** I believe, sir, there 
 is not ; but it is better that some should 
 be unhappy than that none should be 
 happy, wliich would be the case in a 
 general state of equality." 
 
 When the service was ended, I went 
 home with him, and we sat quietly 
 by ourselves. He recommended Dr. 
 Cheyne's books. I said, I thought 
 Cheyne had been reckoned whimsical. 
 — *' So he was (said he), in some things ; 
 but there is no ^nd of objections. There 
 are few books to which some objection 
 or other may not be made." He added, 
 " 1 would not have you read any thing 
 else of Cheyne, but his book on Health, 
 and his ' English Malady.'" 
 
 Ifpon the question whether a man who 
 had been guilty of vicious actions would 
 do well to force himself into solitude 
 and sadness? Johnson. " No, sir, unless 
 it prevent him from being vicious again. 
 With some people gloomy penitence is 
 only madness turned upside down. A 
 man may be gloomy till, in oi ih i to hv 
 relieved from gloom, he has recuuise 
 attain (o ciiniinal indulgencies." 
 
 On W ( diusday, April 10, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Thrale's, where were Mr. 
 Murphy and some other company. Be- 
 fore dinner. Dr. Johnson and 1 passed 
 some time by ourselves. 1 was sorry to 
 hnd it w a.^ now k -olved that the proposed 
 
JEtat. 67. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 journey to Italy should not take place 
 this year. He said, ** I am disappointed 
 to be sure ; but it is not a great disap- 
 pointment." I wondered to see him 
 bear, with a philosophical calmness, what 
 would have made most people peevish 
 and fretful. I perceived, however, that 
 he had so warmly cherished the hope of 
 enjoying classical scenes that he could 
 not easily part with the scheme ; for he 
 said, ** 1 shall probably contrive to get 
 to Italy some other way. But I won't 
 mention it to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, as it 
 might vex them." I suggested that going 
 to Italy might have done Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale good. Johnson. ** I rather be- 
 lieve not, sir. While grief is fresh, 
 every attempt to divert only irritates. 
 You must wait till grief be digested, and 
 then amusement will dissipate the re- 
 mains of it." 
 
 At dinner, Mr. Murphy entertained us 
 with the history Of Mr. Joseph Simpson, 
 a schoolfellow of Dr. Johnson's, a barris- 
 ter at law, of good parts, but who fell 
 into a dissipated course of life, incom- 
 patible with that success in his profession 
 which he once had, and would otherwise 
 have deservedly maintained ; yet he still 
 preserved a dignity in his deportment. 
 He wrote a tragedy on the story of Leo- 
 nidas, entitled " The Patriot." He read 
 it to a company of lawyers, who found 
 so many faults that he wrote it over 
 again : so then there were two tragedies 
 on the same subject and with the same 
 title. Dr. Johnson told us that one of 
 them was still in his possession. This 
 very piece was, after his death, pub- 
 lished by some person who had been 
 about him; and, for the sake of a little 
 hasty profit, was fallaciously advertised, 
 so as to make it be believed to have been 
 written by Johnson himself. 
 
 I said, I disliked the custom which 
 some people had of bringing their chil- 
 dren into company, because it in a man- 
 ner forced us to pay foolish compliments 
 to please their parents. Johnson. " You 
 are right, sir. We may be excused for 
 not caring much about other people's 
 children, for there are many who care 
 very little about their own children. It 
 may be observed that men, who from 
 being engaged in business, or from their 
 course of life in whatever way, seldom 
 see their children, do not care much 
 about them. I myself should not have 
 had much fondness for a child of my 
 own." Mrs. Thra.le. " Nay, sir, how 
 can you talk so?" Johnson. '* At least, 
 I never wished to have a child." 
 
 Mr. Murphy mentioned Dr. Johnson's 
 having a design to publish an edition of 
 Cowley. Johnson said, he did not know 
 but he should ; and he expressed his dis- 
 
 &23 
 
 approbation of Dr. Hurd for having pub- 
 lished a mutilated edition under the title 
 of " Select Works of Abraham Cowley." 
 Mr. Murphy thought it a bad precedent; 
 observing, that any authour might be 
 used in the same manner ; and that it 
 was pleasing to see the variety of an 
 authour's compositions at difierent pe- 
 riods. 
 
 We talked of Flatman's Poems ; and 
 Mrs. Thrale observed that Pope had 
 partly borrowed from him, ** The dying 
 Christian to his Soul." Johnson repeated 
 Rochester's verses upon Flatman, which 
 I think by much too severe : 
 
 " Nor that slow drudge in swift Pindarick 
 
 strains, 
 Fiatman, who Cowley imitates with pains. 
 And rides a jaded Muse, whipt with loose 
 
 reins." 
 
 I like to recollect all the passages that I 
 heard Johnson repeat: it stamps a value 
 on them. 
 
 He told us that the book entitled " The 
 Lives of the Poets, by Mr. Gibber," was 
 entirely compiled by Mr. Shiels*, a 
 
   fn the Monthly Review for May, 1792, 
 there is such a correction of the above pas- 
 sage as I should think myself very culpable 
 not to subjoin. " This account is very inaccn - 
 rate. The following- statement of facts we 
 know to he true in every material circum- 
 stance:— Shiels was the principal collector 
 and digestor of the materials for the work: 
 hilt a8"^he was very raw in authouiship, an 
 indifferent writer in prose, and his language 
 full of Scotticisms, Gibber, who was a clever, 
 lively fellow, and then soliciting employment 
 , was engage<i to coi- 
 tion of the whole work. 
 
 one the bookscllei 
 t the style and d 
 
 Uien intended to make only four volumes, wuh 
 power to alter, expunge, or add, as he liked. 
 He was also to supply iiotes, occasionally, 
 especially concerning those dramatick poets 
 with whom he had been chiefly conversant. 
 He also engaged to write several of ihe Lives ; 
 which (as we are told) he accordingly per- 
 formed. He was farther usetiil in striking out 
 the Jacobitical and Toiy sentiments which 
 Shiels had industriously interspersed where- 
 ever he could bring them in:— and as the 
 success of the work appeared, after all, very 
 doubtful, he was content with twenty-one 
 pounds for his labour, besides a few sets of 
 the books to disperse among his friends.— 
 Shiels had nearly seventy pounds, beside the 
 advantage of many of the best Lives ni Ihe 
 work being communicated by friends to the 
 undertaking; and for which Mr. Shiels had 
 the same consideration as for the rest, J>eing 
 paid by the sheet, for the whole. He was, 
 however, so angry with his Whigeish super- 
 visor (The. like his father, being a violent 
 stickler for the political principles which pre- 
 vailed in the reign of George the Second), tor 
 so unmercifully mutilating his copy, and scout- 
 ing his politicks, that he wrote Cibber a 
 challenge: but was prevented trom sending 
 it by the publisher, who fairly laughed him 
 out of his fury. The proprietors, too, were 
 <iiscontented in the end, on account of Mr. 
 Gibber's unexpected industry; for his correc- 
 tions and alterations in the proof sheets were 
 so numerous and considerable that the printer 
 made for them a grievous addition to his bill; 
 
324 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 Scotchman, oneof his amanuenses. "The 
 booksellers (said he) gave Theophilus 
 Gibber, who was tlien in prison, ten 
 guineas, to allow Mr. Cibber to be put 
 upon the title-page, as the anthour ; by 
 this, a double imposition was intended: 
 in the first place, that it was the work of 
 a Cibber at all ; and, in the second place, 
 that it was the work of old Cibber." 
 
 Mr. Murphy said, that " The Memoirs 
 of Gray's Life set him much higher in 
 his estimation than his poems did ; for 
 yon there saw a man constantly at work 
 in literature." Johnson acquiesced in 
 this ; but depreciated the book, I thought, 
 very unreasonably. For he said, " I 
 forced myself to read it only because it 
 was a common topick of conversation. 
 I found it mighty dull ; and, as to the 
 
 and, in fine, all parties were dissatisfied. On 
 the whole, tlie work was productive of no 
 profit to the undertakers, who had agreed, in 
 case of success, to make Cibber a present of 
 some addition to the twenty guineas which 
 he had received, and for which liis receipt is 
 now in the booksellers' hands. We are far- 
 ther assured that he actually obtained an ad- 
 ditional sum; when he, soon after (in the 
 vear 17-58), unfortunately embarked for Dub- 
 lin, on an eng'agement ff>r one of the theatres 
 there: but ihe ship was cast away, and every 
 person on board perished. There were about 
 sixty passengers, among whom was the Earl 
 of Drogheda, with many other persons of con- 
 sequence and property. 
 
 " As to the alleged design of making the 
 compilement pass for the work of old Mr. Cib- 
 ber, the charges seem to have been founded 
 on a somewhat uncharitable construction. U'e 
 are assured that the thought was not har- 
 boured by some of the proprietors, who are 
 still living; and we hope that it did not oc- 
 cur to the first designer of the work, who was 
 also the printer of it, and who bore a respect- 
 able character. 
 
 " We have been induced to enter thus cir- 
 cumatantially into the foregoing detail of facts 
 relating to the Lives of the Foefs, compiled by 
 Messrs. Cibber anci Shiels, from a sincere re- 
 gard to that sacred principle of Truth, to 
 which Dr. Johnson so rigidly adhered, ac- 
 cording to the best of his knowledge; and 
 which, we believe, no consideration would 
 have prevailed on him to violate, in regard 
 to the matter which we now dismiss, he had, 
 no doubr^ been misled by partial and wrontj 
 information: Shiels was the Doctor's amanu- 
 ensis: he had quarrelled with Cibber; it is 
 n.uural to suppose that he told his story in 
 IiIh own way ; and it is certain that he was not 
 ' a very sturdy moralist.' " This explanation 
 appears to me very satisfactory. It is, how- 
 ever, to be observed that the story told by 
 Johnson does not rest solely upon liiy record 
 of his conversation; for he himself has pub- 
 lished it in his life of Hammond, where he 
 t-ays, " the manuscript of Shiels is now in my 
 po8se:<sion," Very probably lie had trusted 
 to Shiels's word, ana never looked at it so as 
 to compare it w ith •* The Lives of the poets," 
 as published under Mr. Cibber's name. What 
 became of that manii>rript I know not. I 
 should have like<l much to examine it. I 
 suppose it was thrown inio the fire in that 
 inipeiuous comtiustioii of paoers, which John- 
 son I think rashly executed when morihun- 
 
 style, it is fit for the second table." Why 
 he thought so I was at a loss to conceive. 
 He now gave it as his opinion, that 
 " Akenside was a superiour poet both to 
 Gray and Mason." 
 
 Talking of the Reviews, Johnson said, 
 " I think them very impartial : I do not 
 know an instance of partiality." He 
 mentioned what had passed upon the 
 subject of the Monthly and Critical Re- 
 views, in the conversation with which 
 his Majesty had honoured him. He ex- 
 patiated a little more on them this even- 
 ing. " The Monthly Reviewers (said 
 he) are not Deists ; but they are Chris- 
 tians with as little Christianity as may 
 be; and are for pulling down all estab- 
 lishments. The Critical Reviewers are 
 for supporting the constitution both in 
 church and state*. The Critical Re- 
 viewers, I believe, often review without 
 reading the books through : but lay hold 
 of a topick, and write chiefly from their 
 own minds. The Monthly Reviewers 
 are didler men, and are glad to read the 
 books through." 
 
 He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme 
 anxiety as an authour ; observing, that 
 " he was thirty years in preparing his 
 History, and that he employed a man to 
 point it for him ; as if (laughing) another 
 man could point his sense better than 
 himself." Mr. Murphy said, he under- 
 stood his history was kept back several 
 years for fear of Smollett. Johnson. 
 " This seems strange to Murphy and me, 
 who never felt that anxiety, but sent 
 what we wrote to the press, and let it 
 take its chance." Mrs. Thraue. " The 
 time has been, sir, when you felt it." 
 Johnson. ** Why really, madam, I do 
 not recollect a time when that was the 
 case." 
 
 Talking of " The Spectator," he said, 
 " It is wonderful that there is such a 
 proportion of bad papers in the half of 
 the work which was not written by Ad- 
 dison ; for there was all the world to 
 write that half, yet not a half of that 
 half is good. One of the finest pieces in 
 the English language is the paper on 
 Nove4ty, yet we do not hear it talked of. 
 It was written by Grove, a dissenting 
 teacher." He would not, I perceived, 
 call him a cleryyman, though he was 
 candid eiM)ugh to allow very great merit 
 to his composition. Mr. Murphy said, 
 he remembered when there were several 
 people alive in London, who enjoyed 
 a considerable reputation merely from 
 having written a paper in ** The Specta- 
 tor." He mentioned particularly Mr. 
 Ince,who used to frequent Tom's Coltee- 
 
 • [Johnson'sopinionsconcerning the Month- 
 ly and Critical Reviews would not be accu- 
 rate now [1803.] B.] 
 
iEXAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 house. " But (said Johnson) you must 
 consider how highly Steele speaks of 
 Mr. I nee." He would not allow that 
 the paper on carrying a boy to travel, 
 signed Philip Homebred, which was 
 reported to be written by the Lord Chan- 
 cellor Hardwicke, had merit. He said, 
 " it was quite vulgar, and had nothing 
 luminous." 
 
 Johnson mentioned Dr. Barry's* Sys- 
 4em of Physick. " He was a man (said 
 he) who had acquired a high reputation 
 in Dublin, came over to England, and 
 brought his reputation with him, but had 
 not great success. His notion was, that 
 pulsation occasions death by attrition ; 
 and that, therefore, the way to preserve 
 life is to retard pulsation. But we know 
 that pulsation is strongest in infants, and 
 that we increase in growth while it ope- 
 rates in its regular course ; so it cannot 
 be the cause of destruction." Soon after 
 this, he said something very flattering to 
 Mrs. Thrale, which 1 do not recollect ; 
 but it concluded with wishing her a long 
 life. " Sir (said I), if Dr. Barry's sys- 
 tem be true, you have now shortened 
 Mrs. Thrale's life, perhaps, some mi- 
 uutes, by accelerating her pulsation." 
 
 On Thursday, April 11, I dined with 
 him at General Paoli's, in whose house 
 I now resided, and where I had ever 
 afterwards the honour of being enter- 
 tained with the kindest attention as his 
 constant guest, while I was in London, 
 till I had a house of my own there. I 
 mentioned my having that morning in- 
 troduced to Mr. Garrick Count Neni, a 
 Flemish nobleman of great rank and for- 
 tune, to whom Garrick talked of Abel 
 Drugger as a small part; and related, 
 with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman 
 who had seen him in one of his low cha- 
 racters, exclaimed, "Comment.' je ne 
 le crois pas. Ce ri'est pas Monsieur 
 Garrick, ce grand homme /" Garrick 
 added, with an appearance of grave re- 
 collection, " If I were to begin life again, 
 I think I should not play those low cha- 
 racters." Upon which I observed, " Sir, 
 you would be in the wrong ; for your 
 great excellence is your variety of play- 
 ing, your representing so well characters 
 so very different." Johnson. " Garrick, 
 sir, was not in earnest in what he said ; 
 for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is 
 his variety; and, perhaps, there is not 
 any one character which has not been as 
 well acted by somebody else as he could 
 do it." BoswELL. " Why then, sir, did 
 he talk so?" Johnson. "Why, sir, to 
 make you answer as you did." Boswell. 
 " I don't know, sir, he seemed to dip 
 deep into his mind for the reflection," 
 
 * Sir Edward Barry, Baronet. 
 
 325 
 
 Johnson. " He had not far to dip, sir: 
 he had said the same thing, probably, 
 twenty times before." 
 
 Of a nobleman raised at a very early 
 period to high office, he said, *' His parts, 
 sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but 
 would not be distinguished in a man who 
 had nothing else but his parts." 
 
 A journey to Italy was still in his 
 thoughts. He said, " A man who has 
 not been in Italy is always conscious of 
 an inferiority, from his not having seen 
 what it is expected a man should see. 
 The grand object of travelling is to see 
 the shores of the Mediterranean. On 
 those shores were the four great Empires 
 of the world; the Assyrian, the Persian, 
 the Grecian, and the Roman. — All our 
 religion, almost all our law, almost all 
 our arts, almost all that sets us above 
 savages has come to us from the shores 
 of the Mediterranean." The General 
 observed that " The Mediterranean 
 would be a noble subject for a poem." 
 
 We talked of translation. I said, I 
 could not define it, nor could I think of 
 a similitude to illustrate it ; but that it 
 appeared to me the translation of poetry 
 could be only imitation. Johnson. " You 
 may translate books of science exactly. 
 You may also translate history, in so far 
 as it is not embellished with oratory, 
 which is poetical. Poetry, indeed, can- 
 not be translated ; and, therefore, it is 
 the poets that preserve languages ; for 
 we would not be at the trouble to learn 
 a language if we could have all that is 
 written in it just as well in a translation. 
 But as the beauties of poetry cannot be 
 preserved in any language except that in 
 which it was originally written, we learn 
 the language." 
 
 A gentleman maintained that the art 
 of printing had hurt real learning by 
 disseminating idle writings. — Johnson. 
 " Sir, if it had not been for the art of 
 printing, we should now have no learn- 
 ing at all ; for books would have perished 
 faster than they could have been trans- 
 cribed." This observation seems not just, 
 considering for how many ages books 
 were preserved by writing alone t. 
 
 The same gentleman maintained that a 
 general diffusion of knowledge among a 
 people was a disadvantage ; for it made 
 the vulgar rise above their humble sphere. 
 Johnson. *' Sir, while knowledge is a 
 distinction, those who are possessed of it 
 will naturally rise above those who are 
 
 t [The aulhour did not recollect tiiat of the 
 books preserved (and an infinite number was 
 lost) all were confined to two languages. In 
 modern times and modern lan^uas;-es, France 
 and Italy alone produce more books in a 
 given time than Greece and Rome ; put Enjf- 
 land, Spain, Germany, and the Northein 
 kingdoms out of the question. B.] 
 
326 THE LIFE OF 
 
 not. Merely to read and write was a 
 distinction at first ; but we see when 
 reading and writing iiave become gene- 
 ral, the common people keep their sta- 
 tions. And so, were higher attainments 
 to become general, the effect would be 
 the same." 
 
 " Goldsmith (he said) referred every 
 tiling to vanity ; his virtues and his vices 
 too were from that motive. He was not 
 a social man. He never exchanged mind 
 with you." 
 
 We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. 
 Mr. Mickle, the excellent translator of 
 " The Lusiad," was there. I have pre- 
 served little of the conversation of this 
 evening. Dr. Johnson said, " Thomson 
 had a true poetical genius, the power of 
 viewing every thing in a poetical light. 
 His fault is such a cloud of words some- 
 times, that the sense can hardly peep 
 tiirough. Shiels, who compiled ' Gib- 
 ber's Lives of the Poets *,' was one day 
 sitting with me. I took down Thomson, 
 and read aloud a large portion of him, 
 and then asked, — Is not this fine 1 Shiels 
 having expressed the highest admiration, 
 Well, sir (said I), I have omitted every 
 other line." 
 
 I related a dispute between Goldsmith 
 and Mr. Robert Dodsley, one day when 
 they and I were dining at Tom Davies's, 
 in 1762. Goldsmith asserted that there 
 was no poetry produced in this age. 
 Dodsley appealed to his own Collection, 
 and maintained that though you could 
 not find a palace like Dryden's " Ode 
 on St. Cecilia's Day," you had villages 
 composed of very pretty houses; and he 
 mentioned particularly " The Spleen." 
 Johnson. " I think Dodsley gave up the 
 question. He and Goldsmith said the 
 same thing ; only he said it in a softer 
 manner than Goldsmith did ; for he ac- 
 knowledged that there was no poetry, 
 nothing that towered above the common 
 mark. You may find wit and humour 
 in verse, and yet no poetry. * Hudibras ' 
 has a profusion of these ; yet it is not to 
 be reckoned a poem. ' The Spleen,' in 
 Dodsley's collection, on which you say 
 he chiefly rested, is iu>t poetry." Bos- 
 well. " Does not Gray's poetry, sir, 
 tower above the common mark?" John- 
 son. " Yes, sir ; but we must attend to 
 the dirt'erence between what men in ge- 
 neral cannot do if they would, and what 
 every ntan may do if he would. Sixteen- 
 string Jackf towered above the common 
 
 • See ante, Nute, p. 333, ice 
 
 t A noteJ hiifhwaynuu, »ho after havini^ 
 beeu several times tried and acquitted, wa» 
 at last hanged. H»! was rcniarkaiile for fop- 
 pery in his dresri, and pariicularly for wear- 
 ing; a >>uni-h of sixieca strings at the knees of 
 his brecclieti. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 mark." Boswell. ** Then, sir, what is 
 poetry?" Johnson. " Why, sir, it is 
 much easier to say what it is not. We 
 all know what light is ; but it is not easy 
 to tell what it is." 
 
 On Friday, April 12, I dined with him 
 at our friend Tom Davies's, where we 
 met Mr. Cradock, of Leicestershire, au- 
 thour of " Zobeide," a tragedy ; a very 
 pleasing gentleman, to whom my friend 
 Dr. Farmer's very excellent Essay on the 
 Learning of Shakspeare is addressed ; 
 and Dr. Harwood, who has written and 
 published various works ; particularly a 
 fantastical translation of the New Testa- 
 ment in modern phrase, and with a Soci- 
 nian tvvist. 
 
 I introduced Aristotle's doctrine in his 
 " Art of Poetry," of '* the xado^o-K ^wv 
 TToc^yyMXTwv, the purging of the passions," 
 as the purpose of tragedy j. " But how 
 are the passions to be purged by terrour 
 and pity V (said I, with an assumed air 
 of ignorance, to incite him to talk, for 
 which it was often necessary to employ 
 some address). Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 you are to consider what is the meaning 
 of purging in the original sense. It is to 
 expel impurities from the human body. 
 The mind is subject to the same imper- 
 fection. The passions are the great movers 
 of human actions; but they are mixed 
 with such impurities that it is necessary 
 they should be purged or refined by 
 means of terrour and pity. For instance, 
 ambition is a noble passion ; but by see- 
 ing upon the stage that a man who is so 
 excessively ambitious as to raise himself 
 by injustice is punished, we are terrified 
 at the fatal consequences of such a pas- 
 sion. In the same manner a certain 
 degree of resentment is necessary ; but 
 if we see that a man carries it too far, we 
 pity the object of it, and are taught to 
 moderate that passion." My record upon 
 this occasion does great injustice to John- 
 son's expression, which was so forcible 
 and brilliant that Mr. Cradock whispered 
 me, " O that his words were written in 
 a book 1" 
 
 I observed, the great defect of the 
 tragedy of " Othello" was, that it had 
 not a moral ; for that no man could re- 
 sist the circumstances of suspicion which 
 were artfully siiggested to Otijello's mind. 
 Johnson. " In the first place, sir, we 
 learn fr«)m Othello this very useful moral, 
 not to make an unequal match ; in the 
 second place, we learn not to yield too 
 readily to suspicion. The handkerchief 
 is merely a trick, though a very pretty 
 trick ; but there are no other circum- 
 stances of reasonable suspicion, except 
 
 X See an inarenious Essay on this snl)ject hy 
 tlie late Ur. Moor, Greek professor at Olas- 
 
JErxr. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 what is related by lago of Cassio's warm 
 expressions concerning Besdeuiona in 
 his sleep ; and that depended entirely 
 upon the assertion of one man. No, sir, 
 I think Othello has more moral than 
 almost any play." 
 
 Talking of a penurious gentleman of 
 our acquaintance, Johnson said, ** Sir, 
 he is narrow, not so much from avarice 
 as from impotence to spend his money. 
 He cannot find in his heart to pour out a 
 bottle of wine; but he would not much 
 care if it should sour." 
 
 He said, he wished to see " John 
 Dennis's Critical Works" collected. — 
 Davies said they would not sell. Dr. 
 Johnson seemed to think otherwise. 
 
 Davies said of a well known drama- 
 tick authour, that " he lived upon potted 
 stories, and that he made his way as 
 Hannibal did, by vinegar; having be- 
 gun by attacking people, particularly the 
 players." 
 
 He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. 
 Murphy's having paid him the highest 
 compliment that ever was paid to a lay- 
 man, by asking his pardon for repeating 
 some oaths in the course of telling a 
 story. 
 
 Johnson and I supped this evening at 
 the Crown and Anchor Tavern, in com- 
 pany with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. 
 Langton, Mr. Nairne, now one of the 
 Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord 
 Dunsinan, and my very worthy friend, 
 Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo. 
 
 We discussed the question whether 
 drinking improved conversation and be- 
 nevolence. Sir Joshua maintained it 
 did. Johnson. " No, sir : before dinner 
 men meet with great inequality of under- 
 standing ; and those who are conscious 
 of their inferiority have the modesty not 
 to talk. When they have drunk wine, 
 every man feels himself happy, and loses 
 that modesty, and grows impudent and 
 vociferous : but he is not improved : he 
 is only not sensible of his defects." Sir 
 Joshua said, the Doctor was talking of 
 the effects of excess in wine ; but that a 
 moderate glass enlivened the mind by 
 giving a proper circulation to the blood. 
 " 1 am (said he) in very good spirits 
 when I get up in the morning. By din- 
 ner-time I am exhausted ; wine puts me 
 in the same state as when I got up ; and 
 I am sure that moderate drinking makes 
 people talk better." Johnson. " No, sir ; 
 wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity ; 
 but tumultuous, noisy, clamorous mer- 
 riment. I have heard none of those 
 drunken, — nay, drunken is a coarse 
 word, — none of those vinous flights." 
 Sir Joshua. " Because you have sat by, 
 quite sober, and felt an envy of the hap- 
 piness of those who were drinking." 
 
 327 
 
 Johnson. " Perhaps, contempt. — And, 
 sir, it is not necessary to be drunk one's 
 self to relish the wit of drunkenness. Do 
 we not judge of the drunken wit of the 
 dialogue between lago and Cassio, the 
 most excellent in its kind, when we are 
 quite sober? Wit is wit by whatever 
 means it is produced; and, if good, will 
 appear so at all times. I admit that the 
 spirits are raised by drinking as by the 
 common participation of any pleasure : 
 cock-fighting or bear-baiting will raise 
 the spirits of a company, as drinking 
 does, though surely they will not improve 
 conversation. I also admit, that there 
 are some sluggish men who are im- 
 proved by drinking ; as there are fruits 
 which are not good till they are rotten. 
 There are such men, but they are med- 
 lars. I indeed allow that there have been 
 a very few men of talents who were im- 
 proved by drinking ; but I maintain that 
 I am right as to the effects of drinking 
 in general : and let it be considered, that 
 there is no position, however false in its 
 universality, which is not true of some 
 particular man." Sir William Forbes 
 said, " Might not a man warmed with 
 wine be like a bottle of beer, which is 
 made brisker by being set before the 
 fire?" — " Nay (said Johnson, laughing), 
 I cannot answer that : that is too much 
 for me." 
 
 I observed, that wine did some people 
 harm, by inflaming, confusing, and irri- 
 tating their minds ; but that the experi- 
 ence of mankind had declared in favour 
 of moderate drinking. Johnson. "Sir, 
 I do not say it is wrong to produce self- 
 complacency by drinking; I only deny 
 that it improves the mind. When I drank 
 wine, 1 scorned to drink it when in com- 
 pany. I have drunk many a bottle by 
 myself; in the first place, because I had 
 need of it to raise my spirits ; in the 
 second place, because I would have no- 
 body to witness its effects upon me." 
 
 He told us, " almost all his Ramblers 
 were written just as they were wanted 
 for the press ; that he sent a certain por- 
 tion of the copy of an essay, and wrote 
 the remainder while the former part of 
 it was printing. When it was wanted, 
 and he had fairly sat down to it, he was 
 sure it would be done." 
 
 He said, that for general improvement 
 a man should read whatever his imme- 
 diate inclination prompts him to ; though 
 to be sure, if a man has a science to 
 learn, he must regularly and resolutely 
 advance. He added, " what we read 
 with inclination makes a much stronger 
 impression. If we read without inclina- 
 tion, half the mind is employed in fixing 
 the attention ; so there is but one half to 
 be employed on what we read." He told 
 
328 
 
 lis, he read Fielding's " Amelia " through 
 without stopping *". He said, " If a man 
 begins to read in the middle of a book, 
 and feels an inclination to go on, let him 
 not quit it to go to the beginning. He 
 may perhaps not feel again the inclina- 
 tion." 
 
 Sir Joshua mentioned Mr. Cumber- 
 land's Odes, which were just published. 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir, they would have 
 been thought as good as Odes commonly 
 are if Cumberland had not put his name 
 to them ; btit a name immediately draws 
 censure, unless it be a name that bears 
 down every thing before it. Nay, Cum- 
 berland has made his Odes subsidiary to 
 the fame of another man+. They might 
 have run well enough by themselves ; 
 but he has not only loaded them with a 
 name, but has made them carry double." 
 
 We talked of the Reviews, and Dr. 
 Johnson spoke of them as he did at 
 Thrale'sj. Sir Joshua said, what I have 
 often thought, that he wondered to find 
 so much good writing employed in them 
 when the authours were to remain un- 
 known, and so could not have the motive 
 of fame. Johnson. " Nay, sir, those who 
 write in them write well in order to be 
 paid well." 
 
 Soon after this day he went to Bath 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I had never 
 seen that beautiful city, and wished to 
 take the opportunity of visiting it while 
 Johnson was there. Having written to 
 him, I received the following answer. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *• DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Why do you talk of neglect? When 
 did I neglect you ? If you will come to 
 Bath, we shall all be glad to see you. 
 Come, therefore, as soon as you can. 
 
 *' But I have a little business for you 
 at London. Bid Francis look in the 
 paper drawer of the chest of drawers in 
 my bedchamber for two cases ; one for 
 tlie Attorney-General, and one for the 
 Solicitor-General. They lie, I think, at 
 the top of my papers ; otherwise they 
 are somewhere else, and will give me 
 more trouble. 
 
 " Please to write to me immediately if 
 they can be found. Make my compli- 
 ments to all our friends round the world, 
 and to Mrs. Williams at home. I am, sir, 
 ** Your, &c. 
 
 •* Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** Search for the papers as soon as you 
 
 * We have here an Involuntary teRtiniony 
 to tlie excellence of this admirable writer, to 
 wiiom we have seen that Dr. Johnson directly 
 allowed 8o little merit. 
 
 + Mr. Romney. the painter, who has now 
 deservedly eittablished a high reputation. 
 
 X Page 334. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 can, that, if it is necessary, I may write 
 to you again before you come down." 
 
 On the 26th of April, I went to Bath ; 
 and on my arrival at the Pelican inn, 
 found lying for me an obliging invitation 
 from Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by whom I 
 was agreeably entertained almost con- 
 stantly during iny stay. They were gone 
 to the rooms ; but there was a kind note 
 from Dr. Johnson, that he should sit at 
 home all the evening. I went to him 
 directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale 
 returned, we had by ourselves some hours 
 of tea-drinking and talk. 
 
 I shall group together such of his say- 
 ings as I preserved during the few days 
 that I was at Bath. 
 
 Of a person who differed from him in 
 politicks, he said, " In private life he is 
 a very honest gentleman ; but I will not 
 allow him to be so in publick life. Peo- 
 ple may be honest, though they are doing 
 wrong : that is, between their Maker and 
 them. But we, who are suffering by their 
 pernicious conduct, are to destroy them. 
 
 We are sure that acts from 
 
 interest. We know what his genuine 
 principles were. They who allow their 
 passions to confound the distinctions be- 
 tween right and wrong are criminal. 
 They may be convinced ; but they have 
 not come honestly by their convic- 
 tion." 
 
 It having been mentioned, I know not 
 with what truth, that a certain female 
 political writer, whose doctrines he dis- 
 liked, had of late become very fond of 
 dress, sat hours together at her toilet, 
 and even put on rouge : — Johnson. '* She 
 is better employed at her toilet than 
 using her pen. It is better she should 
 be reddening her own cheeks than black- 
 ening other people's characters." 
 
 He told us that ** Addison wrote Bud- 
 gell's papers in the Spectator, at least 
 mended them so much, that he made 
 theiti almost his own ; and that Draper, 
 Tonson's partner, assured Mrs. Johnson, 
 that the much admired Epilogue to * The 
 Distressed Mother,' which came out in 
 Budgell's name, was in reality written 
 by Addison." 
 
 "The mode of government by one may 
 be ill adapted to a small society, but is 
 best for a great nation. The character- 
 istick of our own government at present 
 is imbecility. The magistrates dare not 
 call the guards for fear of being hanged. 
 Tiie guards will not come for fear of 
 being given up to the blind rage of popu- 
 lar juries." 
 
 Of the father of one of our friends he 
 observed, ** He never claritied his no- 
 tions by fdtrating them through other 
 minds. He had a canal upon his estate, 
 
^TAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 329 
 
 where at one place the bank was too 
 low. — I dug the canal deeper," said 
 he. 
 
 He told me that " so long ago as 1748 
 he had read ' The Grave, a Poem *,' but 
 did not like it much." I differed from 
 him ; for though it is not equal through- 
 out, and is seldom elegantly correct, it 
 abounds in solemn thought and poetical 
 imagery beyond the common reach. The 
 world has differed from him ; for the 
 poem has passed through many editions, 
 and is still much read by people of a 
 serious cast of mind. 
 
 A literary lady of large fortune was 
 mentioned, as one who did good to many, 
 but by no means " by stealth," and in- 
 stead of •' blushing to find it fame," 
 acted evidently from vanity. Johnson. 
 " I have seen no beings who do as much 
 good from benevolence as she does from 
 whatever motive. If there are such under 
 the earth, or in the clouds, I wish they 
 would come up, or come down. What 
 Soame Jenyns says upon this subject is 
 not to be minded ; he is a wit. No, sir ; 
 to act from pure benevolence is not pos- 
 sible for finite beings. Human benevo- 
 lence is mingled with vanity, interest, or 
 some other motive." 
 
 He would not allow me to praise a 
 lady then at Bath ; observing, " She does 
 not gain upon me, sir ; I think her empty 
 headed." He was, indeed, a stern critick 
 upon characters and manners. Even Mrs. 
 Thrale did not escape his friendly ani- 
 madversion at times. 'When he and I 
 were one day endeavouring to ascertain, 
 article by article, how one of our friends 
 could possibly spend as much money in 
 his family as he told us he did, she inter- 
 rupted us by a lively extravagant sally 
 on the expense of clothing his children, 
 describing it in a very ludicrous and 
 fanciful manner. Johnson looked a little 
 angry, and said, *' Nay, madam, when 
 yon are declaiming, declaim ; and when 
 you are calculating, calculate." At ano- 
 ther time, when she said, perhaps affec- 
 tedly, " I don't like to fly." Johnson. 
 ** With your wings, madam, you must 
 fly : but have a care, there are clippers 
 abroad." How very well was this said, 
 and how fully has experience proved the 
 truth of it ! But have they not clipped 
 
 * I am sorry that there are no memoirs of 
 the Reverend Robert Blair, the autlioiir of 
 this poem. He was the representative of the 
 ancient family of Blair, of Blair in Ayrshire, 
 but the estate had descended to a female, and 
 afterwards passed to the son of her husband 
 by another marriag^e. He was minister of the 
 parish of Athelstaneford, where Mr. John 
 Home was his successor; so thai it may truly 
 be called classick ground. His son, who is of 
 the same name, and a man eminent for talents 
 and learainij, is now, witli universal approba- 
 tion, Solicitor General of Scoth^nd. 
 
 rather rudely, and gone a great deal 
 closer than was necessary ? 
 
 A gentleman expressed a wish to go 
 and live three years at Otaheite, or New 
 Zealand, in order to obtain a full ac- 
 quaintance with people so totally diffe- 
 rent from all that we have ever known, 
 and be satisfied what pure nature can do 
 for man. Johnson. " What could you 
 learn, sir? What can savages tell, but 
 what they themselves have seen 1 Of the 
 past or the invisible they can tell nothing. 
 The inhabitants of Otaheite and New 
 Zealand are not in a state of pure nature ; 
 for it is plain they broke oft" from some 
 other people. Had they grown out of 
 the ground, you might have judged of a 
 state of pure nature. Fanciful people 
 may talk of a mythology being amongst 
 them ; but it must be invention. They 
 have once had religion, which has been 
 gradually debased. And what account of 
 their religion can you suppose to be 
 learnt from savages'? Only consider, sir, 
 our own state : our religion is in a book ; 
 we have an order of men whose duty it 
 is to teach it, we have one day in the 
 week set apart for it, and this is in gene- 
 ral pretty well observed : yet ask the 
 first ten gross men you meet, and hear 
 what they can tell you of their religion." 
 
 On Monday, April 29, he and I made 
 an excursion to Bristol, where I was en- 
 tertained with seeing him inquire upon 
 the spot, into the authenticity of " Row- 
 ley's poetry," as I had seen him inquire 
 upon the spot into the authenticity of 
 " Ossian's poetry." George Catcot, the 
 pewterer, who was as zealous for Rowley 
 as Hugh Blair was for Ossian (I trust 
 my Reverend friend will excuse the com- 
 parison), attended us at our inn, and 
 with a triumphant air of lively sim- 
 plicity called out, " I'll make Dr. John^ 
 son a convert." Dr. Johnson, at his 
 desire, read aloud some of Chatterton's 
 fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at 
 the back of his chair, moving himself 
 like a pendulum, and beating time with 
 his feet, and now and then looking into 
 Dr. Johnson's face, wondering that he 
 was not yet convinced. We called on 
 Mr. Barret, the surgeon, and saw some 
 of the originals, as they were called, 
 which were executed very artificially ; 
 but from a careful inspection of them, 
 and a consideration of the circumstances 
 with which they were attended, we were 
 quite satisfied of the imposture, which, 
 indeed, has been clearly demonstrated 
 from internal evidence by several able 
 criticksf. 
 
 Honest Catcot seemed to pay no atten- 
 tion whatever to any objections, but in- 
 
 t Mr. Tyrwhitt, Mr. Warton, Mr. Malone. 
 
330 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 sisted, as an end of all controversy, that 
 we should go with him to the tower of 
 the church of St. Mary, Redclitt, and 
 view with our own eyes the ancient 
 chest in which the manuscripts were 
 found. To this Dr. Johnson good na- 
 turedly agreed ; and though troubled 
 with a shortness of breathing, laboured 
 up a long flight of steps, till we came 
 to the place where the wondrous chest 
 stood. *' There (said Catcot, with a 
 bouncing contident credulity), there is 
 the very chest itself." After this ocular 
 demonstration, there was no more to be 
 said. He brought to my recollection a 
 Scotch Highlander, a man of learning 
 too, and who had seen the world, attest- 
 ing, and at the same time giving his 
 reasons for the authenticity of Fingal : — 
 ** I have heard all that poem when I 
 was young." — " Have you, sir? Pray 
 what have you heard ?" — " I have heard 
 Ossian, Oscar, and every one of thetn." 
 
 Johnson said of Chatterton, " This is 
 the most extraordinary young man that 
 has encountered my knowledge. It is 
 wonderful how the whelp has written 
 such things." 
 
 We were by no means pleased with 
 our inn at Bristol. " Let us see now 
 (said I), how we should describe it." 
 Johnson was ready with his raillery. 
 " Describe it, sir? — Why, it was so bad 
 that Boswell wished to be in Scot- 
 land!" 
 
 After Dr. Johnson's return to London, 
 I was several times with him at his house, 
 where I occasionally slept, in the room 
 that had been assigned for me. I dined 
 with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General 
 Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To 
 avoid a tedious minuteness, I shall group 
 together what I have preserved of his 
 conversation during this period also, with- 
 out specifying each scene where it passed, 
 except one, which will be found so re- 
 markable as certainly to deserve a very 
 particular relation. Where the place or 
 the persons do not contribute to the zest 
 of the conversation, it is unnecessary to 
 encumber my page with mentioning them. 
 To know of what vintage our wine is, 
 enables us to judge of its vahie and to 
 drink it with more relish : but to have 
 the produce of each vine of one vine- 
 yard, in the same year, kept separate, 
 would serve no purpose. To know that 
 our wine (to use an advertising phrase) 
 is ** of the stock of an ambassadour 
 lately deceased " heightens its flavour : 
 but it signities nothlni; to know the 
 bin where each bottle was once depo- 
 sited. 
 
 *' Garrick (he observed) does not play 
 the part of Archer in * The Beaux Stra- 
 tagem ' well. The gentleman should 
 
 break out through the footman, which is 
 not the case as he does it." 
 
 " Where there is no education, as in 
 savage countries, men will have the up- 
 per hand of women. Bodily strength, no 
 doubt, contributes to this ; but it would 
 be so, exclusive of that ; for it is mind 
 that always governs. When it comes to 
 dry understanding, man has the better." 
 
 " The little volumes entitled ' Respub- 
 licce,' which are very well done, were a 
 bookseller's work." 
 
 " There is much talk of the misery 
 which we cause to the brute creation ; 
 but they are recompensed by existence. 
 If they were not useful to man, and 
 therefore protected by him, they would 
 not be nearly so numerous." This argu- 
 ment is to be found in the able and be- 
 nignant Hutchinson's " Moral Philoso- 
 phy." But the question is, whether the 
 animals who endure such suff"erings of 
 various kinds, for the service and enter- 
 tainment of man, would accept of exist- 
 ence upon the terms on which they have 
 it. Madame Sevigne, who, though she 
 had many enjoyments, felt with delicate 
 sensibility the prevalence of misery, 
 complains of the task of existence having 
 been imposed upon her without her con- 
 sent. 
 
 " That man is never happy for the 
 present is so true that all his relief from 
 unhappiness is only forgetting himself 
 for a little while. Life is a progress 
 from want to want, not from enjoyment 
 to enjoyment." 
 
 " Though many men are nominally 
 intrusted with the administration of hos- 
 pitals and other publick institutions, al- 
 most all the good is done by one man, 
 by whom the rest are driven on ; owing 
 to confidence in him, and indolence in 
 them." 
 
 " Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his 
 Son, 1 think, might be made a very 
 pretty book. Take out the immorality, 
 and it should be put in the hands of every 
 young gentleman. An elegant manner 
 and easiness of behaviour are acquired 
 gradually and imperceptibly. No man 
 can say, ' I'll be genteel.' There are ten 
 genteel women for one genteel man, be- 
 cause they are more restrained. A man 
 without some <legree of restraint is insuf- 
 ferable; but we are all less restrained 
 than women. Were a woman sitting in 
 company to put out her legs before lier 
 as most men do, we should be tempted 
 to kick them in." No man was a more 
 attentive and nice observer of behaviour 
 in those in whose company he happened 
 to be than Johnson ; or however strange 
 it may seem to many, had a higher esti- 
 mation of its refinements. Lord Eliot 
 informs me, that one day when Johnson 
 
iETAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 and he were at dinner in a gentleman's 
 house in London, upon Lord Chester- 
 field's Letters being mentioned, Johnson 
 surprised the company by this sentence : 
 " Every man of any education would 
 rather be called a rascal than accused of 
 deficiency in the graces." Mr. Gibbon, 
 who was present, turned to a lady who 
 knew Johnson well, and lived much with 
 him, and in his quaint manner, tapping 
 his box, addressed her thus : " Don't 
 you think, madam (looking towards John- 
 son), that among all your acquaintance 
 you could find one exception?" — The 
 lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce. 
 
 " I read (said he) Sharpe's Letters on 
 Italy over again, when I was at Bath. 
 There is a great deal of matter in them." 
 
 " Mrs. Williams was angry that 
 Thrale's family did not send regularly 
 to her every time they heard from me 
 while I was in the Hebrides. — Little 
 people are apt to be jealous: but they 
 should not be jealous ; for they ought to 
 consider that superiour attention will 
 necessarily be paid to superiour fortune 
 or rank. Two persons may have equal 
 merit, and on that account may have 
 an equal claim to attention ; but one of 
 them may have also fortune and rank, 
 and so may have a double claim." 
 
 Talking of his notes on Shakspeare, he 
 said, " I despise those who do not see 
 that I am right in the passage where as 
 is repeated, and 'asses of great charge' 
 introduced. That on ' to be, or not to 
 be,' is disputable*." 
 
 A gentleman, whom I found sitting 
 with him one morning, said, that in his 
 opinion the character of an infidel was 
 more detestable than that of a man no- 
 toriously guilty of an atrocious crime. 
 I dittered from him, because we are 
 surer of the odiousness of the one than 
 of the errour of the other. Johnson. 
 ** Sir, I agree with him ; for the infidel 
 would be guilty of any crime, if he were 
 inclined to it." 
 
 " Many thiugs which are false are 
 transmitted from book to book, and gain 
 credit in the world. One of these is the 
 cry against the evil of luxury. Now the 
 truth is, that luxury produces much good. 
 Take the luxury of buildings in London. 
 Does it not produce real advantage in 
 the conveniency and elegance of accom- 
 modation, and this all from the exertion 
 of industry? People will tell you, with 
 a melancholy face, how many builders 
 
 * It may be obseived, that Mr. Malone, in 
 his very valuable edition of Sliakspefire, ha?! 
 fully vindicated Dr. Johnson from the idle 
 censures whicii the first of these notes has 
 puen rise to. The interpretation of the other 
 passage, wliich Dr. Johnson allows to be dis- 
 putable, he has clearly shown to be errone- 
 
 331 
 
 are in gaol. It is plain they are in gaol, 
 not for building ; for rents are not fallen. 
 — A man gives half a guinea for a dish of 
 green peas; How much gardening does 
 (his occasion? how many labourers must 
 the competition to have such things early 
 in the niarket keep in employment? 
 You will hear it said very gravely, 
 ' Why was not the half-guinea, thus 
 spent in luxury, given to the poor? To 
 how many might it have afforded a good 
 meal.' Alas! has it not gone to the in- 
 dustrious poor, whom it is better to 
 support than the idle poor? You are 
 much surer that you are doing good when 
 you pay money to those who work, as 
 the recompense of their labour, than 
 when you give money merely in charity. 
 Suppose the ancient luxury of a dish of 
 peacock's brains were to be revived, how 
 many carcasses would be left to the poor 
 at a cheap rate : and as to the rout that 
 is made about people who are ruined by 
 extravagance, it is no matter to the na- 
 tion that some individuals suffer. When 
 so much general productive exertion is 
 the consequence of luxury, the nation 
 does not care though there are debtors in 
 gaol : nay, they would not care though 
 their creditors were there too." 
 
 The uncommon vivacity of General 
 Oglethorpe's mind, and variety of know- 
 ledge, having sometimes made his con- 
 versation seem too desultory, Johnson 
 observed, " Oglethorpe, sir, never com- 
 pletes what he has to say." 
 
 He on the same account made a similar 
 remark on Patrick Lord Eli bank : •' Sir, 
 there is nothing coiiclusive in his talk." 
 
 When I complained of having dined 
 at a splendid table without hearing one 
 sentence of conversation worthy of being 
 remembered, he said, " Sir, there sel- 
 dom is any such convetsation." Bos- 
 well. "Why then meet at table ?'» 
 Johnson. " Why to eat and drink toge- 
 ther, and to promote kindness ; and, sirj 
 this is better done when there is no solid 
 conversation ; for when there is, people 
 differ in opinion and get into bad hu- 
 mour, or some of the company who are 
 not capable of such conversation are left 
 out, and feel themselves uneasy. It was 
 for this reason Sir Robert Walpole said 
 he alvvays talketl bawdy at his table, be- 
 cause in that all could join." 
 
 Being irritated by hearing a gentleman 
 ask Mr. Levett a variety of questions 
 concerning him, when he was sitting by, 
 he broke out, " Sir, you have but two 
 topicks, yourself and me. I am sick of 
 both." <' A man (said he) should not 
 talk of himself, nor much of any parti- 
 cular person. He should take care not 
 to be made a proverb; and, therefore, 
 should avoid having any one topick of 
 
332 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 which people can say, * We shall hear 
 liiin upon it.' There was a Dr. Oldfield, 
 who was always talking of the Duke ot 
 Marlborough. He came into a coffee- 
 house one day, and told that his Gr^ce 
 had spoken in the House of Lords for 
 half an hour. ' Did he indeed speak for 
 half an hour?' (said Belchier, the sur- 
 geon.) — 'Yes.' — 'And what did he say 
 of Dr. Oldfield ?'— ' Nothing.'—' Why 
 then, sir, he was very ungrateful ; for 
 Dr. Oldfield could not have spoken for 
 a quarter of an hour without saying some- 
 thing of him.' " 
 
 " Every man is to take existence on 
 the terms on which it is given to him. 
 To some men it is given on condition of 
 not taking liberties, which other men 
 may take without much harm. One may 
 drink wine, and be nothing the worse for 
 it ; on another, wine may have effects 
 so inflammatory as to injure him both in 
 body and mind, and perhaps make him 
 commit something for which he may 
 deserve to be hanged." 
 
 " Lord Hailes's ' Annals of Scotland' 
 have not that painted form which is the 
 taste of this age; but it is a book which 
 will always sell, it has such a stability 
 of dates, such a certainty of facts, and 
 such a punctuality of citation. I never 
 before read Scotch history with cer- 
 tainty." 
 
 I asked him whether he would advise 
 me to read the Bible with a commentary 
 and what commentaries he would re- 
 commend. Johnson. " To be sure, sir, 
 I wotild have you read the Bible with a 
 commentary ; and I would recommend 
 Lowth and JPatrick on the Old Testa- 
 ment, and Hammond on the New." 
 
 During my stay in London this spring, 
 I solicited his attention to another law 
 case, in which I was engaged. In the 
 course of a contested election for the 
 BoroughofDumfermline, which I attend 
 ed as one of my friend Colonel (after 
 wards Sir Archibald) Campbell's coun 
 sel ; one of his political agents, who was 
 charged with having been unfaithful to 
 his employer, and having deserted to the 
 opposite party for a pecuniary reward — 
 attacked very rudely in a newspaper the 
 Reverend Mr. James Thomson, one of 
 the ministers of that place, on account of 
 a supposed allusion to him in one of his 
 sermons. Upon this the minister, on a 
 subsequent Sunday, arraigned him by 
 name from the pulpit with some seve- 
 rity ; and the agent, after the sermon 
 was over, rose up and asked the minis- 
 ter aloud, " What bribe he had received 
 for telling so many lies from the chair of 
 verity." I was present at this very extra- 
 ordinary scene. The person arraigned, 
 and his father and brother, who also had 
 
 a share both of the reproof from the pulpit 
 and in the retaliation, brought an action 
 against Mr. Thomson, in the Court of 
 Session, for defamation and damages, 
 and I was one of the counsel for the re- 
 verend defendant. The lAberty of the 
 pulpit was our great ground of defence ; 
 but we argued also on the provocation of 
 the previous attack, and on the instant 
 retaliation. The Court of Session, how- 
 ever — the fifteen Judges, who are at the 
 same time the Jury, decided against the 
 minister, contrary to my humble opi- 
 nion ; and several of them expressed 
 themselves with indignation against him. 
 He was an aged gentleman, formerly a 
 military chaplain, and a man of high 
 spirit and honour. Johnson was satisfied 
 that the judgment was wrong, and dic- 
 tated to me the following argument in 
 confutation of it : 
 
 " Of the censure pronounced from the 
 pulpit, our determination must be formed, 
 as in other cases, by a consideration of 
 the act itself, and the particular circum- 
 stances with which it is invested. 
 
 " The right of censure and rekuke 
 seems necessarily appendant to the pas- 
 toral office. He, to whom the care of a 
 congregation is intrusted is considered as 
 the shepherd of a flock, as the teacher of 
 a school, as the father of a family. As 
 a shepherd tending not his own sheep, 
 but those of his master, he is answerable 
 for those that stray, and that lose them- 
 selves by straying. But no man can be 
 answerable for losses which he has not 
 power to prevent, or for vagrancy which 
 he has not authority to restrain. 
 
 "As a teacher giving instruction for 
 wages, and liable to reproach, if those 
 whom he undertakes to inform make no 
 proficiency, he must have the power of 
 enforcing attendance, of awakening neg- 
 ligence, and repressing contradiction. 
 
 " As a father, he possesses the paternal 
 authority of admonition, rebuke, and 
 punishment. — He cannot, without re- 
 ducing his ofllce to an empty name, be 
 hindered from the exercise of any prac- 
 tice necessary to stimulate the idle, to 
 reform the vicious, to check the petulant, 
 and correct the stubborn. 
 
 " If we inquire into the practice of the 
 primitive church, we shall, I believe, 
 tind the ministers of the word exercising 
 the whole authority of this complicated 
 character. We shall find them not only 
 encouraging the good by exhortation, but 
 terrifying the wicked by reproof and de- 
 nunciation. In the earliest ages of the 
 Church, while religion was yet pure from 
 secular advantages, the punishment of 
 sinners was piiblick censure and open 
 penance; penalties inflicted merely by 
 eccleBiastical authority, at a time while 
 
^TAT. 67. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 the church had yet no help from the civil 
 power, while the hand of the magistrate 
 lifted the rod of persecution, and when 
 governours were ready to afford a refuge 
 to all those who fled from clerical autho- 
 rity. 
 
 " That the Church, therefore, had once 
 a power of publick censure is evident, 
 because that power was frequently exer- 
 cised. That it borrowed not its power 
 from the civil authority is likewise cer- 
 tain, because civil authority was at that 
 time its enemy. 
 
 ** The hour came at length, when, after 
 three hundred years of struggle and dis- 
 tress, Truth took possession of imperial 
 power, and the civil laws lent their aid 
 to the ecclesiastical constitutions. The 
 magistrate from that time cooperated 
 with the priest, and clerical sentences 
 were made efficacious by secular force. 
 But the State, when it came to the assist- 
 ance of the Church, had no intention to 
 diminish its authority. Those rebukes 
 and those censures which were lawful 
 before were lawful still. But they had 
 hitherto operated only upon voluntary 
 submission. The refractory and con- 
 temptuous were at first in no danger of 
 temporal severities, except what they 
 might suffer from the reproaches of con- 
 science or the detestation of their fellow 
 Christians. When religion obtained the 
 support of law, if admonitions and cen- 
 sures had no effect, they were seconded 
 by the magistrates with coercion and 
 punishment. 
 
 " It therefore appears from ecclesias- 
 tical history that the right of inflicting 
 shame by publick censure has been 
 always considered as inherent in the 
 Church ; and that this right was not 
 conferred by the civil power ; for it was 
 exercised when the civil power operated 
 against it. By the civil power it was 
 never taken away ; for the Christian 
 magistrate interposed his office, not to 
 rescue sinners from censure, but to sup 
 ply more powerful means of reforma 
 tion ; to add pain where shame was 
 insufficient; and when men were pro 
 claimed unworthy of the society of the 
 faithful, to restrain them by imprison 
 ment from spreading abroad the conta 
 gion of wickedness. 
 
 ** It is not improbable that from this 
 acknowledged power of publick censure 
 grew in time the practice of auricular 
 confession. Those who dreaded the blast 
 of publick reprehension were willing to 
 submit themselves to the priest, by a 
 private accusation of themselves ; and to 
 obtain a reconciliation with the Church 
 by a kind of clandestine absolution and 
 invisible penance : conditions with which 
 the priest would, in times of ignorance 
 
 S33 
 
 and corruption, easily comply, as they 
 increased his influence, by adding the 
 knowledge of secret sins to that of noto- 
 rious offences ; and enlarged his autho- 
 rity, by making him the sole arbiter of 
 the terms of reconcilement. 
 
 *' From this bondage the Reformation 
 set us free. The minister has no longer 
 power to press into the retirements of 
 conscience, to torture us by interrogato- 
 ries, or put himself in possession of our 
 secrets and our lives. But though we 
 have thus controlled his usurpations, his 
 just and original power remains unim- 
 paired. He may still see, though he may 
 not pry ; he may yet hear, though he may 
 not question. And that knowledge which 
 his eyes and ears force upon him it is still 
 his duty to use, for the benefit of his 
 flock. A father, who lives near a wicked 
 neighbour, may forbid a son to frequent 
 his company. A minister, who has in 
 his congregation a man of open and 
 scandalous wickedness, may warn his 
 parishioners to shun his conversation. 
 To warn them is not only lawful, but 
 not to warn them would be criminal. He 
 may warn them one by one in friendly 
 converse, or by a parochial visitation. 
 But if he may warn each man singly, 
 what shall forbid him to warn them all 
 together? Of that which is to be made 
 known to all, how is there any difference 
 whether it be communicated to each 
 singly or to all together? What is known 
 to all must necessarily be publick, whe- 
 ther it shall be publick at once, or pub- 
 lick by degrees, is the only question. 
 And of a sudden and solemn publication 
 the impression is deeper, and the warning 
 more effectual. 
 
 '* It may easily be urged, if a minister 
 be thus left at liberty to delate sinners 
 from the pulpit, and to publish at will 
 the crimes of a parishioner, he may 
 often blast the innocent and distress the 
 timorous. He may be suspicious, and 
 condemn without evidence; he may be 
 rash, and judge without examination ; he 
 may be severe, and treat slight offences 
 with too much harshness ; he may be 
 malignant and partial, and gratify his 
 private interest or resentment under the 
 shelter of his pastoral character. 
 
 " Of all this there is possibility, and 
 of all this there is danger. But if possi- 
 bility of evil be to exclude good, no good 
 ever can be done. If nothing is to be 
 attempted in which there is danger, we 
 must all sink into hopeless inactivity. 
 The evils that may be feared from this 
 practice arise not from any defect in the 
 institution, but from the infirmities of 
 human nature. Power, in whatever 
 hands it is placed, will be sometimes 
 improperly exerted ; yet courts of law 
 
334 THE LIFE OF 
 
 must judge, though they will sometimes 
 judge amiss. A father must instruct his 
 children, though he himself may often 
 want instruction. A minister must cen- 
 sure sinners, though his censure may be 
 sometimes erroneous by want of judg- 
 ment, and sometimes unjust by want of 
 honesty. 
 
 " If we examine the circumstances of 
 the present case, we shall find the sen- 
 tence neither erroneous nor unjust ; we 
 shall find no breach of private confi- 
 dence, no intrusion into secret transac- 
 tions. The fact was notorious and indu- 
 bitable ; so easy to be proved that no 
 proof was desired. The act was base 
 and treacherous, the perpetration inso- 
 lent and open, and the example naturally- 
 mischievous. The minister, however, 
 being retired and recluse, had not yet 
 heard what was publickly known through- 
 out the parish ; and on occasion of a 
 publick election, warned his people, ac- 
 cording to his duty, against the crimes 
 which publick elections frequently pro- 
 duce. His warning was felt by one of 
 his parishioners, as pointed particularly 
 at iiimself. But instead of producing, as 
 might be wished, private compunction 
 and immediate reformation, it khidled 
 only rage and resentment. He charged 
 his minister, in a publick paper, with 
 scandal, defamation, and falsehood. The 
 minister, thus reproached, had his own 
 character to vindicate, upon which his 
 pastoral authority must necessarily de- 
 pend. To be charged with a defamatory 
 lie is an injury which no man patiently 
 endures in common life. To be charged 
 with polluting the pastoral office with 
 scandal and falsehood was a violation 
 of character still more atrocious, as it 
 atTected not only his personal but his 
 clerical veracity. His indignation natu- 
 rally rose in proportion to his honesty, 
 and with all the fortitude of injured ho- 
 nesty, he dared his calumniator in the 
 church, and at once exonerated himself 
 from censure, and rescued his flock fi oni 
 deception and from danger. The man 
 whom he accuses pretends not to be in- 
 nocent; or at least only preteii(i.>; ; for he 
 declines a trial. The crime of which he 
 is accused has frequent oj)portunities and 
 strong temptations. It has already spread 
 far, with much depravation of private 
 moials aiul niiich injury to publick hap- 
 piiiL.-s. I'o warn tlie people, therefore, 
 a<;aiiist it was not wanton and olhcious, 
 but in<:c>sai\ and pastoral. 
 
 " \\ hat tluii is the fault with which 
 this wortliy inini.-tcr is cliar^d .' He 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 lie ha. exerted 
 
 support (.1 ( 
 opiuiv>ns. 11 
 
 ()iil)lfM! and (( 
 : has not draiiiM' 
 
 a bashful and corrigible sinner. His 
 censure was directed against a breach of 
 morality, against an act which no man 
 justifies. The man who appropriated 
 this censure to himself is evidently and 
 notoriously guilty. His consciousness of 
 his own wickedness incited him t© attack 
 his faithful reprover with open insolence 
 and printed accusations. Such an attack 
 made defence necessary ; and we hope 
 it will be at last decided that the means 
 of defence were just and lawful." 
 
 When I read this to Mr. Burke, 
 he was highly pleased, and exclaimed, 
 " Well ; he does his work in a workman- 
 like manner*." 
 
 Mr. Thomson wished to bring the 
 cause by appeal before the House of 
 Lords, but was dissuaded by the advice 
 of the noble person who lately presided 
 so ably in that Most Honourable House, 
 and who was then Attorney General. 
 As my readeis will no doubt be glad also 
 to read the opinion of this eminent man 
 upon the same subject, I shall here in- 
 sert it. 
 
 Case. 
 " There is herewith laid before you, 
 " 1. Petition for the Reverend Mr. 
 James Thomson, minister of 
 Dumfermline. 
 " 2. Answers thereto. 
 " 3. Copy of the judgment of the 
 
 Court of Session upon both. 
 ** 4. Notes of the opinions of the 
 Judges, being the reasons upon 
 which their decree is grounded. 
 "These papers you will please to pe- 
 ruse, and give your opinion, 
 
 ** Whether there is a probability of 
 the above decree of the Court of 
 Session's being reversed, if Mr. 
 Thomson should appeal from the 
 same?" 
 
 " I uon't think the appeal advisable : 
 not only because tlie value of the judg- 
 ment is in no degree adequate to the 
 expense ; but because there are man}' 
 chances that, upon the general com- 
 plexion of the casis the impression will 
 be taken to tb.e disadvantage of the ap- 
 pellant. 
 
 '' It i- i;npn.Hi 'e lo appr<Ae the style 
 of that -eiinoii. l>i,! ilie cu, plahtt was 
 not less uuL^raeiou? iitu '.lal ui.m, who 
 
 Asa proof of Dr. Joiin-ou's extraordinary 
 powers of composition, il appears from the 
 original manuscript of this excellent disserta- 
 tion, of whicli he dictated the first eiglit para- 
 graphs on tlie lOih of May, and the remamder 
 on the 13th, that there aie in the whole only 
 seven corrections, or rather variations, and 
 those not considerable. Such were at once 
 the vigorous and accurate emanations of his 
 mind. 
 
lErxr. G7. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 SS3 
 
 had behaved so ill by his original libel, 
 and at the time when he received the 
 reproach he complains of. In the last 
 article, all the plaintiffs are equally con- 
 cerned. It struck nie also with some 
 wonder, that the Judges should think so 
 much fervour apposite to the occasion 
 of reproving the defendant for a little 
 excess. 
 
 '* Upon the matter, however, I agree 
 with them in condemning the behaviour 
 of the minister ; and in thinking it a 
 subject fit for ecclesiastical censure ; and 
 even for an action, if any individual could 
 qualify * a wrong, and a damage arising 
 from it. But this I doubt. The circum- 
 stance of publishing the reproach in a 
 pulpit, though extremely indecent and 
 culpable in another view, does not con- 
 stitute a different sort of wrong, or any 
 other rule of law, than would have ob- 
 tained, if the same words had been pro- 
 nounced elsewhere. I don't know whe- 
 ther there be any difference in the law 
 of Scotland, in the definition of slander, 
 before the Commissaries or the Court of 
 Session. The common law of England 
 does not give way to actions for every 
 reproachful word. An action cannot be 
 brought for general damages, upon any 
 words which import less than an offence 
 cognizable bylaw; consequently no ac- 
 tion could have been brought here for 
 the words in question. Both laws admit 
 the truth to be a justification in action 
 for words ; and the law of England does 
 the same in actions for libels. The judg- 
 ment, therefore, seems to me to have 
 been wrong, in that the Court repelled 
 that defence. 
 
 ** E. Thurlow." 
 
 I am now to record a very curious in- 
 cident in Dr. Johnson's Life, which fell 
 under my own observation ; of which 
 pars magna fui, and which I am j)er- 
 suaded will, with the liberal minded, be 
 much to his credit. 
 
 My desire of being acquainted with 
 celebrated men of every description had 
 made me, much about the same time, 
 obtain an introduction to Dr, Samuel 
 Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two 
 men more different could perhaps not be 
 selected out of all mankind. They had 
 even attacked one another with some 
 asperity in their writings ; yet 1 lived in 
 habits of friendship with both. I could 
 fully relish the excellence of each ; for 1 
 have ever delighted in that intellectual 
 
 * It is curious to observe that Lord Thur- 
 low has here, perhaps in compliment to 
 North Britain, made use of a term of the 
 Scotch law, which to an Ensjlish reader may 
 lequire explanation. To qualify a wrong is 
 lo point out and establish it. 
 
 chymistry which can separate good qua- 
 lities from evil in the same person. 
 
 Sir John Pringle, " mine ^own friend 
 and my father's friend," between whom 
 and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to 
 establish an acquaintance, as I respected 
 and lived in intimacy with both of them, 
 observed to me once, very ingeniously, 
 " It is not in friendship as in mathema- 
 ticks, where two things, each equal to 
 a third, are equal between themselves. 
 You agree with Johnson as a middle 
 quality, and you agree with me as a 
 middle quality ; but Johnson and I 
 should not agree." Sir John was not 
 sufticienlly flexible ; so I desisted ; know- 
 ing, indeed, that the repulsion was equally 
 strong on the part of Johnson ; who, I 
 know not from what cause, unless his 
 being a Scotchman, had formed a very 
 erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I 
 conceived an irresistible wish, if possible, 
 to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes 
 together. How to manage it was a nice 
 and difficult matter. 
 
 My worthy booksellers and friends. 
 Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry, at whose 
 hospitable and well covered table I have 
 seen a greater number of literary men 
 than at any other, except that of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, had invited me to 
 meet Mr. Wilkes and some more gentle- 
 men on Wednesday, May 15. " Pray 
 (said I), let us have Dr. Johnson." — 
 " What, with Mr. Wilkes'? not for the 
 world (said Mr. Edward Dilly) : Dr. 
 Johnson would never forgive me."— 
 " Come (said I), if you'll let me nego- 
 tiate for you, I will be answerable that 
 all shall go well." Djlly. " Nay, if 
 you will take it upon you, I am sure 
 1 shall be very happy to see them both 
 here." 
 
 Notwithstanding the high veneration 
 which I entertained for Dr. Johnson, I 
 was sensible that he was sometimes a 
 little actuated by the spirit of contradic- 
 tion, and by means of that I hoped I 
 should gain my point. I was persuaded 
 that if 1 had come upon him with a direct 
 proposal, " Sir, will you dine in com- 
 pany with Jack Wilkes ?" he would have 
 flown into a passion, and would proba- 
 bly have answered, *' Dine with Jack 
 Wilkes, sir ! I'd as soon dine with Jack 
 Ketch t." I therefore, while we were 
 sitting quietly by ourselves at his house 
 in an evening, took occasion to open my 
 plan thus:— ^" Mr. Dilly, sir, sends his 
 respectful compliments to you, and would 
 be happy if you would do him the honour 
 to dine with him on Wednesday next along 
 with me, as I must soon go to Scotland." 
 
 t Tliis has been circulated as if actually 
 said by Johnson; when the truth is, it wa» 
 only snijposed by me. 
 
336 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 Johnson. " Sir, I am obliged to Mr. 
 Dilly. I will wait upon him — " Bos- 
 well. " Provided, sir, I suppose, tliat 
 the company which he is to have, is 
 agreeable to you." Johnson. " What do 
 you mean, sir? What do yon take me 
 for? Do you think I am so ignorant of 
 the world, as to imagine that I am to 
 prescribe to a gentleman what company 
 he is to have at his table V Boswell. 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for wishing to 
 prevent you from meeting people whom 
 you might not like. Perhaps he may 
 have some of what he calls his patriotick 
 friends with him." Johnson. '* Well, 
 sir, and what then? What care /for his 
 patriotick friends ? Poh !" Boswell. 
 ** I should not be surprised to find Jack 
 Wilkes there." Johnson. " And if Jack 
 Wilkes should be there, what is that to 
 me, sir ? My dear friend, let us have no 
 more of this. I am sorry to be angry 
 with you ; but really it is treating me 
 strangely to talk to me as if I could not 
 meet any company whatever, occasion- 
 ally." Boswell. " Pray forgive me, 
 sir : I meant well. But you shall meet 
 whoever comes, for me." Thus I secured 
 him, and told Dilly that he would find 
 him very well pleased to be one of his 
 guests on the day appointed. 
 
 Upon the much expected Wednesday, 
 I called on him about half an hour be- 
 fore dinner, as I often did when we were 
 to dine out together, to see that he was 
 ready in time, and to accompany him. 
 I found him buffeting his books, as upon 
 a former occasion*, covered with dust, 
 and making no preparation for going 
 abroad. *' Hovv is this, sir? (said I.) 
 Don't you recollect that you are to dine 
 at Mr. Dilly's?" Johnson. " Sir, 1 did 
 not think of going to Dilly's : it went out 
 of my head. I have ordered dinner at 
 home with Mrs. Williams." Boswell. 
 •' But, my dear sir, you know you were 
 engaged to Mr. Dilly, and 1 told him so. 
 He will expect you, and will be much 
 disappointed if you don't come." John- 
 son. " You must talk to Mrs. Williams 
 about this." 
 
 Here was a sad dilemma. 1 feared 
 that what I was so confident I had se- 
 cured would yet be frustrated. He had 
 accustomed himself to show Mrs. Wil- 
 liams such a degree of humane attention 
 as frequently imposed some restraint 
 upon him ; and 1 knew that if she should 
 be obstinate, he would not stir. I has- 
 tened down stairs to the blind lady's 
 room, and told her 1 was in great uneasi- 
 ness, ft)r Dr. Johnson had engaged to me 
 to dine this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that 
 he had told me he had forgotten his en- 
 
 * See page 316. 
 
 gagement, and had ordered dinner at 
 home. " Yes, sir (said she, pretty 
 peevishly). Dr. Johnson is to dine at 
 home." — *' Madam (said I), his respect 
 for you is such, that I know he will not 
 leave you unless you absolutely desire it. 
 But as you have so much of his com- 
 pany, I hope you will be good enough to 
 forego it for a day ; as Mr. Dilly is a 
 very worthy man, has frequently had 
 agreeable parties at his house for Dr. 
 Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doc- 
 tor neglects him to day. And then, 
 madam, be pleased to consider my situa- 
 tion ; I carried the message, and I as- 
 sured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to 
 come ; and no doubt he has made a din- 
 ner, and invited a company, and boasted 
 of the honour he expected to have, I 
 shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is 
 not there." She gradually softened to 
 my solicitations, which were certainly as 
 earnest as most entreaties to ladies upon 
 any occasion, and was graciously pleased 
 to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson, 
 " That, all things considered, she thought 
 he should certainly go." I flew back to 
 him, still in dust, and careless of what 
 should be the event, " indifferent in his 
 choice to go or stay ;" but as soon as I 
 had announced to him Mrs. Williams's 
 consent, he roared, " Frank, a clean 
 shirt;" and was very soon dressed. 
 When I had him fairly seated in a hack- 
 ney coach with me, I exulted as much as 
 a fortune hunter who has got an heiress 
 into a postchaise with him to set out for 
 Gretna Green. 
 
 When we entered Mr. Dilly's draw- 
 ing-room, he found himself in the midst 
 of a company he did not know. I kept 
 myself snug and silent, watching how he 
 would conduct himself. I observed him 
 whispering to Mr. Dilly, " Who is that 
 gentleman, sir?" — " Mr. Arthur Lee.'* 
 — Johnson. ** Too, too, too" (under his 
 breath), which was one of his habitual 
 mutterings. Mr. Arthur Lee could not 
 but be very obnoxious to Johnson for he 
 was not only a patriot but an Ameri- 
 can. He was afterwards minister from 
 the United States at the court of Madrid. 
 " And who is the gentleman in lace?" — 
 " Mr. Wilkes, sir," This information 
 confounded him still more; he had some 
 ditljculty to restrain himself, and taking 
 up a book, sat down upon a window-seat 
 and read, or at least kept his eye upon 
 it intently for some time, till he com- 
 posed himself. His feelings, I dare say, 
 were awkward enough. But he no doubt 
 recollected his having rated me for sivp- 
 posing that he could be disconcerted by 
 any conipany, and he, therefore, reso- 
 lutely set himself to behave quite as an 
 easy man (if tiie world, who could adapt 
 
iEXAT. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 337 
 
 himself at once to the disposition and 
 manners of those whom he might chance 
 to meet. 
 
 The cheering sound of " Dinner is upon 
 the table" dissolved his reverie, and we 
 all sat down witiiout any symptom of ill 
 humour. There were present, besides 
 Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Arthur Lee, who 
 was an old companion of mine when he 
 studied physick at Edinburgh, Mr. (now 
 Sir John) Miller, Dr. Lettsom, and Mr. 
 Slater the druggist. Mr. Wilkes placed 
 himself next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved 
 to him with so much attention and polite- 
 ness that he gained upon him insensibly. 
 No man eat more heartily than Johnson, 
 or loved better what was nice and deli- 
 cate. Mr, Wilkes was very assiduous in 
 helping him to some fine veal. " Pray 
 give me leave, sir — It is better here — A 
 little of the brown — Some fat, sir — A 
 little of the stuffing — Some gravy — Let 
 me have the pleasure of giving you some 
 butter — Allow me to recommend a squeeze 
 of this orange;— or the lemon, perhaps, 
 may have more zest." — " Sir, sir, I am 
 obliged to you, sir," cried Johnson, bow- 
 ing, and turning his head to him with a 
 look for some time of " surly virtue*," 
 but, in a short while, of complacency. 
 
 Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, 
 *' He is not a good mimick." One of 
 the company added, ** A merry Andrew, 
 a buffoon." Johnson. " But he has wit 
 to6, and is not deficient in ideas, or in 
 fertility and variety of imagery, and not 
 empty of reading ; he has knowledge 
 enough to fill up his part. One species 
 of wit he has in an eminent degree, that 
 of escape. You drive him into a corner 
 with both hands ; but he's gone, sir, when 
 you think you have got him — like an ani- 
 mal that jumps over your head. Then 
 he has a great range for wit ; he never 
 lets truth stand between him and a jest, 
 and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Gar- 
 rick is under many restraints from which 
 Foote is free." Wilkes. " Garrick's wit 
 is more like Lord Chesterfield's." John- 
 son. " The first time I was in company 
 with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having 
 no good opinion of the fellow, I was 
 resolved not to be pleased ; and it is 
 very difficult to please a man against his 
 will. I went on eating my dinner pretty 
 sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But 
 the dog was so very comical that I was 
 obliged to lay down my knife and fork, 
 throw myself back upon my chair, and 
 fairly laugh it out. No, sir, he was irre- 
 sistible t. He upon one occasion expe- 
 rienced, in an extraordinary degree, the 
 
 * Johnson's " London, a f'oem," v. 145. 
 
 + Foote told me, that Johnson said of him, 
 " For loud, obstreperous, broad-faced mirth, I 
 know not his equal." 
 
 efficacy of his powers of entertaining. 
 Amongst the many and various modes 
 which he tried of getting money, he be- 
 came a partner with a small beer brewer, 
 and he was to have a share of the profits 
 for procuring customers amongst his nu- 
 merous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was 
 one who took his small beer; but it was 
 so bad that the servants resolved not to 
 drink it. They were at some loss how to 
 notify their resolution, being afraid of 
 offending their master, who they knew 
 liked Foote much as a companion. At 
 last they fixed upon a little black boy, 
 who was rather a favourite, to be their 
 deputy, and deliver their remonstrance ; 
 and, having invested him with the whole 
 authority of the kitchen, he was to inform 
 Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, upon 
 a certain day, that they would drink 
 Foote's small beer no longer. On that 
 day Foote Imppened to dine at Fitzher- 
 bert's, and this boy served at table ; he 
 was so delighted with Foote's stones, 
 and merriment, and grimace, that, when 
 he went down stairs, he told them, ' This 
 is the finest man I have ever seen. I will 
 not deliver yoiu' message. I will drink 
 his small beer.' " 
 
 Somebody observed that Garrick could 
 not have done this. Wilkes. *' Garrick 
 would have made the small beer still 
 smaller. He is now leaving the stage ; 
 but he will play Scrub all his life." I 
 knew that Johnson would let nobody 
 attack Garrick but himself, as Garrick 
 said to me, and I had heard him praise 
 his liberality ; so to bring out his com- 
 mendation of his celebrated pupil, I said, 
 loudly, " I have heard Garrick is libe- 
 ral." Johnson. " Yes, sir, I know that 
 Garrick has given away more money 
 than any man in England that I am 
 acquainted with, and that not from osten- 
 tatious views. Garrick was very poor 
 when he began life ; so when he came to 
 have money, he probably was very un- 
 skilful in giving away, and saved when 
 Tie should not. But Garrick began to be 
 liberal as soon as he could ; and I am of 
 opinion, the reputation of avarice which 
 he has had has been very lucky for hinj, 
 and prevented his having had many ene- 
 mies. You despise a man for avarice, 
 but do not hate him. Garrick might 
 have been much better attacked for living 
 with more splendour than is suitable to 
 a player : if they had had the wit to have 
 assaulted him in that quarter, they might 
 have galled him more. But they have 
 kept clamouring about his avarice, which 
 has rescued him from much obloquy and 
 envy." 
 
 Talking of the great difficulty of ob- 
 taining authentick information for bio« 
 graphy, Johnson told us, " When I was 
 
338 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 a young fellow, I wanted to write the 
 ' Life of Dryden ;* and, in order to get 
 materials, I applied to the only two per- 
 sons then alive who had seen him ; these 
 were old Swinney and old Gibber. Swin- 
 ney's information was no more than this, 
 ' That at Will's Coffee-house Dryden had 
 a particular chair for himself, which was 
 set by the fire in winter, and was then 
 called his winter chair ; and that it was 
 carried out for him to the balcony in 
 summer, and was then called his summer 
 chair.' Cibber could tell no more but 
 ' That he remembered him a decent old 
 man, arbiter of critical disputes at Will's.' 
 You are to consider that Cibber was then 
 at a great distance from Dryden, had 
 perhaps one leg only in the room, and 
 durst not draw in the other." Boswell. 
 " Yet Cibber was a man of observation?" 
 Johnson. " I think not." Boswell. 
 "You will allow his 'Apology' to be 
 well done." Johnson. ** Very well done, 
 to be sure, sir. That book is a striking 
 proof of the justice of Pope's remark : 
 
 ' Each mi?ht his several province well com- 
 uiand, 
 
 Would all but stoop to what they under- 
 stand.'" 
 
 Boswell. " And his plays are good." 
 Johnson. " Yes ; but that was his trade ; 
 V esprit du corps: he had been all his 
 life among players and play writers. I 
 wondered that he had so little to say in 
 conversation, for he had kept the best 
 company, and learned all that can be got 
 by the ear. He abused Pindar to me, 
 and then showed me an ode of his own, 
 with an absurd couplet, making a linnet 
 soar on an eagle's wing*. I told him 
 that when the ancients made a simile, 
 they always made it like something 
 real." 
 
 Mr. Wilkes remarked, that " among 
 all the bold flights of Shakspeare's ima- 
 gination, the boldest was making Birnam- 
 wood march to Dunsinane; creating a 
 wood where there never was a shrub ; a 
 wood in Scotland! ha! ha! ha!" And 
 he also observed, that " the clannish 
 slavery of the Highlands of Scotland was 
 the single exception to Milton's remark 
 of * The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liber- 
 ty,' being worshiped in all hilly coun- 
 tries."—" When 1 was at Inverary (said 
 he), on a visit to my old friend, Archi- 
 bald Duke of Argyle, his dependents 
 congratulated me on being such a favou- 
 rite of his Grace? I said, * It is then, 
 gentlemen, truly lucky for me ; for if 1 
 had displeased the Duke, and he had 
 wished it, there is not a Campbell among 
 you but would have been ready to bring 
 
 * See p. 121. 
 
 John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. 
 It would have been only 
 
 * Off with his head ! so much for Aylesbury,^ 
 
 1 was then member for Aylesbury." 
 
 Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes talked of 
 the contested passage in Horace's Art of 
 Poetry, Difficile est propria communia 
 dicere." Mr. Wilkes, according to my 
 note, gave the interpretation thus : ** It 
 is difficult to speak with propriety of 
 common things ; as, if a poet had to 
 speak of Queen Caroline drinking tea, 
 he must endeavour to avoid the vulgarity 
 of cups and saucers." But upon reading 
 my note, he tells me what he meant to 
 say, that the word communia being a 
 Roman law term, signifies here things 
 communis juris, that is to say, what 
 have never yet been treated by any 
 body ; and this appears clearly from 
 what followed, 
 
 liectius Iliacum carmen dediicis in actus 
 Quam si pioferres ignola indiclaque primus.^'' 
 
 You will easier make a tragedy out of 
 the Iliad than on any subject not handled 
 before t. Johnson. " He means that it 
 
 + My very pleasant friend himself, as well 
 as others who remember old stories, will no 
 doubt be surprised when I observe that JoA» 
 Wilkes here shows himself to be of the War- 
 burtonian School. It is nevertheless true, as 
 appears from Dr. Hurd the Bishop of Wor- 
 cester's very elegant commentary and notes 
 on the " Epistola ad Pisones." 
 
 It is necessary to a fair consideration of the 
 question that the whole passage in which the 
 words occur should be kept in view: 
 
 " Si quid inexperlHtn scents committis, et 
 
 audes 
 Personam for mare novam, servetur ad imnm 
 Qualis abmceplo proctsserit, et sibi constet. 
 Difficile est pruprie communia dicere: tuque 
 Reclius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus, 
 Quom si proferres ignola indiclaque pnmus. 
 Publica materies privati juris erit, s% 
 Non circa vilem patulumque morabeiis orhtm, 
 Nee verbum veibo cnrahis reddirt fidus 
 Tnterpres ; nee desilies imitator in urctum 
 Unde pedem proferre pudor vctat ant opeiis 
 Ux." 
 
 The "Commentary*' thus illHstrates it: 
 " But the formation of ouite neio characters 
 is a work of great difficulty and hazard. For 
 here there is no generally leceived and fixed 
 archetype to work after, but every one judges 
 of common ripht arcordin? to the extent and 
 comprehension of his own idea; theiefore he 
 advises to labour and refit old characters and 
 subjects, particidarly those made known and 
 authorized by the practice of Homer and the 
 Epic writers." 
 
 I'he " Noie" is 
 
 " Difficile KST proprie communia dicere." 
 Lambiirs Comment is •' Communia hoc loco 
 appellat Horatius argumenta fabularnm a 
 vullo adhuc tractata: et ita, qua cuivis txpn- 
 sita sunt tt in medio quodammndo positii, 
 quasi vacua et a nentine occupata." And (hat 
 this is the true meaning- of communia is evi- 
 dently fixed by the words iguotu ivitictaqne, 
 
vEtat. 67. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ZS9 
 
 is difficult to appropriate to particular 
 persons qualities which are common to 
 all mankind, as Homer has done." 
 
 Wilkes. " We have no City Poet 
 now : that is an office which has gone 
 into disuse. The last was Elkanah Set- 
 tle. There is something in names which 
 one cannot help feeling. Now Elkanah 
 Settle sounds so queer, who can expect 
 much from that name'? We should have 
 no hesitation to give it for John Dryden, 
 in preference to Elkanah Settle, from 
 the names only, vi'ithout knowing their 
 different merits." Johnson. ** I suppose, 
 sir, Settle did as well for Aldermen in 
 his time as John Home could do now. 
 Where did Beckford and Trecothick learn 
 English ?" 
 
 Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch 
 who had taken possession of a barren 
 part of America, and wondered why 
 they should choose it. Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, all barrenness is comparative. The 
 Scotch would not know it to be barren." 
 
 which are explanatory of it; so that the sense 
 given it in the commentary is unquestionably 
 the right one. Yet, notwithstanding the clear- 
 ness o? the case, a late critick has iTiis strange 
 passag^e : " Difficile qiddem esse proprie com- 
 tnunia dicere, hoc est, mateiiam vnlgarem, 
 tiolam et e medio petitam, ita iinmntare at- 
 qne exornare, ut nova et scriptori propria 
 videatur, ultro roncedimus ; et maximt procnl 
 dxihio ponderis ista est observatio. Sed omni- 
 bus utringue collatis, et turn difficilis turn 
 venusti, tarn judicii quam iitgenii ratione ha- 
 bita, major videtur esse gloria fabulam for- 
 mare penitus novum, quam veterem, utcunque 
 mutalam, de novo exhibere.''^ (Poet. Prael. 
 V. ii. p. 164). Where havinsr fir^t put a wrong 
 construction on the word cbmmunia, he em- 
 ploys it to introduce an impertinent criticism. 
 For where dots the poet prefer the glory of 
 refuting old subjects to that of inventing new 
 ones? The contrary is implied in what he 
 urges about the superioiir difficulty of the 
 latter, from which he dissuades his country- 
 men, only in respect of their abilities and 
 inexperience in these matters; and in order 
 to cultivate in them, which is the main view 
 of the Epistle, a spirit of correctness, by send- 
 ing them to the old subjects treated by the 
 Greek writers. 
 
 For my own part (with all deference for 
 Dr. Hard, who thinks the case clear), I con- 
 sider the passage, " Difficile est proprie coni- 
 munia dicere," to be a cruv for the criiicks 
 on Horace. 
 
 The explication which my Lord of Worces- 
 ter treats with so much contempt is neverthe- 
 less countenanced by authority which 1 find 
 quoted by the learned Baxter in his edition 
 of Horace, " Difficile est proprie comniunio 
 dicere, h. e. res vulsraies di^eriis verbis 
 eniiarrare, vel humile ihema cum dignitate 
 tractate. Difficile est communes res propriis 
 cxpUcare reikis. Vet. Schol." I was niiicli 
 disappointed to find that the great critick, 
 Dr. Bentley, has no note upon this very diffi- 
 cult passage, as from his vigorous and ilhinii- 
 naie niiuil I .■•hould have expected to receive 
 more satisfaction than 1 have yet had. 
 
 Satiadon thus treats of it: ♦' Proprie com- 
 ninnia dicere; c*est a dire, qu'ilu^est pas aise 
 de former a ces pcrsonnuges dHynagination, 
 
 B0SWE1.L. ** Come, come, he is flattering 
 the English. You have now been in 
 Scotland, sir, and say if you did not see 
 meat and drink enough there." John- 
 son. *' Why yes, sir ; meat and drink 
 enough to give the inhabitants sufficient 
 strength to run away from home." All 
 these quick and lively sallies were said 
 sportively, quite in jest, and with a smile, 
 which showed that he meant only wit. 
 Upon this topick he and Mr. Wilkes 
 could perfectly assimilate ; here was a 
 bond of union between them ; and I was 
 conscious that, as both of them had vi- 
 sited Caledonia, both were fully satisfied 
 of the strange narrow ignorance of those 
 who imagine that it is a land of famine. 
 But they amused themselves with per- 
 severing in the old jokes. When I 
 claimed a superiority for Scotland over 
 England in one respect, that no man can 
 be arrested there for a debt merely be- 
 cause another swears it against him ; but 
 there must first be the judgment of a 
 
 des caracteres particuliers et cependant vrai- 
 semblables. C.omme Von a ete le mailre de les 
 former tels qu'o7i a voulu, les f antes que Von 
 fail en cela sont mains pardonnables. (J^e&t 
 pourquoi Horace conseille de prendre tovjonrs 
 des SHJets connus, tels (fiie sont, par exempie, 
 ceux que Pon pent lirer des puemes d^Ho- 
 niere.'^ 
 
 And Dacier observes upon it : " Apres avoir 
 marque les deux qualites quHlfaut donner aux 
 perso7inages qu^on inveute, il conseille aux 
 Poetes tragiques, de n^user pas trap facile- 
 ment de cette liberie qu'ils ont d'en inventeVf 
 car il est tres difficile de reusiir dans ces nou- 
 veaux caracteres. II at mal aise, dit Horace, 
 de trailer proprement, c^est a dire convenable- 
 ment, des sujets communs : c^est a dire, des 
 sujets inventes, et qui n^ont ancnu fondement 
 ni dans VHistoire ni dans la Fable; et il les 
 appeile communs, parce quHls sont en dispo- 
 sition a tout le monde, et que tout le monde a 
 le droit de les invent er, et quails sont, com me 
 on dit, an premier occupant.'* See his obser- 
 vations at large on this expression and the 
 following. 
 
 After all, I cannot help entertaining some 
 doubt whether the words, " Difficile est pro- 
 prie communia dicere, may not have been 
 thrown in by Horace to form aseparale article 
 in a " choice of difficulties" which a poet has 
 to encounter who chooses a new subject ; in 
 which case it must be uncertain whicn of the 
 various explanations is the true one, and 
 every reader has a riaht to decide as it may 
 strike his own fancy.' And even should the 
 words be understood, as they generally are, 
 to be connected both with what goes before 
 and what comes after, the exact sense can- 
 not be absolutely ascertained; for instance, 
 whether proprie is meant to signify in an 
 appropriated manner, as Dr. Johnson here 
 understands it, or, as it is often used by 
 ("icero, with propriety, or elegantly. In short, 
 it is a rare instance of a defect in perspicuity 
 in an admir<tble writer, who with almost every 
 species of excellence, is peculiarly remarkable 
 for that quality. The length of this note per- 
 haps requires an apology. Many of my read- 
 ers, 1 doubt not, will admit that a critical 
 di>cussion of a passage in a favourite classick 
 is very engaging. 
 
340 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 court of law ascertaining its justice ; and 
 that a seizure of the person, before judg- 
 ment is obtained, can take place only if 
 his creditor should swear that he is about 
 to fly from the country, or, as it is tech- 
 nically expressed, is in meditatione 
 fugcB. Wilkes. "That, I should think, 
 may be safely sworn of all the Scotch 
 nation." Johnson. (To Mr. Wilkes) 
 ** You must know, sir, I lately took my 
 friend Boswell, and showed him genuine 
 civilized life in an English provincial 
 town. I turned him loose at Lichfield, 
 my native city, that he might see for 
 once real civility : for you know he lives 
 among savages in Scotland and among 
 rakes in London." W^ilkes. " Except 
 when he is with grave, sober, decent 
 people, like you and me." Johnson, 
 (smiling). " And we ashamed of him." 
 
 They were quite frank and easy. John- 
 son told the story of his asking Mrs. 
 Macaulay to allow her footman to sit 
 down with them, to prove the ridicu- 
 lousness of the argument for the equality 
 of mankind ; and he said to me after- 
 wards, with a nod of satisfaction, ** You 
 saw Mr. Wilkes acquiesced." Wilkes 
 talked with all imaginable freedom of 
 the ludicrous title given to the Attorney- 
 General, Diaholus Regis ; adding, ** I 
 have reason to know something about 
 thatoflficer; for I was prosecuted for a 
 libel." Johnson, who many people would 
 have supposed must have been furiously 
 angry at hearing this talked of so lightly, 
 said not a word. He was now, indeed, 
 a good humoured fellow." 
 
 After dinner we had an accession of 
 Mrs. Knowles, the Quaker lady, well 
 known for her various talents, and of 
 Mr. Alderman Lee. Amidst some pa- 
 triotick groans, somebody (I think the 
 Alderman) said, " Poor Old England is 
 lost." Johnson. " Sir, it is not so much 
 to be lamented that Old England is lost, 
 as that the Scotch have found it*." 
 Wilkes. " Had Lord Bute governed 
 Scotland only, I should not have taken 
 the trouble to write his eulogy, and dedi- 
 cate ' Mortimeu' to him." 
 
 Mr. Wilkes held a candle to show a 
 iMie print of a beautiful female figure 
 wljich hung in the room, and pointed out 
 the elegant contour of the bosom with the 
 finger of an arch connoisseur. He after- 
 wards in a conversation with me wag- 
 gishly insisted that all the time Johnson 
 showed visible signs of a fervent admira- 
 tion of the corresponding charms of the 
 fair Quaker. 
 
 This record, though by no means so 
 perfect as I could wish, will serve to 
 
   It would not hecome me to expatiate on 
 tliiH s(ron<f and pointed remark, in which a 
 ^fcry great deal of meaning is condensed. 
 
 give a notion of a very curious inter- 
 view, which was not only pleasing at the 
 time, but had the agreeable and benig- 
 nant effect of reconciling any animosity 
 and sweetening any acidity which, in the 
 various bustle of political contest, had 
 been produced in the minds of two men, 
 who, though widely different, had so 
 many things in common — classical learn- 
 ing, modern literature, wit and humour, 
 and ready repartee — that it would have 
 been much to be regretted if they had 
 been for ever at a distance from each 
 other. 
 
 Mr. Burke gave me much credit for 
 this successful negotiation; and plea- 
 santly said, " that there was nothing 
 equal to it in the whole history of the 
 Corps Diplomatique.*' 
 
 1 attended Dr. Johnson home, and had 
 the satisfaction to hear him tell Mrs. Wil- 
 liams how much he had been pleased with 
 Mr. Wilkes's company, and what an 
 agreeable day he had passed. 
 
 I talked a good deal to him of the cele- 
 brated Margaret Caroline Rudd, whom 
 I had visited, induced by the fame of her 
 talents, address, and irresistible power of 
 fascination. To a lady who disapproved 
 of my visiting her, he said, on a former 
 occasion, " Nay, madam, Boswell is in 
 the right ; I should have visited her my- 
 self, were it not that they have now a 
 trick of putting every thing into the news- 
 papers." This evening he exclaimed, *• I 
 envy him his acquaintance with Mrs. 
 Rudd." 
 
 I mentioned a scheme which I had of 
 making a tour to the Isle of Man, and 
 giving a full account of it; and that 
 Mr. Burke had playfully suggested as a 
 motto, 
 
 " The prop< r study of mankind is Man." 
 
 Johnson. " Sir, you will get more by 
 the book than the jaunt will cost you ; 
 so you will have your diversion for no- 
 thing, and add to your reputation." 
 
 On the evening of the next day I took 
 leave of him, being to set out for Scot- 
 land. I thanked him with great warmth 
 for all his kindness. " Sir (said he), you 
 are very welcome. Nobody repays it 
 with more." 
 
 How very false is the notion that has 
 gone round the world of the rough, and 
 passionate, and harsh manners of this 
 great and good man. That he had occa- 
 sional sallies of heat of temper, and that 
 he was sometimes, perhaps, loo " easily 
 provoked" by absurdity and folly, and 
 sometimes too desirous of triumph in 
 colloquial contest, must be allowed. The 
 quickness both of his perception and sen- 
 sibility disposed him to sudden explo- 
 sions of satire : to which his txtiaordiiiaiy 
 
Mtxt. 6r. 
 
 readiness of wit was a strong and almost 
 irresistible incitement. To adopt one of 
 the finest images in Mr. Home's " Dou- 
 glas/' 
 
 - On each glance of thought 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 341 
 
 ralium *. It was a sorry trick to lose it; 
 
 Decision followed, as the thunderbolt 
 Pursues the flash !" 
 
 I admit that the beadle within him was 
 often so eager to apply the lash that the 
 judge had not time to consider the case 
 with sufficient deliberation. 
 
 That he was occasionally remarkable 
 for violence of temper may be granted ; 
 but let us ascertain the degree, and not 
 let it be supposed that he was in a per- 
 petual rage, and never without a club in 
 his hand to knock down every one who 
 approached him. On the contrary, the 
 truth is, that by much the greatest part 
 of his time he was civil, obliging, nay, 
 polite in the true sense of the word ; so 
 much so that many gentlemen who were 
 long acquainted with him never received 
 or even heard a strong expression fronj 
 him. 
 
 The following letters concerning an 
 Epitaph which he wrote for the monu- 
 ment of Dr. Goldsmith, in Westminster 
 Abbey, aftord at once a proof of his un- 
 affected modesty, his carelessness as to 
 his own writings, and of the great respect 
 which he entertained for the taste and 
 judgment of the excellent and eminent 
 person to whom they are addressed : 
 
 *' TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I HAVE been kept away from you I 
 know not well how, and of these vexa- 
 tious hinderances I know not when there 
 will be an end. I therefore send you the 
 poor dear Doctor's epitaph. Read it 
 first yourself; and if you then think it 
 right, show it to the Club. I am, you 
 know, willing to be corrected. If you 
 think any thing much amiss, keep it to 
 yourself till we come together. I have 
 sent two copies, but prefer the card. 
 The dates must be settled by Dr. Percy. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 •' Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' May 16, 1776." 
 
 to the same, 
 "sir, 
 ** Miss Reynolds has a mind to send 
 the Epitaph to Dr. Beattie ; I am very 
 willing, but having no copy, cannot im- 
 mediately recollect it. She tells me you 
 have lost it. Try to recollect, and put 
 down as much as you retain ; you per- 
 haps may have kept what I havedropped. 
 The lines for which I am at a loss are 
 eomethiug of rerum civilium sive natu- 
 
 help me if you can. I am, sir, 
 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "June 2-2, 1776." 
 " The gout grows better, but slowly.** 
 
 It was, I think, after I had left Lon- 
 don in this year, that this Epitaph gave 
 occasion to a Remonstrance to the Mo- 
 narch of Literature, for an account of 
 which I am indebted to Sir William 
 Forbes, of Pitsligo. 
 
 That my readers may have the subject 
 more fully and clearly before them, I 
 shall first insert the Epitaph. 
 
 " Olivarii Goldsmith, 
 
 foet<B, Phys'ici, Hinturici. 
 
 Qui nullum fere scribendi geiins 
 
 Non teligity 
 
 Nullum quod letigif non ornav'U: 
 
 Sive risus essenl movendi, 
 
 Sive laciytnte, 
 
 Aff^ecluum poteus at lenii dominalor : 
 
 Ingenio iublimis, viviaus, verm tills, 
 
 Oratione giandis, niHdus, vtuinliu : 
 
 Hoc mounmento memoiiam coluil 
 
 Sodalium amor, 
 
 Amicorum fides, 
 
 Leclorum veneralio. 
 
 Natus in Iliberuiu Foruia Lougfordiemis, 
 
 In loco cui nomtn Pallas, 
 
 Nov. XXIX. MDCCxxxi; 
 
 EbluncB liltris inslitutus : 
 
 Obiil Londini, 
 
 April. IV. MDCCLxxiv." 
 
 Sir William Forbes writes to me thus : 
 " I enclose the Round Rohin. This.;ew 
 d'esprit took its rise one day at dinner 
 at our friend Sir Joshua Reynolds's. All 
 the company present, except myself, were 
 friends and acquaintance of Dr. Gold- 
 smith. The Epitaph, written for him by 
 Dr. Johnson, became the subject of con- 
 versation, and various emendations were 
 suggested, which it was agreed should be 
 submitted to the Doctor's consideration. 
 — But the question was, who should have 
 the courage to propose them to him ? At 
 last it was hinted, that there could be no 
 way so good as that of a Round Rohin, 
 as the sailors call it, which they make 
 use of when they enter into a conspiracy, 
 so as not to let it be known who puts his 
 name first or last to the paper. This 
 proposition was instantly assented to ; 
 and Dr. Barnard, Dean of Derry, now 
 Bishop of Killaloet, drew up an address 
 to Dr. Johnson on the occasion, replete 
 with wit and humour, but which it was 
 
 * These words nuist have been in the other 
 copy. They are not in that which was pre- 
 feried. 
 
 + [This prelate, who was afterwards trans- 
 lated to the See of Limerick, died at Wimble- 
 don in Surrey, June 7, 1806, in his eightieth 
 year. The original Round Robin remaiiie*! ui 
 his possession; the paper which Sir William 
 Forbes transmitted to Mr. Boswell being only 
 a copy. M.J 
 
342 
 
 THE LfFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 feared the Doctor might think treated 
 the subject with too much levity. Mr. 
 Burke then proposed the address as it 
 stands in the paper in writing, to which 
 I had the honour to officiate as clerk. 
 
 " Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to 
 Dr. Johnson, who received it with much 
 good humour*, and desired Sir Joshua 
 to tell the gentlemen that he would alter 
 tlie Epitaph in any manner they pleased 
 as to the sense of it ; but he would never 
 consent to disgrace the walls of West- 
 minster A hhey with an English inscrip- 
 tion. 
 
 " I consider this Round Robin as a 
 species of literary curiosity worth pre- 
 serving, as it marks, in a certain degree, 
 Dr. Johnson's character." 
 
 My readers are presented with a faith- 
 ful transcript of a paper which I doubt 
 not of their being desirous to see. 
 
 Sir William Forbes's observation is 
 very just. The anecdote now related 
 proves, in the strongest manner, the 
 reverence and awe with which Johnson 
 was regarded by some of the most emi- 
 
 * He however, upon seeing Dr. Warlon's 
 name to the suggestion that the Epitaph 
 should he in Enelish, observed to Sir Joshua, 
 * * I wonder that Joe Warton, a scholar by pro- 
 fession, should he SHch a fool." He said loo, 
 " I slioiild have thoii^^ht Mund Burke would 
 have had more sense." Mr. Langton, who was 
 one of ihe company at Sir Joshua's, like a 
 sturdy scholar, resolutely refused to sign the 
 Round Robin. The Kpitaph is engraved upon 
 Dr. Goldsmith's monument without any alte- 
 ration. At another time, when somebody en- 
 deavoured to argue in favour of its being in 
 English, Johnson said, " The language of the 
 country of which a learned man was a native 
 is not the language fit for his epitaph, which 
 should be in ancient and pernianenl language. 
 Consider, sir, how you should feel were you 
 to find at Rotterdam an epitaph upon Erasmus 
 in Dutch.'"— For my own part, I think it 
 would be best to have Epitaphs written both 
 in a learned language and in the language of 
 the country, so that they might have the ad- 
 vantage of being more universally understooil, 
 and at the same time be secured of classical 
 stability. I cannot, however, but be of opi- 
 nion, that it is not suffirienily discriminative. 
 Applying to Goldsmith equally the epithets < f 
 " Po'ela, Hislorici, Physici,^^ is surely not 
 right; for as to hi/t claim to the last of'ihofe 
 epithets, I have heard Johnson himself say, 
 *' Goldsmith, sir, will give us a very fine book 
 upon the subject; but if he can distinguish a 
 cow from a horse, that, I believe, may he the 
 extent of his knowledge of natural history." 
 His book is indeed an excellent performance, 
 though in some instances he appears to have 
 trusted too much to Bufl'on, who, with all his 
 theoretical ineeniiity and extraordinary elo- 
 quence, I suspect had little actual information 
 in the science on %4hich he wrote so admira- 
 bly. For instance, he tells us that the row 
 theds her horn^ every two years; a most pal- 
 pable errour, which Goldsmith has faitlifnily 
 transferred into his b«iok. It is wonderful that 
 Bufion, who lived so much in the country, at 
 hi<i noble seat, should have fallen into such a 
 blun<ler. I suppose he has confounded the 
 coto with the deer. 
 
 nent men of his time, in various depart- 
 ments, and even by such of them as lived 
 most with him ; while it also confirms 
 what I have again and again inculcated, 
 that he was by no means of that fero- 
 cious and irascible character which has 
 been ignorantly imagined. 
 
 This hasty composition is also to be 
 remarked as one of the thousand in- 
 stances which evince the extraordinary 
 promptitude of Mr. Burke ; who, while 
 he is equal to the greatest things, can 
 adorn the least ; can, with equal facility, 
 embrace the vast and complicated specu- 
 lations of politicks, or the ingenious 
 topicks of literary investigation t. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL. 
 ** MAD\M, 
 
 '* You must not think rae uncivil in 
 omitting to answer the letter with which 
 you favoured me some time ago. I ima- 
 gined it to have been written without 
 Mr. Boswell's knowledge, and therefore 
 supposed the answer to require, what I 
 could not find, a private conveyance. 
 
 " The diflterence with Lord Auchin- 
 leck is now over ; and since young Alex- 
 ander has appeared I hope no more 
 difficulties will arise among you ; for I 
 sincerely wish you all happy. Do not 
 teach the young ones to dislike me, as 
 yon dislike me yourself; but let me at 
 least have Veronica's kindness, because 
 she is my acquaintance. 
 
 ** You will now have Mr. Boswell 
 home ; it is well that you have him ; he 
 has led a wild life. I have taken him 
 to Lichfield, and he has followed Mr. 
 Thrale to Bath. Pray take care of him, 
 and tame him. The only thing in which 
 I have the honour to agree with you is 
 in loving him ; and while we are so 
 much of a mind in a matter of so much 
 importance, our other quarrels will, I 
 hope, produce no great bitterness. 
 " I am, MAUAM, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " May 16, 1776." 
 
 MR. BOSVFELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 *• Edinburgh, June 23, 1776. 
 ** You have formerly complained that 
 my letters were too long. There is no 
 danger of that complaint being made at 
 present ; for I find it difficult for me to 
 write to you at all. [Here an account of 
 having been afflicted with a return of 
 melancholy or bad spirits.] 
 
 " The boxes of books J which you sent 
 
 t Beside this Latin Epitaph, Johnson ho- 
 noured the memory of his friend Goldsmith 
 with a short one in Greek. See p. 247. 
 
 X Upon a settlement oi our account of ex- 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 to me are arrived ; but I have not yet 
 examined the contents. 
 
 *' I send you Mr. Maclaurin's paper 
 for the negro, who claims his freedom in 
 the Court of Session." 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWEI.L. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " These black fits, of which you com- 
 plain, perhaps hurt your memory as well 
 as your imagination. When did I com- 
 plain that your letters vvere too long*? 
 Your last letter, after a very long delay, 
 brought very bad news. [Here a series 
 of reflections upon melancholy, and — 
 what I could not help thinking strangely 
 unreasonable in him who had suffered so 
 much from it himself, — a good deal of 
 severity and reproof, as if it were owing 
 to my own fault, or that I was, perhaps, 
 affecting it from a desire of distinction.] 
 " Read Cheyne's * English Malady ;' 
 but do not let him teach you a foolish 
 notion that melancholy is a proof of 
 acuteness. 
 
 * » * » » 
 
 *' To hear that you have not opened 
 your boxes of books is very offensive. 
 The examination and arrangement of so 
 many volumes might have afforded you 
 an amusement very seasonable at pre- 
 sent, and useful for the whole of life. I 
 am, I confess, very angry that you ma- 
 nage yourself so ill. 
 
 * » » » * 
 
 *' I do not now say any more than that 
 I am, with great kindness and sincerity, 
 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson.'* 
 "July 2, 1776." 
 
 ** It was last year determined by Lord 
 Mansfield, in the court of King's Bench, 
 that a negro cannot be taken out of the 
 kingdom without his ovvn consent." 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MR. BOSWELL. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I MAKE haste to write again, lest my last 
 letter should give you too much pain. If 
 you are really oppressed with overpower- 
 ing and involuntary melancholy, you are 
 to be pitied rather than reproached. 
 * -m * * 
 
 ** Now, my dear Bozzy, let us have 
 done with quarrels and with censure. 
 Let me know whether I have not sent 
 
 penees on a Tour to the Hebrides, there was 
 a balance due to me, which Dr. Johnson 
 chose to discliargre by sending books. 
 
 • Barretti told me that Johnson complained 
 of my writing very long letters to him when 
 i was upon the continent: which was most 
 certainly true; but it seems mv friend did not 
 remember it. 
 
 you a pretty library. There are, per- 
 haps, many books among them which 
 you never need read through ; but there 
 are none which it is not proper for you 
 to know, and sometimes to consult. Of 
 these books, of which the use is only 
 occasional, it is often sufficient to know 
 the contents, that when any question 
 arises, you may know where to look for 
 information. 
 
 " Since I wrote, I have looked over 
 Mr. Maclaurin's plea, and think it excel- 
 lent. How is the suit carried on 1 If by 
 subscription, I commission you to con- 
 tribute, in my name, what is proper. 
 Let nothing be wanting in such a case. 
 Dr. Drummondf, I see, is superseded. 
 His father would have grieved; but he 
 lived to obtain the pleasure of his son's 
 election, and died before that pleasure 
 was abated. 
 
 " Langton's lady has brought him a 
 girl, and both are well ; I dined with him 
 the other day. 
 
 # * « * * 
 
 ** It vexes me to tell you that on the 
 evening of the 29th of May I was seized 
 by the gout, and am not quite well. The 
 pain has not been violent, but the weak- 
 ness and tenderness were very trouble- 
 some, and what is said to be very un- 
 common, it has not alleviated my other 
 disorders. — Make use of youth and health 
 while you have them : make my com- 
 pliments to Mrs. Boswell. 
 
 "I am, MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 " July 16, 1776." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 '• Edinburgh, July 18, 1776. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your letter of the second of this month 
 was rather a harsh medicine ; but I was 
 delighted with that spontaneous tender- 
 ness, which, a few days afterwards, sent 
 forth such balsam as your next brought 
 me. 1 found myself for some time so ill 
 that all I could do was to preserve a de- 
 cent appearance, while all within was 
 weakness and distress. Like a reduced 
 garrison that has some spirit left, I hung 
 out flags, and planted all the force 1 
 could muster upon the walls. I am now 
 much better, and I sincerely thank you 
 for your kind attention and friendly 
 counsel. 
 
 t The son of Johnson's old friend, Mr. Wil- 
 liam Drummond.— (See p. 162.)- He was a 
 young man of such distinguished merit that 
 lie was nominated to one of the medical 
 professorships in the ColU ge of Edinburgh, 
 without solicitation, while he was at Naples. 
 Having other views he did not accept of the 
 honour, and soon afterwards died. 
 
344 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1776. 
 
 " Count Manncci * came here last 
 week from travelling in Ireland. I have 
 shown him what civilities I could on his 
 own account, on yours, and on that of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Thraie. He has had a fall 
 from his horse, and been much hurt. I 
 regret this unlucky accident, for he seems 
 to be a very amiable man." 
 
 As the evidence of what I have men- 
 tioned at the beginning of this year, I 
 select from his private register the fol- 
 lowing passage : 
 
 "July 25, 1776. O GoD, who hast 
 ordained that whatever is to be desired 
 should be sought by labour, and who, by 
 thy blessing, biingest honest labour to 
 good effect, look with mercy upon my 
 studies and endeavours. Grant me, O 
 Lord, to design only what is lawful and 
 right; and afford me calmness of mind 
 and steadiness of purpose, that I may so 
 do thy will in this short life as to obtain 
 happiness in the world to come, for the 
 sake of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen t." 
 
 It appears from a note subjoined that 
 this was composed when he " purposed 
 to apply vigorously to study, particularly 
 of the Greek and Italian tongues." 
 
 Such a purpose, so expressed, at the 
 age of sixty-seven, is admirable and en- 
 couraging ; and it must impress all the 
 thinking part of my readers with a con- 
 solatory confidence in habitual devotion, 
 when they see a man of such enlarged 
 intellectual powers as Johnson, thus in 
 the genuine earnestness of secrecy im- 
 ploring the aid of that Supreme Being 
 "from whom cometh down every good 
 and every perfect gift." 
 
 '* TO SIU JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 ** A YOUNG man, whose name is Pater- 
 son, oflers himself this evening to the 
 Academy. He is the son of a man J for 
 whom 1 have long had a kindness, and 
 who is now abroad in distress. I shall 
 be glad that you will be pleased to show 
 him any little countenance, or pay him 
 any small distinction. How much it is 
 in your power to favour or to forward a 
 yoimg man I do not know ; nor do I 
 know how much this candidate deserves 
 f.tvour by his personal merit, or what 
 lio[)es his proficiency may now give of 
 future eminence. I recommend him as 
 
 * A Florentine nobleman, mentioned by 
 Johndon in his" Notes of his Tour in France." 
 I had the pleasiirH of becoming acquainted 
 with him in London, in the spring of iliis 
 year. 
 
 t Prayers and Meditations, p. 151. 
 
 i [Samuel I'aterson, formerly a bookseller, 
 Utterly an auctioneer, and well known for 
 bis skill in forming catalof;u»-s of books. He 
 died in London, October 89, 160.'. IM.] 
 
 the son of my friend. Your character 
 and station enable you to give a young 
 man great encouragement by very easy 
 means. You have heard of a man who 
 asked no other favour of Sir Robert 
 Walpole than that he would bow to him 
 at his levee. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson.*' 
 " August 3, 1776." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Aug. 30, 1776. 
 
 [After giving him an account of my 
 having examined the chests of books 
 which he had sent to me, and which 
 contained what may be truly called h 
 numerous and miscellaneous Stall Li- 
 brary, thrown together at random : — ] 
 
 " Lord Hailes was against the decree 
 in the case of my client, the minister; 
 not that he justified the minister, but 
 because the parishioner both provoked 
 and retorted. I sent his Lordship your 
 able argument upon the case for his peru- 
 sal. His observation upon it in a letter 
 to me was, * Dr. Johnson's Suasorium 
 is pleasantly § and artfully composed. I 
 suspect, however, that he has not con- 
 vinced himself; for I believe that he is 
 better read in ecclesiastical history than 
 to imagine that a Bishop or a Presbyter 
 has a right to begin censure or discipline 
 e cathedrd\\.' 
 
 ****** 
 
 ** For the honour of Count Manucci, 
 as well as to observe that exactness of 
 truth which you have taught me, I must 
 correct what I said in a former letter. 
 He did not fall from his horse, which 
 might have been an imputation on his 
 skill as an officer of cavalry; his horse 
 fell with him. 
 
 " I have, since I saw you, read every 
 word of * Granger's Biographical His- 
 tory.' It has entertained me exceed- 
 ingly, and I do not think him the IVhi(; 
 that you supposed. Horace Walpole's 
 being his patron is, indeed, no good sign 
 of his political principles. But he de- 
 nied to Lord Mountstuart that he was a 
 Whig, and said he had been accused by 
 both parties of partiality. It seems he 
 was like Pope, 
 
 § Why his Lordship uses the epithet plea- 
 santly, when speaking of a grave piece of 
 reasoning, I cannot conceive.' but different 
 men have different notions of pleasantry. I 
 liapiiened to sit by a gentkMiian one evening 
 at the Opera Hou»e io London, who at the 
 moment when Medea appeared to be in great 
 a;;ony at the thought of killing her children, 
 turned to me with a smile, and said, "funny 
 enough." 
 
 tl Dr. Johnson afterwards told me that he 
 wa4 of opinion that a clergyman had thi!> 
 right. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHJ 
 
 'While Tories call nie Wliia-, and Whies a 
 Tory.' * 
 
 I wish you would look more into his 
 book ; and as Lord Mountstiiart wishes 
 much to find a proper person to continue 
 the work upon Granger's plan, and has 
 desired I would mention it to you ; if 
 such a man occurs, please to let me 
 know. — His Lordship will give him ge- 
 nerous encouragement." 
 
 ** TO MR. ROBERT LEVETT. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Having spent about six weeks at this 
 place, we have at length resolved upon 
 returning. I expect to see you all in Fleet 
 Street on the 30th of this month. 
 
 ** I did not go into the sea till last 
 Friday, but think to go most of this 
 week, though I know not that it dots 
 me any good. My nights are very rest- 
 less and tiresome, but I am otherwise 
 well. 
 
 " I have written word of my coming 
 to Mrs. Williams. Remember me kindly 
 to Francis and Betsy*. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson f." 
 " Brighthelmstone, Oct. 21, 1776." 
 
 I again wrote to Dr. Johnson on the 
 21st of October, informing him that my 
 father had, in the most liberal manner, 
 paid a large debt for me, and that I had 
 now the happiness of being upon very 
 good terms with him ; to which he re- 
 turned the following answer. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I HAD great pleasure in hearing that 
 you are at last on good terms with your 
 father. Cultivate his kindness by all 
 honest and manly means. Life is but 
 short ; no time can be afforded but for 
 the indulgence of real sorrow, or con- 
 tests upon questions seriously moment- 
 ous. Let us not throw away any of our 
 days upon useless resentment, or contend 
 who shall hold out longest in stubborn 
 malignity. It is best not to be angry ; and 
 best, in the next place, to be quickly re- 
 conciled. May you and your father pass 
 the remainder of your time in reciprocal 
 benevolence ! 
 
 » [His female servant. M.] 
 
 t For this and Dr. Johnson's other letters to 
 Mr. Levetl, 1 am indebted to my old acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Nathaniel Thomas, whose worth and 
 ingenuity have been loni? knoviji to a respect- 
 able though not a wide circle; and whose 
 collection of medals would do credit to per- 
 sons of greater opulence. 
 
 [Mr. Nathaniel Thomas, who was many 
 years Editor of the St. James's Chronicle, 
 died March 1, 1795. M.] 
 
 lA* * jL * y     
 
 x> 
 
 345. 
 
 " Do yoin^^^ejir from Mr. Lang- 
 ton ? I visit hi^s^etflni|^^ but he doe^i K 
 not talk. I d(?^a(*li^7his scheme ijf \. V 
 life ; but as I am fiW^jfecmitted to under-^ 
 stand it, I cannot serS5$;:^|tHng right 
 that is wrong. His children are sweet 
 babies. 
 
 *' I hope my irreconcilable enemy, 
 Mrs. Boswell is well. Desire her not 
 to transmit her malevolence to the yonng 
 people. Let me have Alexander and 
 Veronica and Euphemia for my friends. 
 *' Mrs. Williams, whom you may 
 reckon as one of your well wishers, is in 
 a feeble and languishing state, with little 
 hopes of growing better. She went for 
 some part of the autumn into the country, 
 but is little benefited ; and Dr. Law- 
 rence confesses that his art is at an end. 
 Death is, however, at a distance : and 
 what more than that can we say of our- 
 selves? I am sorry for her pain, and 
 more sorry for her decay. Mr. Levett 
 is sound, wind and limb. 
 
 " I was some weeks this autumn at 
 Brighthelmstone. The place was very, 
 dull, and I was not well ; the expedi- 
 tion to the Hebrides was the most plea- 
 sant journey that I ever made. — Such an 
 effort annually would give the world a 
 little diversification. 
 
 " Every year, however, we cannot 
 wander, and must therefore endeavour 
 to spend our time at home as well as we 
 can. I believe it is best to throw life 
 into a method, that every hour may 
 bring its employment, and every em- 
 ployment have its hour. Xenophon ob- 
 serves, in his ' Treatise of CEcouomy,* 
 that if every thing be kept in a certain 
 place, when any thing is worn out or 
 consumed, the vacuity which it leaves 
 will show what is wanting ; so if every 
 part of time has its duty, the hour will 
 call into remembrance its proper engage- 
 ment. 
 
 •' I have not practised all this pru- 
 dence myself, but I have suffered much 
 for want of it; and 1 would have you, 
 by timely recollection and steady reso- 
 lution, escape from those evils which 
 have lain heavy upon me. 
 
 " I am, MY DEAREST BOSWELL, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson.'* 
 " Bolt Court, Nov. 16, 1776." 
 
 On the I6th of November I informed 
 him that Mr. Slrahan had sent me twelve 
 copies of the ** Journey to the Western 
 islands," handsomely bound, instead of 
 the fttJffn^?/ copies which were stipulated ; 
 but whicli, I supposed, were to be only 
 in sheets; requested to know how they 
 should be distributed: and mentioned 
 
346 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 that I had another son born to me, who 
 was named David, and was a sickly 
 infant. 
 
 1776. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE been for some time ill of a 
 cold, which, perhaps, I made an excnse 
 to myself for not writing, when in reality 
 I knew not what to say. 
 
 *' The books you must at last distri- 
 bute as you think best, in my name or 
 your own, as you are inclined, or as you 
 judge most proper. Every body cannot 
 be obliged ; but I wish that nobody may 
 be otfended. Do the best you can. 
 
 " I congratulate you on the increase of 
 your family, and hope that little David 
 is by this time well, and his mamma per- 
 fectly recovered. I am much pleased to 
 hear of the reestablishment of kindness 
 between you and your father. Cultivate 
 his paternal tenderness as much as you 
 can. To live at variance at all is uncom- 
 fortable ; and variance with a father is 
 still more uncomfortable. Besides that, 
 in the whole dispute you have the wrong 
 side ; at least you gave the first provoca- 
 tions, and some of them very otfensive. 
 Let it now be all over. As you have no 
 reason to think that your new mother 
 has shown you any foul play, treat her 
 with respect, and with some degree of 
 contidence; this will secure your father. 
 When once a discordant family has felt 
 the pleasure of peace they will not wil- 
 lingly lose it. If Mrs. Boswell would 
 but be friends with me, we might now 
 shut the temple of Janus. 
 
 '* What came of Dr. Memis's cause? 
 Is the question about the negro deter- 
 mined? Has Sir Allan any reasonable 
 hopes? What has become of poor Mac- 
 quarry ? Lot me know the event of all 
 these litigations, I wish particularly well 
 to the negro and Sir Allan. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams has been much out of 
 order ; and though she is something bet- 
 ter, is likely, in her physician's opinion, 
 to endure her malady for life, though she 
 TTiay, perhaps, die of some other. Mrs. 
 Thrale is big, and fancies that she carries 
 a boy ; if it were very reasonable to wish 
 much about it, I should wish her not 
 to be disappointed. The desire of male 
 heirs is not appendant only to feudal 
 tenures. A son is almost necessary to 
 the continuance of Thrale's fortune ; for 
 what can misses do with a brewhouse? 
 Lands are fitter for daughters than 
 trades. 
 
 " Baretti went away from Thrale's in 
 .some whimsical fit of disgust or ill nature, 
 without taking any leave. It is well if 
 he finds in any other place as good an 
 habitation, and as many conveniences. 
 
 He has got five and twenty guineas by 
 translating Sir Joshua's Discourses into 
 Italian, and Mr. Thrale gave him a hun- 
 dred in the spring ; so that he is yet in 
 no difficulties. 
 
 " Colnian has bought Foote's patent, 
 and is to allow Foote for life sixteen hun- 
 dred pounds a year, as Reynolds told 
 me, and to allow him to play so often on 
 such terms that he may gain four hun- 
 dred pounds more. What Colman can 
 get by this bargain*, but trouble and 
 hazard, I do not see. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Dec. 21, 1776." 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Hugh Blair, who 
 had long been admired as a preacher at 
 Edinburgh, thought now of diffusing his 
 excellent sermons more extensively, and 
 increasing his reputation by publishing a 
 collection of them. He transmitted the 
 manuscript to Mr. Strahan, the printer, 
 vvho after keeping it for some time, wrote 
 a letter to him discouraging the publica- 
 tion. Such at first was the unpropitious 
 state of one of the most successful theo- 
 logical books that has ever appeared. 
 Mr. Strahan, however, had sent one of 
 the sermons to Dr. Johnson for his opi- 
 nion ; and after his unfavourable letter 
 to Dr. Blair had been sent olf, he re- 
 ceived from Johnson, on Christmas eve, 
 a note in which was the following para- 
 graph : 
 
 '* I have read over Dr. Blair's first 
 sermon with more than approbation ; to 
 say it is good is to say too little." 
 
 I believe Mr. Strahan had very soori 
 after this time a conversation with Dr. 
 Johnson concerning them ; and then he 
 very candidly wrote again to Dr. Blair, 
 enclosing Johnson's note, and agreeing 
 to pinxhase the volume, for which he 
 and Mr. Cadell gave one hundred pounds. 
 The sale was so rapid and extensive, and 
 the approbation of the publick so high, 
 that, to their honour be it recorded, the 
 proprietors made Dr. Blair a present 
 first of one sum, and afterwards of ano- 
 ther, of fifty pounds, thus voluntarily 
 doubling the stipulated price; and when 
 he prepared another volume they gave 
 him at once three hundred pounds, being 
 in all five hundred pounds, by an agree- 
 ment to which I am a subscribing wit- 
 ness ; and now for a third octavo volume 
 he has received no less than six hundred 
 pounds. 
 
   [It turned out, however, a very fortunate 
 bargain; for Foote. thoiijfli not then fifty-six, 
 diea at an inn in Dover, in less than a year, 
 Oct. 21, 1777. M.] 
 
vEtat. C8. the life of 
 
 In 1777, it appears from his ** Prayers 
 and Meditations" that Johnson snftered 
 much from a state of mind " unsettled 
 and perplexed," and from that constitu- 
 tional gloom, which, together with his 
 extreme humility and anxiety with re- 
 gard to his religious state, made him 
 contemplate himself through too dark 
 and unfavourable a medium. It may 
 be said of him, that he " saw God in 
 clouds." Certain we may be of his in- 
 justice to himself in the following la- 
 mentable paragraph, which it is painful 
 to think came from the contrite heart 
 of this great man, to whose labours the 
 world is so much indebted : " When I 
 survey my past life, I discover nothing 
 but a barren waste of time, with some 
 disorders of body, and disturbances of 
 the mind, very near to madness, which 
 I hope He that made me will sutfer to 
 extenuate many faults, and excuse many 
 deficiencies*." But we find his devo- 
 tions in this year eminently fervent; and 
 we are comforted by observing intervals 
 of quiet, composure, and gladness. 
 
 On Easter day we find the following 
 emphatick prayer : " Almighty and most 
 merciful Father, who seest all our mise- 
 ries, and knowest all our necessities, look 
 down upon me, and pity me. Defend 
 me from the violent incursion of evil 
 thoughts, and enable me to form and 
 keep such resolutions as may conduce to 
 the discharge of the duties which thy 
 providence shall appoint me; and so 
 help me, by thy Holy Spirit, that my 
 heart may surely there be fixed, where 
 true joys are to be found, and that I may 
 serve thee with pure affection and a 
 cheerful mind. Have mercy upon me, 
 O God, have mercy upon me ; years 
 and infirmities oppress me, terrour and 
 anxiety beset me. Have mercy upon 
 me, my Creator and my Judge. In ail 
 perplexities relieve and free me ; and so 
 help me by thy Holy Spirit, that I may 
 now so commemorate the death of thy 
 Son our Saviour Jesus Christ, as that 
 when this short and painful life shall 
 have an end, I may, for his sake, 
 be received to everlasting happiness. 
 Amen +." 
 
 While he was at church, the agreeable 
 impressions upon his mind are thus com- 
 memorated : ** I was for some time dis- 
 tressed, but at last obtained, I hope from 
 the God of Peace, more quiet than I 
 have enjoyed for a long time. I had 
 made no resolution, but as my heart grew 
 lighter, my hopes revived, and my courage 
 increased ; and I wrote with my pencil in 
 my Common Prayer Book, 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 84T 
 
 * Prayers and Me<litations, p. 155. 
 t ibid. p. 158. 
 
 Fita ordinanda. 
 Sihlia legend a, 
 T/ieologite opera danda. 
 Serviendum et loetandum.^'' 
 
 Mr. Steevens, whose generosity is well 
 known, joined Dr. Johnson in kind as- 
 sistance to a female relation of Dr. Gold- 
 smith, and desired that on her return to 
 Ireland she would procure authentick 
 particulars of the life of her celebrated 
 relation. Concerning her is the foUow- 
 lowing letter: 
 
 " TO GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that from 
 Mrs. Goldsmith, whom we lamented as 
 drowned, I have received a letter full of 
 gratitude to us all, with promise to make 
 the inquiries which we recommend to 
 her. 
 
 " I would have had the honour of con- 
 veying this intelligence to Miss Caulfield, 
 but that her letter is not at hand, and I 
 know not the direction. You will tell 
 the good news. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most, &c. 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " February 25, 1777." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 14, 1777. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " My State of epistolary accounts with you 
 at present is extraordinary. The balance, 
 as to number, is on your side. 1 am in- 
 debted to you for two letters ; one dated 
 the 16th of November, upon which very 
 day I wrote to you, so that our letters 
 were exactly exchanged, and one dated 
 the 21st of December last. 
 
 * My heart was warmed with grati- 
 tude by the truly kind contents of both 
 of them ; and it is amazing and vexing 
 that I have allowed so much time to 
 elapse without writing to you. But de- 
 lay is inherent in me, by nature or by 
 bad habit. I waited till I should have 
 an opportunity of paying my compli- 
 ments on a new year. I have procrasti- 
 nated till the year is no longer new. 
 ****** 
 
 ' Dr. Memis's cause was determined 
 against him,with40Z. costs. The Lord Pre- 
 sident and two other of the Judges dissent- 
 ed from the majority, upon this ground : 
 that although there may have been no 
 intention to injure him by calling him 
 Doctor of Medicine, instead of Physi- 
 cian, yet, as he remonstrated against the 
 designation before the charter was printed 
 off, and represented that it was disagree- 
 able, and even hurtful to him, it was ill 
 natured to refuse to alter it, and let him 
 have the designation to which he was 
 certainly entitled. My own opinion is. 
 
348 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 that our court has judged wrong. The de- 
 fendants were inmafO. fide, to persist in 
 naming him in a way that he disliked. 
 You remember poor Goldsmith, when he 
 grew important, and wished to appear 
 Doctor Major, could not bear your call- 
 ing him Goldy. Would it not have been 
 wrong to have named him so in your 
 ' Preface to Shakspeare,' or in any seri- 
 ous permanent writing of any sort? The 
 difficulty is, whether an action should be 
 allowed on such petty wrongs. De mi- 
 nimis non curat lex. 
 
 *' The negro cause is not yet decided. 
 A memorial is preparing on the side of 
 slavery. I shall send you a copy as 
 soon as it is printed. Maclaurin is made 
 happy by your approbation of his memo- 
 rial for the black. 
 
 '* Macquarry was here in the winter, 
 and we passed an evening together. The 
 sale of his estate cannot be prevented. 
 
 " Sir Allan Maclean's suit against the 
 Duke of Argyle, for recovering the an- 
 cient inheritance of his family, is now 
 fairly before all our judges. I spoke for 
 him yesterday, and Maclaurin to-day ; 
 Crosbie spoke to day against him. Three 
 more counsel are to be heard, and next 
 week the cause will be determined. I 
 send you the Informations, or Cases, on 
 each side, which I hope you will read. 
 You said to me when we were under Sir 
 Allan's hospitable roof, * 1 will help him 
 with my pen * You said it with a gene- 
 rous glow ; and though his Grace of Ar- 
 gyle did afterwards mount you upon an 
 excellent horse, upon which ' you looked 
 Hke a Eishop,' you must not swerve from 
 your purpose at Inchkenneth. I wish 
 you may understand the points at issue, 
 amidst our Scotch law principles and 
 phrases. 
 
 [Here followed a full state of the case, 
 in which I endeavoured to make it as 
 clear as I could to an Englishman who 
 had no knowledge of the formularies 
 and technical language of the law of 
 Scotland.] 
 
 " I shall inform you how the cause is 
 decided here. But as it may be brought 
 under the review of our Judges, and is 
 certainly to be carried by appeal to the 
 House of Lords, the assistance of such a 
 mind as yours will be of consequence. 
 Your paper on Vicious Intromission is 
 a noble proof of what you can do even 
 in Scotch law. 
 
 " I have not yet distributed all your 
 books. Lord Hailes and Lord Monboddo 
 have each received one, and return you 
 thanks. Monboddo dined with me lately, 
 and having drunk tea, we wc^re a goo(l 
 while by ourselves, and as I knew that 
 he had read the ' Journey ' superficially. 
 
 as he did not talk of it as I wished, I 
 brought it to him and read aloud several 
 passages ; and then he talked so that I 
 told him he was to have a copy /'row the 
 authour. He begged that might be 
 marked on it. 
 
 1 ever am, my dear sir, 
 
 " Your most faithful, 
 " And affectionate humble servant, 
 " James Bosvvell." 
 
 sir alexander dick to dr. s.amuel 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 " SIR, Pi estonfield, Feb. 17, 1777. 
 
 ** I HAD yesterday the honour of receiv- 
 ing your book of your * Journey to the 
 IVestern Islands of Scotland,' which 
 you were so good as to send me by the 
 hands of our mutual friend, Mr. Boswell, 
 of Auchinleck ; for which I return you 
 my most hearty thanks ; and after care- 
 fully reading it over again, shall deposit 
 it in my little collection of choice books, 
 next our worthy friend's * Journey to 
 Corsica.' As there are many things to 
 admire in both performances, I have 
 often wished that no Travels or Journey 
 should be published but those undertaken 
 by persons of integrity and capacity, to 
 judge well, and describe faithfully and in 
 good language the situation, condition, 
 and manners of the countries passed 
 through. Indeed our country of Scot- 
 land, in spite of the union of the crowns, 
 is still in most places so devoid of cloth- 
 ing, or cover from hedges and planta- 
 tions, that it was well you gave your 
 readers a sound monitoire with respect 
 to that circumstance. The truths you 
 have told, and the purity of the language 
 in which they are expressed, as your 
 ' Journey ' is universally read, may, and 
 already appear to have a very good 
 ettect. For a man of my acquaintance, 
 who has the largest nursery for trees and 
 hedges in this country, tells me, that of 
 late the demand upon him for these arti- 
 cles is doubled, and sometimes tripled. 
 I have, therefore, listed Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson in some of my memorandums 
 of the principal planters and favourers o£ 
 the enclosures, under a name which I 
 look till' libel ty to invent from the Greek,. 
 Pajjadendrion. Lord Auchinleck and 
 some few more are of the list. I am told 
 that one gentleman in the shire of Aber- 
 deen, viz. Sir Archibald Grant, has 
 planted above fifty millions of trees on a 
 piece of very wild ground at Monimusk : 
 I must inqiiire if he has fenced them 
 well, before he enters my list; for that 
 is the soul of enclosing. 1 began myself 
 to plant a little, our ground being too 
 valuable for much, and that is now fifty 
 
;i:TAT. ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 years ago ; and the trees, now in my 
 seventy-fourth year, I look up to with 
 reverence, and show them to my eldest 
 son now in his fifteenth year, and they 
 are full the height of my country house 
 here, where I had the pleasure of receiv- 
 ing you, and hope again to have that 
 satisfaction with our mutual friend, Mr. 
 Boswell. I shall always continue, with 
 the truest esteem, dear doctor, 
 *' Your much obliged, 
 
 " And obedient humble servant, 
 *' Alexander Dick *." 
 
 " to james boswell, esq. 
 
 " DEAR S[R, 
 
 *' It is so long since I heard any thing 
 from you +, that I am not easy about it ; 
 write something to me next post. When 
 you sent your last letter, every thing 
 seemed to be mending ; I hope nothing 
 has lately grown worse. I suppose young 
 Alexander continues to thrive, and Ve- 
 ronica is now very pretty company. I 
 do not suppose the lady is yet reconciled 
 to me, yet let her know that I love 
 her very well, and value her very 
 much. 
 
 " Dr. Blair is printing some sermons. 
 If they are all like the first, which I have 
 read, they are sermones aurei, ac auro 
 magis aurei. It is excellently written 
 both as to doctrine and language. Mr. 
 Watson's book j seems to be much 
 esteemed. 
 
 " Poor Beauclerk still continues very 
 ill. Langton lives on as he used to do. 
 His children are very pretty, and, 1 
 think, his lady loses her Scotch. Paoli 
 I never see. 
 
 " I have been so distressed by diffi- 
 culty of breathing that I lost, as was 
 computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood 
 in a few days. I am better, but not 
 well. 
 
 *' I wish you would be vigilant and 
 get me Graham's * Telemachus' that was 
 printed at Glasgow, a very little book ; 
 and * Johnstoni Poemata,' another little 
 book, printed at Middleburgh. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams sends her compli- 
 ments, and promises that when you come 
 hither, she will accommodate you as well 
 as ever she can in the old room. She 
 wishes to know whether you sent her 
 book to Sir Alexander Gordon. 
 
 " My dear Boswell, do not neglect to 
 write to me ; for your kindness is one of 
 
 » For a character of this very amiable man, 
 see " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides," 
 3d edit. p. 36. 
 
 t Bv the then course of the post, my long 
 letter of the 1 ith had not yet reached him. 
 
 { History of Philip the s>econd. 
 
 349 
 
 the pleasures of my life, which I should 
 be sorry to lose. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " February 18, 1777." 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 24, 1777. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your letter dated the 18th instant, I 
 had the pleasure to receive last post. 
 Although my late long neglect, or rather 
 delay, was truly culpable, I am tempted 
 not to regret it, since it has produced me 
 so valuable a proof of your regard. I 
 did, indeed, during that inexcusable si- 
 lence, sometimes divert the reproaches 
 of my own mind, by fancying that I 
 should hear again from you, inquiring 
 with some anxiety about me, because, 
 for aught you knew, I might have been 
 ill. 
 
 " You are pleased to show me, that 
 my kindness is of some consequence to 
 you. My heart is elated at the thought. 
 Be assured, my dear sir, that my affec- 
 tion and reverence for you are exalted 
 and steady. I do not believe that a more 
 perfect attachment ever existed in the 
 history of mankind. And it is a noble 
 attachment; for the attractions are Ge- 
 nius, Learning, and Piety. 
 
 " Your difficulty of breathing alarms 
 me, and brings into my imagination an 
 event which, although in the natural 
 course of things I must expect at some 
 period, I cannot view with composure. 
 ****** 
 
 " My wife is much honoured by what 
 you say of her. She begs yon may ac- 
 cept of her best compliments. She is to 
 send you some marmalade of oranges of 
 her own making. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " I ever am, my dear sir, 
 *' Your most obliged 
 
 " And faithful humble servant, 
 " James Boswell.*' 
 
 " to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE been much pleased with your 
 late letter, and am glad that my old ene- 
 my, Mrs. Boswell, begins to feel some 
 remorse. As to Miss Veronica's Scotch, 
 I think it cannot be helped. An English 
 iTiaid you might easily have ; but she 
 would still imitate the greater number, 
 as they would be likewise those whom 
 she must most respect. Her dialect will 
 not be gross. Her mamma has not much 
 Scotch, and you have yourself very little. 
 
350 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I hope she knows my name, and does 
 not call me Johnston *. 
 
 " The immediate cause of my writing 
 is this: — One Shaw, who seems a mo- 
 dest and a decent man, has written an 
 Erse Grammar, vvliich a very learned 
 Highlander, Macbean, has, at my request, 
 examined and approved. 
 
 *' The book is very little, but Mr. Shaw 
 has been persuaded by his friends to set 
 it at half a guinea, though I advised only 
 a crown, and thought myself liberal. 
 You, whom the authour considers as a 
 great encourager of ingenious men, will 
 receive a parcel of his proposals and re- 
 ceipts. I have undertaken to give you 
 notice of them, and to solicit your coun- 
 tenance. You must ask no poor man, 
 because the price is really too high. Yet 
 such a work deserves patronage. 
 
 ** It is proposed to augment our club 
 from twenty to thirty, of which I am 
 glad ; for as we have several in it whom 
 I do not much like to consort with +, I 
 am for reducing it to a mere miscellane- 
 ous collection of conspicuous men, with- 
 out any determinate character.   * * * 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Most affectionately yours, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " March 14, 1777." 
 
 ** My respects to Madam, to Vero- 
 nica, to Alexander, to Euphemia, to 
 David." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, April 4, 1777. 
 
 [After informing him of the death of 
 my little son David, and that I could not 
 come to London this spring: — ] 
 
 " I think it hard that I should be a 
 whole year without seeing you. May I 
 presume to petition for a meeting with 
 you in the autumn? You have, I believe, 
 seen all the cathedrals in England, ex- 
 cept that of Carlisle. If you are to be 
 witli Dr. Taylor, at Ashbourne, it would 
 not be a great journey to come thither. 
 We may pass a few most agreeable days 
 there by ourselves, and I will accom- 
 pany you a good part of the way to the 
 southward again. Pray think of this. 
 
 •* You forget that Mr. Shaw's Erse 
 Grammar was put into your hands by 
 myself last year. Lord Eglintoune put 
 it into mine. I am glad that Mr. Mac- 
 bean approves of it. I have received 
 Mr. Shaw's proposals for its publication, 
 
 * Jnlmson is llu; most romnion Enplish for- 
 mation of ihe siriiaiiK! from John; Jobuslou 
 the Scotcli. My illiistriouH friend obiierved 
 ihat iiiHiiv North Uriioiiti pronouuccd his 
 name in their own wav. 
 
 t On account of tlieir differing from him as 
 to religion and politicks. 
 
 which I can perceive are written bt/ the 
 hand of a Master. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Pray get for me all the editions of 
 ' Walton's Lives.' I have a notion that 
 the republication of them with Notes will 
 fall upon me, between Dr. Home and 
 Lord Hailesj." 
 
 Mr. Shaw's proposals (h) for ** An 
 Analysis of the Scotch Celtic Language," 
 were thus illuminated by the pen of 
 Johnson : 
 
 *' Though the Erse Dialect of the Celtic 
 Language has, from the earliest times, 
 been spoken in Britain, and still subsists 
 in the northern parts and adjacent islands, 
 yet, by the negligence of a people rather 
 warlike than lettered, it has hitherto been 
 left to the caprice and judgment of every 
 speaker, and has floated in the living 
 voice, without the steadiness of analogy, 
 or direction of rules. An Erse Grammar 
 is an addition to the stores of literature ; 
 and its authour hopes for the indulgence 
 always shown to those that attempt to do 
 what was never done before. If his work 
 shall be found defective, it is at least all 
 his own : he is not like other gramma- 
 rians, a compiler or transcriber; what 
 he delivers he has learned by attentive 
 observation among his countrymen, who 
 perhaps will be themselves surprised to 
 see that speech reduced to principles, 
 which they have used only by imita- 
 tion. 
 
 ** The use of this book will, however, 
 not be confined to the mountains and 
 islands ; it will afford a pleasing and im- 
 portant subject of speculation to those 
 whose studies lead them to trace the affi- 
 nity of languages, and the migrations of 
 the ancient races of mankind." 
 
 ** TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Glasgow, April 24, 1777. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Our worthy friend Thrale's death hav- 
 ing appeared in the newspapers, and 
 been afterwards contradicted, I have 
 been placed in a state of very uneasy 
 uncertainty, from which I hoped to be 
 relieved by you : but my hopes have as 
 yet been vain. How could you omit to 
 write to me on such an occasion? I shall 
 wait with anxiety. 
 
 ** 1 am going to Auchinlcck to stay a 
 fortnight with my father. It is better 
 not to be there very long at one time. 
 But frequent renewals of attention are 
 agreeable to him. 
 
 X [None of the persons here mentioned exe- 
 cuted tlie work which thev had in conteinftla- 
 tion. Walton's valuable nook, however, has 
 been rorreclly republished in quarto, wiili 
 notes and illustrations, by the Rev. Mr. 
 Zouch. M.] 
 
^TAT. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 351 
 
 ** Pray tell me about this edition of 
 * The English Poets, with a Preface, 
 biographical and critical, to each Au- 
 thour, by Samuel Johnson, LL. D.' 
 which I see advertised. I am delighted 
 with the prospect of it. Indeed I am 
 happy to feel that I am capable of being 
 80 much delighted with literature. But 
 is not the charm of this publication chiefly 
 owing to the magnum nomen in the front 
 of it? 
 
 *' What do you say of Lord Chester- 
 field's Memoirs and last Letters? 
 
 *' My wife has made marmalade of 
 oranges for you. I left her and my 
 daughters and Alexander all well yester- 
 day. I have taught Veronica to speak of 
 you thus ; — Dr. Johnson, not iohnston. 
 1 remain, my dear sir, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 
 ** And obliged humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 " to james boswell, esq. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The story of Mr. Thrale's death, as he 
 had neither been sick nor in any other 
 danger, made so little impression upon 
 me that I never thought about obviating 
 its effects on any body else. It is sup- 
 posed to have been produced by the Eng- 
 lish custom of making April fools, that 
 is, of sending one another on some foolish 
 errand on the first of April. 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Boswell that I shall taste 
 her marmalade cautiously at first. Timeo 
 Danaos et dona ferentes. Beware, says 
 the Italian proverb, of a reconciled ene- 
 my. But when I find it does me no 
 barm, I shall then receive it and be 
 thankful for it, as a pledge of firm and, 
 I hope, of unalterable kindness. She is, 
 after all, a dear, dear lady. 
 
 " Please to return Dr. Blair thanks 
 for his sermons. The Scotch write Eng- 
 lish wonderfully well. 
 
 " Your frequent visits to Auchinleck 
 and your short stay there are very laud- 
 able and very judicious. Your present 
 concord with your father gives me great 
 pleasure ; it was all that you seemed to 
 want. 
 
 " My health is very bad, and my 
 nights are very unquiet. What can I do 
 to mend them 1 1 have for this summer 
 nothing better in prospect than a journey 
 into Staffordshire and Derbyshire, per- 
 haps with Oxford and Birmingham in 
 my way. 
 
 *' Make my compliments to Miss Ve- 
 ronica ; I must leave it to her philoso- 
 phy to comfort you for the loss of little 
 David. You must remember, that to 
 keep three out of four is more than your 
 
 share. Mrs. Thrale has but four out of 
 eleven. 
 
 ' I am engaged to write little Lives, 
 and little Prefaces, to a little edition of 
 the English Poets. I think I have per- 
 suaded the booksellers to insert some- 
 thing of Thomson ; and if you could give 
 me some information about him, for the 
 life which we have is very scanty, I 
 should be glad. 
 
 *' I am, dear sir, 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 ** Humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson.'* 
 " May 3, 1777." 
 
 To those who delight in tracing the 
 progress of works of literature, it will be 
 an entertainment to compare the limited 
 design with the ample execution of that 
 admirable performance, " The Lives of 
 the English Poets," which is the richest, 
 most beautiful, and indeed most perfect 
 production of Johnson's pen. His notion 
 of it at this time appears in the preced- 
 ing letter. He has a memorandum in 
 this year, " 29 May, Easter Eve, I treated 
 with booksellers on a bargain, but the 
 time was not long*." The bargain was 
 concerning that undertaking ; but his 
 tender conscience seems alarmed, lest it 
 should have intruded too much on his 
 devout preparation for the solemnity of 
 the ensuing day. But, indeed, very little 
 time was necessary for Johnson's con- 
 cluding a treaty with the booksellers : as 
 he had, I believe, less attention to profit 
 from his labours than any man to whom 
 literature has been a profession. I shall 
 here insert from a letter to me from my 
 late worthy friend Mr. Edward Dilly, 
 though of a later date, an account of this 
 plan so happily conceived ; since it was 
 the occasion of procuring for us an ele- 
 gant collection of the best biography 
 and criticism of which our language can 
 boast. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 " Southhill, Sept. 26, 1777. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You will find by this letter that I am 
 still in the same calm retreat, from the 
 noise and bustle of London, as when I 
 wrote to you last. I am happy to find 
 you had such an agreeable meeting with 
 your old friend Dr. Johnson ; I have no 
 doubt your stock is much increased by 
 the interview ; few men, nay, I may 
 say, scarcely any man has got that fund 
 of knowledge and entertainment as Dr. 
 Johnson in conversation. When he opens 
 freely, every one is attentive to what he 
 says, and cannot fail of improvement as 
 well as pleasure. 
 
 » Prayers and Meditations, p. 155. 
 
352 
 
 "The edition of the Poets, now print- 
 ing, will do honour to the English press ; 
 and a concise account of the life of each 
 authour, by Dr. Johnson, will be a very 
 valuable addition, and stamp the reputa- 
 tion of this edition superiour to any thing 
 that is gone before. The first cause that 
 gave rise to this undertaking, I believe, 
 was owing to the little trifling edition of 
 the Poets, printing by the Martins at 
 Edinburgh, and to be sold by Bell, in 
 London. Upon examining the volumes 
 which were printed, the type was found 
 so extremely small that many persons 
 could not read them ; not only this in- 
 convenience attended it, but the inaccu- 
 racy of the press was very conspicuous. 
 These reasons, as well as the idea of an 
 invasion of what we call our Literary 
 Property, induced the London Booksel- 
 lers to print an elegant and accurate 
 edition of all the English Poets of repu- 
 tation from Chaucer to the present time. 
 
 " Accordingly a select number of the 
 most respectable booksellers met on the 
 occasion ; and, on cons\dting together, 
 agreed, that all the proprietors of copy- 
 right in the various Poets should be sum- 
 moned together ; and when their opinions 
 were given, to proceed immediately on 
 the business. Accordingly a meeting was 
 held, consisting of about forty of the most 
 respectable booksellers of London, when 
 it was agreed that an elegant and uniform 
 edition of ' The English Poets' should 
 be immediately printed, with a concise 
 account of the life of each authour, by 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson ; and that three 
 persons should be deputed to wait upon 
 Dr. Johnson, to solicit him to undertake 
 the Lives, viz. T. Davies, Strahan, and 
 Cadell. The Doctor very politely under- 
 took it, and seemed exceedingly pleased 
 with the proposal. As to the terms, it 
 was left entirely to the Doctor to name 
 his own : he mentioned two hundred 
 guineas*; it was immediately agreed 
 to ; and a farther compliment, 1 believe, 
 will be made him. A committee was 
 likewise appointed to engage the best en- 
 gravers, viz. Bartolozzi, Sherwin, Hall, 
 &c. Likewise another committee for 
 giving directions about the paper, print- 
 ing, &c. so that the whole will be con- 
 ducted with spirit, and in the best manner, 
 with respect to authorship, editorship, 
 engravings, &c. &c. My brother will 
 give you a list of the Poets we mean to 
 give/many of which are within the time 
 
   [Johnson's moderation in dcniandinf^ so 
 sniaM a Nuni in extraordinary Had lie asked 
 one thousand, or rven fifteen hundred ffuineas, 
 ihe bookseilt'iH, who knew Uie value of his 
 name, would doubtleH>> liave readily (^iven it. 
 Tliey have probahly gol five thou-and guineah 
 bv ihiH work in the course of twenty-five yearn. 
 *1.J 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ir77. 
 
 of the Act of Queen Anne, which Mar- 
 tin and Bell cannot give, as they have no 
 property in them ; the proprietors are 
 almost ail the booksellers in London of 
 consequence. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 ** Edward Dilly." 
 
 I shall afterwards have occasion to 
 consider the extensive and varied range 
 which Johnson took, when he was once 
 led upon ground which he trod with a 
 peculiar delight, having long been inti- 
 mately acquainted with all the circum- 
 stances of it that could interest and 
 please. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO CHARLES O'CONNOR, ESQ. f 
 ** SIR, 
 
 " Having had the pleasure of conversing 
 with Dr. Campbell about your character 
 and your literary undertaking, I am re- 
 solved to gratify myself by renewing a 
 correspondence which began and ended 
 a great while ago, and ended, I am 
 afraid, by my fault; a fault which, if 
 you have not forgotten it, you must now 
 forgive. 
 
 ** If I have ever disappointed yon, 
 give me leave to tell you, that you have 
 likewise disappointed me. I expected 
 great discoveries in Irish antiquity, and 
 large publications in the Irish language ; 
 but the world still remains as it was, 
 doubtful and ignorant. What the Irish 
 language is in itself, and to what lan- 
 guages it has aflfinity, are very interesting 
 questions wliich every man wishes to see 
 resolved that has any philological or his- 
 torical curiosity. Dr. Leland begins his 
 history too Inte : the ages which deserve 
 an exact inquiry are those times (for 
 such there were) when Ireland was the 
 school of the west, the quiet habitation 
 of sanctity and literature. If you could 
 give a history, though imperfect, of the 
 Irish nation, from its conversion to Chris- 
 tianity to the invasion from England, 
 yon would amplify knowledge with new 
 views and new objects. Set about it, 
 
 t Mr. Joseph Cooper Walker, of the Trea- 
 sury, Dublin, who oblieinerlj oonuiiunicattd to 
 ine'this and a former letter from Dr. Joiinson 
 to the same gentleman (lor winch see p. 114), 
 writes to me as follows: — " Cerhaps it would 
 gratify yon to liave some account of Mr. 
 iU'C'.onno'r. Jle is an amiable, learned, vene- 
 rable old gentleman, of an independent for- 
 tune, who lives at Helanagar, in the county of 
 Koscoromon; he is an admired writer, and 
 Member of the Irish Academv. — The above 
 Letter is alluded to in the Preface to the 
 2J edition of his Dissert, p. 3."— Mr. O'Con- 
 nor afterwards died at the a«e ofeiffhty-two, 
 July 1, 1791. See a well drawn character of 
 liini in the Oentlt'iiiau's Magazine for August^ 
 1791. 
 
.■Etat. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 353 
 
 therefore, if you can : do what you can 
 easily do without anxious exactness. Lay 
 the foundation, and leave the superstruc- 
 ture to posterity. I am, sir, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 -" May 19, 1777." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Early in this year came out, in two 
 volumes quarto, the posthumous works of 
 the learned Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop 
 of Rochester; being " A Commentary, 
 with Notes, on the four Evangelists and 
 the Acts of the Apostles," with otiier 
 theological pieces. Johnson had now an 
 opportunity of making a grateful return 
 to that excellent prelate, who, we have 
 seen, was the only person who gave him 
 any assistance in the compilation of his 
 dictionary. The Bishop had left some 
 account of his lite and character, written 
 by himself. To this Johnson made some 
 valuable additions, T&J and also furnished 
 to the editor, the Reverend Mr. Derby, 
 a Dedication, r^/* which I shall here in- 
 sert, both because it will appear at this 
 time with peculiar propriety ; and be- 
 cause it will tend to propagate and in- 
 crease that " fervour of Loyalty " which 
 in me, who boast of the name of Tory, is 
 not only a principle, but a passion. 
 
 " to the king, 
 "sir, 
 *' I PRESUME to lay before your Majesty 
 the last labours of a learned Bishop, who 
 died in the toils and duties of his calling. 
 He is now beyond the reach of all earthly 
 honours and rewards ; and only the hope 
 of inciting others to imitate him makes 
 it now (it to be remembered, that he 
 enjoyed in his life the favour of your 
 Majesty. 
 
 **The tumultuary life of Princes sel- 
 dom permits them to survey the wide 
 extent of national interest without losing 
 sight of private merit; to exhibit quali- 
 ties which may be imitated by the highest 
 and the humblest of mankind ; and to be 
 at once amiable and great. 
 
 •* Such characters, if now and then 
 ttiey appear in history, are contemplated 
 with admiration. May it be the ambition 
 of all your subjects to make haste with 
 their tribute of reverence ; and as poste- 
 rity may learn from your Majesty how 
 Kings should live, may they learn like- 
 wise from your people how they should 
 be honoured. 
 
 *' I am, 
 ** May it please your Majesty, 
 
 ** With the most profound respect, 
 
 " Your Majesty's, 
 
 " Most dutiful and devoted 
 
 " Subject and Servant." 
 
 In the summer he wrote a Prologue, (a) 
 which was spoken before *' A Word to 
 
 the Wise," a comedy by Mr. Hugh Kelly, 
 which had been brought upon the stage 
 in 1770 ; but he being a writer for minis- 
 try in one of the newspapers, it fell a 
 sacrifice to popular fury, and, in the play- 
 house phrase, was damned. By the ge- 
 nerosity of Mr. Harris, the proprietor of 
 Covent Garden Theatre, it was now ex- 
 hibited for one night, for the benefit of 
 the authour's widow and children. To 
 conciliate the favour of the audience was 
 the intention of Johnson's Prologue, 
 which, as it is not long, I shall here 
 insert, as a proof that his poetical talents 
 were in no degree impaired. 
 
 " This night presents a play, which pttblick 
 
 rage, 
 Or right or wrojig, once booted from the 
 
 stage : 
 From ze.il or malice now no more we dread. 
 For English vengeance wars not with the 
 
 dead, 
 A generous foe regards with pitying eye 
 ! lie man whom Fate has laid wheie all must 
 
 lie. 
 To wit, reviving from its authour's dust. 
 Be kind, ve judges, or at least be just: 
 Let no reiiew'd hostilities invade 
 Hie' oblivious grave's inviolable shade. 
 Let one great pajment every claim appease, 
 And him who cannot hurt, allow to please; 
 To please by scenes, unconscious of offence. 
 By liarmless merriment or useful sense. 
 Where au.ilit of bright or fair the piece dis- 
 plays. 
 Approve it'only ;— 'tis too late to praise. 
 If want of skill or want of care appear. 
 Forbear to hiss;— the poet cannot hear. 
 By all, like him, must praise and blame be 
 
 found, 
 At last, a fleeting gleam or empty sound ; 
 Yet then shall calm reflection ble>8 the night. 
 When liberal pitv dignified delight; 
 When pleasure fired lier torch at virtue's 
 
 And mirth vi\\% bounty with an humbler 
 name." 
 
 A circumstance which could not fail 
 to be very pleasing to Johnson occurred 
 this year. The tragedy of " Sir Thomas 
 Overbury," written by his early compa- 
 nion in "London, Richard Savage, was 
 brouglit up with alterations at Drury 
 Lane Theatre. The Prologue to it was 
 written by Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheri- 
 dan ; in which, after describing very 
 pathetically the wretchedness of 
 
 " 111 fated Savage, at whose birth was given 
 No parent but the Muse, no friend but Hea- 
 ven :" 
 
 he introduced an elegant compliment to 
 Johnson on his Dictionary, that wonder- 
 ful performance which cannot be too 
 often or too highly praised ; of which 
 Mr. Harris, in hi.s " Philological Inqui- 
 ries*," justly and liberally observes, 
 " Such is its merit that our language 
 does not possess a more copious, learned, 
 
 » Part First, chap. iv. 
 A A 
 
354 
 
 Hiui valuable work.** The concluding 
 lines of this Prologue were these : 
 
 "So pleads the tale* that ffives to future 
 times 
 
 'Ihe son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes ; 
 
 Thcie shall his fame (if ownM to-night) sur- 
 vive, 
 
 FixM hy the hand that bids our language 
 
 LIVE." 
 
 Mr. Sheridan here at once did honour 
 to liis taste and to his liberality of senti- 
 ment, by showing tiiat he was not pre- 
 judiced from the unlucky difference which 
 had taken place between his worthy fa- 
 ther and Dr. Johnson. I have already 
 mentioned that Johnson was very desi- 
 rous of reconciliation with old Mr. She- 
 ridan. It will, therefore, not seem at 
 all surprising that he was zealous in ac- 
 knowledging the brilliant merit of his 
 son. While it had as yet been displayed 
 only in the drama, Johnson proposed 
 him as a member of the Literary Club, 
 observing, that " He who has written the 
 two best coinedies of his age is surely a 
 considerable man." And he had, ac- 
 cordingly, the honour to be elected ; for 
 an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed 
 to be, when it is considered of whom that 
 society consists, and that a single black 
 ball excludes a candidate. 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DK. JOHNSON. 
 " MY DKAR SiR, July 0, 1777. 
 
 " For the health of my w ife and children 
 I have taken the little country house at 
 which you visited my uncle. Dr. Bos- 
 well, who, having' lost his wife, is gone 
 to live with his son. We took posses- 
 sion of our villa about a week ago ; we 
 have a garden of three quarters of an 
 acre, well stocked with fruit trees and 
 llowers, and gooseberries and currants, 
 and peas and beans, and cabbages, &c. 
 &c. and my children are quite happy. I 
 now write to you in a little study, from 
 the window of which I see aiound me a 
 verdant grove, and beyond it the lofty 
 mountain called Arthur's Seat. 
 
 ** Your last letter, in which you desire 
 n»e to send you some additional informa- 
 tion concerning Thomson, reached me 
 very fortunately just as I was going to 
 l^anarU, to put my wife's two nephews, 
 the young Campbells, to school there, 
 under the care of Mr. Thomson, the 
 master of it, whose wife is sister to the 
 aulhour of ' The Seasons.' She is an old 
 woman ; but her memory is very good ; 
 and she will with pleasin'c give me for 
 you every particular that you wish to 
 know, and she can tell. Pray then take 
 t!i»' trouble to send me such questions as 
 
 * " Life of Richard Savage by Dr. John- 
 
 rHE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 may lead to biographical materials. You 
 say that the Life which we have of 
 Thomson is scanty. Since I received 
 your letter, I have read his Life, pub- 
 lished under the name of Cibber, but as 
 you told me, really written by a Mr. 
 Shielst ; that written by Dr. Murdoch ; 
 one prefixed to an edition of the * Sea- 
 sons,' published at Edinburgh, which is 
 compounded of both, with the addition 
 of an anecdote of Quin's relieving 
 Thomson from prison ; the abridgment 
 of Murdoch's account of him, in the 
 ' Biographia Britannica,' and another 
 abridgment of it in the ' Biographical 
 Dictionary,' enriched with Dr. Joseph 
 Warton's critical panegyrick on the 
 * Seasons' in his * Essay on the Genius 
 and Writings of Pope :' from all these 
 it appears to me that we have a pretty 
 full account of this poet. Ht»wever, you 
 will, I doubt not, show me many blanks, 
 and I shall do what can be done to have 
 them filled up. As Thomson never re- 
 turned to Scotland (which you will think 
 very wise), his sister can speak from her 
 own knowledge only as to the early part 
 of his life. She has some letters froin 
 him, which may probably give light as 
 to his more advanced progress, if she w ill 
 let us see them, which 1 suppose she will. 
 I believe George Lewis Scott:; and Dr. 
 Armstrong are now his only surviving 
 companions, while he lived in and about 
 London ; and they, I dare say, can tell 
 more of him than is yet known. My 
 own notion is, that Thomson was a much 
 coarser man than his friends are willing 
 to acknowledge. His ' Seasons ' are 
 indeed full of elegant and pious senti- 
 ments ; but a rank soil, nay a dunghill, 
 will produce beautiful flowers. 
 
 ** Your edition § of the ' English Poets' 
 will be very valuable on account of the 
 ' Prefaces and Lives.' But I have seen 
 a specimen of an edition of the Poets at 
 the Apollo press, at Edinburgh, which, 
 
 t See p. 323. 
 
 t [George Levels Scott, Esq. F. R. S., an 
 aiiiirtble and learned man, formerly Sub-pre- 
 ceptor to liiR pressnt Majesty, and afterwards 
 iippoinled a Commissioner of Excise, ile died 
 ill 1780. M.] 
 
 § [Dr JoluiBon was not the editor of this 
 Collection of the English Poets; he meielv 
 furnished the biographical prefaces with 
 which it is enriched ; as is rightly stated in a 
 subsequent page. 
 
 He nideed, irom a virtuous motive, recom- 
 mended the works of four or five poets (whom 
 he has named) to be added to the collection; 
 but he is no otherwise answerable for any 
 which are found there, or any which are 
 omiited.— The poems of Goldsmith (whoae 
 life I know he intended to wriic, for I col- 
 lected some maieiials for it by his desire), 
 were omitted, in consequence of a petty ex- 
 clusive interest in some of them, vested in 
 •Mr. Carnaii, a bookseller. M.J 
 
^TAT. OS. 
 
 for excellence in printing and engraving, 
 highly deserves a liberal encouragement. 
 
 " Most sincerely do I regret tiie bad 
 health and bad rest with which you have 
 been afflicted ; and I hope you are better. 
 I cannot believe that the prologue which 
 you generously gave to Mr. Kelly's wi- 
 dow and children the other day is the 
 effusion of one in sickness and in dis- 
 quietude: but external circumstances are 
 never sure indications of the state of 
 man. I send you a letter which I wrote 
 to you two years ago at Wilton ; and did 
 not send it at the time, for fear of being 
 reproved as indulging too much tender- 
 ness ; and one written to you at the 
 tomb of Melancthon, which I kept back, 
 lest I should appear at once too super- 
 stitious and too enthusiastick. I now 
 imagine that perhaps they may please 
 you. 
 
 *' You do not lake the least notice of 
 my proposal for our meeting at Carlisle *. 
 Though I have meritoriously refrained 
 from visiting London this year, I ask 
 you if it would not be wrong that I 
 should be two years without having the 
 benefit of your conversation, when, if 
 you come down as far as Derbyshire, we 
 may meet at the expense of a few days 
 journeying, and not many pounds. I 
 wisli you to see Carlisle, which made 
 me mention that place. But if you have 
 not a desire to complete your tour of the 
 English cathedrals, I will take a larger 
 share of the road between this place and 
 Ashbourne. So tell me where you will 
 fix for our passing a few days by our- 
 selves. Now don't cry * foolish fellow,' 
 or * idle dog.' Chain your humour, and 
 let your kindness play. 
 
 *' You will rejoice to hear that Miss 
 Macleod, of Rasay, is married to Colo- 
 nel Mure Campbell, an excellent man, 
 with a pretty good estate of his own, and 
 the prospect of having the Earl of Lou- 
 doun's fortune and honours. Is not this 
 a noble lot for our fair Hebridean? How- 
 happy am 1 that she is to be in Ayrshire. 
 We shall have the Laird of Rasay, and 
 
 * Dr. Johnson had himself talked of our 
 seeing Carlisle log'ether. High was a favourite 
 word of liis to denote a person of rank. Me 
 siiid to nie, "Sir, I beiieve we may meet at 
 t'iie house of a Roman Catholick lady in Cum- 
 berland; a hi^h lady, sir." I afterwards dis- 
 covered that he meant Mrs. Strickland, sister 
 of Charles Townley, Esq. wiiose very noble 
 collection of statues and pictures is not more 
 to be admired than his extraordinary and 
 polite readiness in shoeing it, whicl» I and 
 several of my friends have agreeably expe- 
 rienced. They who are possessed of valuable 
 stores of srratification to persons of taste 
 should exercise their benevolence in impart- 
 ina the pleasure. Grateful acknowledgrments 
 are due to Welbore Ellis Agrar, Esq. tor the 
 liberal access which he is pleased to allow to 
 his exquisite collection of pictures. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 355 
 
 old Malcolm, and I know not how many 
 
 gallant Macleods, and bagpipes, &c. &c. 
 at Auchinleck. Perhaps you may meet 
 them all there. 
 
 " Without doubt you have read what 
 is called ' The Life of David Hume,' 
 written by himself, with the letter from 
 Dr. Adam Smith subjoined to it. Is not 
 this an age of daring effrontery ? My 
 friend Mr. Anderson, Professor of Na- 
 tural Philosophy at Glasgow, at whose 
 house you and I supped, and to whose 
 care Mr. Windham, of Norfolk was en- 
 trusted at that University, paid me a 
 visit lately ; and after we had talked 
 with indignation and contempt of the 
 poisonous productions with which this 
 age is infested, he said there was now an 
 excellent opportunity for Dr. Johnson to 
 step forth. I agreed with him that you 
 might knock Hume's and Smith's heads 
 together, and make vain and ostentatious 
 infidelity exceedingly ridiculous. Would 
 it not be worth your while to crush such 
 noxious weeds in the moral garden? 
 
 " You have said nothing to me of Dr. 
 Dodd. I know not how you think on 
 that subject ; though the newspapers 
 give us a saying of yours in favour of 
 mercy to him. But I own I am very 
 desirous that the royal prerogative of 
 remission of punishment should be ejn- 
 ployed to exhibit an illustrious instance 
 of the regard which GOD's Vicegerent 
 will ever show to piety and virtue. Jf 
 for ten righteous men the Almighi y 
 would have spared Sodom, shall not a 
 thousand acts of goodness done by Dr. 
 Dodd counterbalance one crime? Such 
 an instance would do more to encourage 
 goodness than his execution would do to 
 deter from vice. I am not afraid of any 
 bad consequence to society ; for who will 
 persevere for a long course of years in a 
 distinguished discharge of religious du- 
 ties, with a view to commit a forgery 
 with impunity 1 
 
 " Pray make my best compliments 
 acceptable to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by 
 assuring them of my hearty joy that the 
 Master, as you caU him, is alive. I hope I 
 shall often taste his Champagne— softer/^. 
 
 " I have not heard from Langton for a 
 long time. I suppose he is as usual, 
 ' Studious the busy n.oments to deceive.' 
 ****** 
 ** I retnain, my dear sir, 
 " Your most affectionate, 
 ** And faithful humble servant, 
 " James Boswell.'' 
 
 On the 23d of June, I again wrote to 
 Dr. Johnson, enclosing a ship-master's 
 receipt for a jar of orange marmalade, 
 and a large packet of Lord Hailes's 
 " Annals of Scotland." 
 
356 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE just received your packet from 
 Mr. Thrale's, but have not daylight 
 enough to look much into it. I am glad 
 that I have credit enough with Lord 
 Hailes to be trusted with more copy. I 
 hope to take more care of it than of the 
 last. I return Mrs. Boswell my aflTec- 
 tionatc thanks for her present, which I 
 value as a token of reconciliation. 
 
 " Poor Dodd was put to death yester- 
 day, in opposition to the recommendation 
 of the jury— the petition of the city of 
 London, — and a subsequent petition 
 signed by three-and-twenty thousand 
 hands. Surely the voice of the publick, 
 when it calls so loudly, and calls only 
 for mercy, ought to be heard. 
 
 " The saying that was given me in the 
 papers I never spoke ; but I wrote many 
 of his petitions, and some of his letters. 
 He applied to me very often. He was, 
 I am afraid, long flattered with hopes of 
 life; but I had no part in the dreadful 
 delusion ; for as soon as the King had 
 signed his sentence, I obtained from Mr. 
 Chamier an account of the disposition of 
 the court towards him, with a declaration 
 that there was no hope even of a respite. 
 This letter immediately was laid before 
 Dodd ; but he believed those whom he 
 wished to be right, as it is thought, till 
 within three days of his end. He died 
 with pious composure and resolution. 
 I have just seen the Ordinary that at- 
 tended him. His address to his fellow 
 convicts offended the Methodists ; but 
 he had a Moravian with him much of 
 his time. His moral character is very 
 bad : I hope all is not true that is charged 
 upon him. Of his behaviour in prison 
 an account will be published. 
 
 •* I give you joy of your country house 
 and your pretty garden; and hope some 
 time to see you in your felicity. I was 
 much pleased with your two letters that 
 had been kept. so long in store*; and 
 
 * Since ihey have been so much lionoiiretl 
 by Dr. Johnson, 1 stiali here insert them. 
 
 *' TO MR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 " MY EVER DEAR AND MUCH RKSPECTED SIR, 
 
 '* You know my solemn enlhnsiasni of mind. 
 You love me for it, ami I respect myself lor 
 it, becaiis^e in bo far I resemble Mr. Johnson. 
 You will be agreeably surprise*! when you 
 learn the reason of my writing ihis letter. I 
 am at Witiemberg in Saxony. I an> in the 
 old chiirclj where the Reformation was tlrst 
 
 f>rearhed, and where some of the reformers 
 ie interred. 1 cannot resist the serious plea- 
 sure of writinpf to Mr. Johnson from ilie tomb 
 of Melancthon. My paper rests upon llie 
 jfraveslone of that yrcal and good man, who 
 was undoubtedly the worthiest of all the re- 
 formers. He Mi>hed to reform abuses which 
 li;<d been introduced into the Church ; but 
 Ir.id no private resentment to gratify. So 
 
 rejoice at Miss Rasay's advancement, 
 and wish Sir Allan success. 
 
 " I hope to meet you somewhere to- 
 wai-ds the north, but I am loath to come 
 quite to Carlisle. Can we not meet at 
 Manchester? But we will settle it in 
 some other letters. 
 
 " Mr. Seward t, a great favourite at 
 Streatham, has been, I think, enkindled 
 by our travels with a curiosity to see the 
 Highlands. I have given him letters to 
 you and Beattie. He desires that a lodg- 
 ing may be taken for him at Edinburgh, 
 against his arrival. He is just settfng 
 out. 
 
 " Langton has been exercising the mi- 
 litia. Mrs. Williams is, I fear, declining. 
 Dr. Lawrence says he can do no more. 
 She is gone to summer in the country, 
 
 mild was he, that when liis aged mother con- 
 sulted him with anxiety on the perplexinc' 
 disputes of the limes, he advised her ' to keep 
 to the old religion.' At this tomb, then, my 
 ever dear and ranch respected friend ! I vow- 
 to thee an eternal attachment. It shall be 
 my study to do what I can to render your life 
 happy: and if you die before me, J shall 
 endeavour to do honour to vour memory ; 
 and, elevated bv the remembrance of yo"n, 
 persist in noble piety. May God, the father 
 of all beings, ever bless you! and may you 
 continue to love 
 
 ** Your most affectionate friend 
 " And devoted servant, 
 '• Jame3 Boswell." 
 " Sunday, September 30, 1764." 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Wilton House, April 22, 1775. 
 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Every scene of my life confirms the truth of 
 what you have iol<i me, ' there is no certain 
 happiness in this slate of being.'~l am here, 
 amidst all that you know is at Lord Pem- 
 broke's; and yet I am wearv and gloomy. I 
 iim Just setting out for the"house of aii oI<l 
 triend in Devonshire, and shall not get hack 
 to London for a week vet. Yon said to me 
 last Good Friday, with a cordiality that 
 warmed my heart, that if I came to settle in 
 London we should have a day fixed every 
 week to meet by ourselves and talk freely. 
 To be thought worthy of such a privilege caii- 
 not but exalt me. During my present absence 
 from you, while, notwithstanding the gaiety 
 which you allow me to possess. I am diultencd 
 by temporary clouds, I beg to have a few Iim s 
 '■ 1 you; a few lines merely of kindness, as 
 iatiattn till I see you again. In your 
 ' Vanity of Human Wishes,' and in Parnell's 
 ' Contentment,' I find the only sure means of 
 enjoying happiness, or at least the hopes of 
 happiness, I ever am, with reverence and 
 affection, 
 
 " Most faithfully yours, 
 
 " James Boswell." 
 t William Seward, Esq. F. U.S. editor of 
 Anecdotes of s.nie distiniiuished P«'rfioi;s," 
 &c. in four volumes, evo. well known to a 
 numerous and valuable acquaintance for his 
 literature, love of the fine arts, and social 
 virtues. I am indebted to him for se>eral 
 communications concerning Johnson. 
 
 [This gentleman, who was born in 1747, and 
 was educated at the Charier Hoih»>, ami at 
 Oxford, died in London, April 24, 1 799. M.j 
 
/Etat. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 35T 
 
 \vith as many conveniences about her as 
 she can expect ; but I have no great 
 hope. We must all die : may we all be 
 prepared ! 
 
 " I suppose Miss Bos well reads her 
 book, and young Alexander takes to his 
 learning. Let me hear about them ; for 
 every thing that belongs to you belongs, 
 in a more remote degree, and not, 1 
 hope, very remote, to, dear sir, 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 " Jiiue 28, 1777." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** This gentleman is a great favourite at 
 Streatham, and therefore you will easily 
 believe that he has very valuable quali- 
 ties. Our narrative has kindled him with 
 a desire of visiting the Highlands, after 
 having already seen a great part of Eu- 
 rope. You must receive him as a friend, 
 and when you have directed him to the 
 curiosities of Edinburgh, give him in- 
 structions and recommendations for the 
 rest of his journey. 
 
 " 1 am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " June 24, 1777." 
 
 Johnson's benevolence to the unfortu- 
 nate was, I am confident, as steady and 
 active as that of any of those who have 
 been most eminently distinguished for 
 that virtue. Innumerable proofs of it 1 
 have no doubt will be for ever concealed 
 from mortal eyes. We may, however, 
 form some judgment of it, from the 
 many and very various instances which 
 have been discovered. One, which hap- 
 pened in the course of this summer, is 
 remarkable from the name and con- 
 nexion of the person who was the object 
 of it. The circumstance to which 1 al- 
 lude is ascertained by two letters, one to 
 Mr. Langton, and another to the Reve- 
 rend Dr. Vyse, rector of Lambeth, son 
 of the respectable clergyman at Lichfield, 
 who was contemporary with Johnson, 
 and in whose father's family Johnson had 
 the happiness of being kindly received in 
 his early years. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I HAVE lately been much disordered 
 by a difficulty of breathing, but am now 
 better. I hope your house is well. 
 
 " You know we have been talking 
 lately of St. Cross, at Winchester ; 1 
 have an old acquaintance whose distress 
 makes him very desirous of an hospital, 
 and I am afraid I have not strength 
 enough to get him into the Chartreux. 
 
 He is a painter, who never rose higher 
 than to get his immediate living, and 
 from that, at eighty-three, he is disabled 
 by a slight stroke of the palsy, such as 
 does not make him at all helpless on 
 common occasions, though his hand is not 
 steady enough for his art. 
 
 " My request is, that you will try to 
 
 obtain a promise of the next vacancy 
 
 from the Bishop of Chester. It is not a 
 
 great thing to ask, and I hope we shall 
 
 obtain it. Dr. Warton has promised to 
 
 favour him with his notice, and I hope 
 
 he may end his days in peace. 
 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "June 29, 1777." 
 
 " TO the REVEREND DR. VYSE, AT LAM- 
 BETH. 
 " SIR, 
 
 *' I DOUBT not but you will readily for- 
 give me for taking the liberty of request- 
 ing your assistance in recommending an 
 old friend to his Grace the Archbishop 
 as Governor of the Charter House. 
 
 ** His name is De Groot ; he was born 
 at Gloucester; I have known him many 
 years. He has all the common claims 
 to charity, being old, poor, and infirm in 
 a great degree. He has likewise another 
 claim, to which no scholar can refuse 
 attention ; he is by several descents the 
 nephew of Hugo Grotius ; of him from 
 whom perhaps every man of learning has 
 learnt something. Let it not be said that 
 in any lettered country a nephew of Gro- 
 tius asked a charity and was refused. 
 
 " I am, REVEREND SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " July 9, 1777." " Sam. JohnsoN." 
 
 [" TO THE REVEREND DR. VVSE, AT LAM- 
 BETH. 
 
 " If any notice should be taken of the 
 recommendation which I took the liberty 
 of sending you, it will be necessary to 
 know that Mr. De Groot is to be found 
 at No. 8, in Pye Street, Westminster. 
 This information, when I wrote, I could 
 not give you ; and being going soon to 
 Lichfield, think it necessary to be left 
 behind me. 
 
 " More I will not say. You will want 
 no persuasion to succour the nephew of 
 Grotius. I am, sir, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 *' Sam, Johnson."] 
 
 "July 22, 1777." 
 
 THE REVEREND DR. VVSE TO MR. BOSWELL. 
 
 *< S\tt. Lambeth, June 9, 1787. 
 
 " I have' searched in vain for the letter 
 which I spoke of, and which I wished, 
 at your desire, to communicate to you. 
 
358 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 It was from Dr. Ji)hnson, to return me 
 thanks for my application to Archbishop 
 Cornwailis in favour of poor De Groot. 
 He rejoices at the success it met witli, 
 and is lavish in the praise he bestows 
 upon his favourite, Hugo Grotins. I am 
 really sorry that I cannot find this letter, 
 as it is worthy of the writer. That which 
 I send yon enclosed * is at yonr service. 
 It is very short and will not perhaps be 
 tliought of any consequence, unless you 
 should judge proper to consider it as a 
 proof of the very humane part which 
 Dr. Johnson took in behalf of a dis- 
 tressed and deserving person. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 ** Your most obedient 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 
 " W. VYSEf." 
 
 dr. johnson to mr. edward dilly. 
 "sir, 
 *' To the collection of English Poets I 
 have recommended the volume of Dr. 
 Watts to be added; his name has long 
 been held by me in veneration, and 1 
 would not willingly be reduced to tell of 
 him only that he was born and died. Yet 
 of his life I know very little, and there- 
 fore must pass him in a manner very 
 unworthy of his character, unless some 
 of his friends will favour me with the 
 necessary information; many of them 
 must be known to you; and by your 
 influence perhaps I may obtain some 
 instruction : my plan does not exact 
 much ; but I wish to distinguish Watts, 
 a man who never wrote but for a good 
 purpose. Be pleased to do for me what 
 you can. I am, sir, 
 
 " Yonr humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Bolt Court. FUet Street, 
 July 7, 1777." 
 
 ** TO DR SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, July IS, 1777. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The fate of poor Dr. Dodd made a dis- 
 mal impression upon my mind. 
 ****** 
 *' I had sagacity enough to divine that 
 you wrote his speech to the Recorder 
 before sentence was pronounced. 1 am 
 glad you have written so much for him ; 
 
 • The precedine- lettrr. 
 
 t [Dr. Vysc, at hiy requcRt, was so obliging 
 as once more to encleavour to recover the let- 
 ter of Johnson to which he alliidei», but with- 
 out sncress; for, April 23, 1800, lie wrote to 
 lue thuf : " i have again searched, but in 
 vain, for one of hi« letters, in which he speaks 
 in his own nervous style of Hugo Grotius.— 
 De Groot was clearly a descendant of the 
 family of Groliii.«, and Archbi^hop Cornwallii* 
 willingly complied with Dr. Johnson's re- 
 quest." M.J 
 
 and I hope to be favoured with an exact 
 list of the several pieces when we meet. 
 
 " I received Mr. Seward as the friend 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and as a gentle- 
 man recommended by Dr. Johnson to 
 my attention. I have introduced him to 
 Lord Kames, Lord Monboddo, and Mr. 
 Nairne. He is gone to the Highlands 
 with Dr. Gregory ; when he returns I 
 shall do more for him. 
 
 *' Sir Allan Maclean has carried that 
 branch of his cause of which we had 
 good hopes : the President and one other 
 Judge only were against him. I wish 
 the House of Lords may do as well as 
 the Court of Session has done. But Sir 
 Allan has not the lands of Brolos quite 
 cleared by this judgment till a long ac- 
 count is made up of debts and interests 
 on the one side, and rents on the other. 
 I am, however, not much afraid of the 
 balance. 
 
 ** Macquarry's estates, Staffa and all, 
 were sold yesterday, and bought by a 
 Campbell. I fear he will have little or 
 nothing left out of the purchase money. 
 
 " I send you the case against the negro, 
 by Ml. Cullen, son to Dr. Cullen, in op- 
 position to Maclaurin's for liberty, of 
 which you have approved. Pray read 
 this, and tell me what you think as a 
 Politician, as well as a Poet, upon the 
 subject. 
 
 " Be so kind as to let me know how 
 your time is to be distributed next 
 autumn. I will meet you at Manches- 
 ter, or where you please ; but I wish you 
 would complete your tour of the cathe- 
 drals, and come to Carlisle, and I will 
 accompany you a part of the way home- 
 wards. I am ever, 
 
 ** Most faithfully yours, 
 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 " to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your notion of the necessity of a 
 yearly interview is very pleasing to both 
 my vanity and tenderness. I shall, per- 
 haps, come to Carlisle another year; but 
 my money has not held out so well as it 
 used to do. I shall go to Ashbourne, 
 and I propose to make Dr. Taj lor invite 
 you. If you live awhile with me at his 
 honse, we shall have much time to our- 
 selves, and our stay will be no expense 
 to us or him. I shall leave London the 
 28th; and, after some stay at Oxford 
 and Lichfield, shall probably come to 
 Ashbourne about the end of your Ses- 
 sion ; but of all this yon shall have 
 notice. Be satisfied we will meet some- 
 where. 
 
 '• What passed between me and poor 
 Dr. Dodd, you shall know more fully 
 when we meet. 
 
i^TAT. 6S. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 3.VJ 
 
 " Of lawsuits there is no end ; poor 
 Sir Allan must have another trial, for 
 which, however, his antagonist cannot 
 be much blamed, having two Judges on 
 his side. I am more afraid of the debts 
 than of the House of Lords. It is scarcely 
 to be imagined to what debts will swell 
 that are daily increasing by small addi- 
 tions, and how carelessly in a state of 
 desperation debts are contracted. Poor 
 Macquarry was far from thinking that 
 when he sold his islands he should re- 
 ceive nothing. For what were they sold? 
 And what was their yearly value? The 
 admission of money into the Highlands 
 will soon put an end to the feudal modes 
 of life, by making those men landlords 
 who were not chiefs. I do not know that 
 the people will suffer by the change ; but 
 there was in the patriarchal authority 
 something venerable and pleasing. Every 
 eye must look with pain on a Campbell 
 turning the Macquarries at will out of 
 their sedes avitce, their hereditary island. 
 
 " Sir Alexander Dick is the only 
 Scotsman liberal enough not to be angry 
 that I could not find trees where trees 
 were not. I was much delighted by his 
 kind letter. 
 
 " I remember Rasay with too much 
 pleasure not to partake of the happiness 
 of any part of that amiable family. Our 
 ramble in the islands hangs upon my 
 imagination; I can hardly help imagin- 
 ing that we shall go again. Pennant 
 seems to have seen a great deal which 
 we did not see : when we travel again, 
 let us look better about us. 
 
 " You have done right in taking your 
 uncle's house. Some change in the form 
 of life gives from time to time a new 
 epocha of existence. In a new place 
 there is something new to be done, and 
 a different system of thoughts rises in the 
 mind. I wish 1 could gather currants in 
 your garden. Now fit up a little study, 
 and have your books ready at hand ; do 
 not spare a little money to make your 
 habitation pleasing to yourself. 
 
 " I have dined lately with poor dear 
 
 . I do not think he goes on well. 
 
 His table is rather coarse, and he has his 
 children too much about him *. But he 
 is a very good man. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams is in the country, to 
 
 • Tliis very just remark 1 hope will be con- 
 Btautlv held in remembrance by parents, who 
 are in general too apt to inrlulge tlieir own 
 fond feelings for their children at the expense 
 of their friends. The common custom of iii- 
 troducindr them after dinner is hiahly injutli- 
 cious. It is aRfeevible enough that they should 
 appear at any other lime; but they should 
 not be suffered to poison the moments of fes- 
 tivity by attracting the attention of the com- 
 pany, and in a manner compelling them from 
 politeness to say what they do not think. 
 
 try if she can improve her health ; she is 
 very ill. Matters have come so about 
 that she is in the country with very good 
 accommodation ; but age and sickness 
 and pride have made her so peevish that 
 I was forced to bribe the maid to stay 
 with her by a secret stipulation of half a 
 crown a week over her wages. 
 
 • Our Club ended its session about six 
 
 weeks ago. We now only meet to dine 
 
 nee a fortnight. Mr. Dunning, the great 
 
 lawyer, is one of our members. The 
 
 Thrales are well. 
 
 ' 1 long to know how the Negro's 
 cause will be decided. What is the opi- 
 nion of Lord Auchinleck, or Lord Hailes, 
 or Lord Monboddo. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate, &c. 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " July 22, 1777." 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWEI.L. 
 " MADAM, 
 
 '* Though I am well enough pleased with 
 the taste of sweetmeats, very little of the 
 pleasure which I received at the arrival 
 of your jar of marmalade arose from eat- 
 ing it. I received it as a token of friend- 
 ship, as a proof of reconciliation, things 
 much sweeter than sweetmeats, and upon 
 this consideration I return you, i\e:\v 
 madam, my sincerest thanks. By having 
 your kindness I think I have a double 
 security for the continuance of Mr. Bos- 
 well's, which it is not to be expected that 
 any man can long keep when the influ- 
 ence of a lady so highly and so justly 
 valued operates against him. Mr. Bos- 
 well will tell yon that I was always 
 faithful to your interest, and always en- 
 deavoured to exalt you in his estimation. 
 You must now do the same for me. We 
 must all help one another, and you mu.-t 
 now consider me as, 
 
 ** dear madam, 
 '* Your most obliged, 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 •'July V2, 1777." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, July 28, 1777. 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* This is the day on which you were to 
 leave London, and I have been amusing 
 myself in the intervals of my law drud- 
 gery with figuring you in the Oxford 
 post-coach. I doubt, however, if you 
 have had so merry a journey as you and 
 I had in that vehicle "last year, when you 
 made so much sport with Gwyn, the 
 architect. Incidents upon a journey arc 
 recollected with peculiar pleasure ; they 
 are preserved in brisk spirits, and come 
 
360 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 up again in oiir minds, tinctured with 
 that gaiety, or at least that animation with 
 which we first perceived tliem." 
 ****** 
 [I added, that something had occinred 
 which I was afraid might prevent me 
 from meeting him ; and that my wife 
 had been affected with complaints whicii 
 threatened a consumption, but was novv 
 better.] 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Do not disturb yourself about our in- 
 terviews ; I liope we shall have many ; 
 nor think it any thing hard or unusual 
 that your design of meeting me is inter- 
 rupted. We have both endured greater 
 evils, and have greater evils to expect. 
 
 " Mrs. Boswell's illness makes a more 
 seiious distress. Does the blood rise from 
 her lungs or from her stomach ? From 
 little vessels broken in the stomach there 
 is no danger. Blood from the lungs is, 
 I Relieve, always frothy, as mixed with 
 wind. Your physicians know very well 
 what is to be done. The loss of such a 
 lady would, indeed, be very afflictive, 
 and I hope she is in no danger. Take 
 care to keep her mind as easy as is pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " I have left Langton in London. He 
 has been dovvn with the militia, and is 
 again quiet at home, talking to his little 
 people, as, I suppose, you do sometimes. 
 Make my compliments to Miss Vero- 
 nica *. the rest are too young for cere- 
 mony. 
 
 " I cannot but hope that yoir have 
 taken your country house at a very sea- 
 sonable time, and that it may conduce to 
 restore or establish Mrs. Boswell's health, 
 as well as provide room and exercise for 
 the young ones. That you and your lady 
 may both he happy, and long enjoy your 
 happiness, is the sincere and earnest wish 
 
 of, DEA.R SIR, 
 
 ** Your most, «&c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Oxford, Aug. 4, 1777." 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 [Informing him that my wife had con- 
 tinued to grow better, so that my alarm- 
 ing apprehensions were relieved : and 
 that I hoped to disengage myself from 
 the other embarrassment which had oc- 
 curred, and therefore requesting to know 
 particularly when he intended to be at 
 Ashbourne.] 
 
 * [Ibis younjj lady, the authourV eldest 
 daii(;liC(;r, and at this time about Ave years 
 old, tiled in London, of a consumption, four 
 mouths after lier father, .Sept. 36, 1795. M.j 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM this day come to Ashbourne, and 
 have only to tell you that Dr. Taylor 
 says you shall be welcome to him, and 
 you know how welcome you will be to 
 me. Make haste to let me know when 
 you may be expected. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, and tell her 1 hope we shall be at 
 variance no more. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Aug. 30, 1777." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** On Saturday I wrote a very short let- 
 ter, immediately upon my anival hither, 
 to show you that I am not less desirous 
 of the interview than yourself. Life ad- 
 mits not of delays ; when pleasure can 
 be had, it is fit to catch it : every hour 
 takes avvay part of the things that please 
 us, and perhaps part of our disposition to 
 be pleased. When I came to Lichfield, 
 I fo!md my old friend Harry Jackson 
 dead. It was a loss, and a loss not to be 
 repaired, as he was one of the com- 
 panions of my childhood. I hope we 
 may long continue to gain friends ; but 
 the friends which merit or usefulness can 
 procure us are not able to supply the 
 place of old acquaintance, with whom 
 the days of youth may be retraced, and 
 those images revived which gave the ear- 
 liest delight. If you and I live to be much 
 older, we shall take great delight in talk- 
 ing over the Hebridean Journey. 
 
 " In the mean time it may not be 
 amiss to contrive some other little ad- 
 venture, but what it can be I know not ; 
 leave it, as Sydney says. 
 
 for I believe Mrs. Boswell mast have 
 some part in the consultation. 
 
 t [By an odd mistake, in the first three edi- 
 tions, ue find a reading; in Ihi^ line lo wliich 
 Dr. Johnson would by no means have suh- 
 scrjbeil; u<i»c hinina' been snbslituted foK. 
 limt\ That eiroiir nrobably was a mistake ia 
 the transcript of Jolinson's orig-inal letter, his 
 h;ind-writine being <»iton very (lifllcult to read. 
 The other dVviation in the w^inrvitHf of the 
 line fvirlne instead of nature) must be nttri* 
 huted to hi-i memory having deceived him; 
 and therefore, has not been disturbed. 
 
 Tiie verse quoted is the concluding line of a 
 Honuet of Sidney's, of which the earliest copy, 
 I believe, is I'otuid in Harrington's translation 
 of Ariosto, I5J>I, in the notes on the eleventh 
 book :— " And llicrefore," says he, " that ex- 
 cellent verse of Sir Philip .Sidney >n his first 
 Arcadia, which I know not by what mishap 
 is left out in the prhited booKe, [4to. 1590,] l^ 
 
iETAT. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 '• One thing you will like. The Doc 
 tor, so far as 1 can judge, is likely to 
 leave us enough to ourselves. He was 
 out to-day before I came down, and, I 
 fancy, will stay out to dinner. I have 
 brought the papers about poor Dodd, to 
 show you, but you will soon have de- 
 spatched them. 
 
 *• Before I came away, I sent poor 
 Mrs. Williams into the country, very ill 
 of a pituitous defluxion, which wastes her 
 gradually away, and which her physician 
 declares himself unable to stop. I sup- 
 plied her as far as could be desired, 
 with all conveniences to make her ex- 
 cursion and abode pleasant and useful. 
 But I am afraid she can only linger a 
 short time in a morbid state of weakness 
 and pain. 
 
 " The Thrales, little and great, are all 
 well, and purpose to go to Brighthelm- 
 stone at Michaelmas. They will invite 
 me to go with them, and perhaps I may 
 go, but I hardly think I shall like to stay 
 the whole time ; but of futurity we know 
 but little. 
 
 " Mrs. Porter is well ; but Mrs. Aston, 
 one of the ladies at Stowhill, has been 
 struck with a palsy, from which she is 
 
 in mine opinion worthie to be praised and 
 followed, to make a good and virtuous wife : 
 
 ' Who doth desire that chast his wife should 
 bee; 
 First be he true, for (ruth doth truth de- 
 serve ; 
 Then be he such, as she his worth may see, 
 
 And, alvvaies- one, credit with her preserve : 
 Not toying kynd, nor causelessly unkynd, 
 
 Not stirring thoughts, nor yet denying right, 
 Not spying faults, nor in plaine errors blind. 
 Never hard hand, nor ever rayns [reins] 
 too light; 
 As far from want, as far fromvaine expence. 
 Til' one doth enforce, the t'other doth en- 
 tice: 
 Allow good companie, but drive from thence 
 All tilthie mouths that giorie in their vice: 
 This done, thou hast no more but leave the 
 rest 
 To nature, fortune, time, and woman's 
 breast.' " 
 
 I take this opportunity to add, that in Eng- 
 land's Parnassus, a collection of poetry 
 printed in 1600, the second couplet of this son- 
 net is thus corruptly exliibited : 
 
 " Then he be such as he his words may see, 
 And alwaies one credit which litr preserve;" 
 
 a variation which I the rather mention, be- 
 cause the readings of that book have been 
 triumphantly quoted when they happened to 
 coincide with the sophistications of the second 
 folio edition of Shakspeare's plays in 1632, as 
 adding 1 know not what degree of authority 
 and authenticity to the latter: as if the cor- 
 ruptions of one book (and that abounding w jih 
 the grossest falsifications of the authours from 
 w hose works iis extracts are made) could give 
 any kind of support to another, which in every 
 page is still more adulterated and unfaithful. 
 M.] 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 361 
 
 not likely ever to recover. How soon 
 may such a stroke fall upon us ! 
 
 *' Write to me, and let us know when 
 we may expect you. I am, dear sir, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. .Johnson.'* 
 " Ashbourne, Sept. 1. 1777." 
 
 MR. BOSWEJoL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Sept. 9, 1777. '^ 
 [After informing him that I was to set 
 out next day in order to meet him at 
 Ashbourne : — ] 
 
 " I have a present for you from Lord 
 Hailes; the fifth book of ' Lactantius,* 
 which he has published with Latin notes. 
 He is also to give you a few anecdotes 
 for your ' Life of Thomson,' who I find 
 was private tutor to the present Earl of 
 Hadington, Lord Hailes's cousin, a cir- 
 cumstance not mentioned by Dr. Mur- 
 doch. I have keen expectations of de- 
 light from your edition of the English 
 Poets *. 
 
 ** I am sorry for poor Mrs. Williams's 
 situation. You will, however, have the 
 comfort of reflecting on your kindness 
 to her. Mr. Jackson's death and Mrs. 
 Ason's palsy are gloomy circumstances. 
 Yet surely we should be habituated to 
 the uncertainty of life and health. When 
 my mind is unclouded by melancholy, I 
 consider the temporary distresses of the 
 state of being as " light afflictions," by 
 stretching my mental view into that 
 glorious after-existence, when they will 
 appear to be as nothing. But present 
 pleasures and present pains must be felt. 
 1 lately read ' Rasselas' over again with 
 great satisfaction. 
 
 *' Since you are desirous to hear about 
 Macquarry's sale, I shall inform you par- 
 ticularly. The gentleman who purchased 
 Ulva, is Mr. Campbell, of Auchnaba : 
 our friend Macquarry was proprietor of 
 two-thirds of it, of which the rent was 
 one hundred and fifty-six pounds five 
 shillings and three halfpence. This par- 
 cel was set up at four thousand and sixty- 
 nine pounds five shillings and a penny, 
 but it sold for no less than five thousand 
 five hundred and forty pounds. The other 
 third of Ulva, with the island of Staffa, 
 belonged to Macquarry of Ormaig. Its 
 rent, including that of Statfa, eighty-three 
 pounds twelve shillings and two-pence 
 halfpenny — set up at two thousand one 
 hundred and seventy-eight pounds sixteen 
 shillings and fourpence — sold for no less 
 than three thousand five hundred and 
 forty pounds. The Laird of Col wished 
 to purchase Ulva, but he thought the 
 price too high. There may, indeed, be 
 
 * [See p. 354, n. W.] 
 
302 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 great impi'ovements made there, both in 
 fishing and agriculture; but the interest 
 of the purchase-money exceeds the rent 
 so very much that I doubt if the bargain 
 will be profitable. There is an island 
 called Little Colonsay, of ten pounds 
 yearly rent, which 1 am informed has 
 belonged to the Macquarrys of Ulva for 
 many ages, but which was lately claimed 
 by the Presbyterian Synod of Argyll, in 
 consequence of a grant made to them by 
 Queen Anne. It is believed that their 
 claim will be dismissed, and that Little 
 Colonsay will also be sold for the advan- 
 tage of Macquarry's creditors. What 
 think you of purchasing this island, and 
 endowing a school or college there, the 
 master to be a clergyman of the Church 
 of England? How venerable would such 
 an institution make the name of Dr. Sa- 
 muel Johnson, in the Hebrides ! I have, 
 like yourself, a wonderful pleasure in 
 recollecting our travels in those islands. 
 The pleasure is, I think, greater than it 
 reasonably should be, considering that we 
 had not much either of beauty or elegance 
 to charm our imaginations, or of rude 
 novelty to astonish. Let us, by all means, 
 have another expedition. I shrink a little 
 from ourschemeof goingupthe Baltick*. 
 I am sorry you have already been in 
 Wales ; for 1 wish to see it. Shall we 
 go to Ireland, of which I have seen but 
 
 * It appears that Johnson, now in his sixty- 
 eighth year, was seriously inclined to realize 
 the project of our going vp the Baltick, which 
 I had started when we were in the Isle of Sky; 
 for he thus writes to Mrs. Thrale; Letters, 
 vol. i. p. 366: — 
 
 " Ashbourne, Sept. 13, 17T7, 
 " BoswELL, I believe, is coming. He talks of 
 being here to-day: I shall he glad to see 
 him: but he shrinks from the Baltick expe<li- 
 tion, which, I think, is the best sclieme in our 
 
 Rower: what we shall substitute I know not. 
 le wants to see Wales; b>u, except the woo<l!. 
 o( Bachycrnigh, what is there in Wales that 
 can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench 
 the thirst of curiosity 1 We may, perhaps, 
 form some scheme or other : but, in the 
 phrase of HockUy in the Hole, it is pity he 
 has not a bettei- Sottom.^'' 
 
 Such an ardour of mind, and vigour of en- 
 terprise, is admirable at any age: but mote 
 particularly so at the advanced period at 
 which Johnson was then arrived. I am sorry 
 now that I did not insist on our executing that 
 scheme. Besides the other objects of curiosity 
 and observation, to have seen my illustrious 
 friend received, as he probably would have 
 been, by a prince so eminently distinguished 
 for his variety of talents and acquisitions as 
 the late Kins: of Sweden; and by the Empress 
 of Russia, whose extraordinary abilities, in- 
 formation, and masnanimity astonish the 
 world, would have afforded a noble subjpct 
 for contemplation and record. This reflection 
 mav pos-iibly be thought too visionary by tlie 
 more sedate and cold blooded part of my 
 rea«lers; yet 1 own F frequently indulge it 
 Willi an earnest, unavailing regret. 
 
 little? We shall try to strike out a plan 
 when we are at Ashbourne. I am ever 
 *' Your most faithful humble servant, 
 " James Bosvveljl.'* 
 
 '* to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I WRITE to be left at Carlisle, as you 
 direct me; but you cannot have it. Your 
 letter, dated Sept. 6, was not at this place 
 till this day, Thursday, Sept- 11 ; and I 
 hope you will be here before this is at 
 Carlisle f . However, what you have not 
 going, you may have returning ; and as 
 i believe I shall not love you less after 
 our interview, it will then be as true as 
 it is now, that I set a very high value 
 upon your friendship, and count your 
 kindness as one of the chief felicities of 
 my life. Do not fancy that an intermis- 
 sion of writing is a decay of kindness. 
 No man is always in- a disposition to 
 write ; nor has any man at all times 
 something to say. 
 
 ** That distrust which intrudes so often 
 on your mind is a mode of melancholy 
 which, if it be the business of a wise man 
 to be happy, it is foolish to indulge ; and, 
 if it be a duty to preserve our faculties 
 entire for their proper use, it is criminal. 
 Suspicion is very often a useless pain. 
 From that and all other pains I wish you 
 free and safe ; for 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* Most affectionately yours, 
 " Sam. Johnson.** 
 " Ashbourne, Sept. 11, 1777." 
 
 On Sunday evening, Sept. 14, I ar- 
 rived at Ashbourne, a~nd drove directly 
 up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnson 
 and he appeared before I had got out of 
 the postchaise, and welcomed me cor- 
 dially. 
 
 I told them that I had travelled all the 
 preceding night, and gone to bed at Leek 
 in Staffordshire; and that when I rose 
 to go to church in the afternoon, I was 
 informed there had been an earthquake, 
 of which, it seems, the shock had been 
 felt in some degree at Ashbourne. John- 
 son. " Sir, it will be much exaggerated 
 in popular talk : for, in the first place, 
 the common people do not accurately 
 adapt their thoughts to the objects ; nor, 
 secondly, do they accurately adapt their 
 words to their thoughts : they do not 
 mean to lie ; but, taking no pains to be 
 exact, they give you very false accounts. 
 A great part of their language is pro- 
 verbial, if any thing rocks at all, they 
 say it rocks like a cradle ; and in this 
 way they go on." 
 
 + it BO happened. The letter was forwarded 
 to my house at Edinburgh. 
 
JEtm. i 
 
 The subject of grief for the loss of rela- 
 tions and friends being introduced, I 
 observed that it was strange to consider 
 how soon it in general wears away. Dr. 
 Taylor mentioned a gentleman of the 
 neighbourhood as the only instance he 
 had ever known of a person who had 
 endeavoured to retain grief. He told 
 Dr. Taylor, that after his Lady's death, 
 which affected him deeply, he resolved 
 that the grief, which he cherished with a 
 kind of sacred fondness, should be last- 
 ing ; but that he found he could not keep 
 it long. Johnson. " All grief for what 
 cannot in the course of nature be helped 
 soon wears away ; in some sooner, in- 
 deed, in some later; but it never con- 
 tinues very long, unless where there is 
 madness, such as will make a man have 
 pride so fixed in his mind as to imagine 
 himself a king; or any other passion in 
 an unreasonable way : for all unnecessary 
 grief is unwise, and therefore will not be 
 long retained by a sound mind. If, indeed, 
 the cause of our grief is occasioned by 
 our own misconduct, if grief is mingled 
 with remorse of conscience, it should be 
 lasting." BoswELL. " But, sir, we do 
 not approve of a man who very soon 
 forgets the loss of a wife or a friend." 
 Johnson. ** Sir, we disapprove of him, 
 not because he soon forgets his grief, for 
 the sooner it is forgotten the better ; but 
 because we suppose that if he forgets his 
 wife or his friend soon, he has not had 
 much aiFection for them." 
 
 I was somewhat disappointed in find- 
 ing that the edition of the English Poets, 
 for which he was to write Prefaces and 
 Lives, was not an undertaking directed 
 by him : but that he was to furnish a 
 Preface and Life to any poet the book- 
 sellers pleased. I asked him if he would 
 do this to any dunce's works, if they 
 should ask him. Johnson. " Yes, sir; 
 and say he was a dunce." My friend 
 seemed now not much to relish talking 
 of this edition. 
 
 On Monday, September 15, Dr. John- 
 son observed, that every body com- 
 mended such parts of his '* Journey to 
 the Western Islands" as were in their 
 own way. " For instance (said he), 
 Mr. Jackson (the all-knowing) told me 
 there was more good sense upon trade in 
 it than he should hear in the House of 
 Commons in a year, except from Burke. 
 Jones commended the part which treats 
 of language ; Burke that which describes 
 the inhabitants of mountainous coun- 
 tries." 
 
 After breakfast, Johnson carried me 
 to see the garden belonging to the school 
 of Ashbourne, which is very prettily 
 formed upon a bank, rising gradually 
 beiiiud the house. The Reverend jNlr. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 3G3 
 
 Langley, the head- master, accompanied 
 
 While we sat basking in the sun upon 
 a seat here, I introduced a common sub- 
 ject of complaint, the very small salaries 
 which many curates have, and I main- 
 tained that no man should be invested 
 with the character of a clergyman, unless 
 he has a security for such an income as 
 will enable him to appear respectable ; 
 that, therefore, a clergyman should not 
 be allowed to have a curate, unless he 
 gives him a hundred pounds a year; if 
 he cannot do that, let him perform the 
 duty himself. Johnson. " To be sure, 
 sir, it is wrong that any clergyman should 
 be without a reasonable income ; but as 
 the church revenues were sadly dimi- 
 nished at the Reformation, the clergy 
 who have livings cannot afibrd, in many 
 instances, to give good salaries to curates, 
 without leaving themselves too little ; 
 and, if no curate were to be permitted 
 unless he had a hundred pounds a year, 
 their nun)ber would be very small, which 
 would be a disadvantage, as then there 
 would not be such choice in the nursery 
 for the church, curates being candidates 
 for the higher ecclesiastical offices, accord- 
 ing to their merit and good behaviour." 
 He explained the system of the English 
 Hierarchy exceedingly well. " It is not 
 thought fit (said he) to trust a man with 
 the care of a parish till he has given 
 proof as a curate that he shall deserve 
 such a trust." This is an excellent 
 theory: and if the practice were ac- 
 cording to it, the Church of England 
 would be admirable indeed. However, 
 as I have heard Dr. Johnson observe as 
 to the Universities, bad practice does not 
 infer that the constitution is bad. 
 
 We had with us at dinner several of 
 Dr. Taylor's neighbours, good civil gen- 
 tleman, who seemed to understand Dr. 
 Johnson very well, and not to consider 
 him in the light that a certain person 
 did, who being struck, or rather stunned 
 by his voice and manner, when he was 
 afterwards asked what he thought of 
 him, answered, " He's a tremendous 
 companion." 
 
 Johnson told me that " Taylor was a 
 very sensible acute man, and had a strong 
 mind ; that he had great activity in some 
 respects, and yet such a sort of indolence 
 that if you should put a pebble upon his 
 chimneypiece, you would find it there, in 
 the same state, a year afterwards." 
 
 And here is a proper place to give an 
 account of Johnson's humane and zealous 
 interference in behalf of the Reverend 
 Dr. William Dodd, formerly Prebendary 
 of Brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to 
 his Majesty ; celebrated as a very popu- 
 lar preacher, an encourager of charitable 
 
36i 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 institutions, and authour of a variety of 
 works, chiefly theological. Having un- 
 happily contracted expensive habits of 
 living, partly occasioned by licentious- 
 ness of manners, he in an evil hour, 
 when pressed by want of money, and 
 dreading an exposure of his circum- 
 stances, forged a bond of which he at- 
 tempted to avail himself to support his 
 credit, flattering himself with hopes thai 
 lie might be able to repay its amount 
 without being detected. The person, 
 whose name he thus rashly and crimi- 
 nally presumed to falsify, was the Earl 
 of Chesterfield, to whom he had been 
 tutor, and who he, perhaps, in the warmth 
 of his feelings, flattered himself would 
 have generously paid the money in case 
 of an alarm being taken, rather than 
 sufl^'er him to fall a victim to the dreadful 
 consequences of violating the law against 
 forgery, the most dangerous crime in a 
 commercial country ; but the unfortunate 
 divine had the mortification to find that 
 he was mistaken. His noble pupil ap- 
 peared against him, and he was capitally 
 convicted. 
 
 Johnson told me that Dr. Dodd was 
 very little acquainted with him, having 
 been but once in his company, many 
 years previous to this period (which was 
 precisely the state of my own acquaint- 
 ance with Dodd) ; but in his distress he 
 bethought himself of Johnson's persuasive 
 power of writing, if haply it might avail 
 to obtain for him the Royal Mercy. He 
 did not apply to him directly, but, extra- 
 ordinary as it may seem, through the late 
 Countess of Harrington *, who wrote a 
 letter to Johnson, asking him to employ 
 his pen in favour of D«>dd. Mr. Allen, 
 the printer, who was Johnson's landlord 
 and next neighbour in Bolt Court, and 
 for whom he had much kindness, was 
 one of Dodd's friends, of whom, to the 
 credit of humanity be it recorded, that he 
 had many who did not desert him, even 
 after his infringement of the law had re- 
 duced him to the state of a man under 
 sentence of death. Mr. Allen told me 
 that he carried Lady Harrington's letter 
 to Johnson, that Johnson read it walking 
 up and down his chamber, and seemed 
 much agitated, after which he said, " 1 
 will do what 1 can ;" — and certainly lie 
 did make extraordinary exertions. 
 
 He this evening, as he had obligingly 
 promised in one of his letters, put into 
 my hands the whole series of his writings 
 upon this melancholy occasion, and I 
 shall present my readers with the ab- 
 Biract which I made from the collection ; 
 in doing which 1 studied to avoid copy- 
 
   [Caroline. eMfst daiiRlitrr of Charles Fitz- 
 roy, Duke or Grafton, and wife of William, 
 the second Earl of Harrington. M.] 
 
 ing what had appeared in print, and now 
 make part of tlie edition of *' Johnson's 
 Works," publislied by the Booksellers of 
 London, but taking care to mark John- 
 son's variations in some of the pieces 
 there exhibited. 
 
 Dr. Johnson wrote, in the first place. 
 Dr. Dodd's " Speech to the Recorder of 
 London," at the Old Bailey, when sen- 
 tence of death was about to be pronounced 
 upon him. 
 
 He wrote also " The Convict's Address 
 to his unhappy Brethren," a sermon de- 
 livered by Dr. Dodd, in the chapel of 
 Newgate. According to Johnson's manu- 
 script it began thus after the text. What 
 shall I do to he saved ? — " These were 
 the words with which the keeper, to 
 whose custody Paul and Silas were com- 
 mitted by their prosecutors, addressed 
 his prisoners, when he saw them freed 
 from their bonds by the perceptible agency 
 of divine favour, and was, therefore, irre- 
 sistibly convinced that they were not 
 ort'enders against the laws, but martyrs 
 to the truth." 
 
 Dr. Johnson was so good as to mark 
 for me with his own hand, on a copy of 
 this sermon which is now in my posses- 
 sion, such passages as were added by 
 Dr. Dodd. They are not many : who- 
 ever will take the trouble to look at the 
 printed copy, and attend to what I men- 
 tion, will be satisfied of this. 
 
 There is a short introduction by Dr. 
 Dodd, and he also inserted this sentence, 
 " You see with what confusion and dis- 
 honour I now stand before you ;— no 
 more in the pulpit of instruction, but on 
 this humble seat with yourselves." The 
 notes are entirely Dodd's own, and John- 
 son's writing ends at the words, " the 
 thief whom he pardoned on the cross." 
 What follows was supplied by Dr. Dodd 
 himself. 
 
 The other pieces mentioned by John- 
 son in the abovementioned collection are 
 two letters, one to the Lord Chancellor 
 Hathurst (not Lord North, as is errone- 
 ously supposed), and one to Lord Mans- 
 field ;— A Petition from Dr. Dodd to the 
 King;— A Petition from Mrs. Dodd to 
 the Queen ; — Observations of some length 
 inserted in the newspapers, on occasion 
 of Earl Percy's having presented to his 
 Majesty a petition for mercy to Dodd, 
 signed by twenty thousand people, but 
 all in vain. He told me that he had also 
 written a petition from the city of Lon- 
 don ; '* but (said he, with a significant 
 smile) they mended itf." 
 
 + Having unexpeciedly, by the favoiir of 
 Mr. Sione, uf Lon<ion Field, * Hackney, tieeii 
 flic original in Johnson's hand writing, of 
 " The Petition of the Citv of London to hi» 
 Majesty, in favour of Dr. Dodd," I now pre- 
 
JEtat. 68. 
 
 The last of these articles which John- 
 son wrote is, *♦ Dr. Dodd's last solemn 
 Declaration," which he left with the 
 sheriftat the place of execution. Here 
 also my friend marked the variations on 
 a copy of that piece now in my posses- 
 sion. Dodd inserted, " I never knew or 
 attended to the calls of frugality, or the 
 needful minuteness of painful economy ;" 
 and in the next sentence he introduced 
 the words which I distinguish by Jta- 
 licks ; '* My life for some ^few unhappy 
 years past has been dreadfully errone- 
 ous." Johnson's expression was hypo- 
 critical ; but his remark on the margin 
 is, " With this he said he could not 
 charge himself." 
 
 Having thus authentically settled what 
 part of the " Occasional Papers," con- 
 cerning Dr. Dodd's miserable situation, 
 came from the pen of Johnson, I shall 
 proceed to present my readers with my 
 record of the unpublished writings re- 
 lating to that extraordinary and interest- 
 ing matter. 
 
 1 found a letter to Dr. Johnson from 
 Pr. Dodd, May 23, 1777, in which, 
 " The Convict's Address " seems clearly 
 to be meant : 
 
 " I am so penetrated, my ever dear 
 sir, with a sense of your extreme bene- 
 volence towards me, that I cannot find 
 words equal to the sentiments of my 
 heart. * * * * 
 
 " You are too conversant in the world 
 to need the slightest hint from me, of 
 what infinite utility the Speech* on the 
 awful day has been to me. 1 experience, 
 
 sent it to my rearters, with such passages as 
 were omilfed, enclosed iti crotchets, and the 
 additions or variations maiked in Italicks. 
 
 " Tliat William Dodd, Doctor of Laws, now 
 lyinof umier sentence of death in yovr Ma- 
 jesty''s gaol of Newgate, for the crime of 
 forgery, lias for a great part of his life set a 
 nseful and laudable example of diligence in 
 his calling [and as we have reason to believe, 
 has exercieed his ministry with great fidelity 
 and efficacy], tvhich in many instances lias 
 prodnced the most happy effect. 
 
 " That he has been tlie first institutor, [or] 
 and a very earnest and active promoter of 
 several modes of useful charity, and [that] 
 therefore [he] may be considered as having 
 been on many occasions a benefactor lo the 
 pnblick. 
 
 " [ Ihat when they consider his past life, 
 they are willins to suppose his laie crime to 
 have been not the consetjuence of habituaNle- 
 piavity, but the suggestion of some sudden 
 and violent temptation,] 
 
 " [That] Your Petitioners therefore con- 
 sidering his case, as in some of its circum- 
 stances unprecedented and peculiar, and en- 
 couraged by your Majesty^ known clemency, 
 [they] most humbly recommend tlie said 
 William Dodd to [his] your Majesty's most 
 gracious consideration, in hopes that he will 
 be found not altogether [unfit] tinworthy to 
 stand an example of Royal Mercy." 
 
 * His speech at the Old Bailey, when found 
 guilty. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 3(55 
 
 every hour, some good effect from it. I 
 am sure that effects still more salutary 
 and important must follow from your 
 kind and intended favour. I will la- 
 bour— God being my helper— to do justice 
 to it from the pulpit. I am sure, had I 
 your sentiments constantly to deliver from 
 thence, in all their mighty force and 
 power, not a soul could be left uncon- 
 vinced and unpersuaded." * » * * 
 
 " He added, " May God Almighty 
 bless and reward, with his choicest com- 
 forts, your philanthropick actions, and 
 enable me at all times to express what I 
 feel of the high and uncommon obliga- 
 tions which I owe to the ^rs^ man in our 
 times." 
 
 On Sunday, June 22, he writes, beg- 
 ging Dr. Johnson's assistance in framing 
 a supplicatory letter to his Majesty : 
 
 " If his Majesty could be moved of 
 his royal clemency to spare me and my 
 family the horrours and ignominy of a 
 puhlick death, which the puhlick itself 
 is solicitous to wave, and to grant me in 
 some silent distant corner of the globe to 
 pass the remainder of my days in peni- 
 tence and prayer, I would bless his 
 clemency aiid be humbled." 
 
 This letter was brought to Dr. Johnson 
 when in church. He stooped down and 
 read it, and wrote, when he went home, 
 the following letter for Dr. Dodd to the 
 King: 
 
 " sm, 
 " May it not offend your Majesty, that 
 the most miserable of men applies him- 
 self to your clemency, as his last hope 
 and his last refuge ; that your mercy is 
 most earnestly and humbly implored 
 by a clergyman, whom your Laws and 
 Judges have condemned to the horrour 
 and ignominy of a publick execution. 
 
 " 1 confess the crime, and own the 
 enormity of its consequences, and the 
 danger of its example. Nor have I the 
 confidence to petition for impunity ; but 
 humbly hope that publick security may 
 be established, without the spectacle of 
 a clergyman dragged through the streets 
 to a death of infamy, amidst the derision 
 of the profligate and profane ; and that 
 justice may be satisfied with irrevocable 
 exile, perpetual disgrace, and hopeless 
 penury. 
 
 " My life, sir, has not been useless to 
 mankind. I have benefited many. But 
 my offences against God are numberless, 
 and 1 have had little time for repent- 
 ance. Preserve me, sir, by your prero- 
 gative of mercy, from the necessity of 
 appearing unprepared at that tribunal, 
 before which Kings and Subjects must 
 stand at last together. Permit me to 
 hide my guilt in some obscure corner of 
 
36G 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 a i'oreign country, ^vhere, if I can ever 
 attain confidence to hope that my pray- 
 ers will be heard, they shall be poured 
 with all tlie fervour of gratitude for the 
 life and happiness of your Majesty. 
 " 1 am, SIR, 
 
 " Your Majesty's, &c." 
 
 Subjoined to it was written as follows : 
 
 ** TO DR. DODD. 
 
 * SIR, 
 
 ** I MOST seriously enjoin you not to let 
 it be at all known that I have written 
 this letter, and to return the copy to Mr. 
 Allen in a cover to me. I hope I need 
 not tell you that I wish it success. — But 
 do not indulge hope. — Tell nobody." 
 
 It happened luckily that Mr. Allen 
 was pitched on to assist in this melan- 
 choly office, for he was a great friend of 
 Mr. Akerman, the keeper of Newgate. 
 Dr. Johnson never went to see Dr. Dodd. 
 He said to me, " it would have done him 
 more harm than good to Dodd, who once 
 expressed a desiie to see him, but not 
 earnestly." 
 
 Dr. Johnson, on the 20th of June, 
 w rote the following letter : 
 
 ** TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES 
 JENKINSON. 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Since the conviction and condemna- 
 tion of Dr. Dodd, I have had, by the 
 intervention of a friend, some intercourse 
 with him, and I am sme I shall lose no- 
 thing in your opinion by tenderness and 
 commiseration. Whatever be the crime, 
 it is not easy to have any knowledge of 
 the delinquent, without a wish that his 
 life may be spared; at least when no 
 life has been taken away by him. I 
 will, therefore, take the liberty of sug- 
 t:<!.sting some reasons for which 1 wish 
 tliis unhappy being to escape the utmost 
 rigour of his sentence. 
 
 ** He is, so far as I can recollect, the 
 first clergyman of our church who has 
 S'ltteied publick execution for imnio 
 rality ; and I know not whether it would 
 not be more for the interests of religion 
 to bury such an offender in the obscurity 
 of perpetual exile than to expose him in 
 a cart, and on the gallows, to all who for 
 any reason are enemies to the clergy. 
 
 •* The supreme power has, in all ages, 
 paid some attention to the voice of the 
 people ; and that voice does not least 
 deserve to be heard, when it calls out for 
 mercy. There is now a very general 
 desire that Dodtl's life should be spared. 
 More is not wished ; and, perhaps, this 
 is not too much to be granted. 
 
 " If you, sir, have any opportunity of 
 enforciag these reasons, you may, per- 
 
 haps, think them worthy of considera- 
 tion : but whatever you determine, I 
 most respectfully entreat that you will 
 be pleased to pardon for this intrusion, 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Your most obedient 
 " And most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 It has been confidently circulated, with 
 invidious remarks, that to this letter no 
 attention whatever was paid by Mr. Jen- 
 kinson (afterwards Earl of Liverpool) ; 
 and that he did not even deign to show 
 the common civility of owning the re- 
 ceipt of it. I could not but wonder at 
 such conduct in the noble Lord, whose 
 own character and just elevation in life, 
 I thought must have impressed him with 
 all due regard for great abilities and at- 
 tainments. As the story had been much 
 talked of, and apparently from good au- 
 thority, I could not but have animad- 
 verted upon it in this work, had it been 
 as was alleged; but from my earnest 
 love of truth, and having found reason to 
 think that there might be a mistake, I 
 presumed to write to his Lordship, re- 
 questing an explanation ; and it is with 
 the sincerest pleasure that I am enabled 
 to assure the world that there is no foun- 
 dation for it, the fact being, that owing 
 to some neglect or accident, Johnson's 
 letter never came to Lord Hawkesburj's 
 hands. I should have thought it strange 
 indeed, if that noble Lord had underva- 
 lued my illustrious friend ; but instead 
 of this being the case, his Lordship in a 
 very polite answer with which he was 
 [)leased immediately to honour me, thus 
 expresses himself: — " I have always re- 
 spected the memory of Dr. Johnson, and 
 adnjire his writings; and I frequently 
 read many parts of them with pleasure 
 and great improvement." 
 
 All applications for the Royal Mercy 
 having failed. Dr. Dodd prepared him- 
 self for death ; and with a warmth of 
 gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnson as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 •*June 85, Midnight.'^ 
 " Accept, thou great and (/ood heart, 
 my earnest and fervent thanks and pray- 
 ers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts 
 in my behalf. — Oh ! Dr. Johnson ! as I 
 sought your knowledge at an early hour 
 in life, would to heaven 1 had cultivated 
 the love and acquaintance of so excellent 
 a man! — I pray Got) most sincerely to 
 bless you with the highest transports — 
 the infelt satisfaction of humane and be- 
 nevolent exertions! — And admitted, as I 
 trust I shall be, to the realms of bliss 
 before you, I shall hail your arrival there 
 with transports, and rejoice to acknow- 
 ledge that you were my Comforter, my 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Advocate, and my Friend ! Gk)U be ever 
 with you !" 
 
 Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd 
 this solemn and soothing letter : 
 
 « TO THE REVEREND DR. DODD. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** That which is appointed to all men 
 is now coming upon you. Outward cir- 
 cumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of 
 men are below the notice of an immortal 
 being about to stand the trial for eter- 
 nity, before the Supreme Judge of hea- 
 ven and earth. Be comforted : your 
 crime, morally or religiously considered, 
 has no very deep dye of turpitude. It 
 corrupted no man's principles; it at- 
 tacked no man's life. It involved only 
 a temporary and reparable injury. Of 
 this, and of all other sins, you are earn- 
 estly to repent; and may God, who 
 knoweth our frailty, and desireth not our 
 death, accept your repentance, for the 
 sake of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 " In requital of those well intended 
 offices which you are pleased so empha- 
 tically to acknowledge, let me beg that 
 you make in jour devotions one petition 
 for my eternal welfare. 
 
 " 1 am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most attectionate servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "June 26, 1777." 
 
 Under the copy of this letter I found 
 written, in Johnson's own hand, " Next 
 day, June 27, he was executed." 
 
 To conclude this interesting episode 
 with a useful application, let us now 
 attend to the reflections of Johnson at 
 the end of the '* Occasional Papers," 
 concerning the unfortunate Dr. Dodd. — 
 " Such were the last thoughts of a man 
 whom we have seen exulting in popu- 
 larity, and sunk in shame. For his 
 reputation, which no man can give to 
 himself, those who conferred it are to 
 answer. Ot his publick ministry the 
 means of judging were sufficiently at- 
 tainable. He nmst be allowed to preach 
 well whose sermons strike his audience 
 with forcible conviction. Of his life, 
 those who thought it consistent with his 
 doctrine did not originally form false 
 notions. He was, at tirst, what he en- 
 deavoured to make others ; but the world 
 broke down his resolution, and he in 
 time ceased to exemplify his own instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 " Let those who are tempted to his 
 faults tremble at his punishjnent ; and 
 those whom he impressed from the pul- 
 pit with religious sentiments endeavour 
 to confirm them, by considering the re- 
 gret and self-abhorrence with which he 
 
 3«7 
 
 reviewed in prison his deviations from 
 rectitude *." 
 
 Johnson gave us this evening, in his 
 happy discriminative manner, a portrait 
 of the late Mr. Fitzherbert of Derby- 
 shire. *' I'here was (said he) no sparkle, 
 no brilliancy in Fitzherbert ; but I never 
 knew a man who was so generally ac- 
 ceptable. He made every body quite 
 easy, overpowered nobody by the supe- 
 riority of his talents, made no man think 
 worse of himself by being his rival, 
 seemed always to listen, did not oblige 
 you to hear much from him, and did 
 not oppose what you said. Every body 
 liked him ; but he had no friend, as I 
 understand the word, nobody with whom 
 he exchanged intimate thoughts. People 
 were willing to think well of every thing 
 about him. A gentleman was making 
 an affected rant, as many people do, of 
 great feelings about ' his dear son,' who 
 was at school near London ; how anxi- 
 ous he was lest he might be ill, and what 
 he would give to see him. ' Can't you 
 (said Fitzherbert) take a postchaise and 
 go to him?' This, to be sure, finished 
 the affected man, but there was not 
 much in it+. However, this was circu- 
 lated as wit for a whole winter, and, I 
 believe, part of a summer too ; a proof 
 that he was no very witty man. He was 
 an instance of the truth of the observa- 
 tion, that a man will please more upon 
 the whole by negative qualities than by 
 positive ; by never offending than by 
 giving a great deal of delight. In the 
 first place, men hate more steadily than 
 they love ; and if I have said something 
 to hurt a man once, I shall not get the 
 better of this, by saying many things to 
 please him." 
 
 Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson 
 having mentioned to me the extraordi- 
 nary size and price of some cattle reared 
 by Dr. Taylor, I rode out with our host, 
 surveyed his farm, and was shown one 
 cow which he had sold for a hundred 
 and twenty guineas, and another for 
 which he had been offered a hundred 
 
 * [See Dr. Johnson's final opinion roncern- 
 inar Dr. Dodd, under April 18, 17(i3. M.] 
 
 t Dr. Gisborne, Physician to his Majesty's 
 Household, hiis obligingly communicated to 
 nie a fuller account of this story than hHd 
 reached Dr. Johnson. The affected jrentle- 
 man was ihe late John Gilherl Cooper, Esq. 
 authour of a Life of Socrates, and of some 
 poems in Dc»dsley's colleciiou. Mr. Fiizher- 
 l»ert found him one morning, apparently, in 
 siich violent a^ilation on account ol rhe indis- 
 position of his son as to seem be>ond the 
 power of comfort. At length, however, he 
 exclaimed, " I will wiite an Elegy." Mr. 
 Fiizhorheit, being satisfied by this of the sin- 
 cerity of his emotions, slyly said," Had not 
 von better take a postchaise and eo and see 
 iiim'" It was the shrewdness of the insniua- 
 tion which made the story be circulated. 
 
368 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 and thirty. Taylor thus described to me 
 his old schoolfellow and friend, Jolinson : 
 " He is a man of a very clear head, great 
 power of words, and a very gay imagi- 
 nation ; but there is no disputing with 
 him. He will not hear you, and having 
 a louder voice than you, must roar you 
 down." 
 
 In the afternoon I tried to get Dr. 
 Johnson to like the Poems of Mr. Ha- 
 milton of Bangonr, which I had brought 
 with ine : I had been much pleased with 
 them at a very early age : the impression 
 still remained on my mind ; it was con- 
 firmed by the opinion of my friend the 
 Honourable Andrew Erskine, himself 
 both a good poet and a good critick, 
 who thought Hamilton as true a poet as 
 ever wrote, and that his not having fame 
 was unaccountable. Johnson, upon re- 
 peated occasions, while I was at Ash- 
 bourne, talked slightingly of Hamilton. 
 He said there was no power of thinking 
 in his verses, nothing that strikes one, 
 nothing better than what you generally 
 lind in magazines ; and that the highest 
 praise they deserved was that they were 
 very well for a gentleman to hand about 
 among his friends. He said the imita- 
 tion of Ne »it ancilloi tibi amor, Ac. 
 was too solemn ; he read part of it at the 
 beginning. He read the beautiful pathe- 
 tick song, "Ah! the poor shepherd's 
 mournful fate," and did not seem to give 
 attention to what I had been used to 
 think tender elegant strains, but laughed 
 at the rhyme, in Scotch pronunciation, 
 wishes, and blushes, reading wushes — 
 and there he stopped. He owned that 
 the epitaph on Lord Newhall was pretty 
 well done. He read the " Inscription in 
 a Summer House," and a little of the 
 imitations of Horace's Epistles ; but said 
 he found nothing to make him desire to 
 read on. When I urged that there were 
 some good poetical passages in the book, 
 " Where (said he) will you find so large 
 a collection without some?" I thought 
 the description of Winter might obtain 
 his approbation : 
 
 " See Winter from the frozen nortli 
 
 Drives his iron chariot fnrtli ? 
 
 fiis crisly hand in icy chains 
 
 Fair Tweeda's silver 'flood constrains," &c. 
 
 He asked why an "iron chariot?" and 
 said " icy chains " was an old image. I 
 WHS struck with the uncertainty of taste, 
 and somewhat sorry that a poet whom 1 
 had long read with fondness was not 
 approved by Dr. Johnson. I comforted 
 myself with thinking that the beauties 
 were too delicate for his robust percep- 
 tions. Garrick maintained that he had 
 not a taste for the finest productions of 
 genius : but I was sensible that, m hen 
 iie took the trouble to analyse critically, 
 
 he generally convinced us that he wa& 
 right. 
 
 In the evening the Reverend Mr. Se- 
 ward, of Lichfield, who was passing 
 through Ashbourne in his way home, 
 drank tea with us. Johnson described 
 him thus : — " Sir, his ambition is to be 
 a line talker ; so he goes to Buxton, and 
 such places, where he may find compa- 
 nies to listen to him. And, sir, he is 
 a valetudinarian, one of those who are 
 always mending themselves. I do not 
 know a more disagreeable character than 
 a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do 
 any thing that is for his ease, and indulges 
 himself in the grossest freedoms : sir, he 
 brings himself to the state of a hog in a 
 sty." 
 
 Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, 
 he said it was because he had omitted to 
 have himself blooded four days after a 
 quarter of a year's interval. Dr. John- 
 son, who was a great dabbler in physick, 
 disapproved much of periodical bleeding. 
 " For (said he) yon accustom yourself to 
 an evacuation which Nature cannot per- 
 form of herself, and therefore she cannot 
 help you, should you from forgetfulness 
 or any other cause omit it ; so you may 
 be suddenly sutfocated. You may ac- 
 custom yourself to other periodical eva- 
 cuations, because should you omit them, 
 Natnre can supply the omission ; but 
 Nature cannot open a vein to blood 
 you*." — " I do not like to take an eme- 
 tick (said Taylor) for fear of breaking 
 some small vessels." — ** Poh ! (said John- 
 son) if you have so many things that will 
 break, yon had better break your neck 
 at once, and there's an end on't. You 
 will break no small vessels :" (blowing 
 with high derision.) 
 
 I mentioned to Dr. Johnson that Da- 
 vid Hume's persisting in his infidelity, 
 when he was dying, shocked me much. 
 Johnson. " Why should it shock you, 
 sir? Hume owned he had never read the 
 New Testament with attention. Here 
 then was a man who had been at no 
 pains to inquire into the truth of religion, 
 and had continually turned his mind the 
 other way. It was not 1o be expected 
 that the prospect of death would alter his 
 way of thinking, unless Gou should send 
 an angel to set him right." I said, I had 
 reason to believe that ihc thought of anni- 
 hilation gave Hume no pain. Johnson. 
 " It was not so, sir. He had a vanity 
 in being thought easy. It is more proba- 
 ble that he should assume an appear- 
 ance of case than so very improbable a 
 thing should be, as a man not afraid of 
 going (as, in spite of his delusive tlieory, 
 he cannot be sure but he may go) into 
 
 • [Nature however, may supply the evacu- 
 ation by an hainorrhage. K.j 
 
JEtxt. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 U^ 
 
 an unknown state, and not being uneasy 
 at leaving all be knew. And you are to 
 consider, that upon bis own principle of 
 annihilation he bad no motive to speak 
 the truth." The borrour of death which 
 I had always observed in Dr. Johnson, 
 appeared strong to-night. I ventured to 
 tell him, that I had been, for moments 
 in my life, not afraid of death ; therefore 
 I could suppose another man In that 
 state of mind for a considerable space of 
 time. He said, ** he never had a mo- 
 ment in which death was not terrible to 
 him.'* He added, that it had been ob- 
 served, that scarce any man dies in pub- 
 lick but with apparent resolution ; from 
 that desire of praise which never quits 
 us. I said, Dr. Dodd seemed to be wil- 
 ling to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 
 " Sir (said he), Dr. Dodd would have 
 given both his hands and both his legs 
 to have lived. The better a man is, the 
 more afraid is he of death, having a 
 clearer view of infinite purity." He 
 owned that oar being in an unhappy un- 
 certainty as to our salvation was myste- 
 rious ; and said, " Ah ! we must wait till 
 we are in another state of being, to have 
 many things explained to us." Even 
 the powerful mind of Johnson seemed 
 foiled by futurity. But I thought, that 
 the gloom of uncertainty in solemn reli- 
 gious speculation being mingled with 
 hope was yet more consolatory than the 
 emptiness of infidelity. A man can live 
 in thick air, but perishes in an exhausted 
 receiver. 
 
 Dr. Johnson .vas much pleased with a 
 remark which I told him was made to 
 me by General Paoli :— " That it is im- 
 possible not to be afraid of death ; and 
 that those who at the time of dying are 
 not afraid are not thinking of death, but 
 of applause, or something else which 
 keeps death out of their sight: so that all 
 men are equally afraid of death when 
 they see it ; only some have a power of 
 turning their sight away from it better 
 than others." 
 
 On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. 
 Butter, physician at Derby, drank tea 
 with us ; and it was settled that Dr. 
 Johnson and I should go on Friday and 
 dine with him. Johnson said, " I'm 
 glad of this." He seemed weary of the 
 uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's. 
 
 Talking of biography, I said, in writing 
 a life, a man's peculiarities should be 
 mentioned, because they mark his cha- 
 racter. Johnson. " Sir, there is no 
 doubt as to peculiarities: the question 
 is, whether a man's vices should be 
 mentioned ; for instance, whether it 
 should be mentioned that Addison and 
 Parnell drank too freely ; for people will 
 probably more easily indulge in drink- 
 
 ing from knowing this; so that more ill 
 may be done by the example than good 
 by telling the whole truth." Here was an 
 instance of his varying from himself in 
 talk ; for when Lord Hailes and he sat 
 one morning calmly conversing in my 
 house at Edinburgh, I well remember 
 that Dr. Johnson maintained that, ** If a 
 man is to write A Panegyrich, he may 
 keep vices out of sight ; but if he pro- 
 fesses to write A Life he must represent 
 it really as it was:" and when I ob- 
 jected to the danger of telling that Par- 
 nell drank to excess, he said, that " it 
 would produce an instructive caution to 
 avoid drinking, when it was seen, that 
 even the learning and genius of Parnell 
 could be debased by it." And in the 
 Hebrides he maintained, as appears from 
 my " Journal*," that a man's intiniate 
 friend should mention his faults if he 
 writes his life. 
 
 He had this evening, partly, I sup- 
 pose, from the spirit of contradiction to 
 his Whig friend, a violent argument with 
 Dr. Taylor^ as to the inclinations of the 
 people of England at this time towards 
 the Royal Family of Stuart. He grew 
 so outrageous as to say, " that, if Eng- 
 gland were fairly polled, the present 
 King would be sent away to-night, and 
 his adherents hanged to-morrow." Tay- 
 lor, who was as violent a Whig as John- 
 son was a Tory, was roused by this to a 
 pitch of bellowing. He denied, loudly, 
 what Johnson said ; and maintained, 
 that there was an abhorrence against the 
 Stuart family, though he admitted that 
 the people were not much attached to 
 the present Kingf. Johnson. *' Sir, the 
 state of the country is this : the people 
 knowing it to be agreed on all hands 
 that this King has not the hereditary 
 right to the crown, and there being no 
 hope that he who has it can be restored, 
 have grown cold and indifterent upon 
 the subject of loyalty, and have no warm 
 attachment to any King. They would 
 not, therefore, risk any thing to restore 
 the exiled family. They would not give 
 twenty shillings apiece to bring it about. 
 But if a mere vote could do it, there 
 would be twenty to one ; at least, there 
 would be a very great majority of voices 
 for it. For, sir, you are to consider, that 
 all those who think a King has a right to 
 his crown, as a man has to his estate, 
 
 * .loiirnal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d 
 edit. p. 240. 
 
 t Dr. Tavlor was very ready to make this 
 Hdmission,' because the party with vvliich he 
 WHS connected was not in power. There was 
 rlien some truth in it, owina: to the pertina- 
 city of factious claniour. Had he lived till 
 now, it would have been impossible for him 
 to deny that his Majesty possesses die warm- 
 est affection of his people. 
 
 B B 
 
370 
 
 HIE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 which is the just opinion, would be for 
 restoring the King who certainly has the 
 hereditary riglit, could he be trusted with 
 it ; in which there would be no danger 
 now, when laws and every thing else are 
 so much advanced : and every King will 
 govern by the laws. And you must also 
 consider, sir, that there is nothing on the 
 other side to oppose to this ; for it is not 
 alleged by any one that the present family 
 lias any inherent right : so that the Whigs 
 could not have a contest between two 
 rights." 
 
 Dr. Taylor admitted, that if the ques- 
 tion as to hereditary right were to be 
 tried by a poll of the people of England, 
 to be sure the abstract doctrine would be 
 given in favour of the family of Stuart ; 
 but he said, the conduct of that family, 
 which occasioned their expulsion, was so 
 fresh in the minds of the people, that 
 they would not vote for a restoration. 
 Dr. Johnson, I think, was contented 
 with the admission as to the hereditary 
 right, leaving the original point in dis- 
 pute, viz. what the people upon the 
 whole would do, taking in right and 
 afl'ection ; for he said, people were afraid 
 of a change, even though they think it 
 right. Dr. Taylor said something of the 
 slight foundation of the hereditary right 
 of the house of Stuart. " Sir (said John- 
 son), the house of Stuart succeeded to the 
 fidl right of both the houses of York and 
 Lancaster, whose common source had 
 the undisputed right. A right to a throne 
 is like a right to any thing else. Posses- 
 sion is sullicient where no better right- 
 can be shown. This was the case with 
 the Royal Family of England, as it is 
 now with the King of France : for as to 
 the lirst beginning of the right we are in 
 tiie dark." 
 
 Thursday, September 18. Last night 
 Dr. Johnson had proposed that the crys- 
 tal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's 
 large room, should be lighted up some 
 time or other. Taylor said, it should he 
 lighted up next night. ** That will do 
 very well (said I), for it is Dr. Johnson's 
 birthday." When we were in the Isle 
 of Sky, Johnson had desired me not to 
 mention his birthday. He did not seem 
 pleased at this time that I mentioned it, 
 and said (somewhat sternly), ** he would 
 not have the lustre lighted the next 
 day." 
 
 Some ladies, who had been present 
 yesterday when I mentioned his birth- 
 day, came to dinner to day, and plagued 
 liim unintentionally by wishing him joy. 
 I know not why he disliked having his 
 birthday mentioned, unless it were that 
 it reminded him of his approaching 
 rearer to death, of which he had a con- 
 Kant dread. 
 
 I mentioned to him a friend of mine 
 who was formerly gloomy from low 
 spirits, and much distressed by the fear 
 of death, but was now uniformly placid, 
 and contemplated his dissolution without 
 any perturbation. " Sir (said Johnson), 
 this is only a disordered imagination 
 taking a different turn." 
 
 We talked of a collection being made 
 of all the English Poets who had pub- 
 lished a volume of poems. Johnson told 
 me "that a Mr. Coxeter*, whom he 
 knew, had gone the greatest length to- 
 wards this ; having collected, I think, 
 about five hundred volumes of poets 
 whose works were little known ; but 
 that upon his death Tom Osborne bought 
 them, and they were dispersed, which he 
 thought a pity, as it was curious to see 
 any series complete ; and in every vo- 
 lume of poems something good may be 
 found." 
 
 He observed, that a gentleman of emi- 
 nence in literature had got into a bad 
 style of poetry of late. " He puts (said 
 he) a very common thing in a strange 
 dress till he does not know it himself, 
 and thinks other people do not know it." 
 BoswELL. "That is owing to his being 
 so much versant in old English poetry." 
 Johnson. " What is that to the purpose, 
 sir? If I say a man is drunk, and you 
 tell me it is owing to his taking nuich 
 drink, the matter is not mended. Ko, 
 
 sir, has taken to an odd mode. For 
 
 example ; he'd write thus : 
 
 ' Hermit lioar, in solemn cell, 
 Wearing out life's evening gray.' 
 
 Gray evening is common enough ; but 
 evening gray he'd think fine. — Stay ; — 
 we'll make out the stanza : 
 
 ' Hermit hoar, in f^olemn cell. 
 Wearing out life's evening gray : 
 
 Smite tliy bosom, sage, and tell. 
 What in bliss! anu which the way 1*" 
 
 BoswFXL. " But why smite his bosom, 
 sir ?" Johnson. ** Why, to show he was 
 in earnest " (smiling). — He at an after 
 period added the following stanza : 
 
 " Thus I spoke ; and speaking sigh'd ; 
 
 —Scarce repress'd the starring tear; — 
 When the smiliner sage reply'd — 
 
 — Come, my lad, and drink some beert." 
 
 • [Thomas Coxeter. Esq. who hid also made 
 a lari>e collection of old plays, and from whose 
 manuscript noti s the Lives of the English 
 Poets, hv Shiels and Cibber, were principally 
 compiled, as should have been mentioned in 
 a former pace. See p. 323. Mr. Coxeter was 
 bred at Trinity College, Oxford, and died in 
 London, April!?, 1747, ni his fifty-ninth year. 
 A r>ariirnlar account of him muv be found in 
 "The Gentleman's Miigaziuc'* for 17«i, p. 
 17:). M.] 
 
 t As iome of my readers may be gratifli d 
 by reading the progress of lhi« little compo- 
 sition, I ibali insert it from my notes. <» W hen 
 
iETAT. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 371 
 
 I cannot help thinking the first stanza 
 very good solemn poetry, as also the 
 first three lines of the second. Its last 
 line is an excellent burlesque surprise on 
 gloomy sentimental inquirers. And, per- 
 haps, the advice is as good as can be 
 given to a low-spirited dissatisfied being: 
 — ** Don't trouble your head with sickly 
 thinking : take a cup, and be merry." 
 
 Friday, September 19, after breakfast, 
 Dr. Johnson and I set out in Dr. Taylor's 
 chaise to go to Derby. The day was fine, 
 and we resolved to go by Keddlestone, 
 the seat of Lord Scarsdale, that I might 
 see his Lordship's fine house. I was 
 struck with the magnificence of the build- 
 ing ; and the extensive park, with the 
 finest verdure, covered with deer, and 
 cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The 
 number of old oaks, of an immense size, 
 filled me with a sort of respectful admi- 
 ration : for one of them sixty pounds 
 was oflfered. The excellent smooth gra- 
 vel roads ; the large piece of water 
 formed by his Lordship from some small 
 brooks, with a handsome barge upon 
 it ; the venerable Gothic church, now 
 the family chapel, just by the house; 
 in short, the grand group of objects agi- 
 tated and distended my mind in a most 
 agreeable manner. " One should think 
 (said I) that the proprietor of all this 
 must be happy." — '♦ Nay, sir (said John- 
 son), all this excludes but one evil — 
 poverty*." 
 
 Our names were sent up, and a well 
 
 Dr. Johnson and I. were si;ting tete-a-tete at 
 the Mitre Tavern, May 9, 1778, he said, 
 * Where is bliss,' would be better. He then 
 added a ludicrous stanza, but would not re- 
 peat it lest I should take it down. It was 
 somewhat as follows; the last line 1 am sure 
 I. remember ; 
 
 • While 1 thus cried, 
 
 * seer, 
 
 • The hoary reply'd, 
 
 Come, my lad, and driuk some beer.' 
 
 *< lu spring, 1779, when in belter humour, 
 he made the second stanza, as in the text. 
 There was only one variation afterwards 
 made on my sii{^?estion, whi. h was chAU'^'mg 
 hoary in the third line to smiUvg, b )th to 
 avoid a sameness with the epithet ui the first 
 line, and to describe the hermit in his plea 
 santry. He was then very, well pleased that 
 1 should pres^erve it." 
 
 • When I mentioned Dr. Johnson's remark 
 to a lady of admirable good sense and quick- 
 ness of understanding, she observed, '• It is 
 true ail this excludes onlv one evil; but hovv 
 much good does it let in?'' To this obser- 
 vation nnuh praise has been justly given. Let 
 me then now do myself the honour to mention 
 that the lady who made it was the kite Mar- 
 garet Montgomerie, my very valuable wife, 
 and the very affectionate mother of my chil- 
 dren, who, if they inherit her good qua'lities, 
 will have no reason to compiain of their lot, 
 JJus magna pareiUuiu virtus. 
 
 dressed elderly housekeeper, a most dis- 
 tinct articulator, showed us the house ; 
 which I need not describe, as there is 
 an account of it published in " Adams's 
 Works in Architecture." Dr. Johnson 
 thought better of it to-day than when be 
 saw it before ; for he had lately attacked 
 it violently, saying, " It would do excel- 
 lently for a town-hall. The large room 
 with the pillars (said he) would do for 
 the Judges to sit in at the assizes ; the 
 circular room for a jury chamber; and 
 the room above for prisoners." Still he 
 thought the large room ill lighted, antl of 
 no use but for dancing iti ; and the bed- 
 chambers but indiflferent rooms ; and that 
 the immense sum which it cost was inju- 
 diciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had put 
 him in mind of his appearing pleased 
 with the house. " But (said he) that 
 was when Lord Scarsdale was present. 
 Politeness obliges us to appear pleased 
 with a man's works when he is present. 
 No man will be so ill bred as to question 
 you. You may therefore pay compli- 
 ments without saying what is not true. 
 I should say to Lord Scarsdale of his 
 large room, * My Lord, this is the most 
 costly room that I ever saw;' which is 
 true." 
 
 Dr. Manningham, physician in Lon- 
 don, who was visiting at Lord Scarsdale's, 
 accompanied us through many of the 
 rooms, and soon afterwards my Lord 
 himself, to whom Dr. Johnson was 
 known, appeared, and did the honours 
 of the house. We talked of Mr. Lang- 
 ton. Johnson, with a warm vehemence 
 of affectionate regard, exclaimed, " The 
 earth does not bear a worthier man than 
 Bennet Langton." We saw a good many 
 fine pictures, which I think are described 
 in one of " Young's Tours." There is a 
 printed catalogue of them, which the 
 housekeeper put into my hand ; I should 
 like to view them at leisure. I was 
 much struck with Daniel interpreting 
 Nebuchadnezzar's dream, by Rem- 
 brandt. — We were shown a pretty large 
 library. In his Lordship'sdressing room 
 lay Johnson's small Dictionary : he 
 showed it to me with some eagerness, 
 saying, ** Look'ye! Quce reyio in terris 
 nostri non plena laboris." He observed 
 also Goldsmith's "Animated Nature;" 
 and said, " Here's our friend ! The poor 
 Doctor would have been happy to hear, 
 of this." 
 
 In our vvay, Johnson strongly ex^ 
 pressed his love of driving fast in a post- 
 chaise. "If (said he) I had no duties, 
 and no reference to futurity, I would 
 spend my life in driving briskly in a 
 postchaise with a pretty woman; but 
 she should be one who could understand 
 me, and would add something to the con- 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 372 
 
 vcrsation." I observed, that we were this 
 (lay to stop just where the Highland army 
 did in 1745. Johnson, " It was a noble 
 attempt." Bosweli-. " I wish we could 
 have an authentick history of it." John- 
 son. " If you were not an idle dog you 
 might write it, by collecting from every 
 body what they can tell, and putting 
 down your authorities." Bosw^ell. ** But 
 1 could not have the advantage of it in 
 my lifetime." Johjs'SOxN. " You might 
 have the satisfaction of its fame, by 
 printing it in Holland; and as to profit, 
 consider how long it was before writing 
 came to be considered in a pecuniary 
 view. Barctti says, he is the first man 
 tliat ever received copy money in Italy." 
 I said that I would endeavour to do what 
 Dr. Johnson suggested ; and I thought 
 that I might write so as to venture to 
 publish my " History of the Civil War 
 in Great Britain in 1745 and 1746," 
 without being obliged to go to a foreign 
 press *." 
 
 When we anived at Derby, Dr. But- 
 ter accompanied us to see the manufac- 
 tory of china there. I admired the inge- 
 nuity and delicate art with which a man 
 fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a 
 teapot, while a boy turned round a wheel 
 to give the mass rotundity. I thought 
 this as excellent in its species of power, 
 as making good verses in its species. 
 Yet I had no respect for this potter. 
 Neither, indeed, has a man of any ex- 
 tent of thinking for a niere versemaker, 
 in whose numbers, however perfect, 
 there is no poetry, no mind. The china 
 was beautlfid, but Dr. Johnson justly 
 observed it was too dear; for that he 
 could have vessels of silver of the same 
 size, as cheap as what were here made 
 of porcelain. 
 
 I felt a pleasure in walking about 
 Derby, such as I always have in walk 
 ing about any town to which I am not 
 accustomed. There is an immediate sen- 
 sation of novelty ; and one speculates on 
 the way in which life is passed in it 
 which, altlioH<j.h thcri' is a siimeuess every- 
 where u|x>n the whole, is yet minutely 
 diversified. 'J'he minute diversities in 
 every thing are wonderful. Talking of 
 shaving the other night at Dr. Taylor's, 
 Dr. Johnson said, " Sir, of a thousand 
 shavers, two do not shave so much alike 
 as not to be distinguished." I thought 
 this not possible, till he specified so many 
 of the varieties in shaving; — holding the 
 razor more or less perpendicular ; — 
 
 » f am now happy to undrrsfHinl that Mr. 
 John Home, who was iiiin«elt ^all-Jiitly in ilie 
 field for tlie reigning family, in lliai ihterest- 
 in? warfare, but is nenerous enou^:ll lo <lo 
 justice to the olhi r side, is preparing an ac- 
 count of it for the pies*. 
 
 1777. 
 
 drawing long or short strokes ; — begin- 
 ning at the upper part of the face, or the 
 under— at the right side or the left side. 
 Indeed, when one considers what va- 
 riety of sounds can be uttered by the 
 windpipe, in the compass of a very small 
 aperture, we may be convinced how 
 many degrees of difference there may 
 be in the application of a razor. 
 
 We dined with Dr. Buttert, whose 
 lady is daughter of my cousin Sir John 
 Douglas, whose grandson is now pre- 
 sumptive heir of the noble family of 
 Queensberry. Johnson and he had a 
 good deal of medical conversation. John- 
 son said, he had somewhere or other 
 given an account of Dr. Nichols's dis- 
 course " De Animci Medicd." He told 
 us " that whatever a man's distemper 
 was. Dr. Nichols would not attend him 
 as a physician if his mind was not at 
 ease ; for he believed that no medicines 
 would have any influence. He once 
 attended a man in trade, upon whom he 
 found none of the medicines he pre- 
 scribed had any effect ; he asked the 
 man's wife privately whether his affairs 
 were not in a bad way 1 She said no. 
 He continued his attendance some time, 
 still without success. At length the man's 
 wife told him, she had discovered that 
 her husband's affairs were in a bad way. 
 When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton 
 said to him, ' Your pulse is in greater 
 disorder than it should be, from the 
 degree of fever which you have : is your 
 mind at ease'?' Goldsmith answered it 
 was not." 
 
 After dinner, Mrs. Butter went with 
 me to see the silk mill which Mr. John 
 Lombe hadj had a patent for, having 
 brought away the contrivance from Italy. 
 I am not very conversant with mecha- 
 nicks ; but the simplicity of this machine, 
 and its multiplied operations, struck me 
 with an agreeable surprise. I had learned 
 from Dr. Johnson, during this interview, 
 not to think with a dejected indifference 
 of the works of art, and the pleasures of 
 life, because life is uncertain and short; 
 but to consider such indifference as a 
 failure of reason, a morbidness of mind ; 
 for happiness should be cultivated as 
 mncli as we can, and the objects which 
 are instrumental to it should be steadily 
 considered as of importance, with a 
 reference not only to ourselves, but to 
 
 t [Dr. Butter was at lliis time a practising 
 phVKU'ian at Dfihy. He afterwards removed 
 to London, wlicre he died in his seventy-ninth 
 year, March a2, 180-5. He is anihour of seve- 
 ral medical tract-^ M ] 
 
 X See Hutton's History of Derhy, a hook 
 which is deservedly esteemed for its informa- 
 tion, accuracy, and pood narrative. Indeed 
 the a^e in which we hve is eminently distin- 
 guished by topographical excellence. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 .^TAT. 68. 
 
 multitudes in successive ages. Though 
 it is proper to value small parts, as 
 
 " Sands make the mountain, momeats make 
 the year *i" 
 
 yet we must contemplate collectively, to 
 have a just estimation of objects. One 
 moment's being uneasy or not seems of 
 no consequence ; yet this may be tliought 
 of the next, and the next, and so on, till 
 there is a large portion of misery. In 
 the same way one must think of happi- 
 ness, of learning, of friendship. We 
 cannot tell the precise moment when 
 friendship is formed. As in filling a ves- 
 sel drop by drop, there is at last a drop 
 which makes it run over ; so in a series 
 of kindnesses there is at last one which 
 makes the heart run over. We must not 
 divide objects of our attention into mi- 
 nute parts, and think separately of each 
 part. It is by contemplating a large 
 mass of human existence, that a man, 
 while he sets a just value on his own 
 life, does not think of his death as anni- 
 hilating all that is great and pleasing in 
 the world, as if actually contained in 
 his mind, according to Berkeley's reve- 
 rie. If his imagination be not sickly 
 and feeble, it " wings its distant way " 
 far beyond himself, and views the world 
 in unceasing activity of every sort. It 
 must be acknowledged, however, that 
 Pope's plaintive reflection, that all things 
 would be as gay as ever on the day of his 
 death, is natural and common. We are apt 
 to transfer to all around us our own gloom, 
 without consideri.'^g that at any given 
 point of time there is, perhaps, as much 
 youth and gaiety in the world as at ano- 
 tlier. Before 1 came into this life, in 
 which I have had so many pleasant 
 Bcenes, have not thousands and ten thou- 
 sands of deaths and funerals happened, 
 and have not families been in grief for 
 their nearest relations] But have those 
 dismal circumstances at all aftected me? 
 Why then should the gloomy scenes 
 ■which I experience, or which I know, 
 aflfect others 1 Let us guard against ima- 
 gining that there is an end of felicity 
 upon earth, when we ourselves grow old, 
 or are unhappy. 
 
 Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when 
 some of Dr. Dodd's pious friends were 
 trying to console him by saying that he 
 was going to leave " a wretched world," 
 he had honesty enough not to join in the 
 cant : — " No, no (said he), it has been a 
 very agreeable world to me." Johnson 
 added, " I respect Dodd for thus speak- 
 ing the truth ; for, to be sure, he had for 
 several years enjoyed a life of great 
 yoluptuousness." 
 
 He told us, that Dodd's city friends 
 
 * Young;. 
 
 373 
 
 stood by him so, that a thousand pounds 
 were ready to be given to the gaoler, if 
 he would let him escape. He added, 
 that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who 
 walked about Newgate for some time on 
 the evening before the day of his execu- 
 tion, with five hundred pounds in his 
 pocket, ready to be paid to any of the 
 turnkeys who could get him out : but it 
 was too late ; for he was watched with 
 much circumspection. He said, Dodd's 
 friends had an image of him made of 
 wax, which was to have been left in his 
 place; and he believed it was carried 
 into the prison. 
 
 Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's 
 leaving the world persuaded that '* The 
 Convict's Address to his unhappy Bre- 
 thren," was of his own writing. " But, 
 sir (said I), you contributed to the decep- 
 tion ; for when Mr. Seward expressed a 
 doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, 
 because it had a great deal more force of 
 mind in it than any thing known to be 
 his, you answered,—* Why should you 
 think so? Depend upon it, sir, when a 
 man knows he is to be hanged in a fort- 
 night, it concentrates his mind wonder- 
 fully.' " Johnson. "Sir, as Dodd got it 
 from me to pass as his own, while that 
 could do him any good, that was an 
 implied promise that I should not own 
 it. To own it, therefore, would have 
 been telling a lie, with the addition of 
 breach of promise, which was worse than 
 simply telling a lie to make it be be- 
 lieved it was Dodd's. Besides, sir, I 
 did not directly tell a lie: I left the 
 matter uncertain. Perhaps I thought 
 that Seward would not believe it the less 
 to be mine for what I said; but I would 
 not put it in his power to say I had 
 owned it." 
 
 He praised Blair's sermons : "Yet," 
 said he (willing to let us see he was 
 aware that fashionable fame, however 
 deserved, is not always the most lasting), 
 " perhaps they may not be reprinted 
 after seven years ; at least not after 
 Blair's death." 
 
 He said, ** Goldsmith was a plant that 
 flowered late. There appeared nothing 
 remarkable about him when he was 
 young ; though when he had got high in 
 fame, one of his friends began to recol- 
 lect something of his being distinguished 
 at College*. Goldsmith in the same 
 manner recollected more of that friend's 
 early years, as he grew a greater man." 
 I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told 
 me, he awaked every morning at four, 
 and then for his health got up and walked 
 in his room naked, with the window 
 shed in college, as ap- 
 
 * [He was distin;^ 
 pears from a circumstance mentioned 
 Kearney. See p. 124. M.] 
 
 { by Dr. 
 
374 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 open, which he called taking an air 
 hath ; after which he went to bed again, 
 and slept two honrs more. Johnson, who 
 was always ready to beat down any thing 
 tliat seemed to be exhibited with dispro- 
 portionate importance, thns observed : 
 " I suppose, sir, there is no more in it 
 than this; he wakes at fonr, and cannot 
 sleep till he chills himself, and makes 
 the warmth of the bed a grateful sensa- 
 tion." 
 
 I talked of the diflRcnlty of rising in 
 the morning. Dr. Johnson told me, 
 ** that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that 
 period when she was eager in study, did 
 not awake as early as she wished, and 
 ?he therefore had a contrivance, that, at 
 a certain hour her chamber light should 
 burn a string to which a heavy weight 
 was suspended, which then fell with a 
 sirong sudden noise : tliis roused her from 
 sleep, and then she had no difficulty in 
 getting up." But I said that was my 
 difficulty ; and wished there could be 
 ■ome medicine invented which would 
 make one rise without pain, which I 
 never did, unless after lying in bed a 
 very long time. Perhaps there may be 
 something in the stores of Nature which 
 could do this. I have thought of a pulley 
 to raise me gradually ; but that would 
 give me pain, as it would counteract my 
 internal inclination. I would have some- 
 thing that can dissipate the vis inerfice, 
 and give elasticity to the muscles. As I 
 imagine that the human body may be 
 put, by the operation of other substances, 
 into any state in which it has ever been ; 
 and as I have experienced a state in 
 which rising from bed was not disagree- 
 able, but easy, nay, sometimes agreeable ; 
 1 suppose that this state may be pro- 
 duced, if we knew by what. We can 
 heat the body, we can cool it ; we can 
 give it tension or relaxation ; and surely 
 it is possible to bring it into a state in 
 whiclj rising from bed will not be a 
 pain. 
 
 Johnson observed, that ** a man should 
 take a sufficient quantity of sleep, which 
 Dr. Mead says is between seven and 
 nine hours." I told him that Dr. Cullen 
 said to me, that a man shoidd not take 
 more sleep than he can take at once. 
 Johnson. " This rule, sir, cannot hold in 
 all cases; for many people have Iheir 
 sleep broken by sickness; and surely, 
 Cullen woidd not have a man to get up 
 after having slept but an hour. Such 
 a regimen would soon end in a lony 
 uleep*.^* Dr. Taylor remarked, I think 
 
 * This fpRfimen w.ip, however, practised hy 
 Hishop Ken, of whom Hawkini< (not Sir John) 
 ill \\\i life of that venerable Preiafe, pa^e 4, 
 icMd n«>, " And that neither his gliidy might 
 be \\\(i aggressor on his hours of instruction, 
 
 very justly, that " a man who does not 
 feel an inclination to sleep at the ordi- 
 nary times, instead of being stronger 
 than other people, must not be well ; for 
 a man in health has all the natural incli- 
 nations to eat, drink, and sleep in a 
 strong degree." 
 
 Johnson advised me to-night not to 
 refine in the education of my children. 
 " Life (said he) will not bear refinement ; 
 you must do as other people do." 
 
 As we drove back to Ashbourne, Dr. 
 Johnson recommended to me, as he had 
 often done, to drink water only : " For 
 (said he) you are then sure not to get 
 drunk ; whereas, if you drink wine, you 
 are never sure." I said, drinking wine 
 was a pleasure which I was unwilling to 
 give up. " Why, sir (said he), there is 
 no doubt that not to drink wine is a great 
 deduction from life; but it may be ne- 
 cessary." He however owned, that in 
 his opinion a free use of wine did not 
 shorten life ; and said, he would not give 
 less for the life of a certain Scotch Lord 
 (whom he named) celebrated for hard 
 drinking, than for that of a sober man. 
 " But stay (said he, with his usual intel- 
 ligence and accuracy of inquiry), does it 
 take much wine to make him drunk?" 
 I answered, ** a great deal either of wine 
 or strong punch.*' — " Then (said he) that 
 is the worse." I presume to illustrate my 
 friend's observation thus : " A fortress 
 which soon surrenders has its walls less 
 shattered, than when a long and obsti- 
 nate resistance is made." 
 
 I ventured to mention a person who 
 was as violent a Scotchmaji as he was 
 an Englishman ; and literally had the 
 same contempt for an Englishman com- 
 pared with a Scotchman, that he had for 
 a Scotchman compared with an English- 
 man ; and that he would say of Dr. John- 
 
 . son, " Damned rascal ! to talk as he does 
 of the Scotch." This seemed, for a mo- 
 ment, " to give him pause." It, perhaps, 
 presented his extreme prejudice against 
 the Scotch in a point of view somewhat 
 
 j new to him by the effect of contrast. 
 By the time when we returned to Ash- 
 
 I bourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed. 
 
 I or what he .jude:e<l his dutv, prevent his ini- 
 I provemfints; or, both his clo«et addresses to 
 ! his God; he strictly accustomed himself to 
 I hut one s'eep, wlii<h often ohlijfed him to rise 
 
 at one or two of the clock in themorninir, and 
 ! so?nefimes sooner: and ^rew so habitual ihat 
 ' it continued with him almost till his last ill- 
 ' ness. And so lively and cheerful was h<* 
 ' temper, that he would he very facetious and 
 ' entertaining to his friends in the eveuinjr, 
 I even when it was perceived that with diffi- 
 I cuify he kept his eyes open ; and then seemed 
 ! to ifo to r»'sf with no other purpose than the 
 
 refieshinar and enabling him with more vigour 
 ' and cheeifiilnesH to sinfir his morninar hymn, 
 
 as he then ii^ed to do to his lute before h« put 
 
 on hik cloiheij.*' 
 
;Etat. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ns 
 
 Johnson and I sat up a long time by 
 ourselves. 
 
 He was much diverted witli an article 
 which I showed iiim in the " Critical 
 Review " of this year, giving an account 
 of a curious publication, entitled, " A 
 spiritual Diary and Soliloquies, by John 
 Kiitty, M. D." Dr. Rutty was one of 
 the people called Quakers, a physician 
 of some eminence in Dublin, and authour 
 of several works. This Diary, which 
 Wiis kept from 1753 to 1775, the year in 
 which he died, and was now published 
 in two volumes octavo, exhibited in 
 the simplicity of his heart, a minute 
 and honest register of the state of his 
 mind; which, though frequently laugh- 
 able enough, was not more so than the 
 history of many men would be, if re- 
 corded with equal fairness. 
 
 The following specimens were ex- 
 tracted by the Reviewers : 
 
 "Tenth month, 1753. 
 
 " 23. Indulgence in bed an hour too 
 long. 
 
 " Twelfth month, 17. An hypochon- 
 driack obnubilation from wind and indi- 
 gestion. 
 
 " Ninth month, 28. An overdose of 
 whisky. 
 
 " 29. A dull, cross, cholerick day. 
 
 "First month, 1757 — 22. A little 
 swinish at dinner and repast. 
 
 " 31. Dogged on provocation. 
 
 ** Second month, 5. Very dogged or 
 snappish. 
 
 " 14. Snappish on fasting. 
 
 ** 2G. Cursed snappishness to those 
 under rne, on a bodily indisposition. 
 
 *' Third month, 11. On a provocation, 
 exercised a dumb resentment for two 
 days instead of scolding. 
 
 " 22. Scolded too vehemently. 
 
 ** 23. Dogged again. 
 
 " Fourth month, 29. Mechanically and 
 sinfully dogged." 
 
 Johnson laughed heartily at this good 
 Quietist's self-condemning minutes ; par- 
 ticularly at his mentioning, with such a 
 serious regret, occasional instances of 
 " stvinishness in eating and doggedness 
 of temper." He thought the observa- 
 tions of the Critical Reviewers upon the 
 importance of a man to himself so inge- 
 nious and so well expressed, that I shall 
 here introduce them. 
 
 After observing, that " there are few 
 writers who have gained any reputation 
 by recording their own actions," they 
 say, 
 
 " We may reduce the egotists to four 
 classes. In the first we have Julius 
 Ceesar : he relates his own transactions ; 
 but he relates them with peculiar grace 
 and dignity, and his narrative is sup- 
 
 ported by the greatness of his characttr 
 and achievements. In the second class 
 we have Marcus Antoninus : this writer 
 has given us a series of reflections on his 
 own life ; but his sentiments are so noble, 
 his morality so sublime, that his medita- 
 tions are universally admired. In the 
 third class we have some others of tole- 
 rable credit, who have given importance 
 to their own private history by an inter- 
 mixture of literary anecdotes, and the 
 occurrences of their own times : the 
 celebrated Huetius has published an en- 
 tertaining volume upon this plan, * De 
 rebus ad eum pertinentihus. In the 
 fourth class we have the journalists, 
 temporal and spiritual : Elias Ashmole, 
 William Lilly, George Whitefield, John 
 Wesley, and a thousand other old women 
 and fanatick writers of memoirs and me- 
 ditations." 
 
 I mentioned to him that Dr. Hugh 
 Blair, in his lectures on Rhetorick and 
 Belles Lettres,%\hich I heard him deliver 
 at Edinburgh, had animadverted on the 
 Johnsonian style as too pompous; and 
 attempted to imitate it, by giving a sen- 
 tence of Addison in "The Spectator," 
 No. 411, in the manner of Johnson. 
 When treating of the utility of the plea- 
 sures of imagination in preserving us 
 from vice, it is observed of those *' who 
 know not how to be idle and innocent," 
 that " their very first step out of busine?s 
 is into vice or folly ;" which Dr. Blair 
 supposed would have been expressed in 
 " The Rambler," thus : " their very fiisi 
 step out of the regions of business is into 
 the perturbation of vice, or the vacuity of 
 folly*." Johnson. " Sir, these are not 
 the words I should have used. No, sir; 
 the imitators of my style have not hit it. 
 Miss Aikin has done it the best ; for she 
 has imitated the sentiment as well as the 
 diction." 
 
   I intend, before this work is concluded, 
 to exhibit specimens of imitation of my 
 friend's style in various modes; some 
 caricaturing or mimicking it, and some 
 formed upon it, whether intentionally or 
 with a degree of similarity to it, of 
 which, perhaps, the writers were not 
 conscious. 
 
 In Baretti's Review, which he pub- 
 lished in Italy, under the title of " Frusta 
 Letteraria," it is observed, that Dr. Ro- 
 bertson the historian had formed his 
 
 * When Dr. Blair published his " Lec- 
 tures," he was invidiously attacked for having 
 omitted his censure on Johnson's style, and, 
 on tlie contrary, praisina it liiehly. But before 
 that time Johnson's •♦ Lives of the Poets" had 
 appeared, in which his style was considerably 
 easier than when lie wrote " The Rambler.'' 
 It would, therefore, have been unrandiil in 
 Blair, even supposing his criticism to lia\e 
 been just, to ha\e preserved it. 
 
37G 
 
 style upon that of ** II celebre Samuele 
 Johnson." My friend himself was of 
 I hat opinion ; for he once said to me, in 
 a pleasant Immoar, " Sir, if Robertson's 
 style be faulty, he owes it to me ; that is, 
 having too many words, and those too 
 big ones." 
 
 I read to him a letter which Lord 
 Monboddo had written to me, containing 
 some critical remarks upon the style of 
 his '* Journey to the Western Islands of 
 Scotland." His Lordship praised the 
 very fine passage upon landing at Icolm- 
 kill*; but his own style being exceed- 
 ingly dry and hard, he disapproved of 
 the richness of Johnson's language, and 
 of his frequent use of metaphorical ex- 
 pressions. Johnson. " Why, sir, this 
 criticism would be just, if in my style 
 superfluous words, or words too big for 
 the thoughts, could be pointed out ; but 
 this I do not believe can be done. For 
 instance ; in the passage which Lord 
 Monboddo admires, * We were now 
 treading that illustrious region,' the word 
 illustrious contributes nothing to the 
 mere narration ; for the fact might be 
 told without it : but it is not, therefore, 
 superfluous ; for it wakes the mind to 
 peculiar attention where something of 
 more than usual importance is to be pre- 
 sented. 'Illustrious!' — for what? and 
 then the sentence proceeds to expand 
 the circumstances connected with lona. 
 And, sir, as to metaphorical expression, 
 that is a great excellence in style when it 
 is used with propriety, for it gives you 
 two ideas for one ; — conveys the mean- 
 ing more luminously, and generally with 
 a perception of delight." 
 
 He told me that he had been asked to 
 undertake the new edition of the Jiio- 
 Ijraphia Britannica, but had declined 
 
 * " We were now treading that iliustriouii 
 island, which was once the luniinary of the 
 Caledonian reg'ions, whence savage clans and 
 rovine; harbarians derived the beDefits of 
 knowledge and the blessinifs of religion. To 
 al)stra<!t the niind from all local emotion 
 wonid be impossible if it were endeavonred, 
 and would be foolish if it were possible. 
 Whatever withdrawn u9 from the power of our 
 sensi s, whatever makes the past, the distant, 
 or ihe future predominate over the present, 
 advances us in the dti^nitv of thinking beings. 
 Far from me and from oiy friends be such frigid 
 philosophy as may conduct us, indifl'erentand 
 unmoved, over any ground which lias been 
 dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. The 
 man is little to be envied wliose pHtriotisni 
 would not gain force upon the plain of Mara- 
 thon, or whose piely would not grow waimer 
 among ihe ruins of lona." 
 
 Had our Tour produced nothing else but 
 this sublime passage, the world mu»i have 
 acknowledgKd ihat it was not made in vain. 
 Sir Joseph Banks, the present respectable 
 President of the Koyal Society, told me, he 
 was so much stiuck on reading it that he 
 clasped his hands together^ and remained for 
 some lime in an attitude ot biieul admiration. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 it ; which he afterwards said to me he 
 regretted. In this regret many will join, 
 because it would have procured us more 
 of Johnson's most delightful species of 
 writing; and although my friend Dr. 
 Kippist has hitherto discharged the task 
 judiciously, distinctly, and with more 
 impartiality than might have been ex- 
 pected frCm a Separatist, it were to have 
 been wished that the superintendence of 
 this literary Temple of Fame had been 
 assigned to *' a friend to the constitution 
 in Church and State." We should not 
 then have had it too much crowded with 
 obscure dissenting teachers, doubtless 
 men of merit and worth, but not quite to 
 be numbered amongst " the most emi- 
 nent persons who have flourished in 
 Great Britain and Ireland j." 
 
 t [After having given to the puhlick the 
 first five volumes ofa new edition of Biogra- 
 PHiA Britannica, between the years I778and 
 1793, i)r. Kippis died, October k, 1795; and 
 the work is not likely to be soon completed. 
 
 X In this censure, which has been carelessly 
 uttered, I c-irelessly joined. But injustice to 
 Dr. Kippis, who, with that manly cai>di<l good 
 temper which marks his character, set me 
 right, I now with pleasure retract it; and I 
 desire it may be particularly observed, as 
 pointed out by him to me, that, " The new 
 lives of Dissenting Divines in the first four 
 volumes of th«; second edition of the * Bio- 
 graphia Britanvica,^ are tliose of John Abti- 
 nethy, Ihomas Ainory, George Benson, Hugh 
 Broughton the learned Puritan, .Simon 
 Browne, Joseph Boyse of Dublin, Thomas 
 Cartwright the learned Puritan, and Samuel 
 Chandler. Tiie only doubt I have ever heard 
 suggested is whether there should have hern 
 an article of Dr. Amory. Bui I was convinced, 
 and am still convinced, that he was entitled 
 to one, from the reality of his learning, and 
 tlie excellent and candid nature of his practi- 
 cal writings. 
 
 " The new lives of cler-rymen of the church 
 of England, in the same four volumes, are 
 as follows: John Balguv, Rdwanl Bentham, 
 fieorge Berkley Bi.-hop of Clo>nc, William 
 Beriiman, Thomas Bin h, William Boilase, 
 Thomas Bott, James Bradley, Thomas Brough- 
 ton, John Brown, John Burton, Joseph Builer 
 Bishop of Durham, Thomas Carte, Eilmuml 
 Castell, Edmund Chishull, Charles Churchill, 
 William Clarke, Robert Clayton Bishop of 
 Clogher, John Conybeare Bishop of Bristol, 
 Cieorge Costard, and Samuel Croxail. — I am 
 not conscious (sa^s Dr. Kippis) of any pai- 
 tiality in conducling the work. I would not 
 willingly insert a Dissenting Minister that 
 does Hot justly deserve to be noticed, or omit 
 an cstalifished clergyman that does. At Ihe 
 same (imc, I aIuII not >»e deterred from in- 
 irodiiniig Dissenters into the Biographia, 
 wilt n I am satisfied that they are entitled to 
 thai diHiiiietion, from their wiitings, learning, 
 and int-iit." 
 
 Let iiie add that the expression, " A friend 
 to the Constitution in Church and State," was 
 not meant by me as any refieclion upon this 
 Reverend Gentleman, as if he were au enemy 
 to the political constitution of his country, as 
 e^tablished at the rtvolniion, but, from my 
 steady and avowed predilection for a Tory, 
 was (juoteil from ** Johnson's Dictionary," 
 where that distinction is so defined. 
 
JEtkt GS. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 377 
 
 On Saturday, September 20, after 
 breakfast, when Taylor was gone out to 
 his farm, Dr. Johnson and 1 had a seri- 
 ous conversation by ourselves on melan- 
 choly and madness ; which he was, I 
 always thought, erroneously inclined to 
 confound together. Melancholy, like 
 '* great wit," may be " near allied to 
 madness ;" but there is, in my opinion, a 
 distinct separation between them. When 
 he talked of madness, he was to be un- 
 derstood as speaking of those who were 
 in any great degiee disturbed, or as it 
 is commonly expressed, ** troubled in 
 mind." Some of the ancient philoso- 
 phers held that all deviations from right 
 reason were madness ; and whoever 
 wishes to see the opinions both of an- 
 cients and moderns upon this subject, 
 collected and illustrated with a variety of 
 curious facts, may read Dr. Arnold's 
 very entertaining work*. 
 
 Johnson said, " A madman loves to 
 be with people whom he fears ; not as a 
 dog fears the lash ; but of whom he stands 
 in awe." I was struck with the justice 
 of this observation. To be with those of 
 whom a person whose mind is wavering 
 and dejected stands in awe represses and 
 composes an uneasy tumult of spirits -f, 
 and consoles him with the contemplation 
 of something steady, and at least com- 
 paratively great. 
 
 He added, " Madmen are all sensual 
 in the lower stages of the distemper. 
 They are eager for gratifications to sooth 
 their minds, and divert their attention 
 from the misery which they sufter : but 
 when they grow very ill, pleasure is too 
 weak for them, and they seek for pain ;{:. 
 Employment, sir, and hardships, prevent 
 melancholy. I suppose in all our army 
 
 * " Observations on Insanity," by Thomas 
 Arnold, M.D. Loiirlon, 1782. 
 
 t [Caidan composed his mind, tending: to 
 madne8$ (or rather actually mad, for .>uch he 
 ^eems in his writings, learned as tiiey are), 
 hy excitiner voluntary pain. V. Card. On. et 
 Vit. K.] 
 
 X We read in the Gospels, that those nnfor- 
 lunate persons who were uossesstd with evil 
 s|jirii5 (which, after all, I think is the most 
 probable cause of madness, as was fiist sug- 
 gested to me by my respectable friend Sir 
 John Prinsfle), had recourse to pain, tearing- 
 themselves and .jumpini,' sometimes into tlie 
 file, sometimes uno the water. Mr. Sev\ard 
 has furnished me with a remarkable anecdote 
 in confirmation of Dr. Johnson's observation. 
 A tradesman who had acquired a large fortune 
 in Lonaon retired from business, and went to 
 live at Worcester. His mind, beinjr wiltiout 
 its usual occupation, and having nothing else 
 to supply its place, preyed upon itself so that 
 existence was a torment to him. At last he 
 was seized with the stone; and a friend who 
 found him in one of its severest fits, having 
 expressed his concern," No, no, sir (said he;, 
 don't pity me; what I now feel is ease com- 
 pared with that torture of mind from which 
 11 relieves me," 
 
 in America there was not one man who 
 went mad." 
 
 We entered seriously upon a question 
 of much importance to me, which John- 
 son was pleased to consider with friendly 
 attention. I had long complained lo him 
 that I felt myself discontented in Scot- 
 land, as too nariow a sphere, aiid that I 
 wished to make my chief residence in 
 London, the great scene of ambition, in- 
 struction, and amusement : a scene wliich 
 was to me, comparatively speaking, a 
 heaven upon earth. Johnson. " W^hy, 
 sir, I never knew any man who had such 
 a gust for London as you have ; and I 
 cannot blame you for your wish to live 
 there : yet, sir, were I in your father's 
 place, I should not consent to your set- 
 tling there ; for I have the old feudal 
 notions, and I should be afraid that Au- 
 chinleck would be deserted, as you would 
 soon find it more desirable to have a 
 country seat in a better clLmate. I own, 
 however, that to consider it as a duty to 
 reside on a family estate is a prejudice ; 
 for we must consider that working people 
 get employment equally, and the pro- 
 duce of land is sold equally, whether a 
 great family resides at home or not ; and 
 if the rents of an estate be carried to 
 London, they return again in the circula- 
 tion of commerce ; nay, sir, We must 
 perhaps allow that carrying the rents to 
 a distance is a good, because it contri- 
 butes to that circulation. W^e must, 
 however, allow that a well regulated 
 great family may improve a neighbour- 
 hood in civility and elegance, and give 
 an example of good order, virtue, and 
 piety ; and so its residence at lunne may 
 be of much advantage. But if a great 
 family be disorderly and vicious, its re- 
 sidence at home is very pernicious to a 
 neighbourhood. There is not now the 
 same inducement to live in the country 
 as formerly ; the pleasures of social life 
 are much better enjoyed in town ; and 
 there is no longer in the country that 
 power and influence in proprietors of 
 land which they had in old times, and 
 which made the country so agreeable to 
 them. The Laird of Auchinleck now is 
 not near so great a man as the Laird of 
 Auchinleck was a hundred years ago." 
 
 I told him that one of my ancestors 
 never went from home without being 
 attended by thirty men on horseback. 
 Johnson's shrewdness and spirit of in- 
 quiry were exerted upon every occasion. 
 " Pray (said he), how did your ancestor 
 support his thirty men and thirty horses 
 when he went at a distance from home, 
 in an age when there was hardly any 
 money in circulation V I suggested the 
 same difficulty to a friend who men- 
 tioned Douglas's going to the Holy Land 
 
378 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 with a niimerons train of followers. Dou- 
 glas could, no doubt, maintain followers 
 enough while living upon his own lands, 
 the produce of which supplied them with 
 food ; but he could not carry that food 
 to the Holy Land ; and as there was no 
 commerce by which he could be supplied 
 with money, how could he maintain 
 them in foreign countries? 
 
 r suggested a doubt that if I were to 
 reside in London, the extjuisite zest with 
 which I relished it in occasional visits 
 might go off, and I might grow tired of 
 it. Johnson. "Why, sir, you find no 
 man, at all intellectual, who is willing 
 to leave London. No, sir, when a man 
 is tired of London he is tired of life ; 
 for there is in London all that life can 
 afford." 
 
 To obviate his apprehension that by 
 settling in London I might desert the 
 seat of my ancestors, I assured him that 
 I had old feudal principles to a degree of 
 enthusiasm ; and that I felt all the dul- 
 cedo of the natale solum. I reminded 
 him that the Laird of Auchinleck had an 
 elegant house, in front of which he could 
 ride ten miles forward upon his own ter- 
 ritories, upon which he had upwards of 
 six hundred people attached to him ; that 
 the family seat was rich in natural ro- 
 mantick beauties of rock, wood, and 
 water; and that in my "morn of life" 
 I had appropriated the finest description? 
 in the ancient Classicks to certain scenes 
 there, which were thus associated in my 
 mind. That when all this was considered, 
 I should certainly pass a part of the year 
 at home, and enjoy it the more from 
 variety, and from bringing with me a 
 share of the intellectual stores of the me- 
 tropolis. He listened to all this, and 
 kindly " hoped it might be as I now 
 supposed." 
 
 He said, a country gentleman should 
 bring his lady to visit London as soon as 
 he can, that they may have agreeable 
 topicks for conversation when they are 
 by themselves. 
 
 As I meditated trying my fortune 
 in Westminster Hall, our conversation 
 turned upon the profession of the law in 
 England. Johnson. ** You must not in- 
 dulge too sanguine hopes, should you be 
 called to our bar. I was told by a very 
 sensible lawyer that there are a great 
 many chances against any man's success 
 in the profession of the law; the candi- 
 dates are so numerous, and those who 
 get large practice so few. He said, it 
 was by no means true that a man of good 
 parts and application is sure of having 
 business, though he, indeed, allowed that 
 if such a man could but appear in a few 
 causes, his merit would be known, and 
 he would get forward ; but that the great 
 
 risk was, that a man might pass half a 
 life-time in the Courts, and never have an 
 opportunity of showing his abilities *." 
 
 We talked of employment being abso- 
 lutely necessary to preserve the mind 
 from wearying and growing fretful, espe- 
 cially in those who have a tendency to 
 melancholy ; and I mentioned to him a 
 saying which somebody had related of 
 an American savage, who, when a Eu- 
 ropean was expatiating on all the ad- 
 vantages of money, put this question : 
 ** Will it purchase occupation?" John- 
 son. " Depend upon it, sir, this saying 
 is too refined for a savage. And, sir, 
 money will purchase occupation ; it will 
 purchase all the conveniences of life ; it 
 will purchase variety of company ; it will 
 purchase all sorts of entertainment.'* 
 
 I talked to him of Forster's " Voyage 
 to the South Seas," which pleased me ; 
 but I found he did not like it. " Sir 
 (said he), there is a great affectation of 
 fine writing in it." Bosavell. " But he 
 carries you along with him." Johnson. 
 " No, sir; he does not carry me along 
 with him : he leaves me behind him : 
 or rather, indeed, he sets me before him ; 
 for he makes me turn over many leaves 
 at a time." 
 
 On Sunday, September 12, we went 
 to the church of Ashbourne, which is one 
 of the largest and most luminous that I 
 have seen in any town of the same si/e. 
 I felt great satisfaction in considering 
 that I was supported in my fondness for 
 solemn publick worship by the general 
 concurrence and munificence of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Johnson and Taylor were so different 
 from each other that I wondered at their 
 preserving an intimacy. Their having 
 been at school and college together might, 
 in some degree, account for this ; but Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds has furnished me with 
 a stronger reason ; for Johnson mentioned 
 to him that he had been told by Taylor 
 he was to be his heir. I shall not take 
 upon me to animadvert upon this; but 
 certain it is that Johnson paid great at- 
 tention to Taylor. He now, however, 
 said to me, " Sir, I love him ; but I do 
 not love him more ; my regard for him 
 does not increase. As it is said in the 
 
 • Now, at the distance of fifteen years 
 since ihin conversation passed, the observa- 
 tion wliich r have had an opportunity of 
 makint; in Westminster Hall lias convinced 
 me that, however iruc the opinion of Dr. 
 Johnson's leRHJ (riend may have hcen some 
 time ago- the same certainty of success c.in- 
 not now b« promised to ihe same t1ii.play of 
 merit. The reasons, however, of the rapid 
 rise of some, and the disappointment of 
 others equally re.-tpeciahle, are such as ii 
 niijfht seem invidious to mention, and would 
 require a Ioniser detail than would he proper 
 for this woik. 
 
/Etat. (58. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 379 
 
 Apocrypha, * his talk is of bullocks *.* I 
 do not snppose he is very fond of my 
 company. His habits are by no means 
 snfliciently clerical : this he knows that 
 I see; and no tnan likes to live under 
 the eye of perpetual disapprobation." 
 
 I have no doubt that a good many 
 sermons were composed for Taylor by 
 Johnson. At this time I found upon his 
 table, a part of one which he had newly 
 begun to write : and Concio pro Tayloro 
 appears in one of his diaries. When to 
 these circumstances we add the internal 
 evidence from the power of thinking and 
 style, in the collection which the Reve- 
 rend Mr. Hayes had published, with the 
 significant title of " Sermons left for 
 publication by the Reverend John Tay- 
 lor, LL. D." our conviction will be 
 complete. 
 
 I, however, would not have it thought 
 that Dr. Taylor, though he could not 
 write like Johnson (as, indeed, who 
 could ?) did not sometimes compose ser- 
 mons as good as those which we gene- 
 rally have from very respectable divines. 
 He showed me one with notes on the 
 margin in Johnson's hand-writing; and 
 I was present when he read another to 
 Johnson, that he might have his opinion 
 of it, and Johnson said it was " very 
 well." These, we may be sure, were not 
 Johnson's ; for he was above little arts 
 or tricks of deception. 
 
 Johnson was by no means of opinion 
 that every man of a learned profession 
 should consider i* as incumbent upon 
 him, or as necessary to his credit, to 
 appear as an authour. When in the 
 ardour of ambition for literary fame, I 
 regretted to him one day that an emi- 
 nent Judge had nothing of it, and there- 
 fore would leave no perpetual monument 
 of himself to posterity ; ** Alas, sir (said 
 Johnson), what a mass of confusion should 
 we have if every Bishop, and every 
 Judge, every Lawyer, Physician, and 
 Divine, were to write books." 
 
 I mentioned to Johnson a respectable 
 person of a very strong mind, who had 
 little of that tenderness which is com- 
 mon to human nature ; as an instance of 
 which, when I suggested to him that he 
 should invite his son, who had been set- 
 tled ten years in foreign parts, to come 
 home and pay him a visit, his answer 
 was, " No, no, let him mind his busi- 
 ness." Johnson. " I do not agree with 
 him, sir, in this. Getting money is not 
 ail a man's business : to cultivate kind- 
 ness is a valuable part of the business of 
 life." 
 
 • Ercle^^iasticns, chap, xxxviii. v. 25. The 
 whole chapter may be read as an a'lnnrable 
 iiliistrarion of the superiority of niltivatetl 
 inin<ls over the gross and illiterate. 
 
 In the evening, Johnson, being in very 
 good spirits, entertained us with several 
 characleristical portraits ; I regret that 
 any of them escaped my retention and 
 diligence. I found from experience, that 
 to collect my friend's conversation so as 
 to exhibit it with any degree of its natu- 
 ral flavour, it was necessary to write it 
 down without delay. To record his say- 
 ings, after some distance of time, was 
 like preserving or pickling long-kept and 
 faded fruits, or other vegetables, which, 
 when in that state, have little or nothing 
 of their taste when fresh. 
 
 I shall present my readers with a series 
 of what I gathered this evening from the 
 Johnsonian garden. 
 
 " My friend, the late Earl of Corke, 
 had a great desire to maintain the lite- 
 rary character of his family : he was a 
 genteel man, but did not keep up the 
 dignity of his rank. He was so gene- 
 rally civil that nobody thanked him for 
 it." 
 
 ** Did we not hear so much said of 
 Jack Wilkes, we should think more 
 highly of his conversation. Jack has a 
 great variety of talk. Jack is a scholar, 
 and Jack has the manners of a gentle- 
 man. But after hearing his name sounded 
 from pole to pole as the phenix of con- 
 vivial felicity, we are disappointed in his 
 company. He has always been at me : 
 but I would do Jack a kindness rather 
 than not. The contest is now over." 
 
 " Garrick's gaiety of conversation has 
 delicacy and elegance : Foote makes yoa 
 laugh more ; but Foote has the air of a 
 buffoon paid for entertaining the com- 
 pany. He, indeed, well deserves his 
 hire." 
 
 " Colley Gibber once consulted me as 
 to one of his birthday Odes, a long time 
 before it was wanted. I objected very 
 freely to several passages. Gibber lost 
 patience, and would not read his Ode to 
 an end. When we had done with criti- 
 cism we walked over to Richardson's, 
 the authour of * Clarissa,' and I won- 
 dered to see Richardson displeased that 
 I • did not treat Gibber with more 
 respect.* Now, sir, to talk of respect 
 for a player r- (smiling disdainfully). 
 BoswEi.L. ** There, sir, you are always 
 heretical : you never will allow merit to 
 a player." Johnson. " Merit, sir, what 
 merit? Do you respect a rope-dancer, 
 or a ballad-singer?" Boswell. "No, 
 sir : but we respect a great player as a 
 man who can conceive lofty sentiments, 
 and can express them gracefully." John- 
 son. •* What, sir, a fellow who claps a 
 hump on his back, and a lump on his 
 leg, and cries, ' / am Richard the 
 Thirds' Nay, sir, a ballad singer is a 
 higher man, for he does two things ; he 
 
380 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 repeats and he sings : there is both reci- 
 tation and musick in his performance : 
 the player only recites." Boswell. "My 
 dear sir, you may turn any thing into 
 ridicule. I allow that a player of farce 
 is not entitled to respect ; he does a little 
 thing : but he, who can represent exalted 
 characters, and touch the noblest pas- 
 sions, Jjas very respectable powers ; and 
 mankind have agreed in admiring great 
 talents for the stage. We must consider, 
 too, that a great player does what very 
 few are capable to do : his art is a very 
 rare faculty. Who can repeat Hamlet's 
 soliloquy, ' To be, or not to be,' as Gar- 
 rick does it?" Johnson. ** Any body 
 may. Jemmy, there (a boy about eight 
 years old, who was in the room), will do 
 it as well in a week." Boswell. ** No, 
 no, sir: and as a proof of the merit of 
 great acting, and of the value which 
 mankind set upon it, Garrick has got a 
 hundred thousand pounds." Johnson. 
 *' Is getting a hundred thousand pounds 
 a proof of excellence? That has been 
 done by a scoundrel commissary." 
 
 This was most fallacious reasoning. I 
 was sure, for once, that I had the best 
 side of the argument. I boldly main- 
 tained the just distinction between a 
 tragedian and a mere theatrical droll ; 
 between those who rouse our terrour and 
 pity and those who only make us laugh. 
 " If (said I) Belterton and Foote were 
 to walk into this room, you would re- 
 spect Betterton much more than Foote." 
 Johnson. " If Betterton were to walk 
 into this room with Foote, Foote would 
 soon drive him out of it. Foote, sir, 
 quatenus Foote, has powers superior to 
 them all." 
 
 On Monday, September 22, when at 
 breakfast, I unguardedly said to Dr. 
 Johnson, " I wish I saw you and Mrs. 
 Macaulay together." He grew very an- 
 gry ; and, after a pause, while a cloud 
 gathered on his brow, he burgt out, " No, 
 sir ; you would not see us (juarrel to 
 make you sport. Don't you know that 
 it is very uncivil to pit two people 
 against one another?" Then, checking 
 himself, and wishing to be more gentle, 
 he added, '* I do not say you should be 
 hanged or drowned for this; but it is 
 very uncivil." Dr. Taylor tliought him 
 in the wrong, and spoke to him privately 
 of it ; but I afterwards acknowledged to 
 Johnson that I was to blame, for 1 can- 
 didly owned that I meant to express a 
 desire to see a contest between Mrs. 
 Macaulay and him ; but then I knew 
 how the contest woidil end ; bo that 1 
 was to see him triumph. Johnson. '* Sir, 
 you cannot be sure how a contest will 
 end ; and no man has a right to engage 
 two people in a dispute by which their 
 
 passions may be inflamed, and they may 
 part with bitter resentment against each 
 other. I would sooner keep company 
 with a man from whom I nmst guard 
 my pockets than with a man who con- 
 trives to bring me into dispute with 
 somebody, that he may hear it. This is 
 
 the great fault of (naming one of 
 
 our friends), endeavouring to introduce a 
 subject upon which he knows two peo- 
 ple in the company ditfer." Boswell. 
 " But he told me, sir, he does it for in- 
 struction." Johnson. *' Whatever the 
 motive be, sir, the man who does so 
 does very wrong. He has no more right 
 to instruct himself at such risk than he 
 has to make two people fight a duel, that 
 he may learn how to defend himself." 
 
 He found great fault with a gentlenian 
 of our acquaintance for keeping a bad 
 table. *' Sir (said he), when a man is 
 invited to dinner, he is disappointed if 
 he does not get something good. I ad- 
 vised Mrs. Thrale, who has no card parties 
 at her house, to give sweetmeats, and 
 such good things, in an evening, as are 
 not commonly given, and she would find 
 company enough come to her ; for every 
 body loves to have things which please 
 the palate put in their way without 
 trouble or preparation." Such was his 
 attention to the minutice of life and 
 manners. 
 
 He thus characterized the Duke of 
 Devonshire, grandfather of the present 
 representative of that very respectable 
 family : " He was not a man of supe- 
 riour abilities, but he was a man strictly 
 faithful to his word. If, for instance, he 
 had promised you an acorn, and none 
 had grown that year in Ins woods, he 
 would not have contented himself with 
 that excuse : he would have sent to Den- 
 mark for it. So unconditional was he in 
 keeping his word ; so high as to the point 
 of honour." This was a liberal testimony 
 from the Tory Johnson to the virtue of a 
 great Whig nobleman. 
 
 Mr. Burke's ** Letter to the Sherifts of 
 Bristol, on the aftairs of America," being 
 mentioned, Johnson censured the com- 
 position much, and he ridiculed the defi' 
 nition of a free government, viz. " For 
 any practical purpose, it is what the 
 people think so*." — " 1 will let the 
 King of France govern me on those con- 
 ditions (said he), for it is to be governed 
 just as I please." And when Dr. Taylor 
 talked of a girl being sent to a parish 
 workhouKe, and asked how much she 
 could be obliged to work, " Why (said 
 Johnson), as nnich as is reasonable : and 
 what is that ? as much as she thinks 
 reason^blci'' 
 
 • Edit. 2, p. 5J. 
 
IEtat. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 381 
 
 Dr. Johnson obligingly proposed to 
 carry me to see Islam, a romantick 
 scene, now belonging to a family of the 
 name of Port, but formerly the seat of 
 the Congreves. I suppose it is well de- 
 scribed in some of the Tours. Johnson 
 described it distinctly and vividly, at 
 which I could not but express to him my 
 wonder ; because, though my eyes, as he 
 observed, were better than his, I could 
 not by any means equal him in repre- 
 senting visible objects. 1 said, the dif- 
 ference between us in this respect was as 
 that between a man who has a bad instru- 
 ment, but plays well on it, and a man 
 who has a good instrument, on which he 
 can play very imperfectly. 
 
 I recollect a very fine amphitheatre, 
 surrounded with hills covered with woods, 
 and walks neatly formed along the side 
 of a rocky steep, on the quarter next the 
 house, with recesses under projections of 
 rock, overshadowed with trees ; in one 
 of which recesses, we were told, Con- 
 greve wrote his " Old Bachelor." We 
 viewed a remarkable natural curiosity 
 at Islam ; two rivers bursting near each 
 other from the rock, not from immediate 
 springs, but after having run for many 
 miles under ground. Plolt, in his " His- 
 tory of Staffordshire*," gives an account 
 of this curiosity ; but Johnson would not 
 believe it, though we had the attestation 
 of the gardener, who said he had put 
 in corks where the river ManyJ-'old 
 sinks into the ground, and had catched 
 them in a net placed before one of the 
 openings where t^e water bursts out. 
 Indeed, such subterraneous courses of 
 water are found in various parts of our 
 globe +. 
 
 Talking of Dr. Johnson's unwilling- 
 ness to believe extraordinary things, 1 
 ventured to say, " Sir, you come near 
 Hume'sargument against miracles, 'That 
 it is more probable witnesses should lie, 
 or be mistaken, than that they should 
 happen.' " Johnson. "Why, sir, Hume, 
 taking the proposition simply, is right. 
 But the Christian revelation is not proved 
 by the miracles alone, but as connected 
 with prophecies, and with the doctrines 
 in confirmation of which the miracles 
 were wrought." 
 
 He repeated his observation, that the 
 differences among Christians are really of 
 no consequence. " For instance (said 
 he), if a Protestant objects to a Papist, 
 * You worship images;* the Papist can 
 answer, * I do not insist on your doing 
 it ; you may be a very good Papist with- 
 out it: I do it only as a help to my de- 
 votion.' " I said, the great article of 
 
 » Pa^e 89. 
 
 + See Plott'8 " History of Staffordshire," 
 p. 88, and the autlionties referred to by him. 
 
 Christianity is the revelation of immor- 
 tality. Johnson admitted it was. 
 
 In the evening, a gentleman farmer, 
 who was on a visit to Dr. Taylor's, at- 
 tempted to dispute with Johnson in favour 
 of Mungo Campbell, who shot Alexander, 
 Earl of Eglintoune, upon his having fallen 
 when retreating from his Lordship, who 
 he believed was about to seize his gun, 
 as he had threatened to do. He said, he 
 should have done just as Campbell did. 
 Johnson. ** Whoever would do as Camp- 
 bell did deserves to be hanged ; not that 
 I could, as a juryman, have found hira 
 legally guilty of murder; but I am glad 
 they found means to convict him." The 
 gentleman farmer said, '* A poor man 
 has as much honour as a rich man ; and 
 Campbell had that to defend." Johnson 
 exclaimed, " A poor man has no ho- 
 nour." The English yeoman, not dis- 
 mayed, proceeded : '* Lord Eglintoune 
 was a damned fool to run on upon Camp- 
 bell after being warned that Campbell 
 would shoot him if he did." Johnson, 
 who could not bear any thing like swear- 
 ing, angrily replied, '* He was not a 
 damned fool : he only thought too well 
 of Campbell. He did not believe Camp- 
 bell would be such a damned scoundrel 
 as to do so damned a thing." His em- 
 phasis on damned, accompanied with 
 frowning looks, reproved his opponent's 
 want of decorum in his presence. 
 
 Talking of the danger of being mor- 
 tified by rejection when making ap- 
 proaches to the acquaintance of the great, 
 I observed, ** I am, however, generally 
 for trying, * Nothing venture, nothing 
 have.'" Johnson. "Very true, sir ; but 
 I have always been more afraid of failing 
 than hopeful of success." And, indeed, 
 though he had all just respect for rank, 
 no man ever less courted the favour of 
 the great. 
 
 During this interview at Ashbourne, 
 Johnson seemed to be more uniformly 
 social, cheerful, and a4ert than I had 
 almost ever seen him. He was prompt 
 on great occasions and on small. Taylor, 
 who praised every thing of his own to 
 excess, in short, " whose geese were all 
 swans," as the proverb says, expatiated 
 on the excellence of his bull-dog, which, 
 he told us, was " perfectly well shaped." 
 Johnson, after examining the animal at- 
 tentively, thus repressed the vainglory 
 of our host : — " No, sir, he is not well 
 shaped ; for there is not the quick tran- 
 sition from the thickness of the forepart 
 to the tenuity — the thin part — behind, — 
 which a bull-dog ought to have." This 
 tenuity was the only hard word that I 
 heard him use during this interview, and 
 it will be observed he instantly put ano- 
 ther expression in its place. Taylor said. 
 
382 
 
 a small bull-dog was as good as a large 
 one. Johnson. ** No, sir ; for in pro- 
 portion to his size he has strength : and 
 your argument would prove that a good 
 bull-dog may be as small as a mouse." 
 It was amazing how he entered with 
 perspicuity and keenness upon every 
 thing that occurred in conversation. Most 
 men, whom I know, would no more 
 think of discussing a question about a 
 bull-dog than of attacking a bull. 
 
 I cannot allow any fragment whatever 
 that floats in my memory concerning 
 the great subject of this work to be lost. 
 Though a small particular may appear 
 tritling to some, it will be relished by 
 others ; while every little spark adds 
 -Something to the general blaze : and to 
 please the true, candid, warm admirers 
 of Johnson, and in any degree increase 
 the splendour of his reputation, I bid 
 defiance to the shafts of ridicule, or even 
 of malignity. Showers of them have 
 been discharged at my " Journal of a 
 Tour to the Hebrides ;" yet it still sails 
 unhurt along the stream of time, aud, as 
 an attendant upon Johnson, 
 ' Pursues the triumph and paitakes the gale.'' 
 
 One morning after breakfast, when the 
 sun shone bright, we walked out toge- 
 ther and " pored" for some time with 
 placid indolence upon an artificial water- 
 fall, which Dr. Taylor had made by 
 building a strong dyke of stones across 
 the river behind the garden. It was 
 now somewhat obstructed by branches 
 of trees and other rubbish, which had 
 come down the river and settled close to 
 it. Johnson, partly from a desire to see 
 it play more freely, and partly from that 
 inclination to activity which^ will ani- 
 mate, at times, the most inert and slug- 
 glish mortal, took a long pole which was 
 lying on a bank, and pushed down seve- 
 rjl parcels of this wreck with painful 
 assiduity, while I stood quietly by, won- 
 dering to behold the sage thus curiously 
 employed, and smiling with a humorous 
 s.ttisfactiou each time when he carried 
 his point. He worked till he was quite 
 out of breath ; and having found a large 
 dead cat, so heavy that he could not 
 move it after several efforts, " Come," 
 s lid he (throwing down the pole), " you 
 tliall take it now ;" which I accordingly 
 did, aiul being a fresh man, soon made 
 the cat tumble over the cascade. This 
 may be laughed at as too trifling to re- 
 cord ; but it is a small characteristic 
 trait in the Flemish picture which I give 
 of my friend, and in which, therefore, I 
 mark the most minute particulars. Anil 
 let it be remembered, that " .^sop at 
 play ** is one of the instructive apologues 
 of antiquity. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 \nr. 
 
 I mentioned an old gentleman of our 
 acquaintance whose memory was begin- 
 ning to fail. Johnson. " There must be 
 a diseased mind where there is a failure 
 of memory at seventy. A man's head, 
 sir, must be morbid if he fails so soon." 
 My friend, being now himself sixty- 
 eight, might think thus: but I imagine, 
 that threescore and ten, the Psalmist's 
 period of sound human life in later ages, 
 may have a failure, though there be no 
 disease in the constitution. 
 
 Talking of Rochester's Poems, he said, 
 he had given them to Mr. Steevens to 
 castrate * for the edition of the poets, to 
 which he was to write Prefaces. Dr. 
 Taylor (the only time I ever heard him 
 say any thing witty) t observed, that " if 
 Rochester had been castrated himself, 
 his exceptionable poems would not have 
 been written." I asked if Burnet had 
 not given a good Life of Rochester. 
 Johnson. " We have a good Death : 
 there is not much Life." 1 asked whe- 
 ther Prior's poems were to be printed 
 entire : Johnson said they were. I men- 
 tioned Lord Hailes's censure of Prior, in 
 his Preface to a collection of " Sacred 
 Poems," by various hands, published by 
 hiin at Edinburgh a great many years 
 ago, where he mentions *' those impure 
 tales which will be the eternal oppro- 
 brium of their ingenious authour." John- 
 son. " Sir, Lord Hailes has forgot. There 
 is nothing in Prior that will excite to 
 lewdness. If Lord Hailes thinks there 
 is, he must be more combustible than 
 other people." I instanced the tale of 
 " Paulo Purganti and his Wife." John- 
 son. '* Sir, there is nothing there, but 
 that his wife wanted to be kissed, when 
 poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, sir. 
 Prior is a lady's book. No lady is 
 ashamed to have it standing in her 
 library." 
 
 The hypochondriack disorder being 
 mentioned. Dr. Johnson did not think it 
 so common as I supposed. *' Dr. Tay- 
 lor (said he) is the same one day as ano- 
 ther. Burke aud Reynolds are the same. 
 Beauck-rk, except when in pain, is th« 
 sapie. I am not so myself; but this I 
 do not mention commonly." 
 
 I complained of a wretched changeful- 
 ness, so that I could not preserve, for 
 any long continuance, the same views of 
 any thing. It was most comfortable to 
 me to experience, in Dr. Johnson's com- 
 pany, a relief from this uneasiness. His 
 steady vigorous mind held firm befon 
 
 • [This was uan-cessary, for it had b««ii 
 done in llu" early part of the present ceniuiy, 
 bv .latoh Toiison. M.] 
 
 't I am told that Horaie F.arl of Orford h.ii 
 a coiieciion of Voiu Mot* by persouti wliu 
 never luid but out. 
 
^TAT. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 me those objects which my own feeble 
 and tremulous imagination frequently 
 presented in such a wavering state, that 
 my reason could not judge well of them. 
 
 Dr. Johnson advised me to-day to 
 have as many books about me as I 
 could ; that 1 might read upon any sub- 
 ject upon which I had a desire for in- 
 struction at the time. *' What you read 
 then (sA\d he) you will remember; but 
 if you have not a book immediately 
 ready, and the subject moulds in your 
 mind, it is a chance if you have again a 
 desire to study it." He added, " If a 
 man never has an eager desire for in- 
 struction, he should prescribe a task for 
 himself. But it is better when a man 
 reads from immediate inclination." 
 
 He repeated a good many lines of Ho- 
 race's Odes while we were in the chaise ; 
 I remember particularly the Ode " £heu 
 fuyaces." 
 
 He said the dispute as to the compa- 
 rative excellence of Homer or Virgil * 
 was inaccurate. " We must consider 
 (said he) whether Homer was not the 
 greatest poet, though Virgil may have 
 produced the finest poem f. Virgil was 
 indebted to Homer for the whole inven- 
 tion of the structure of an epic poem, 
 and for many of his beauties." 
 
 He told me, that Bacon was a favourite 
 authour with him ; but he had never read 
 his works till he was compiling the Eng- 
 lish Dictionary, in which, he said, I 
 luigiit see Bacon very often quoted. Mr. 
 Seward recollects his having mentioned, 
 that a Dictionary of the English Lan- 
 guage might be compiled from Bacon's 
 writings alone, and that he once had an 
 intention of giving an edition of Bacon, 
 at least of his English works, and writing 
 the Life of that great man. Had he ex- 
 ecuted this intention, there can be no 
 doubt that he would have done it in a 
 most masterly manner. Mallet's Life of 
 Bacon has no inconsiderable merit as an 
 acute and elegant dissertation relative to 
 its subject ; but Mallet's mind was not 
 comprehensive enough to embrace the 
 vast extent of Lord Verulam's genius and 
 research. Dr. Warburton therefore ob- 
 served, with witty justness, ** that Mal- 
 let, in his Life of Bacon, had forgotten 
 
 * I am informed by Mr. Langton, tli.it a 
 great many years a^o he was preseni, when 
 this questiun was agitated between Dr. J»tin- 
 6on and Mr. Burke; aud, to use Johnson's 
 
 Sihrase, they "talked tiieir best;" Julinson 
 or Homer, Burke tor Virgil. It may well bt* 
 supposed to have been one of the ablest an I 
 most brilliant contests tiiat ever was exhi- 
 bited. How much must we re^^ret that it has 
 not been preserved. 
 
 + [But where is the huxccwacy, if the ad- 
 mirers of Homer contend, that he was not only 
 prior to Virgil in point of lime, but superior 
 m excellence ] J. B.— O.J 
 
 883 
 
 that he was a philosopher ; and if he 
 should write the Life of the Duke of 
 Marlborough, which he had undertaken 
 to do, he would probably forget that he 
 was a General." 
 
 Wishing to be satisfied what degree of 
 truth there was in a story which a friend 
 of Johnson's and mine had told me to his 
 disadvantage, I mentioned it to him in 
 direct terms ; and it was to this efiect ; 
 that a gentleman who had lived in great 
 intimacy with him, shown him much 
 kindness, and even relieved him from a 
 spunging house, having afterwards fallen 
 into bad circumstances, was one day, 
 when Johnson was at dinner with him, 
 seized for debt, and carried to prison ; 
 that Johnson sat still undisturbed, and 
 went on eating and drinking ; upon 
 which the gentleman's sister, who was 
 present, could not suppress her indigna- 
 tion : " What, sir (said she), are you so 
 unfeeling as not even to offer to go to my 
 brother in his distress ; you who have 
 been so much obliged to him ?" And that 
 Johnson answered, ** Madam, I owe him 
 no obligation ; what he did for me he 
 would have done for a dog." 
 
 Johnson assured me, that the story 
 was absolutely false ; but, like a man 
 conscious of being in the right, and de- 
 sirous of completely vindicating himself 
 from such a charge, he did not arro- 
 gantly rest on a mere denial and on his 
 general character, but proceeded thus : 
 — " Sir, I was very intimate with that 
 gentleman, and was once relieved by 
 him from an arrest; but I never was 
 present when he was arrested, never 
 knew that he was arrested, and I believe 
 he never was in difficulties after the time 
 when he relieved me. I loved him 
 much : yet, in talking of his general 
 character, I may have said, though I do 
 not remember that I ever did say s<*> 
 that as his generosity proceeded from no 
 principle, but was a part of his profu- 
 sion, he would do for a dog what he 
 would do for a friend : but I never ap- 
 plied this remark to any particular in- 
 stance, and certainly not to his kindness 
 to me. If a profuse man, who does not 
 value his money, and gives a large sum 
 to a whore, gives half as much, or an 
 equally large sum to relieve a friend, it 
 cannot be esteemed as virtue. This was 
 all that I could say of that gentleman : 
 and, if said at all, it must have been said 
 after his death. Sir, I would have gone 
 to the world's end to relieve him. The 
 remark about the dog, if made by me, 
 was such a sally as might escape one 
 when painting a man highly." 
 
 On Tuesday, September 23, Johnson 
 was remarkably cordial to me. It being 
 necessary for me to return to Scotland 
 
384 
 
 soon, I had fixed on the next day for my 
 setting out, and I felt a tender concern at 
 the thought of parting with him. He had, 
 at this time, frankly communicated to 
 me many particulars, which are inserted 
 in this work in their proper places ; and 
 once, when I happened to niention that 
 the expense of my jaunt would come to 
 miich more than I had computed, he 
 said, ** Why, sir, if the expense were to 
 be an inconvenience, you would have 
 reason to regret it : but, if you have had 
 the money to spend, I know not that 
 you could have purchased as much plea- 
 sure with it in any other way." 
 
 During this interview at Ashbourne, 
 Johnson and I frequently talked with 
 wonderful pleasure of mere trifles which 
 had occurred in our tour to the Hebrides; 
 for it had left a most agreeable and last- 
 ing impression upon his mind. 
 
 He found fault with me for using the 
 phrase to make money. '* Don't you 
 see (said he), the impropriety of it? To 
 make money is to coin it: you should 
 say get money." The phrase, however, 
 is, 1 think, pretty current. Ent Johnson 
 was at all times jealous of infractions 
 upon the genuine English Language, and 
 prompt to repress colloquial barbarisms; 
 such as pledying m.yseJf, for under- 
 taking ; line for department or branch, 
 as the civil line, the hanking line. He 
 was particularly indignant against the 
 almost universal use of the word idea in 
 the sense of notion or opinion, when it 
 is clear that idea can only signify some- 
 thing of which an image can be formed 
 in the mind. We may have an idea or 
 image of a mountain, a tree, a building ; 
 but we cannot surely have an idea or 
 image of an argument or proposition. 
 Yet we hear the sages of the lavv " deli- 
 vering their tde«s upon the question under 
 consideration ;" and the first speakers in 
 parliament " entirely coinciding in the 
 idea which has been ably stated by an 
 honourable member ;" — or *' reprobating 
 an idfiffl unconstitutional, and fraught with 
 the most dangerous consequences to a 
 great and free country." Johnson called 
 this " modern cant." 
 
 I perceived that lie pronounced the 
 word heard, an if spelt with a double e, 
 heerd, instead of sounding it herd, as is 
 most usually done*. He said his reason 
 was, that if it were pronounced herd, 
 there woidd be a single exception from 
 the English pronunciation of the syllable 
 ear, and he thought it better not to have 
 that exception. 
 
 He praised Grainger's " Ode on So- 
 litude," in Dodsley's collection, and 
 
 * [in (he ai^e of Queen Rlizaheth this word 
 WAA frequently written, as douhtless it was 
 pronounce'l, hard. M.] 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 repeated, with great energy, the exor- 
 dium : 
 
 " O Solitude, romantick maid. 
 Whether by noddine towers yon tread ; 
 Or haunt the desert's trackless ^iooni, 
 Or liover oV r the yawning- tomb ; 
 Or climb the Andes' clifted side. 
 Or by the Nile's coy source abide; 
 Or, starling from your half-year's sleep, 
 From Hecla view the thawiiis' deep; 
 Or, at the purple dawn of day, 
 Tadmor's marble waste survey." 
 
 observing, ** This, sir, is very noble." 
 
 In the evening our gentleman-farmer 
 and two others entertained themselves 
 and the company with a great number of 
 tunes on the fiddle. — Johnson desired to 
 have " Let ambition fire thy mind " 
 played over again, and appeared to give 
 a patient attention to it ; titough he owned 
 to me that he was very insensible to the 
 power of musick. I told him that it 
 aftected me to such a degree as often to 
 agitate my nerves painfully, producing 
 in my mind alternate sensations of pa- 
 thetick dejection, so that I was ready to 
 shed tears ; and of daring resolution, so 
 that I was inclined to rush into the thick- 
 est part of the battle. " Sir (said he), I 
 should never hear it, if it made me such 
 a fool." 
 
 Much of the effect of musick, I am 
 satisfied, is owing to the association of 
 ideas. That air, which instantly and 
 irresistibly excites in the Swiss, when 
 in a foreign land, the maladie du pais, 
 has, I am told, no intrinsick power of 
 sound. And I know from my own ex- 
 perience that Scotch reels, though brisk, 
 tnake me melancholy, because I used to 
 hear them in mj' early years, at a time 
 when Mr. Pitt called for soldiers " from 
 the mountains of the north," and num- 
 bers of brave Highlanders were going 
 abroad, never to return. Whereas the 
 airs in "The Beggar's Opera," many of 
 which are very soft, never fail to render 
 "^^ g^y» because they are associated with 
 the warm sensations and high spirits of 
 London. — This evening, while some of 
 the tunes of ordinary composition were 
 played with no great skill, my frame 
 was agitated, and I was conscious of a 
 generous attachment to Dr. Johnson, as 
 my preceptor and friend, mixed with an 
 affectionate regret that he was an old 
 man, whom I should probably lose in a 
 short time. I thought 1 could defend 
 him at the point of my sword. — My re- 
 verence and affection for him were ii> full 
 glow. I said to liim, " My dear sir, we 
 must meet every year, if you don't quar- 
 rel with me." Johnson. " Nay, sir, 5"on 
 are more likely to quarrel with me than 
 I with you. My regard for you is greater 
 almost than I have words to express ; 
 but I do not choose to be always repeat- 
 
J£tat. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 385 
 
 ing it ; write it down in the first leaf of 
 your pocket-book, and never doubt of it 
 again." 
 
 I talked to him of misery being ** the 
 doom of man," in this life, as displayed 
 in his *' Vanity of Human Wishes." 
 Yet I observed that things were done 
 upon the supposition of happiness ; grand 
 houses were built, fine gardens were 
 made, splendid places of publick amuse- 
 ment were contrived, and crowded with 
 company. Joh.nson. " Alas, sir, these 
 are all only struggles for happiness. 
 When I tirst entered Ranelagh, it gave 
 an expansion and gay sensation (o my 
 mind, such as I never experienced any 
 where else. But, as Xerxes wept when 
 he viewed his immense army, and con- 
 sidered that not one of that great multi- 
 tude would be alive a hundred years 
 afterwards, so it went to my heart to 
 consider that there was not one in all 
 that brilliant circle that was not afraid to 
 go home and think ; but that the thoughts 
 of each individual there would be dis- 
 tressing when alone." This reflection 
 was experimentally just. The feeling of 
 languor*, which succeeds the animation 
 of gaiety, is itself a very severe pain ; 
 and when the mind is then vacant, a 
 thousand disappointments and vexations 
 rush in and excruciate. Will not many 
 even of my fairest readers allow this to 
 be true 1 
 
 I suggested, that being in love and flat- 
 tered with hopes of success, or having 
 some favourite scheme in view for tiie 
 next day, might prevent that wretched- 
 ness of which we had been talking. John- 
 son. " Why, sir, it may sometimes be so 
 as you suppose ; but my conclusion is in 
 general but too true." 
 
 While Johnson and I stood in calm 
 conference by ourselves in Dr. Taylor's 
 garden, at a pretty late hour in a serene 
 autumn night, looking up to the heavens, 
 I directed the discourse to the subject of 
 a future state. My friend was in a placid 
 and most benignant frame of mind. ''Sir 
 (said he), I do not imagine that all things 
 will be made clear to us immediately 
 after death, but that the ways of Provi- 
 dence will be explained to us very gra- 
 dually." I ventured to ask him whether, 
 although the words of some texts of 
 Scripture seemed strong in support of 
 the dreadful doctrine of an eternity of 
 
 * Pope mentions, 
 *' StretchM on the rack of a too easy chaii." 
 But 1 recollect a couplet quite apposite to ni\ 
 subject in " Virtue, an Elhick Epistle," ii 
 beautiful and instructive poem, by an anony- 
 mous writer, in 1758; who, treating of plea- 
 sure in excess, gays, 
 
 " Till lanaruor, suffering on the rack of bliss. 
 Confess tfiat man was never made for tliis." 
 
 punishment, we might not hope that the 
 denunciation was figurative, and would 
 not literally be executed, Johnson. " Sir, 
 you are to consider the intention of pu- 
 nishment in a future state. We have no 
 reason to be sure that we shall then be 
 no longer liable to offend against Gou. 
 We do not know that even the angels are 
 quite in a state of security ; nay, we 
 know that some of them have fallen. It 
 may therefore, perhaps, be necessary, in 
 order to preserve both men and angeis 
 in a state of rectitude, that they should 
 have continually before them the punish- 
 ment of those who have deviated from 
 it ; but we niay hope that by some other 
 means a fall from rectitude may be pre- 
 vented. Some of the texts of Scripture 
 upon this subject are, as you observe, 
 indeed strong ; but they may adtnit of a 
 mitigated interpretation." He talked to 
 me upon this awful and delicate question 
 in a gentle tone, and as if afraid to be 
 decisive. 
 
 After supper I accompanied him to 
 his apartment, and at my request he dic- 
 tated to me an argument in favour of the 
 negro wno was then claiming his liberty, 
 in an action in the Court of Session in 
 Scotland. He had always been very 
 zealous against slavery in every form, iii 
 which 1 with all deference thought that 
 he discovered "a zeal without know- 
 ledge." Upon one occasion, when in 
 company with some very grave men at 
 Oxford,* his toast was, " Here's to the 
 next insurrection of the negroes in tlie 
 West Indies." His violent piejudice 
 against our West Indian and American 
 settlers appeared whenever there was 
 an opportunity. Towards the conclusion 
 of his " Taxation no Tyranny," he says, 
 " How is it that we hear the loudest 
 yelps fur liberty among the drivers of 
 negroes?" and in his conversation with 
 Mr. Wilkes t he asked, ** Where did 
 Beckford and Trecothick learn English?" 
 That Trecothick could both speak and 
 write good English is well known. I 
 myself was favoured with his corres^ 
 pondence concerning the brave Corsi- 
 cans. And that Beckford could speak 
 it with a spirit of honest resolution even 
 to his Majesty, as his " faithful Lord 
 Mayor of London," is commemorated 
 by the noble monument erected to him 
 in Guildhall. 
 
 The argument dictated by Dr. John- 
 son was as follows : 
 
 " It must be agreed that in most ages 
 many countries have had part of their 
 inhabitants in a state of slavery; yet it 
 may be doubted whether slavery can 
 ever be supposed the natural condition 
 
 t See ante, p. 339. 
 C C 
 
386 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1777. 
 
 of man. Il is impossible not to conceive 
 tliat men in their original state were 
 equal ; and very ditficult to imagine how 
 one v.ould be subjected to another but 
 by violent compulsion. An individual 
 may, indeed, forfeit his liberty by a 
 crime; but he cannot by that crime for- 
 feit the liberty of his children. What is 
 true of a criminal seems true likewise of 
 a captive. A man may accept life from 
 a conquering enemy on condition of per- 
 petual servitude ; but il is very doubtful 
 whether he can entail that servitude on 
 his descendants; for no man can stipu- 
 late without commission for another. 
 The condition wliich he himself accepts, 
 his son or grandson perhaps would have 
 rejected. If we should admit, what 
 perhaps may with more reason be de- 
 nied, that there are certain relations 
 between man and man which may make 
 slavery necessary and just, yet it can 
 never be proved that he who is now 
 suing for his freedom ever stood in any 
 of those relations. He is certainly sub- 
 ject by no law, but that of violence, to 
 i)is present master ; who pretends no 
 claim to his obedience, but that he 
 bought him from a merchant of slaves, 
 whose right to sell him never was exa- 
 mined. It is said that according to the 
 constitutions of Jamaica he was legally 
 t-nslavcd ; these constitutions are merely 
 positive ; and apparently injurious to the 
 rights of mankind, because whoever is 
 exposed to sale is condemned to slavery 
 without appeal; by whatever fraud or 
 violence he might have been originally 
 brought into the merchant's power. — 
 In our own time Princes have been sold, 
 by wretches to whose care they were in- 
 trusted, that they might have a Euro- 
 pean education ; but when once they 
 were brought to a market in the planta- 
 tions, little would avail either their dig- 
 nity or their wrongs. Ti(e laws of Ja- 
 maica afford a Negro no redress. His 
 colour is considered as a sufficient testi- 
 mony against him. It is to be lamented 
 that moral right slwuld ever ^ive way to 
 political convenience. But if tempta- 
 tions 'of interest are sometimes too strong 
 for human virtue, let us at least retain a 
 virtue where there is no temptation to 
 quit it. In the present case there is ap- 
 parent right on one side, and no conve 
 nience on the other, inhalntants of this 
 island can neither gain riches nor power 
 by taking away tlie liberty of any part 
 of the human species. — The sum of the 
 argument is this: — No man is by nature 
 the property of another : The defendant 
 is, therefore, by nature free : The rights 
 of nature must be some way forfeited 
 before they can be justly taken away : 
 That the defendant has by any act for- 
 
 forfeited the rights of nature we require 
 to be proved ; and if no proof of such 
 forfeiture can be given, we doubt not but 
 the justice of the court will declare him 
 free." 
 
 I record Dr. Johnson's argument fairly 
 upon this particular case; where, per- 
 haps, he was in the right. But I beg 
 leave to enter my most solemn protest 
 against this general doctrine with respect 
 to the Slave Trade. For I will reso- 
 lutely say — that his unfavourable notion 
 of it was owing to prejudice, and imper- 
 fect or false information. The wild and 
 dangerous attempt which has for some 
 time been persisted in to obtain an act 
 of our Legislature, to abolish so very im- 
 portant and necessary a branch of com- 
 mercial interest, must have been crushed 
 at once, had not the insignificance of the 
 zealots, who vainly took the lead in it, 
 made the vast body of Planters, Mer- 
 chants, and others, whose immense 
 properties are involved in that trade, 
 reasonably enough suppose that there 
 could be no danger. The encourage- 
 ment which the attempt has received 
 excites my wonder and indignation ; and 
 though some men of superiour abilities 
 have supported it — whether from a love 
 of temporary popularity when prosper- 
 ous, or a love of general mischief when 
 desperate, — my opinion is unshaken. To 
 abolish a status, which in all ages God 
 has sanctioned and man has continued, 
 would not only be robbery to an innu- 
 merable class of our fellow subjects ; but 
 it would be extreme cruelty to the Afri- 
 can Savages, a portion of whom it saves 
 from massacre or intolerable bondage in 
 their own country, and introduces into n 
 much happier state of life; especially 
 now when their passage to the West 
 Indies and their treatment there is hu- 
 manely regulated. To abolish that trade 
 would be to 
 " shut the gates of mercy on mankind.'' 
 
 Whatever may have passe<i elsewhere 
 concerning it, The House of Lords is 
 wise and independent : 
 
 Intaminads fiifgel honorihus; 
 AVe suinit ant ponit secures 
 Arbilrio popvlaris aur^e. 
 
 I have read, conversed, and thought 
 much upon the subject, and would re- 
 commend lo all who are capable of con- 
 viction an excellent Tract by my learned 
 and ingenious friend John Ranby, Esq. 
 entitled •• Doubts on the Abolition of 
 the Slave Trade." To Mr. Ranby'a 
 " Doubts," I will apply Lord Chancellor 
 Hardwicke's expression in praise of a 
 Scotch Law Bo«>k, called " Dirlelon's 
 Doubts;" "his Doubts (said his Lord- 
 
.^TA-r. 6S. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 S8T 
 
 ship) are better than most people's Cer- 
 tainties.^'' 
 
 When I said now to Johnson, that I 
 was afraid I kept hiin too late up, " No, 
 sir (said he), I don't care though I sit all 
 night with you." This was an animated 
 speech from a man in his sixty-ninth 
 year. 
 
 Had I been as attentive not to dis- 
 please him as I ought to have been, I 
 know not but this vigil might have been 
 fulfilled; but I unluckily entered upon 
 the controversy concerning the right of 
 Great Britain to tax America, and at- 
 tempted to argue in favour of our fellow 
 subjects on the other side of the Allan- 
 tick. I insisted that America might be 
 very well governed, and made to yield 
 sufficient revenue by the means of influ- 
 ence, as exemplified in Ireland, while 
 the people might be pleased with the 
 imagination of their participating of the 
 British constitution, by having a body of 
 representatives, without whose consent 
 money could not be exacted from them. 
 Johnson could not bear my thus opposing 
 his avowed opinion, which he had ex- 
 erted himself with an extreme degree of 
 heat to enforce ; and the violent agita- 
 tion into which he was thrown, while 
 answering, or rather reprimanding me, 
 alarmed me so that I heartily repented 
 of my having unthinkingly introduced 
 the subject. I myself, however, grew 
 warm, and the change was great, from 
 the calm state of philosophical discussion 
 in which we had ^ little before been 
 pleasingly employed. 
 
 I talked of the Corruption of the Bri- 
 tish Parliament, in which I alleged that 
 any question, however unreasonable or 
 unjust, might be carried by a venal ma- 
 jority ; and 1 spoke with high admiration 
 of the Roman Senate, as it composed of 
 men sincerely desirous to solve what 
 they should think best for their country. 
 My friend would allow no such charac- 
 ter to the Roman Senate ; and he main- 
 tained that the British Parliament was 
 not corrupt, and that there was no occa- 
 sion to corrupt its members ; asserting 
 that there was hardly ever any question 
 of great importance before parliament, 
 any question in which a man might not 
 very well vote either upon one side or the 
 other. He said there had been none in 
 his time except that respecting America. 
 
 We were fatigued by the contest, 
 which was produced by my want of 
 caution ; and he was pot then in the hu- 
 mour to slide into easy and cheerful talk. 
 It therefore so happened that we were 
 after an hour or two very willing to 
 separate and go to bed. 
 
 On Wednesday, September 24, 1 went 
 into Dr. Johnson's room before he got 
 
 up, and finding that the storm of the pre- 
 ceding night was quite laid, I sat down 
 upon his bed side, and he talked with 
 as much readiness and good humour as 
 ever. He recommended to me to plant 
 a considerable part of a large moorish 
 farm which I had purchased, and he 
 made several calculations of the expense 
 and profit ; for he delighted in exercising 
 his mind on thescience of numbers. He 
 pressed upon me the importance of plant- 
 ing at the first in a very sufficient manner, 
 quoting the saying, " In hello non licet 
 bis errare ;" and adding, " this is equally 
 true in planting." 
 
 I spoke with gratitude of Dr. Taylor's 
 hospitality ; and as evidence that it was 
 not on account of his good table alone 
 that Johnson visited him often, I men- 
 tioned a little anecdote which had escaped 
 my friend's recollection, and at hearing 
 which repeated he smiled. One even- 
 ing, when I was sitting with him, Frank 
 delivered this message : " Sir, Dr. Tay- 
 lor sends his compliments to you, and 
 begs you will dine with him to-morrow. 
 He has got a hare." — " My compliments 
 (said Johnson), and I'll dine with him — 
 hare or rabbit." 
 
 After breakfast I departed, and pur- 
 sued my journey northwards. I took 
 my postchaise from the Green Man, a 
 very good inn at Ashbourne, the mistress 
 of which, a mighty civil gentlewoman, 
 courtesying very low, presented me with 
 an engraving of the sign of her house ; 
 to which she had subjoined, in her own 
 handwriting, an address in such singular 
 simplicity of style that I have preserved 
 it pasted upon one of the boards of my 
 original Journal at this time, and shall 
 here insert it for the amusement of my 
 readers : 
 
 ** M. Killingley's dutp waits upon 
 Mr. Bos well, is exceedingly obliged to 
 him for this favour; whenever he 
 comes this way, hopes for a continu- 
 ance of the same. Would Mr. Bos- 
 well name the house to his extensive 
 acquaintance, it would be a singular 
 favour confcrr'd on one who has it not 
 in her power to make any other return 
 but her most grateful thanks, and sin- 
 cerest prayers for his happiness in 
 time, and in a blessed eternity. 
 
 " Tuesday morn." 
 
 From this meeting at Ashbourne I 
 derived a considerable accession to my 
 Johnsonian store. I communicated my 
 original Journal to Sir William Forbes, 
 in whom I have always placed deserved 
 confidence ; and what he wrote to me 
 concerning it is so much to my credit 
 as the biographer of Johnson that my 
 readers will, I hope, ! 
 
 grant me their iu- 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 388 
 
 diligence for here inserting it: *' It is 
 not once or twice going over it (says 
 Sir William) that will satisfy me ; for I 
 tinri in it a high degree of instruction 
 as well as entertainment; and I derive 
 more benefit from Dr. Johnson's admi- 
 rable discussions than I should be able 
 to draw from his personal conversation ; 
 for, I suppose there is not a man in the 
 world to whom he discloses his senti- 
 ments so freely as to yourself." 
 
 I cannot omit a curious circumstance 
 which occurred at Edensor Inn, close by 
 Chatsworth, to survey the magnificence 
 of which I had gone a considerable way 
 out of my road to Scotland. The inn was 
 then kept by a very jolly landlord, whose 
 name, I think, was Malton. He hap- 
 pened to mention that "the celebrated 
 Dr. Johnson had been in his house." I 
 inquired who this Dr. Johnson was, that 
 I might hear my host's notion of him. 
 '• Sir (said he), Johnson, the great 
 writer ; Oddity, as they call him. He's 
 the greatest writer in England ; he writes 
 for the ministry ; he has a correspond- 
 ence abroad, and lets them know what's 
 going on." 
 
 My friend, who had a thorough de- 
 pendence upon the authenticity of my 
 relation without any embellishment, as 
 falsehood or fiction is too gently called, 
 laughed a good deal at this representation 
 of himself. 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Sept. 29, 1777. 
 "MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " By the first post I inform you of my 
 safe arrival at my own house, and that I 
 had the comfort of finding my wife and 
 children all in good health. 
 
 ** When I look back upon our late 
 interview, it appears to me to have 
 answered expectation better than almost 
 any scheme of happiness that I ever put 
 in execution. My Journal is stored with 
 wisdom and wit ; and my memory is 
 filled with the recollection of lively and 
 affectionate feelings, which, now, 1 ihink, 
 yield me more satisfaction than at the 
 time when they were first excited. I 
 have experienced this upon other occa- 
 sions. 1 shall be obliged to you if you 
 will explain it to me ; for it seems won- 
 derful that pleasure should be more vivid 
 at a distance than when near. I wish 
 you may find yourself in a humour to do 
 me this favour ; but I flatter myself with 
 no strong hope of it ; for I have ob- 
 served that, unless upon very serious 
 occasions, your letters to me are not 
 answers to those which I write." 
 
 [I then expressed much uneasiness that 
 I had mentioned to him the name of the 
 gentleman who had told me the story so 
 
 1777. 
 
 much to his disadvantage, the truth of 
 which he had completely refuted ; for 
 that my having done so might be inter- 
 preted as a breach of confidence, and 
 offend one whose society I valued : — 
 therefore, earnestly requesting that no 
 notice might be taken of it to any body 
 till I should be in London, and have an 
 opportunity to talk it over with the gen- 
 tleman.] 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You will wonder, or you have won- 
 dered, why no letter has come from me. 
 What you wrote at your return, had in 
 it such a strain of cowardly caution as 
 gave me no pleasure. I could not well 
 do what you wished ; I had no need to 
 vex you with a refusal. I have seen 
 
 Mr. , and as to him have set all 
 
 right, without any inconvenience, so far 
 as I know, to you. Mrs. Thrale had for- 
 got the story. You may now be at ease. 
 
 " And at ease I certainly wish you, 
 for the kindness that yon showed in 
 coming so long a journey to see me. It 
 was pity to keep you so long in pain, 
 but, upon reviewing the matter, 1 do not 
 see what I could have done better than I 
 did. 
 
 " I hope you found at your return my 
 dear enemy and all her little people 
 quite well, and had no reason to repent 
 of your journey. I think on it with 
 great gratitude. 
 
 " I was not well when you left me at 
 the Doctor's, and I grew worse ; yet I 
 staid on, and at Lichfield was very ill. 
 Travelling, however, did not make me 
 worse ; and when I came to London, 
 I complied with a summons to go to 
 Brighthelmstone, where I saw Beau- 
 clerk, and staid three days. 
 
 " Our Club has recommenced last 
 Friday, but I was not there. Langton 
 has another wench*. Mrs. Thrale is 
 in hopes of a young brewer. They got 
 by their trade . last year a very large 
 sum, and their expenses are propor- 
 tionate. 
 
 " Mrs. Williams's health is very bad. 
 And I have had for some time a very 
 difficult and laborious respiration ; but I 
 am better by purges, abstinence, and other 
 methods. 1 am yet, however, much be* 
 hindhand in my health and rest. 
 
 " Dr. Blair's sermons are now univer- 
 sally commended ; but let him think that 
 I had the honour of first finding and first 
 praising his excellences. 1 did not stay 
 to add my voice to that of the publick. 
 
 " My dear friend, let me thank you 
 once more for your visit ; you did me 
 
 * A daughter born to him. 
 
^TAT. 68. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 great honour, and I hope met with no- 
 thing tliat disp'.' ased you. I staid long 
 at Ashbourne, not much pleased, yet 
 awkward at departing. I then went to 
 Lichfield, wheie I found my friend at 
 Stow Hill* very dangerously diseased. 
 Such is life. Let us try to pass it well, 
 whatever it be, for there is surely some- 
 thing beyond it. 
 
 " Well, now, I hope all is weU. Write 
 as soon as you can, to, 
 
 " DKAR SIR, 
 
 " Your aflFectionate servant, 
 '* Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Nov. 29, 1777." 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 '< Edinburgh, Nov. 29, 1777. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " This day's post has at length relieved 
 me from much uneasiness, by bringing 
 me a letter from you. I was, indeed, 
 doubly uneasy ;— on my own account 
 and yours. I was very anxious to be 
 secured against any bad consequences 
 from my imprudence in mentioning the 
 gentleman's name who had told me a 
 story to your disadvantage ; and as I 
 could hardly suppose it possible, that 
 you would delay so long to make me 
 easy, unless you were ill, I was not a 
 little apprehensive about you. You must 
 not be offended when 1 venture to tell 
 you that you appear to me to have been 
 too rigid upon this occasion. The 'cow- 
 ardly caution tvhich gave you no plea- 
 sure,' was suggested to me by a friend 
 here, to whom 1 mentioned the strange 
 story and the detection of its falsity, as 
 an instance how one may be deceived 
 by what is apparently very good autho 
 rity. But, as I am still persuaded, that 
 as I might have obtained the truth, with- 
 out mentioning the gentleman's name, it 
 was wrong in me to do it, I cannot see 
 that you are just in blaming my caution. 
 But if you were ever so just in your dis- 
 approbation, might you not have dealt 
 more tenderly with me ? 
 
 ** I went to Auchinleck about the 
 middle of October, and passed some 
 lime with my father very comfortably. 
 ****** 
 
 '* I am en< iged in a criminal prosecu- 
 tion against . country schoolmaster, for 
 indecent behaviour to his female scho- 
 lars. There is no statute against such 
 abominable conduct; but it is punish- 
 able at common law. I shall be obliged 
 to you for your assistance in this extra- 
 ordinary trial. 
 
 ♦* 1 ever am, my dear sir, 
 
 ** Your faithful humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 * Mrs. Aston. 
 
 About this time I wrote to Johnson*, 
 giving him an account of the decision of 
 the Negro cause by the Court of Ses- 
 sion, which by those who hold even the 
 mildest and best regulated slavery in 
 abomination (of which number I do not 
 hesitate to declare that I am none), 
 should be remembered with high respect, 
 and to the credit of Scotland ; for it went 
 upon a much broader ground than the 
 case of Somerset, which was decided iu 
 England t ; being truly the general ques- 
 tion, whether a perpetual obligation of 
 service to one master in any mode should 
 be sanctioned by the law of a free couu- 
 try. A negro, then called J'osej^/i Knight, 
 a native of Africa, having been brought 
 to Jamaica in the usual course of the 
 slave trade, and purchased by a Scotch 
 gentleman in that island, had attended 
 his master to Scotland, where it was offi- 
 ciously suggested to him that he would be 
 found entitled to his liberty without any 
 limitation. He accordingly brought his 
 action, in the course of which the advo- 
 cates on both sides did themselves great 
 honour. Mr. Maclaurin has had the 
 praise of Johnson, for his argument; in 
 favour of the negro, and Mr. Maccono- 
 chie distinguished himself on the same 
 side, by his ingenuity and extraordinary 
 research. Mr. Cullen, on the part of the 
 master, discovered good information and 
 sound reasoning ; in which he was well 
 supported by Mr. James Ferguson, re- 
 markable for a manly understanding, and 
 a knowledge both of books and of the 
 world. But I cannot too highly {)raise 
 the speech which Mr. Henry Dundas 
 generously contributed to the cause of the 
 sooty stranger. Mr. Dundas's Scottish 
 accent, which has been so often iu vain 
 obtruded as an objection to his powerful 
 abilities in parliament, was no disadvan- 
 tage to him in his own country. And I 
 do declare, that upon this memorable 
 question he impressed me, and I believe 
 all his audience, with such feelings as 
 were produced by some of the most emi- 
 nent orations of antiquity. This testi- 
 mony I liberally give to the excellence 
 of an old friend, with whom it has been 
 my lot to differ very widely upon many 
 political topicks ; yet I persuade myself 
 without malice. A great majority of the 
 
 + See State Trials, vol. xi. p. 33y, and Mr. 
 Harprave's argument. 
 
 I The motto to it was happily chosen: 
 ** Qnamvis ille niger, qiiamvis tu candidus 
 
 esses," 
 I cannot avoid mentioning a circumstance no 
 less strange than true, that a t)rotlier Advo- 
 cate in considerable practice, but of whom ir 
 certainly cannot be said, Ingenuas dtdictt 
 ftdeliter artes, asked Mr. Maclaurin, with a 
 face of flippant assurance, " Are these words 
 your ownl" 
 
390 
 
 Lords of Session decided for the negro. 
 But four of their number, the Lord Pre- 
 sident, Lord Eliiock, Lord Monboddo, 
 and Lord Covington, resolutely main- 
 tained the lawfulness of a status, which 
 has been acknowledged in ail ages and 
 conntries, and that when freedom flou- 
 rished, as in old Greece and Rome. 
 
 " TO JAMES B03WELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** This is the time of the year in which 
 all express their good wishes to their 
 friends, and I send mine to yon and 
 your family. May your lives be long, 
 liappy, and good ! I have been much 
 out of order, but, I hope, do not grow- 
 worse. 
 
 " The crime of the schoolmaster whom 
 you arc engaged to prosecute is very 
 great, and may be suspected to be too 
 common. In our law it would be a 
 breach of the peace and a misdemeanour : 
 that is, a kind of indetinite crime, not 
 capital, but punishable at the discretion 
 of the Court. You cannot want mat- 
 ter: all that needs to be said will easily 
 occur, 
 
 " Mr. Shaw, the authour of the Gaelick 
 Grammar, desires me to make a request 
 for him to Lord Eglintoune, that he may 
 be appointed Chaplain to one of the new 
 raised regiments. 
 
 ** All our friends are as they were ; 
 little has happened to them of either 
 good or bad. Mrs. Thrale ran a great 
 black hair dressing pin into her eye ; 
 but by great evacuation she kept it from 
 inflaming, and it is almost well. Miss 
 Reynolds has been out of order, but is 
 better. Mrs. Williams is in a very poor 
 state of health. 
 
 " If I should write on, I should, per- 
 haps, write only complaints, and there- 
 fore I will content myself with telling 
 you, that I love to think on you and to 
 hear from you ; and that I am, 
 *' UEAR sir, 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " December 27, 1777." 
 
 ** TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 *• Edinburgh, J. in. 8, 1778. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your congratulations upon a new year 
 are mixed with complaint: mine must 
 be so too. My wife has for some time 
 been very ill, having been confined to 
 the house these three months by a severe 
 cold, attended with alarming symptoms. 
 [Here I gave a particular account of 
 the distress which the person, upon every 
 account most dear to me, suffered ; and 
 of the dismal state of apprehension in 
 which I now was : adding that I never 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 stood more in need of his consoling phi- 
 losophy.] 
 
 "Did you ever look at a book written 
 by Wilson, a Scotchman, under the Latin 
 name of Folusenus, according to the 
 custom of literary men at a certain pe- 
 riod? It is entitled ' De Animi Tran- 
 quillitate.' I earnestly desire tranquil- 
 lity. Bona res quies ; but I fear I shall 
 never attain it: for, when unoccupied, I 
 grow gloomy, and occupation agitates me 
 to feverishness. 
 
 ***##* 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 ** James Boswell." 
 
 " to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 " To a letter so interesting as your last, 
 it is proper to return some answer, how- 
 ever little I may be disposed to write. 
 
 " Your alarm at your lady's illness 
 was reasonable, and not disproportionate 
 to the appearance of the disorder. I 
 hope your physical friend's conjecture is 
 now verified, and all fear of a consump- 
 tion at an end : a little care and exercise 
 will then restore her. London is a good 
 air for ladies; and if you bring her hither, 
 I will do for her what she did for me— I 
 will retire from my apartments for her 
 accommodation. Behave kindly to her, 
 and keep her cheerful, 
 
 *' Yoti always seem to call for tender- 
 ness. Know then, that in the first month 
 of the present year I very highly esteem 
 and very cordially love you. I hope to 
 tell you this at the beginning of every 
 year as long as we live ; and w hy should 
 we trouble ourselves to tell or hear it 
 oftener? 
 
 *' Tell Veronica, Enphemia, and Alex- 
 ander, that I wish them, as well as their 
 parents, many happy years. 
 
 '* You have ended the negro's cause 
 much to my mind. Lord Auchinleck 
 and dear Lord Hailes were on the side 
 of liberty. Ijord Hailes's name reproaches 
 me ; but if he saw my languid neglect of 
 my own affairs, he would rather pity 
 than resent my neglect of his. I hope to 
 mend, ut et mihi vivam et amieis. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* Yours affectionately 
 " Sam. Johnson. 
 "January 24, 1778. 
 
 ** My service to my fellow traveller, 
 Joseph." 
 
 Johnson maintained a long and inti- 
 mate friendship with Mr, Welch, who 
 succeeded the celebrated Henry Fielding 
 us one of his Majesty's Justices of the 
 
.Etat. 00. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 391 
 
 Peace for Westminster ; kept a regular 
 ot!ice for the police of that great district ; 
 and discharged his important trust, for 
 many years, faithfully and ably. John- 
 son, who had an eager and unceasing 
 curiosity to know human life in all its 
 variety, told me, that he attended Mr, 
 Welch in his office for a whole winter, to 
 hear the examinations of the culprits ; 
 but that he found an almost uniform 
 tenor of misfortune, wretchedness, and 
 profligacy. Mr. Welch's health being 
 impaired, he was advised to try the effect 
 of a warm climate ; and Johnson, by his 
 interest with Mr. Chamier, procured him 
 Jeave of absence to go to Italy, and a 
 promise that the pension or salary of two 
 hundred pounds a year, which Govern- 
 ment allowed him, should not be discon- 
 tinued. Mr. Welch accordingly went 
 abroad, accompanied by his daughter 
 Anne, a young lady of uncommon talents 
 and literature. 
 
 " TO SAUNDERS WELCH, ESQ. AT THE 
 ENGLISH COFFEE-HOUSE, ROME. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' To have suffered one of my best and 
 dearest friends to pass almost two years 
 in foreign countries without a letter, has 
 a very shameful appearance of inatten- 
 tion. But the truth is, that there was no 
 particular time in which I had any thing 
 particular to say ; and general expres- 
 sions of good will, I hope, our long 
 friendship is grown too solid to want. 
 
 ** Of publick affaiia you have informa- 
 tion from the newspapers wherever you 
 go, for the English keep no secret; and 
 of other things, Mrs. Nollekens informs 
 you. My intelligence could therefore be 
 of no use ; and Miss Nancy's letters made 
 it unnecessary to write to you for infor- 
 mation : I was likewise for some time 
 out of humour to find that motion, and 
 nearer approaches to the sun, did not 
 restore your health so fast as I expected. 
 Of your health, the accounts have lately 
 been more pleasing ; and I have the 
 gratification of imaging to myself a length 
 of years which I hope you have gained, 
 and of which the enjoyment will be im- 
 proved by a vast accession of images and 
 observations which your journeys and 
 various residence have enabled you to 
 make and accumulate. Y"ou have tra- 
 velled with this felicity, almost peculiar 
 to yourself, that your companion is not 
 to part from you at your journey's end ; 
 but you are to live on together to help 
 each other's recollection, and to supply 
 each other's omissions. The world has 
 few greater pleasures than that which 
 two friends enjoy, in tracing back, at 
 some distant time, those transactions and 
 
 events through which they have passed 
 together. One of the old man's miseries 
 is, that he cannot easily find a companion 
 able to partake with him of the past. 
 You and your fellow traveller have this 
 comfort in store, that your conversation 
 will be not easily exhausted ; one will 
 always be glad to say what the other will 
 always be willing to hear. 
 
 " That you may enjoy this pleasure 
 '^^"g. your health must have your con- 
 stant attention. I suppose you propose 
 to return this year. There is no need of 
 haste : do not come hither before the 
 height of summer, that you may fall 
 gradually into the inconveniences of your 
 native clime. July seems to be the pro- 
 per month. August and September will 
 prepare yon for the winter. After having 
 travelled so far to find health, you mu>t 
 take care not to lose it at home ; and 
 I hope a little care will effectually pre- 
 serve it. 
 
 " Miss Nancy has doubtless kept a 
 constant and copious journal. She must 
 not expect to be welcome when she re- 
 turns, without a great mass of informa- 
 tion. Let her review her journal often, 
 and set down what she finds herself to 
 have omitted, that she may trust to me- 
 mory as little as possible, for memory is 
 soon confused by a quick succession of 
 things ; and she will grow every day less 
 confident of the truth of her own narra- 
 tives, unless she can recur to some writ- 
 ten memorials. If she has satisfied herself 
 with hints, instead of full representations, 
 let her supply the deficiencies now while 
 her memory is yet fresh, and while her 
 father's memory may help her. If she 
 observes this direction, she will not have 
 travelled in vain ; for she will bring 
 home a book with which she may enter- 
 tain herself to the end of life. If it were 
 not now too late, I would advise her to 
 note the impression which the first sight 
 of any thing new and wonderful made 
 upon her mind. Let her now set her 
 thoughts down as she can recollect them ; 
 for faint as they may already be, they 
 will grow every day fainter. 
 
 " Perhaps I do not flatter myself un- 
 reasonably when 1 imagine that you may 
 wish to know something of me. I can 
 gratify your benevolence with no account 
 of health. The hand of time, or of disease, 
 is very heavy upon me. I pass restless 
 and uneasy nights, harassed with convul- 
 sions of my breast, and flatulencies at my 
 stomach ; and restless nights make heavy 
 days. But nothing will be mended by 
 complaints, and therefore I will make an 
 end. When we meet we will try to 
 forget our cares and our maladies, and 
 contribute, as we can, to the cheerfulnesa 
 of each other. If I had gone with you, 
 
302 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1773. 
 
 I believe I should have been better ; 
 but I do not know that it was in my 
 
 power. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yonr most hnmble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " February 3, 1778." 
 
 This letter, while it gives admirable 
 advice how to travel to tlie best advan- 
 t ige, and w ill therefore be of very general 
 use, is another eminent proof of Johnson's 
 warm and affectionate heart*. 
 
 TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 2r>, 1778. 
 *' MV DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Why I have delayed, for near a month, 
 to thank yoii for yonr last affectionate 
 letter, I cannot say ; for my mind has 
 been in better health these three weeks 
 than for ?ome years past. I believe I 
 have evaded till I could se«)d yon a copy 
 of Lord Hailes's opinion on the negro's 
 canse, which he wishes you to read, and 
 correct any errours that there may be in 
 the language ; for (says he), ' we live in 
 a critical, though not a learned age ; and 
 1 seek to screen myself under the shield 
 of Ajax.' I communicated to him your 
 ajxjlogy for keeping the sheets of his 
 ' Annals' so long. He says, ' I am sorry 
 to see that Dr. Johnson is in a state of 
 languor. Why should a sober Christian, 
 neither an enthusiast nor a fanatick, be 
 very merry or very sad?' I envy his 
 Lordship's comfortable constitution ; but 
 well do I know that languor and dejec- 
 tion will afflict the best, however excel- 
 lent their principles. I am in possession 
 of Lord Hailes's opinion in his own hand- 
 writing, and have had it for some time. 
 My excuse then for procrastination must 
 be, that I wanted to have it copied ; and 
 1 have now put that off" so long that it 
 will be better to bring it with me than 
 to send it, as I shall probably get you to 
 look at it sooner, when I solicit you in 
 person. 
 
 " My wife, who is, I thank God, a 
 good deal belter, is much obliged to you 
 for your very polite and courteous offer 
 of your apartment ; but, if she goes to 
 London, it will be best for her to have 
 lodgings in the more airy vicinity of 
 Hjde Park. 1, however, doubt much it 
 I shall be able to prevail with her to ac- 
 company me to the metropolis; for she 
 
 * The Iriendxliip l»etwceu Mr. Welch and 
 him was iiiibrnken. Mr. Welch died not many 
 months ' efore him, and henueailied him Ave 
 guineas for a rlnir, whicli Johnson rirt'ivfd 
 wiih t« ndernesH, a« a kind memorial. His 
 rc'jArd was constant for his friend Mr. VVehli'f 
 daiittlittrs; of whom, Jane is marrieil lo Mr. 
 Nollekens the statuary, whose merit is too 
 \tell known to require any praise fr'ni me. 
 
 is so different from you and me that she 
 dislikes travelling; and she is so anxious 
 about her children that she thinks she 
 should be unhappy if at a distance from 
 them. She therefore wishes rather to go 
 to some country place in Scotland, where 
 she can have them with her. 
 
 ** I purpose being in London about the 
 20th of next month, as I think it credit- 
 able to appear in the House of Lords as 
 one of Douglas's Counsel, in the great 
 and last competition between Duke Ha- 
 milton and him. 
 
 » * « » » 
 
 " I am sorry poor Mr?. Williams is so 
 ill : though her temper is unpleasant, she 
 has always been polite and obliging to 
 me. I wish many happy years to good 
 Mr. Levett, who, I snppose, hohls his 
 usual place at your breakfast tablet. 
 " I ever am, my dkar sir, 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 TO the same. 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 28, 1778. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You are at present busy amongst the 
 English poets, preparing, for the publick 
 instruction and entertainment, Prefaces, 
 biographical and critical. It will not, 
 therefore, be out of season to appeal to 
 you for the decision of a controversy 
 which has arisen between a lady and me 
 concerning a passage in Parnell. That 
 poet tells us, that his Hermit quitted his 
 cell 
 
 ' to know the world by si^ht. 
 
 To find M boohs or swnins report it riglit; 
 (For yet by swahis alone the world he knew, 
 Whose feel rame waoderiug o'er ihe nightly 
 dew).' 
 
 I maintain, that there is an inconsistency 
 here ; for as the Hermit's notions of the 
 worhl were formed from the reports both 
 of boohs and swains, he coidd not jnslly 
 be said to know by swains alone. Be 
 pleased to judge between us, and let us 
 have your reasons J. 
 
 " What do you say to * Taxation no 
 Tyranny,* now, after Lord North's fle- 
 claration, or confession, or whatever else 
 his conciliatory speech should be called? 
 
 t Dr. Percy, the Bi^'hop of Dromore, hii- 
 morouMly ohnerved, iliat lAiveit used to 
 breakfast on the crust of a roll, whicii Jolin- 
 son, aft^r tearin-f out the orum for himself, 
 ihrew lo his hnmble friend. 
 
 Li'erhaps the word threw is here too strong. 
 Dr. Johnson never treated Levett wiih eon- 
 tempt; it is clear, indeed, from various cir- 
 cum»iances, that he had gn-at kindness for 
 liim. i have often seen J<din8i>u at breakfasr, 
 accompanied, or raiher attended, by Le vetr, 
 wlio had alwavs the management of tlie tea 
 kettle. M.] 
 
 I [Ste tliis subject discussed in a subsequent 
 page, under May 3, 1779. M.] 
 
JET.\r.G9. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 I never differed from you in politicks but 
 upon two points, — the Middlesex Elec- 
 tion, and the Taxation of the Americans 
 by the British Houses of Representa- 
 tives. There is a charm in tlie word 
 Parliament, so I avoid it. As I am a 
 steady and a warm Tory, I regret that 
 the King does not see it to be better for 
 him to receive constitutional supplies 
 from his American subjects by the voice 
 of their own assemblies, where his Royal 
 Person is represented, than through the 
 medium of his British subjects. I am 
 persuaded that the power oi' the Crown, 
 which I wish to increase, would be 
 greater when in contact w ith all its domi- 
 nions, than if 'the rays of regal bounty *' 
 were * to shine' upon America, through 
 that dense and troubled body, a modern 
 British Parliament. But, enough of this 
 subject; for your angry voice at Ash- 
 bourne upon it still sounds awful ' in my 
 mind's ears." 
 
 " I ever am, mv dear sir, 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 
 " James Bosweli.." 
 
 to the same. 
 " Edinburgh, March 12, 1778. 
 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* The alarm of your late illness dis- 
 tressed me but a few hours ; for on the 
 evening of the day that it reached me, I 
 found it contradicted in ' The London 
 Chronicle,' vvhich I could depend upon as 
 authentick concerning you, Mr. Strahan 
 being the printer of it. I did not see the 
 paper in which ' the approaching extinc- 
 tion of a bright luminary ' was announced. 
 Sir William Forbes told me of it ; and 
 he says he saw me so uneasy that he did 
 not give me the report in such strong 
 terms as he read it. He afterwards sent 
 me a letter from Mr. Langton to him, 
 which relieved me much. I am, how- 
 ever, not quite easy, as I have not heard 
 from you ; and now I shall not have that 
 comfort before I see you, for I set out 
 for London to-morrow before the post 
 comes in. I hope to be with you on 
 Wednesday morning; and I ever am, 
 with the highest veneration, 
 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most obliged, faithful, 
 " And affectionate humble servant, 
 " James Bosweix." 
 
 On Wednesday, March 18, I arrived 
 in London, and was informed by good 
 Mr. Francis that his master was better, 
 
 • Alluding to a line in his '* Vanity of Hu- 
 man Wishes," def^cribing Cardins^l VVolsey in 
 l)i!> state of eIev£|tion: 
 
 " Tliiougli him the rays of regal bountyshine." 
 
 a93 
 
 and was gone to Mr. Thrale's, at Streat- 
 ham, to which place I wrote to him, 
 begging to know when he would be in 
 town. He was not expected for some 
 time ; but next day having called on Dr. 
 Taylor, in Dean's Yard, Westminster, I 
 found him there, and was told he had 
 come to town for a fevv hours. He met 
 me with his usual kindness, but instantly 
 returned to the writing of something on 
 which he was employed when I came 
 in, and on which he seemed much intent. 
 Finding him thus engaged, I made my 
 visit very short, and had no more of his 
 conversation, except his expressing a 
 serious regret that a friend of ours was 
 living at too much expense, considering 
 how poor an appearance he made : " If 
 (said he) a man has splendour from his 
 expense, if he spends his money in pride 
 or in pleasure, he has value: but if he 
 lets others spend it for him, which is most 
 commonly the case, he has no advantage 
 from it." 
 
 On Friday, March 20, I found him at 
 his own house, sitting with Mrs. Wil- 
 liams, and was informed that the room 
 formerly allotted to me was now appro- 
 priated to a ciiaritable purpose; Mrs. 
 Desmoulinst, and I think her daiighter, 
 and a Miss Carniichael, being all lodged 
 in it. Such was his humanity, and such 
 his generosity, that Mrs. Desmoulins her- 
 self told me, he allowed her half a guinea 
 a week. Let it be remembered that this 
 was above a twelfth part of his pension. 
 
 His liberality, indeed, was at all pe- 
 riods of his life very remarkable. Mr. 
 Howard, of Lichfield, at whose father's 
 house Johnson had in his early year.s 
 been kindly received, told me, that when 
 he was a boy at the Charter House, his 
 father wrote to him to go and pay a visit 
 to Mr. Samuel Johnson, which he ac- 
 cordingly did, and found him in an upper 
 room of poor appearance. Johnson re- 
 ceived him with much courteousness, and 
 talked a great deal to him, as to a school- 
 boy, of the course of his education, and 
 other particulars. When he afterward."* 
 came to know and understand the high 
 character of this great man, he recol- 
 lected his condescension with wonder. 
 He added, that when he was going away, 
 Mr. Johnson presented him with half a 
 guinea ; and this, said Mr. Howard, wag 
 at a time when he probably had not 
 another. 
 
 We retired from Mrs. William* to 
 another room. Tom Davies soon after 
 joined us. He had now unfortunately 
 failed in his circumstances, and was mucli 
 indebted to Dr. Johnson's kindness for 
 
 t Daughter of Dr. Swinfen, Johnson's god- 
 f;ilher, and widow of Mr. Dcsnioujirig, a 
 writing-master. 
 
394 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 obtaining for him many alleviations of 
 liis distress. After lie went away, John- 
 sou blamed his folly in quitting the stage, 
 by which he and his wife got five hun- 
 dred pounds a year. I said, I believed 
 it was owing to Chnrchill's attack upon 
 him, 
 
 " He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a 
 bone." 
 
 Johnson. " I believe so too, sir. But 
 what a man is he who is to be driven 
 from the stage by a line? Another line 
 would have driven him from his shop." 
 
 I told him that I was engaged as Coun- 
 sel at the bar of the House of Commons 
 to oppose a road bill in the county of 
 Stirling, and asked him what mode he 
 would advise me to follow in addressing 
 such an audience. Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, you most provide yourself with a 
 good deal of extraneous matter, which 
 you are to produce occasionally, so as to 
 fill up the time ; for you must consider 
 that they do not listen much. If you 
 begin with the strength of your cause it 
 may be lost before they begin to listen. 
 When you catch a moment of attention, 
 press the merits of the question upon 
 them." He said, as to one point of the 
 merits, that he thought " it would be a 
 wrong thing to deprive the small land- 
 holders of the privilege of assessing them- 
 selves for making and repairing the high 
 roads ; it was destroying a certain por- 
 tion of liberty without a good reason, 
 which ivas always a had thing.^' When 
 I mentioned this observation next day to 
 Mr. Wilkes, he pleasantly said, " What! 
 does he talk of liberty? Liberty is as 
 ridiculous in his mouth as Religion in 
 mine." Mr. Wilkes's advice as to the 
 best mode of speaking at the bar of the 
 House of Commons was not more re- 
 spectful towards the senate than that of 
 Dr. Johnson. " Be as impudent as you 
 Can, as merry as you can, and say what- 
 ever corner uppermost. Jack Lee is the 
 best heard there of any Counsel ; and he 
 is the most impudent dog, and always 
 abusing us." 
 
 In my interview with Dr. Johnson this 
 evening I was quite easy, quite as his 
 companion; u|K>n which I fmd in my 
 Journal the following reflection : " So 
 ready is my mind to suggest matter for 
 dissatisfaction that I felt a sort of regret 
 that I was so easy. 1 missed that awful 
 reverence with which I used to contem- 
 plate Mr. Samuel Johnson, in the com- 
 plex magnitude of his literary, moral, 
 and religious character. I have a won- 
 derful superstitious love of mystery; 
 when, perhaps, the truth is, that it is 
 owing to the cloudy darkness of my own 
 mind. I should be glad that I am more 
 
 advanced in my progress of being, so 
 that I can view Dr. Johnson with a 
 steadier and clearer eye. My dissatis- 
 faction to-night was foolish. Would it 
 not be foolish to regret that we shall 
 have less mystery in a future state? That 
 
 * we now see in a glass darkly,' but shall 
 
 * then see face to face?'" — This reflec- 
 tion, which I thus freely communicate, 
 will be valued by the thinking part of my 
 readers, who may have themselves expe- 
 rienced a similar state of mind. 
 
 He returned next day to Streatham, 
 to Mr. Thrale's ; where, as Mr. Strahan 
 once complained to me, " he was in a 
 great measure absorbed from the society 
 of his old friends." I was kept in Lon- 
 don by business, and wrote to him on 
 the 27th, that a separation from him for 
 a week, when we were so near, was equal 
 to a separation for a year when we were 
 at four hundred miles distance. I went 
 to Streatham on Monday, March 30. 
 Before he appeared, Mrs. Thrale made 
 a very characteristical remark : — " I do 
 not know for certain what will please 
 Dr. Johnson : but I know for certain that 
 it will displease him to praise any thing, 
 even what he likes, extravagantly." 
 
 At dinner he laughed at querulous de- 
 clamations against the age, on account of 
 luxury, — increase of London,— scarcity 
 of provisions, — and other such topicks. 
 " Houses (said he) will be built till rents 
 fall ; and corn is more plentiful now than 
 ever it was." 
 
 I had before dinner repeated a ridi- 
 culous story told me by an old man who 
 had been a passenger with me in the 
 stage coach to-day. Mrs. Thrale, having 
 taken occasion to allude to it in talking 
 to me, called it '* The story told you by 
 the old woman.^' — " Now, madam (said 
 I), give me leave to catch you in the 
 fact ; it was not an old woman, but an 
 old man whom I mentioned as having 
 told me this." I presumed to take an 
 opportunity, in presence of Johnson, of 
 showing this lively lady how ready she 
 was, unintentionally, to deviate from 
 exact authenticity of narration. 
 
 Thomas a Kempis (he observed) must 
 be a good book, as the world has opened 
 its arms to receive it. It is said to have 
 been printed, in one language or other, 
 as many times as there have been months 
 since it first came out*. I always was 
 struck with this sentence in it : " Be not 
 angry that you cannot make others as 
 you wish them to be, since you cannot 
 make yourself as you wish to bef." 
 
 • [The first edition was in 1492. Between 
 that, period and 1792, according: tu this ac- 
 count, there were three thounand tix hundred 
 editions. But this i» very improhablc. M.] 
 
 t [The original passage is; Si non potes te 
 
JEt\t. I 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 He said, " I was angry with Hurd 
 about Cowley, for having published a 
 selection of his works : but, upon better 
 consideration, I think there is no impro- 
 priety in a man's publishing as much as 
 lie chooses of any anthour, if he does not 
 put the rest out of the way. A man, for 
 instance, may print the Odes of Horace 
 alone." He seemed to be in a more 
 indulgent humour than when this subject 
 was discussed between him and Mr. 
 Murphy. 
 
 When we were at tea and coffee, there 
 came in Lord Trimlestown, in whose 
 family was an ancient Irish peerage, but 
 it sufiered by taking the generous side in 
 the troubles of the last century*. He 
 was a man of pleasing conversation, and 
 was accompanied by a young gentleman, 
 his son. 
 
 I mentioned that I had in my posses- 
 sion the Life of Sir Robert Sibbald, the 
 celebrated Scottish antiquary , and founder 
 of the Royal College of Physicians at 
 Edinburgh, in the original manuscript in 
 his own handwriting ; and that it was, 
 I believed, the most natural and candid 
 account of himself that ever was given 
 by any man. As an instance, he tells 
 that the Duke of Perth, then Chancellor 
 of Scotland, pressed him very much to 
 come over to the Roman Catholick faith : 
 that he resisted all his Grace's arguments 
 for a considerable time, till one day he 
 felt himself, as it were, instantaneously 
 convinced, and with tears in his eyes ran 
 into the Duke's arms, and embiraced the 
 ancient religion; that he continued very 
 steady in it for some time, and accom- 
 panied his Grace to London one winter, 
 and lived in his household ; that there he 
 found the rigid fasting prescribed by the 
 church very severe upon him; that this 
 disposed him to reconsider the contro- 
 versy, and having then seen that he was 
 in the wrong, he returned to Protestant- 
 ism. I talked of some time or other pub- 
 lishing this curious life. Mrs. Thrale. 
 " I think you had as well let alone that 
 publication. To discover such weakness 
 exposes a man when he is gone." John- 
 son. " Nay, it is an honest picture of 
 human nature. How often are the pri- 
 mary motives of our greatest actions as 
 small as Sibbald's for his reconversion." 
 Mrs, Thralk. " But may they not as 
 well be forgotten?" Johnson. "No, 
 madam ; a man loves to review his own 
 
 talem facere, qualem vis, qiiomodo poteris 
 alium ad tanm habere beneplacitum ? De 
 Imit. Christ. Lib. i. Cap. xvi. J. B.-O.] 
 
 * [Since this was written, the attainJer has 
 been reverse rt ; aud Nicholas Barnewail is 
 now a peer of Ireland with this title. The 
 person mentioned in the text had studied 
 physick, and prescribed gratis to the poor. 
 Hence arose t'le suhseqneut conversation, JVI.] 
 
 mind. That is the use of a diary, or 
 journal." Lord Trimlestown. "True, 
 sir. As the ladies love to see themselves 
 in a glass, so a man likes to see himsell" 
 in his journal." Boswell. " A very 
 pretty allusion." Johnson. " Yes, in- 
 deed." BoswELf,. " And as a lady 
 adjusts her dress before a mirrour, a man 
 adjusts his character by looking at his 
 journal." I next year found the very 
 same thought in Atterbury's " Funeral 
 Sermon on Lady Cutts ;" where, having 
 mentioned her Diary, he says, ** In this 
 glass she every day dressed her mind." 
 This is a proof of coincidence, and not 
 of plagiarism ; for I had never read that 
 sermon before. 
 
 Next morning, while we were at break-r 
 fast, Johnson gave a very earnest recom- 
 mendation of what he himself practised 
 with the utmost conscientiousness : I 
 mean a strict attention to truth, even in 
 the most minute particulars. " Accustom 
 your children (said he) constantly to 
 this ; if a thing happened at one window, 
 and they, when relating it, say that it 
 happened at another, do not let it pasf?, 
 but instantly check them ; you do not 
 know where deviation from truth will 
 end." Boswell. " It may come to the 
 door : and when once an account is at 
 all varied in one circumstance, it may by 
 degrees be varied so as to be totally dif- 
 ferent from what really happened." Our 
 lively hostess, whose fancy was impatient 
 of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured 
 to say, *' Nay, this is too much. If Mr. 
 Johnson should forbid me to drink tea, I 
 would comply, as I should feel the re- 
 straint only twice a day ; but little vari- 
 ations in narrative must happen a thousand 
 times a day if one is not perpetually 
 watching." Johnson. " Well, madam, 
 and you ought to be perpetually watch- 
 ing. It is more from carelessness about 
 truth than from intentional lying that there 
 is so much falsehood in the world." 
 
 In his review of Dr. Warton's " Essay 
 on the Writings and Genius of Pope,'* 
 Johnson has given the following salutary 
 caution upon this subject : " Nothing but 
 experience could evince the frequency of 
 false information, or enable any man to 
 conceive that so many groundless reports 
 should be propagated, as every man of 
 eminence may hear of himself. Some 
 men relate wliat they think as what they 
 know ; some men of confused memories 
 and habitual inaccuracy ascribe to one 
 man what belongs to another ; and some 
 talk on, without thought or care. A few 
 men are sufficient to broach falsehoods, 
 which are afterwards innocently diffused 
 by successive relaterst." Had he lived 
 
 t Literary Magazine, 1756, p. 37. 
 
396 THE LIFE OF 
 
 fo read what Sir John Hawkins and 
 Mrs. Piozzi have related concerning him- 
 self, how ninch would he have found liis 
 observation illustrated. He was indeed 
 so much impressed with the prevalence 
 of falsehood, voluntary or unintentional, 
 that I never knew any person who, upon 
 hearini; an extraordinary circumstance 
 told, discovered more of the incredulus 
 odi. He would say with a significant 
 look and decisive tone, '* It is not so. Do 
 not tell this a^jain*." Heinculcated upon 
 all his friends the importance of perpetual 
 vigilance against the slightest degrees of 
 falsehood ; the effect of which, as Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds observed to me, has 
 been, that all who were of his school are 
 distinguished for a love of truth and ac- 
 curacy, which they would not have pos- 
 sessed in the same degree if they had not 
 been acquainted with Johnson. 
 
 Talking of ghosts, he said, " It is won- 
 derful that five thousand years have now 
 elapsed since the creation of the world, 
 and still it is undecided whether or not 
 there has ever been an instance of the 
 spirit of any person appearing after death. 
 All argument is against it; but all belief 
 is for it." 
 
 He said, ** John Wesley's conversation 
 is good, but he is never at leisure. He is 
 always obliged to go at a certain hour. 
 This is very disagreeable to a man who 
 loves to fold his legs and have out his 
 talk, as I do." 
 
 On Friday, April 3, I dined with him 
 in London, in a company where were 
 present several eminent men, whom I 
 shall not name, but distinguish their 
 parts in the conversation by different 
 letters. 
 
 F. " I have been looking at this famous 
 antique marble dog of Mr! Jennings, va- 
 lued at a thousand guineas, said to be 
 Alcibiades's dog." Johnson. ** His tail 
 then must be docked. That was the mark 
 of Alcibiades's dog." E. " A thousand 
 guineas ! The representation of no animal 
 whatever is worth so much. At this rate 
 a dead dog would indeed be better than 
 a living lion." Johnson. " Sir, it is not 
 the worth of the thing but of the skill in 
 forming it which is so highly estimated. 
 Every thing that enlarges the sphere of 
 human powers, that shows man he can 
 do what he thought he could not do, is 
 valuable. The first man who balanced a 
 straw upon his nose ; Johnson who rode 
 
 • The followintr plausible hiir overprndent 
 coinisel on iIiik siibjtirt t* u'weu hy an Itiihnn 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 writer, quofe<l Uy '* Hhidi de genrralione 
 hiseclarum," wilh tli - -• • ' " ■• • 
 poela." 
 
 tiie epiihet o( " divini 
 
 " Sevipre a nuel ver ch^a faccia di menzogna 
 Dee I'no/n chindere de lahbra qvaiilo cipuote; 
 I'ero c/u'Z Zema colpafa vergogna.^* 
 
 upon three horses at a time ; in sliort, all 
 such men deserved the applause of man- 
 kind, not on account of the use of what 
 they did, but of the dexterity which they 
 exhibited." Boswell. ** Yet a misap- 
 plication of time and assiduity is not to 
 be encouraged. Addison, in one of his 
 * Spectators,' commends the judgment of 
 a King who, as a suitable reward to a 
 man that by long perseverance had at- 
 tained to the art of throwing a barley- 
 corn through the eye of a needle, gave 
 him a bushel of barley." Johnson. "He 
 must have been a King of Scotland, 
 where barley is scarce." F. '* One of 
 the most remarkable antique figures of 
 an animal is the boar at Florence." John- 
 son. " The first boar that is well made in 
 marble should be preserved as a wonder. 
 When men arrive at a facility of making 
 boars well, then the workmanship is not 
 of such value, but they should however 
 be preserved as examples, and as a 
 greater security for the restoration of the 
 art, should it be lost." 
 
 E. " We hear prodigious complaints 
 at present of emigration. I am convinced 
 that emigration makes a country more 
 populous." J. " That sounds very much 
 like a paradox." E. ** Exportation of 
 men, like exportation of all other com- 
 modities, makes more be produced." 
 Johnson. " But there would be more 
 people were there not emigration, pro- 
 vided there were food for more." E. 
 " No ; leave a few breeders, and you'll 
 have more people than if there were no 
 emigration." Johnson. '* Nay, sir, it is 
 plain there will be more people if there 
 are more breeders. Thirty cows in good 
 pasture will produce more calves than 
 ten cows, provided they have good bulls." 
 E. " There are bulls enough in Ireland." 
 Johnson (smiling), " So, sir, I should 
 think from your argument." Boswkll. 
 " You said, exportation of men, like ex- 
 portation of other commodities, makes 
 more be produced. But a bounty is given 
 to encourage the exportation of corn, and 
 no bounty is given for the exportation of 
 men ; though, indeed, those who go gain 
 by it." R. " But the bounty on the 
 exportation of corn is paid at home.** 
 E. " That's the same thing." Johnson. 
 " No, sir." R. " A man who stays at 
 home gains nothing by his neighbour's 
 emigrating." Boswell. " I can under- 
 stand that emigration may be the canse 
 that more people may be produced in a 
 country ; but the country will not there- 
 f«)re be the more populous ; for the people 
 issue from it. It can only be said that 
 there is a flow of people. It is an encou- 
 ragement to have children, to know that 
 they can get a living by emigration." 
 R. '* Yes, if there were an emigration of 
 
•Etat. ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 397 
 
 children under six years of age. But they 
 don't emigrate till they could earn their 
 livelihood in some way at home." C. " It 
 is remarkable that the most unhealthy 
 countries, where there are the most de- 
 structive diseases, such as Egypt and 
 Bengal, are the most populous." John- 
 son. ** Countries which are the most 
 populous have the most destructive dis- 
 eases. That is the true state of the 
 proposition." C. " Holland is very un- 
 healthy, yet it is exceedingly populous." 
 Johnson. " I know not that Holland is 
 unhealthy. But its populousness is owing 
 to an influx of people from all other 
 countries. Disease cannot be the cause 
 of populousness; for it not only canies 
 off a great proportion of the people, but 
 those who are left are weakened, and 
 unfit for the purposes of increase." 
 
 R. " Mr. E. 1 don't mean to flatter ; 
 but when posterity reads one of your 
 speeches in parliament, it will be diffi- 
 cult to believe that you took so much 
 pains, knowing with certainty that it 
 could produce no eftect, that not one vote 
 would be gained by it."" E. " Waving 
 your compliment to me, I shall say in 
 general, that it is very well worth while 
 for a man to take pains to speak well in 
 parliament. A man who has vanity 
 speaks to display his talents ; and if a 
 man speaks well, he gradually establishes 
 a certain reputation and consequence in 
 the general opinion which sooner or 
 later will have its political reward. Be- 
 sides, though not one vote is gained, a 
 good speech has its effect. Though an 
 act which has been ably opposed passes 
 into a law, yet in its progress it is mo- 
 deled, it is softened in such a manner 
 that we see plainly the Minister has been 
 told that the members attaciied to him 
 are so sensible of its injustice or absur- 
 dity, from what they have heard, that it 
 must be altered." Johnson. " And, sir, 
 there is a gratification of pride. Though 
 we cannot outvote them, we will out- 
 argue them. They shall not do wrong 
 without its being shown both to them- 
 selves and to the world." E. " The 
 House of Commons is a mixed body. (1 
 except the Minority, which I hold to be 
 pure [smiling], but 1 take the whole 
 House.) It is a mass by no means pure; 
 but neither is it wholly corrupt, though 
 there is a large proportion of corruption 
 in it. There are many members who 
 generally go with the minister, who will 
 not go all lengths. There are many ho- 
 nest well meaning country gentlemen 
 who are in parliament only to keep up 
 the consequence of their families. Upon 
 most of these a good speech will have 
 influence." Johnson. *' We are all more 
 or less governed by interest. But inter- 
 
 est will not make us do every thing. Iii 
 a case which admits of doubt, we try to 
 think on the side which is for our interest, 
 and generally bring ourselves to act ac- 
 cordingly. But the subject must admit 
 of diversity of colouring ; it must receive 
 a colour on that side. In the House of 
 Commons there are members enough 
 who will not vote what is grossly unjust 
 or absurd. No, sir, there must always 
 be right enough, or appearance of right, 
 to keep wrong in countenance." Bos- 
 well. " There is surely always a majo- 
 rity in parliament who have places or 
 who want to have them, and who thercr 
 fore will be generally ready to support 
 government without requiring any pre- 
 text." E. " True, sir ; that majority 
 will always follow 
 
 ' Q,uo clamor vocat el Ucrba faventhun.^ " 
 
 BoswELL. " Well now, let us take the 
 common phrase. Place-hunters. I thought 
 they had hunted without regard to any 
 thing, just as their huntsman, the Minis- 
 ter, leads, looking only to the prey*.'* 
 J. " But taking your metaphor, you 
 know that in hunting there are few so 
 desperately keen as to follow without 
 reserve. Some do not choose to leap 
 ditches and hedges, and risk their necks, 
 or gallop over steeps, or even to dirty 
 themselves in bogs and mire." Boswell. 
 " I am glad there are some good, quiet, 
 moderate political hunters." E. '* I be- 
 lieve in any body of men in England I 
 should have been in the Minority ; I 
 have always been in the Minority." P. 
 " The House of Commons resembles a 
 private company. How seldom is any 
 man convinced by another's argument : 
 passion and pride rise against it." R. 
 " What would be the consequence, if a 
 Minister, sure of a majority in the House 
 of Commons, should resolve that there 
 should be no speaking at all upon his 
 side?" E. " He must soon go out. That 
 has been tried ; but it was found it would 
 
 not do." 
 
 E. " The Irish language is not primi- 
 tive ; it is Teutonick, a niixture of tb« 
 northern tongues ; it has much English 
 in it." Johnson. " It may have been 
 radically Teutonick ; but English and 
 High Dutch have no similarity to the 
 eye, though radically the same. Once 
 when looking into Low Dutch, I found, 
 
 * Lord Bolingbroke, who, however detest- 
 able as a metaphysician, must be allowed to 
 have had admirable talents as a political 
 writer, thus describes the House of ConimouJ', 
 in his " Letter to Sir William VVyndham:"— 
 " You know the nature of that assembly ; 
 they grow, like hounds, fond of tJie man who 
 shows them game, and by whose halloo they 
 are used to be encouraged." 
 
398 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 in a whole page, only one word similar 
 to English ; stroem, like stream, and it 
 signified tide," E. " I remember having 
 seen a Dutch sonnet, in which I found 
 this word roesnoples. Nobody would at 
 ftrst think that this could be English: 
 but, when we inquire, we find roes, 
 rose, and nopie, knob ; so we have 
 rosebuds.'^ 
 
 Johnson. ** I have been reading Thick- 
 nesse's Travels, which I think are enter- 
 taining." BosWELi.. *' What, sir, a good 
 book?" Johnson. " Yes, sir, to read once ; 
 I do not say you are to make a study of 
 it, and digest it ; and I believe it to be a 
 true book in his intention. All travel- 
 lers generally mean to tell truth ; though 
 Thicknesse observes, upon Smollet's ac- 
 count of his alarming a whole town in 
 France by firing a blunderbuss, and 
 frightening a French nobleman till he 
 made him tie on his portmanteau, that 
 he would be loath to say Smollet had 
 two lies in one page ; but he had found 
 the only town in France where these 
 tilings could have happened. Travellers 
 must often be mistaken. In every thing, 
 except where mensuration can be ap- 
 plied, they may honestly differ. There 
 has been, of late, a strange turn in tra- 
 vellers to be displeased." 
 
 E. " From the experience which I 
 have had, — and I have had a great deal, 
 — 1 have learned to think better of man- 
 kitid." Johnson. " From my experi- 
 ence I have found them worse in com- 
 mercial dealings, more disposed to cheat 
 than I had any notion of; but more dis- 
 posed to do one another good than I had 
 conceived." J. " Less just and more 
 beneficent." Johnson. " And really it 
 is wonderful, considering how much at- 
 tention is necessary for men to take care 
 of themselves, and ward off immediate 
 evils which press upon them, it is won- 
 derful how much they do for others. As 
 it is said of the greatest liar, that he tells 
 more truth than falsehood ; so it may be 
 said of the worst man, that he does more 
 good than evil." Boswell. " Perhaps 
 from experience men may be found hap- 
 pier than we suppose." Johnson. " ISo, 
 sir; the more we inquire we shitll find 
 men the less happy." P. ** As to think- 
 ing better or worse of mankind from ex- 
 perience, some cunning people will not 
 be satisfied unless they have put them to 
 the test, as they think. There is a very 
 good story told of Sir Godfrey Kneller, 
 in his character of a justice of the peace. 
 A gentleman brought his servant before 
 him, upon an accusation of having stolen 
 some money from him ; but it having 
 come out that he had laid it purposely in 
 the servant's way, in order to try his 
 lionesty, Sir Godfrey sent the master to 
 
 prison *." Johnson. " To resist tempta- 
 tion once is not a sufficient proof of ho- 
 nesty. If a servant, indeed, were to 
 resist the continued temptation of silver 
 lying in a window, as some people let 
 it lie, when he is sure his master does 
 not know how much there is of it, he 
 would give a strong proof of honesty. 
 But this is a proof to which you have 
 no right to put a man. You know, 
 humanly speaking, there is a certain 
 degree of temptation which will over- 
 come any virtue. Now, in so far as you 
 approach temptation to a man, you do 
 him an injury; and, if he is overcome, 
 you share his guilt." P. " And when once 
 overcome, it is easier for him to be got 
 the better of again." Boswell. " Yes, 
 you are his seducer ; you have debauched 
 him. I have known a man resolved to 
 put friendship to the test, by asking a 
 friend to lend him money, merely with 
 that view, when he did not want it." 
 Johnson. " That is very wrong, sir. 
 Your friend may be a narrow man, and 
 yet have many good qualities : narrow- 
 ness may be his only fault. Now you 
 are trying his general character as a 
 friend, by one particular singly, in which 
 he happens to be defective, when, in 
 truth, his character is composed of many 
 particulars." 
 
 E. " I understand the hogshead of 
 claret, which this society was favoured 
 with by our friend the Dean, is nearly 
 out ; I think he should be written to, to 
 send another of the same kind. Let the 
 request be made with a happy ambiguity 
 of expression, so that we may have the 
 chance of his sending it also as a pre- 
 sent." Johnson. *• I am willing to otfer 
 my services as secretary on this occa- 
 sion." P. ** As many as are for Dr. 
 Johnson being secretary hold up your 
 hands. — Carried unanimously." Bos- 
 well. " He will be our Dictator." 
 Johnson. *• No, the company is to dic- 
 tate to me. I am only to write for wine ; 
 and I am quite disinterested, as I drink 
 none ; I shall not be suspected of having 
 forged the application. I am no more 
 than an humble scribe.^' E. '* Then 
 yoii shall |>rescribe." Boswell. " Very 
 well. The first play of words to day." 
 J. " No, no; the bulls in Ireland." 
 Johnson. " Were 1 your Dictator, you 
 should have no wine. It would be my 
 business cav>ere ne quid detrimenti Res- 
 publica caperet, and wine is dangerous. 
 Rome was ruined by luxury (smiling)." 
 
   Hope thus introduces this story: 
 " FiiirJi, in stich c.iRe if you should prosecute, 
 I ihink Sir Godfrey (ihoiiM decide the suit, 
 WIjo iient Uie thief wlio stole liie casJi a«ay, 
 And jxinish'd liim tiiat put it in liis way." 
 Irnifatious of Horace, Book ii. Kpht. 2. 
 
ii:rAT. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 39» 
 
 E. " If yon allow no wine as Dictator, 
 you shall not have me for your master of 
 horse." 
 
 On Saturday, April 4, 1 drank tea with 
 Johnson at Dr. Taylor's, where he had 
 dined. He entertained us with an ac- 
 co»nt of a tragedy written by a Dr. Ken- 
 nedy (not the Lisbon physician). " The 
 catastrophe of it (said he) was, that a 
 King, wiio was jealous of his Queen 
 with his prime minister, castrated him- 
 self*. This tragedy was actually shown 
 about in manuscript to several people, 
 and, amongst others, to Mr. Fitzherbert, 
 who repeated to me two lines of the 
 Prologue : 
 
 • Our hero's fate we have hut gently touchM ; 
 The fair mia;lit blame us, if it were less 
 couch'd.' 
 
 It is hardly to be believed what absurd 
 and indecent images men will introduce 
 into their writings, without being sensi- 
 ble of the absurdity and indecency. I 
 remember Lord Orrery told me, that 
 there was a pamphlet written against Sir 
 Robert Walpole, the whole of which was 
 an allegory on the phallick obscenity. 
 The Duchess of Buckingham asked Lord 
 Orrery who this person was? He an- 
 swered, he did not know. She said, she 
 would send to Mr. Pulteney, who, she 
 supposed, could inform her. So then, to 
 prevent her from making herself ridicu- 
 lous. Lord Orrery sent her grace a note, 
 in which he gave her to understand what 
 was meant." 
 
 He was very silent this evening ; and 
 read in a variety of books: suddenly 
 throwing down one, and taking up ano- 
 ther. 
 
 He talked of going to Streatham that 
 night. Taylor. " You'll be robbed, if 
 you do : or you must shoot a highway- 
 man. Now I would rather be robbed 
 than do that ; I woF.ld not shoot a high- 
 wayman." Johnson. " But I would ra- 
 ther shoot him in the instant when he is 
 attempting to rob me, than afterwards 
 swear against him at the Old Bailey, to 
 take away his life, after he has robbed 
 me. I am surer I am right in the one 
 case than in the other. I may be mis- 
 taken, as to the man when I swear; I 
 cannot be mistaken if I shoot him in the 
 act. Besides, we feel less reluctance to 
 take away a man's life, when we are 
 
 * The reverse of the story of Combabvs, on 
 which Mr. David Hume told Lord Mucaruiey, 
 that a fritnd of his had written a tragedy. It 
 is, however, pos<ib!e that I may have been 
 inaccurate in my perception of what Dr. John 
 son related, and that he may have been talk- 
 ing of the same ludicfous tragical subject that 
 IMr. Hume had mentioned. 
 
 [The story of Combabus, which was origi- 
 nallv told by Lucian, may be found in Bayle's 
 Dict'ionary. M.] 
 
 heated by the injury, than we do at a 
 distance of time by an oath, after we 
 have cooled." Boswell. " So, sir, you 
 would rather act from the motive of pri- 
 vate passion, than that of publick advan-i 
 tage." Johnson. " Nay, sir, when I 
 shoot the highwayman, I act from both." 
 Boswell. *' Very well, very well.^ 
 There is no catching him." Johnson. 
 "At the same time one does not know 
 what to say. For perhaps one may, a 
 year after, hang himself from uneasiness 
 for having shot a highwayman t. Few 
 minds are tit to be trusted with so great a 
 thing." Boswell. ** Then, sir, you would 
 not shoot him 1" Johnson. ** But I might 
 be vexed afterwards for that too." 
 
 Thrale's carriage not having come for 
 him, as he expected, I accompanied him 
 some part of the way home to his own 
 house. I told him, that I had talked of 
 him to Mr. Dunning a few days before, 
 and had said, that in his company we did 
 not so much interchange conversation as 
 listen to him ; and that Dunning ob- 
 served, upon this, *' One is always wil- 
 ling to listen to Dr. Johtison :" to which 
 I answered, " That is a great deal from 
 you, sir." — " Yes, sir (said Johnson), 
 a great deal indeed. Here is a man 
 willing to listen, to whom the world is 
 listening all the rest of the year." Bos- 
 well. ** I think, sir, it is right to tell one 
 man of such a handsome thing, which has 
 been said of him by another. It tends 
 to increase benevolence." Johnson. 
 " Undoubtedly it is right, sir." 
 
 On Tuesday, April 7, I breakfasted 
 with him at his house. He said, " no- 
 body was content." I mentioned to him 
 a respectable pi>rson in Scotland whom 
 he knew; and I asserted, that I really 
 believed he was always content. John- 
 son. " No, sir, he is not content with the 
 present ; he has always some new scheme, 
 some new plantation, something which is 
 future. You know he was not content 
 as a widower; for he married again." 
 Boswell. " But he is not restless." 
 Johnson. '* Sir, he is only locally at rest. 
 A chymist is locally at rest ; but his mind 
 
 t The late Duke of Montrose was generally 
 said to have been uneasy on that account; 
 but I can contradict the report from his 
 Grace's own authority. As he used to artniil 
 me to very easy conversation with him, i took 
 the liberty to introduce the subject, liin 
 Grace told me, that when riding one night 
 near London, he was attacked by two high- 
 waymen on horseback, and that he instantly 
 shot one of them, upon which the other >jal« 
 loped off; that his servant, who was verv well 
 mounted, proposed to pursue him and take 
 him, but that his Grace said, " No, we have 
 had blood enough : I hope the man may live 
 to repent." His Grace, upon my presuming 
 to put the question, assured me, that his mind 
 was not at all clouded by what he had thus 
 done in self-defence. 
 
400 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 is hard at work. This gentleman has 
 done with external exertions. It is too 
 late for him to engage in distant pro- 
 jects." BoswELL. *' He seems to amnse 
 himself quite well ; to have his attention 
 fixed, and his tranquillity preserved by 
 very small matters. I have tried this ; 
 but it would not do with me." John- 
 son (laughing). " No, sir ; it must be 
 born with a man to be contented to take 
 up with little things. Women have a 
 great advantage that they may take up 
 with little things, without disgracing 
 themselves : a man cannot, except with 
 fiddling. Had I learned to fiddle, I 
 should have done nothing else." Bos- 
 well. ** Pray, sir, did you ever play 
 on any musical instrument?" Johnson. 
 " No, sir. I once bought me a flageiet; 
 but I never made out a tune." Boswell. 
 "A flageiet, sir! — so small an instru- 
 ment* ? I should have liked to hear you 
 play on tlie violoncello. That should 
 have been your instrument." Johnson. 
 "Sir, I might as well have played on 
 the violoncello as another; but I should 
 have done nothing else. No, sir; a man 
 would never undertake great things, could 
 he be amused with small. I once tried 
 knotting. Dempster's sister undertook 
 to teach me ; but I could not learn it." 
 Boswell. " So, sir ; it will be related in 
 pompous narrative, * Once for his amuse- 
 ment he tried knotting ; nor did this Her- 
 cules disdain the distaff.'" Johnson. 
 ** Knitting of stockings is a good amuse- 
 ment. As a freeman of Aberdeen I 
 should be a knitter of stockings." He 
 asked me to go down with him and 
 dine at Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to 
 which I agreed. I had lent him " An 
 Account of Scotland in 1702," written 
 by a man of various inquiry, an English 
 chaplain to a regiment stationed there. 
 Johnson. *' It is sad stuff, sir, miserably 
 written, as books in general then were. 
 There is now an elegance of style univer- 
 sally diffused. No man now writes so 
 ill as Martin's Account of the Hebrides 
 is written. A man could not write so ill 
 if he should try. Set a merchant's clerk 
 now to write, and he'll do better." 
 
 He talked to me with serious concern 
 of a certain female friend's "laxity of 
 narration, and inattention to truth." — " I 
 am as much vexed (said he) at the ease 
 with which she hears it mentioned to her, 
 as at the thing itself. I told her, * Ma- 
 dam, you are contented to hear every 
 day said to you, what the highest of 
 mankind have died for, rather than bear.' 
 
 • When I told this to Minji Seward, she 
 itnilctl, and repeated with adinirable readi- 
 ness, from " Aci8 and Galatea," 
 " Brinff me a hundred reeds of ample erowth, 
 To make a pipe for my capacious mouih." 
 
 — You know, sir, the highest of mankind 
 have died rather than bear to be told they 
 had uttered a falsehood. Do talk to her 
 of it : I am weary." 
 
 Boswell. •' Was not Dr. John Camp- 
 bell a very inaccurate man in his narra- 
 tive, sir? He once told me, that he drank 
 thirteen bottles of port at a sitting +." 
 Johnson, " Why, sir, I do not know that 
 Campbell ever lied with pen and ink ; 
 but you could not entirely depend on any 
 thing he told you in conversation, if 
 there was fact mixed with it. However, 
 I loved Campbell: he was a solid ortho- 
 dox man : he had a reverence for reli- 
 gion. Though defective in practice, he 
 was religious in principle; and he did 
 nothing grossly wrong that I have 
 heard +." 
 
 I told him that I had been present the 
 day before when Mrs. Montagu, the lite- 
 rary lady, sat to Miss Reynolds for her 
 picture; and that she said, "she had 
 bound up Mr. Gibbon's History without 
 the last two offensive chapters ; for that 
 she thought the book so far good, as 
 it gave, in an elegant manner, the sub- 
 stance of the bad writers medii tevi, 
 which the late Lord Lyttelton advised 
 her to read." Johnson. " Sir, she has 
 not read them : she shows none of this 
 impetuosity to me : she does not know 
 Greek, and, I fancy, knows little Latin. 
 She is willing you should think she 
 knows them ; but she does not say she 
 does." Boswell. *' Mr. Harris, who 
 was present, agreed with her." John- 
 son. " Harris was laughing at her, sir. 
 Harris is a sound sullen scholar : he does 
 not like interlopers. Harris, however, 
 is a prig, and a bad prig§. I looked 
 
 + Lord Macartney observes upon this pas- 
 sage, " I have heard him tell many things, 
 which, though embellished by their mode of 
 narrative, liad their foundation in truth; but 
 I never remember any thing approaching' to 
 this, irhe had writteii it, l^shoutd have Mip- 
 posed some wag had put the figure of one 
 nefore the three."— I am, however, absolutely 
 certain that Ur. Campbell told me it, and I 
 gave particular attention to it, being mvstif 
 a lover of wine, and therefore nuious to hear 
 whatever is lemarkable concerning drinkintr. 
 There can be no doubt that some men can 
 drink, without suffering any injury, such a 
 qu.iiuily as to others appears incredible. It 
 is but fair to add, that Dr. Campbell told me, 
 he took a very long lime to this great pota- 
 tion; and I have heard Ur. Jolinson say, 
 " Sir, if a man drinks very slowly, ami lets 
 one glass cvapoiate before he takes another, 
 I know not how long he may drink." Dr. 
 Canipbell mentioned a.CoIonel of Militia who 
 sat with him all the time, and drank equally. 
 
 I [Dr. John Campbell died about two years 
 before this conversation took place; Dec. 10, 
 1776. M.] , _ , 
 
 § What my friend meant by these words 
 concerning die amiable philosopher of Salis- 
 bury, I am at a lo>8 to understand. A friend 
 suggests, that Johnson thought his manner j^» 
 
into liis book, and thought he did not un- 
 derstand his own system." Boswell. 
 ** He says plain things in a formal and 
 abstract way, to be sure ; but his method 
 is good : for, to have clear notions upon 
 any subject, we must have recourse to 
 analytick arrangement." Johnson. " Sir, 
 it is what every body does, whether they 
 will or no. But sometimes things may 
 be made darker by definition. I see a 
 cow. I define her. Animal quadrupes 
 ruminans cornutum. But a goat rumi- 
 nates, and a cow may have no horns. 
 Cow is plainer." Boswell. " I think 
 Dr. Franklin's definition of Man a good 
 one — 'A tool-making animal.'" John- 
 son. " But many a man never made a 
 tool : and suppose a man without arms, 
 he could not make a tool." 
 
 Talking of drinking wine, he said, " I 
 did not leave ofFwine because I could not 
 bear it ; I have drunk three bottles of 
 port without being the worse for it. Uni- 
 versity College has witnessed this." 
 Bosw^ELL. " Why, then, sir, did you 
 leave it off?" Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 because it is so much better for a man to 
 be sure that he is never to be intoxicated, 
 never to lose the power over himself. I 
 shall not begin to drink wine again till I 
 grow old and want it." Boswell. '* I 
 think, sir, you once said to me, that not 
 to drink wine was a great deduction from 
 life." Johnson. *' It is a diminution of 
 pleasure, to be sure ; but I do not say a 
 diminution of happiness. There is more 
 happiness in being rational." Boswell. 
 " But if we could have pleasure always, 
 should not we be happy 1 The greatest 
 part of men would compound for plea- 
 sure." Johnson. " Supposing we could 
 have pleasure always, an intellectual 
 man would not compound for it. The 
 greatest part of men would compound, 
 because the greatest part of men are 
 gross." Boswell. " 1 allow there may 
 be greater pleasure than from wine. I 
 have had more pleasure from your con- 
 versation. I have indeed ; I assure you 
 1 have." Johnson. " When we talk 
 of pleasure, we mean sensual pleasure. 
 When a man says, he had pleasure with 
 a woman, he does not mean conversation, 
 but something of a very different nature. 
 Philosophers tell you that pleasure is 
 contrary to happiness. Gross men pre- 
 fer animal pleasure. So there are men 
 who have preferred living among savages. 
 
 a writer afTccted, while at the same time the 
 matter did not compensate for that fault. In 
 short, that he meant to make a remark quite 
 different from that which a celebrated gentle- 
 man made on a very eminent physician : " He 
 is a coxcomb, but a satisfactory coxcomb." 
 
 [The celebrated gentleman here alluded to 
 was the late Right Honourable William Ge- 
 rard Hamilton. M.] 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 401 
 
 Now what a wretch must he be who is 
 
 content with such conversation as can be 
 had among savages ! You may remem- 
 ber, an officer at Fort Augustus, who had 
 served in America, told us of a woman 
 whom they were obliged to hind, in 
 order to get her back from savage life." 
 Boswell. *' She must have been an ani- 
 mal, a beast." Johnson. " Sir, she was 
 a speaking cat." 
 
 I mentioned to him that I had become 
 very weary in a company where I had 
 not a single intellectual sentence, except 
 that " a man who had been settled ten 
 years in Minorca was become a much 
 inferiour man to what he was in London, 
 because a man's mind grows narrow in 
 a narrow place." Johnson. " A man's 
 mind grows narrow in a narrow place, 
 whose mind is enlarged only because he 
 has lived in a large place : but what \% 
 got by books and thinking is preserved 
 in a narrow place as well as in a large 
 place. A man cannot know modes of 
 life as well in Minorca as in London ; 
 but he may study mathematicks as well 
 in Minorca." Boswell. " I don't know, 
 sir : if you had remained ten years in the 
 Isle of Col, you would not have been the 
 man that you now are." Johnson. ** Yes, 
 sir, if I had been there from fifteen to 
 twenty-five ; but not if from twenty-five 
 to thirty-five." Boswell. " I own, sir, 
 the spirits which I have in London make 
 me do every thing with more readiness 
 and vigour. I can talk twice as much in 
 London as any where else." 
 
 Of Goldsmith, he said, " He was not 
 an agreeable companion, for he talked 
 always for fame. A man who does so 
 never can be pleasing. The man who 
 talks to unburthen his mind is the man 
 to delight you. An eminent friend of 
 ours is not so agreeable as the variety of 
 his knowledge would otherwise make 
 him, because he talks partly from osten- 
 tation." 
 
 Soon after our arrival at Thrale's I 
 heard one of the maids calling eagerly on 
 another, to go to Dr. Johnson. I won- 
 dered what this could mean. I after- 
 wards learned, that it was to give her a 
 Bible, which he had brought from Lon- 
 don as a present to her. 
 
 He was for a considerable time occu- 
 pied in reading, " Memoirs de Fonte- 
 nellei" leaning and swinging upon the 
 low gate into the court, without his hat. 
 
 I looked into Lord Kaimes's " Sketches 
 of the History of Man ;" and mentioned 
 to Dr. Johnson his censure of Charles 
 the Fifth, for celebrating his funeral ob- 
 sequies in his lifetime, which I told him, 
 I had been used to think a solemn and 
 affecting act. Johnson. " Why, sir, a 
 man may dispose his mind to think so of 
 D D 
 
402 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 that act of Charles; but it is so liable to 
 ridicule, that if one man out of ten thou- 
 sand lauglis at it, he'll make the other 
 nine thousand nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine laugh too." I could not agree with 
 him in this. 
 
 Sir John Pringle had expressed a wish 
 that I would ask Dr. Johnson's opinion 
 what were the best English sermons for 
 style, I took an opportunity to-day of 
 mentioning several to him. Atterbury ? 
 Johnson. ** Yes, sir, one of the best." 
 BoswELL. " Tillotson?" Johnson. 
 " Why, not now. I should not advise 
 a preacher at this day to imitate Tillot- 
 son's style; though I don't know; I 
 should be cautious of objecting to what 
 has been applauded by so many suf- 
 frages. — South is one of the best, if you 
 except his peculiarities, and his violence, 
 and sometimes coarseness of language. — 
 Seed has a very fine style ; but he is not 
 very theological. — Jortin's sermons are 
 very elegant. — Sherlock's style too is 
 very elegant, though he has not made it 
 his principal study. — And you may add 
 Smallridge. All the latter preachers 
 have a good style. Indeed, nobody now 
 talks much of style : every body com- 
 poses pretty well. There are no such 
 inharmonious periods as there were a 
 hundred years ago. I should recommend 
 Dr. CVar^e's sermons, were he orthodox. 
 However, it is very well known where 
 he is not orthodox, which was upon the 
 doctrine of the Trinity, as to which he is 
 a condemned heretick ; so one is aware 
 of it." Bosw^ELi^. " I like Ogden's Ser- 
 mons on Prayer very much, both for 
 neatness of style and subtilty of reason- 
 ing." Johnson. " I should like to read 
 all (hat Ogden has written." Boswell. 
 " What I wish to know is, what sermons 
 afford the best specimen of English pul- 
 pit eloquence." Johnson. " We have 
 no sermons addressed to the passions that 
 are good for any thing ; if you mean 
 that kind of eloquence." A Clergyman 
 (whose name I do not recollect). ** Were 
 hot Dodd's sermons addressed to the pas- 
 sions?" Johnson. "They were nothing, 
 sir, be they addressed to what they may." 
 
 At dinner, Mrs. Thrale expressed a 
 wish to go and see Scotland. Johnson. 
 " Seeing Scotland, madam, is only see- 
 ing a worse England. It is seeing the 
 flower gradually fade away to the naked 
 stalk. Seeing the Hebrides, indeed, Is 
 seeing quite a different scene. 
 
 Our poor friend, Mr; Thomas Davies, 
 was soon to have a benefit at Drnry Lane 
 Theatre, as some relief to his unfortunate 
 circumstances. We were all warmly 
 interested for his success, and had con- 
 tributed to it. However, we thought 
 there was no harm in having our joke, 
 
 when he could not be hurt by it. I pro- 
 posed that he should be brought on to 
 speak a Prologue upon the occasion ; 
 and I began to mutter fragments of what 
 it might be : as, that when now grown 
 old, he was obliged to cry, " Poor Tom's 
 a-coZd ;"— that he owned he had been 
 driven from the stage by a Churchill, but 
 that this was no disgrace, for a Churchill 
 had beat the French ;— that he had been 
 satirized as "mouthing a sentence as 
 curs mouth a bone," but he was now 
 glad of a bone to pick. — " Nay (said 
 Johnson), I would have him to say, 
 ' Mad Tom is come to sec the world again,' " 
 
 He and I returned to town in the 
 evening. Upon the road I endeavoured 
 to maintain, in argument, that a landed 
 gentleman is not under any obligation to 
 reside upon his estate ; and that by living 
 in London he does no injury to his coun- 
 try. Johnson. " Why, sir, he does no 
 injury to his country in general, because 
 the money which he draws from it gets 
 back again in circulation ; but to his par- 
 ticular district, his particular parish, he 
 does an injury. All that he has to give 
 away is not given to those who havethe 
 first claim to it. And though I have said 
 that the money circulates back, it is a 
 long time before that happens. Then, 
 sir, a man of family and estate ought to 
 consider himself as having the charge of 
 a district, over which he is to diffuse civi- 
 lity and happiness*." 
 
 Next day I found him at home in the 
 morning. He praised *' Delany's Obser- 
 vations on Swift;" said that his book 
 and Lord Orrery's might both be true, 
 though one viewed Swift more and the 
 other less favourably ; and that, between 
 both, we might have a complete notion 
 of Swift. 
 
 Talking of a man's resolving to deny 
 himself the use of wine, from moral and 
 religious considerations, he said, " He 
 must not doubt about it. When one 
 doubts as to pleasure, we know what will 
 be the conclusion. I now no more think 
 of drinking wine than a horse does. The 
 wine upon the table is no more for me 
 than for the dog that is under the table." 
 
 On Thursday, April 9, I dined with 
 him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with the 
 Bishop of St. Asaph (Dr. Shipley), Mr. 
 Allan Ramsay, Mr. Gibbon, Mr. Cam- 
 bridge, and Mr. Langton. Mr. Ramsay 
 had lately returned from Italy, and en- 
 tertained us with his observations upon 
 Horace's villa, which he had examined 
 with great care. I relished this much, as 
 it brought fresh into my mind what I had 
 
 • [See, however, p. 377, where his decision 
 on I he subject is more favourable to tlie ab- 
 sentee, M.J 
 
jEtat. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 viewed with great pleasure thirteen years 
 before. The Bishop, Dr. Johnson, and 
 Mr. Cambridge, joined with Mr. Ram- 
 say in recollecting the various lines in 
 Horace relating to the subject. 
 
 Horace's journey to Brundusium being 
 mentioned, Johnson observed, that the 
 brook which he describes is to be seen 
 now, exactly as at that time ; and that he 
 had often wondered how it happened, 
 that small brooks, such as this, kept the 
 same situation for ages, notwithstanding 
 earthquakes, by which even mountains 
 have been changed, and agriculture, 
 which produces such a variation upon 
 the face of the earth. Cambridge. "A 
 Spanish writer has this thought in a poe- 
 tical conceit. After observing that most 
 of the solid structures of Rome are totally 
 perished, while the Tiber remains the 
 same, he adds, 
 
 * Lo que era Firnie huio solamente, 
 Lo Fugitivo pcrmanece y dura.'' " 
 Johnson. " Sir, that is taken from Ja- 
 nus Vitalis: 
 
 ' immota labescnnt ; 
 
 Et gnce perpeltio sunt agitata muncnl.'" 
 
 The Bishop said, it appeared from 
 Horace's writings that he was a cheerful 
 contented man. Johnson. ** We have 
 no reason to believe that, my Lord. Are 
 we to think Pope was happy, because he 
 says so in his writings ? We see in his 
 writings what he wished the state of his 
 mind to appear. Dr. Young, who pined 
 for preferment, talks with contempt of 
 it in his writings, and affects to despise 
 every thing that he did not despise." 
 Bishop of St. Asaph. ** He was like 
 other chaplains, looking for vacancies : 
 but that is not peculiar to the clergy. I 
 remember when I was with the army, 
 after the battle of Lafeldt, the officers 
 seriously grumbled that no general was 
 killed." Cambridge. " We may believe 
 Horace more, when he says, 
 
 •- Roma Tibur aniem, ventosus Tibure Ro- 
 majn;* 
 
 than when he boasts of his consistency : 
 
 ' Me conslare mihi scis, et decedere trUlcm, 
 Quandocunque trahunt invisa negotia Ito- 
 ynamJ " 
 
 BosvTELL. " How hard is it that man can 
 never be at rest." Ramsay. "It is not 
 in his nature to be at rest. When he is 
 at rest, he is in the worst state that he 
 can be in ; for he has nothing to agitate 
 him. He is then like the man in the 
 Irish song, 
 
 ' There lived a young man in Ballinacrazy, 
 Who wanted a wife for lo make him unaisy.' " 
 
 Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson 
 observed, that it was long before his 
 merit came to be acknowkdged : that he 
 
 403 
 
 once complained to him, in ludicrous 
 terms of distress, " Whenever I write 
 any thing, the publick make a point to 
 know nothing about it:" but that his 
 ** Traveller " * brought him into high 
 reputation. Langton. " There is not one 
 bad line in that poem ; not one of Dry- 
 den's careless verses." Sir Joshua. " I 
 was glad to hear Charles Fox say, it was 
 one of the tinest poems in the English 
 language." Langton. *' Why were yon 
 glad? You surely had no doubt of this 
 before." Johnson. " No ; the merit of 
 * The Traveller ' is so well established 
 that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it,- 
 nor his censure diminish it." Sir Jo^ 
 shua. ** But his friends may suspect they 
 had too great a partiality for him." John- 
 son. '* Nay, sir, the partiality of his- 
 friends was always against him. It was 
 with difficulty we could give him a hear- 
 ing. Goldsmith had no settled notion* 
 upon any subject; so he talked always 
 at random. It seemed to be his inten- 
 tion to blurt out whatever was in his 
 mind, and see what would become of it. 
 He was angry, too, when catched in an 
 absurdity ; but it did not prevent him 
 from falling into another the next minute. 
 I remenjber Chamiert, after talking with 
 him some time, said, * Well, I do believe- 
 he wrote this poem himself: and let me 
 tell you, that is believing a great deal.'-^ 
 Chamieronce asked him what he meant 
 by slow, the last word in the first line of 
 •The Traveller,' 
 
 ' Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,*-~ 
 Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? 
 Goldsmith, who would say something 
 without consideration, answered, * YesI* 
 I was silting by, and said, * No, sir ; you^ 
 do not mean tardiness of locomotion ; 
 you mean that sluggishness of mind which 
 comes upon a man in solitude.' Cha- 
 mier believed then that I had written the 
 line, as much as if he had seen me write 
 it. Goldsmith, however, was a man who, 
 whatever he wrote, did it better than any 
 other man could do. He deserved a place 
 in Westminster Abbey ; and every year 
 he lived would have deserved it better.— 
 He had, indeed, been at no pains to fill 
 his mind with knowledge. He trans- 
 planted it from one place to another; and 
 it did not settle in his mind ; so he could 
 not tell what was in his own books." 
 
 We talked of living in the country. 
 Johnson. " No wise man will go to live 
 in the country, unless he has something 
 to do which can be better done in the 
 country. For instance : if he is to shut 
 
 * FFirsl published in 1765. M.] 
 
 t [ \ntbony Chaniier, Esq. a member of the 
 Literary Club, and Undersecretary of Slate, 
 He died Oct. VZ, 1780. M.J 
 
404 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 liimself np for a year to study a science, 
 it is better to look out to the fields than 
 to an opposite wall. Then, if a man 
 walks out in the country, there is nobody 
 to keep him from walking in again ; but 
 if a man walks out in London, he is not 
 sure when he shall walk in again. A 
 great city is, to be sure, the school for 
 studying life ; and ' the proper study of 
 mankind is man,' as Pope observes." 
 J50SWELL. ** 1 fancy London is the best 
 place for society ; though I have heard 
 that the very first society of Paris is still 
 beyond any thing that we have here.*' 
 Johnson. "Sir, I question if in Paris 
 such a company as is sitting round this 
 table could be got together in less than 
 half a year. They talk in France of the 
 felicity of men and women living toge- 
 ther : the truth is, that there the men are 
 not higher than the women, they know 
 no more than the women do, and they 
 are not held down in their conversation 
 by the presence of women." Ramsay. 
 " Literature is upon the growth, it is in 
 its spring in France : here it is rather 
 passee." Johnson. " Literature was in 
 France long before we had it. Paris was 
 the second city for the revival of letters : 
 Italy had it first, to be sure. What have 
 we done for literature, equal to what 
 was done by the Stephani and others in 
 France? Our literature came to us through 
 France. Caxton printed only two books, 
 Chaucer and Gower, that were not trans- 
 lations from the French ; and Chaucer 
 we know took much from the Italians. 
 No, sir, if literature be in its spring in 
 France, it is a second spring ; it is after 
 a winter. We are now before the French 
 in literature; but we had it long after 
 them. In England, any man who wears 
 a sword and a powdered wig is ashamed 
 to be illiterate. I believe it is not so in 
 France. Yet there is, probably, a great 
 deal of learning in France, because they 
 have such a number of religious establish- 
 ments ; so many men who have nothing 
 else to do but to study. I do not know 
 this ; but I take it upon the common 
 principles of chance. Where there are 
 many shooters, some will hit." 
 
 We talked of old age. Johnson (now 
 in his seventieth year) said, " It is a 
 man's own fault, it is from want of use, 
 if his mind grows torpid in old age." The 
 Bishop asked, if an old man does not lose 
 faster than he gets. Johnson. " I think 
 not, ray Lord, if he exerts himself." One 
 of the company rashly observed, that he 
 thought it was happy for an ol<l man that 
 insensibility comes upon him. Johnson 
 (with a noble elevation and disdain). 
 ** No, sir, I should never be happy by 
 being less rational." Bishop of St. 
 Asaph. *' Your wish then, sir, is, yyjfao-- 
 
 xetv 5»5a(3-xoM-Eyo?." Johnson. " Yes, mj' 
 Lord." His Lordship mentioned a cha- 
 ritable establishment in Wales, where 
 people were maintained and supplied 
 with every thing, upon the condition of 
 their contributing the weekly produce of 
 their labour ; and he said, they grew 
 quite torpid for want of property. John- 
 son. " They have no object for hope. — 
 Their condition cannot be better. It is 
 rowing without a port." 
 
 One of the company asked him the 
 meaning of the expression in Juvenal, 
 unius lacertce. Johnson. " I think it 
 clear enough ; as much ground as one"" 
 may have a chance to find a lizard 
 upon." 
 
 Commentators have differed as to the 
 exact meaning of the expression by which 
 the Poet intended to enforce the senti- 
 ment contained in the passage where 
 these words occur. It is enough that they 
 mean to denote even a very small posses- 
 sion, provided it be a man's own : 
 
 " Est aliqiiid, quoczmque loco qtiocimqne rc- 
 
 cessn, 
 Unius sese dominnm fecisse lacertie.^* 
 
 This season there was a whimsical fashion 
 in the newspapers of applying Shaks- 
 peare's words to describe living persons 
 well known in the world, which was done 
 under the the title of ** Modern Charac- 
 ters from Shakspeare y" many of which 
 were admirably adapted. The fancy took 
 so much that they were afterwards col- 
 lected into a pamphlet. Somebody said 
 to Johnson, across the table, that he had 
 not been in those characters. " Yes (said 
 he), I have. I should have been sorry to 
 be left out." He then repeated what had 
 been applied to him, 
 " You must borrow me Garagantua's mouih." 
 Miss Reynolds not perceiving at once the 
 meaning of this, he was obliged to explain 
 it to her, which had something of a-n 
 awkward and ludicrous effect. " Why, 
 madam, it has a reference to me, as using 
 big words, which require the mouth of a 
 giant to pronounce them. Garagantua is 
 the name of a giant in Rabelais." Bos- 
 well. ** But, sir, there is another amongst 
 them for you : 
 
 ' He would not flatter Neptune for his triiieni. 
 Or Jove for his power to ihunder.' " 
 
 Johnson. " There is nothing marked in 
 that. — No, sir, Garagantua is the best." 
 Notwithstanding this ease and good hu« 
 niour, when I, a little while afterwards, 
 repeated his sarcasm on Kenrick *, which 
 was received with applause, he asked, 
 " Who said that?" and on my suddenly 
 answering Garayantua, he looked seri- 
 
 • See p. 158. 
 
JEt\t. ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ous, which was a sufficient indication that 
 he did not wish it to be kept up. 
 
 When we went to the drawingroom, 
 there was a rich assemblage. Besides 
 the company who had been at dinner, 
 there were Mr. Garrick, Mr. Harris of 
 Salisbury, Dr. Percy, Dr. Burney, the 
 Honourable Mrs. Cholmondeiey/ Miss 
 Hannah More, &c. &c. 
 
 After wandering about in a kind of 
 pleasing distraction for some time, I got 
 into a corner, with Johnson, Garrick, and 
 Harris. Garrick (to Harris). " Pray, 
 sir, have you read Potter's ^schylus V 
 Harris. " Yes; and think it pretty." 
 Garrick (to Johnson). " And what think 
 you, sir, of it?" Johnson. "I thought 
 what I read of it verbiage: but upon 
 Mr. Harris's recommendation I will read 
 a play. (To Mr. Harris.) Don't pre- 
 scribe two." Mr. Harris suggested one ; 
 I do not remember which. Johnson. 
 ** We must try its effect as an English 
 poem ; that is the way to judge of the 
 merit of a translation. Translations are, 
 in general, for people who cannot read 
 the original." I mentioned the vulgar 
 saying, that Pope's Homer was not a 
 good representation of the original. John- 
 son. " Sir, it is the greatest work of the 
 kind that has ever been produced." Bos 
 WELL. ** The truth is, it is impossible 
 perfectly to translate poetry. In a dif 
 ferent language it may be the same tune, 
 but it has not the same tone. Homer 
 plays it on a bassoon ; Pope on a flageo- 
 let." Harris. " I think heroick poetry 
 is best in blank verse ; yet it appears that 
 rhyme is essential to English poetry from 
 our deficiency in metrical quantities. Ii 
 my opinion, the chief excellence of our 
 language is numerous prose." Johnson. 
 ** Sir William Temple was the first wri- 
 ter who gave cadence to English prose* 
 Before his time they were careless of 
 arrangement, and did not mind whether 
 a sentence ended with an important word 
 or an insignificant word, or with what part 
 of speech it was concluded." Mr. Lang- 
 ton, who now had joined us, commended 
 
 * [The aiUhour, in p. 63, says, that John 
 son once told him " thai li ' • '   '^ 
 
 405 
 
 style upon that of Sii 
 
 had formed his 
 William Temple, and 
 
 upon Chambers's Proposal for his Dictionary 
 He certainly was mistaken; or, if he ima- 
 gined at first that he was imitating Temple, 
 he was very unsuccessful, for uothin? can be 
 more unlike than the simplicity ofTemple 
 and the richness of Johnson." 
 
 This observation, on the first view, seems 
 perfectly just; but on a closer examination. 
 It will, I think, appear to have been founded 
 on a misapprehension. Mr. Boswell under- 
 stood Johnson too literally. He did not, I 
 conceive, mean, that he endeavoured to 
 in»itate Temple's style in all its parts; but 
 that he formed his style on him and Chambers 
 (perhaps the paper published in 1737, relative 
 to his second edition, entitled Considera- 
 
 Clarendon. Johnson. *' He is objected 
 to for his parentheses, his involved clauses, 
 and his want of harmony. But he is sup- 
 ported by his matter. It is, indeed, owing 
 to a plethory of matter that his style is so 
 faulty : every substance (smiling to Mr. 
 Harris) has so many accidents.— To be 
 distinct we must talk analytically. If 
 we analyse language, we must speak of it 
 grammatically; if we analyse argument, 
 we must speak of it logically." Gar- 
 rick. " Of all the translations that ever 
 were attempted, I think Elphinston's 
 Martial the most extraordinary. He 
 consulted me upon it, who am a little of 
 an epigrammist myself, you know. I 
 told him freely, * You don't seem to have 
 that turn.' I asked him if he was seri- 
 ous ; and finding he was, I advised him 
 against publishing. Why, his transla- 
 tion is more difficult to understand than 
 the original. I thought him a nian of 
 some talents ; but he seems crazy iu- 
 this." Johnson. " Sir, you have done 
 what I had not courage to do. But he 
 did not ask my advice, and I did not 
 force it upon him, to make him angry 
 with me." Garrick. " But as a friend, 
 sir — ." Johnson. " Why, such a friend 
 as I am with him — no." Garrick. " But 
 if you see a friend going to tumble over 
 a precipice?" Johnson. " That is an 
 extravagant case, sir. You are sure a 
 friend will thank you for hindering him 
 from tumbling over a precipice : but, in 
 the other case, I should hurt his vanity, 
 and do him no good. He would not take 
 my advice. His brother-in-law, Strahan, 
 sent him a subscription of fifty pounds, 
 and said he would send him fifty more if 
 he would not publish." Garrick." Whatf 
 eh! is Strahan a good judge of an Epi- 
 gram? Is not he rather an obtuse man, 
 eh ?" Johnson. " Why, sir, he may not 
 be a judge of an Epigram : but you see 
 he is a judge of what is not an Epi- 
 gram." BoswELL. " It is easy for you, 
 Mr. Garrick, to talk to an authour as you" 
 talked to Elphinston; you, who have 
 been so long the manager of a theatre, 
 rejecting the plays of poor aulhours. You 
 
 TiONs, &c.) taking from each what was most 
 worthy of imitation. The passage before us, 
 I think, shows, that he learned from Temple 
 to modulate his periods, and, in that respect 
 only, made him his pattern. In this view of 
 the subject there is no difficulty. He might 
 learn from Chambers compactness, strength, 
 and precision (in opposition to the laxity of 
 style which had long prevailed); from Sir 
 Thomas Browne (who was also certainly one 
 of his archetypes), jBOMdera verfcrtiwm, vigour 
 and energy of expressir)n ; and from Temple, 
 harmonious arrangement, the due collocation 
 of words, and the other arts and graces of 
 composition here enumerated: and yet, after 
 all, his style might bear no striking resem- 
 blance to that of any of these writers, though 
 it had proliccd by each. M.J 
 
406 
 
 are an old jiulge, who have often pro- 
 nounced sentence of death. You are a 
 practised surgeon who have often ampu- 
 tated limbs ; and tliough this may have 
 been for the good of yonr patients, they 
 cannot like you. Those who have under- 
 gone a dreadful operation are not very 
 fond of seeing the operator again." Gar 
 RICK. " Yes, I know enough of that. 
 There was a reverend gentleman (Mr. 
 Hawkins) who wrote a tragedy, the 
 SIEGE of something*, which I refused." 
 Harris. " So, the siege was raised." 
 Johnson. " Ay, he came to me and 
 complained ; and told me, that Garrick 
 said his play was wrong in the concoc- 
 tion. Now, what is the concoction of a 
 play?" (Here Garrick started, and twist- 
 ed himself, and seemed sorely vexed ; 
 for Johnson told me, he believed the 
 story was true.) Garrick. •* I — I — I 
 — said, first concoction f." Johnson. 
 (smiling). " Well, he left owX first. And 
 Rich, he said, refused him in false Eng- 
 lish: he could show it under his hand." 
 Garrick. " He wrote to me in violent 
 wrath, for having refused his play. * Sir, 
 this is growing a very serious and terrible 
 aflFair. I am resolved to publish my 
 play. I will appeal to the world ; and 
 how will your judgment appear!' I an- 
 swered, * Sir, notwithstanding all the 
 eeriousness, and all the terrours, I have 
 no objection to your publishing yonr 
 play ; and as you live at a great distance 
 (Devonshire, I believe), if you will send 
 it to me, I will convey it to the press.' 
 1 never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 On Friday, April 10, I found Johnson 
 at home in the morning. We resumed 
 the conversation of yesterday. He put 
 me in mind of some of it which had 
 escaped my memory, and enabled me to 
 record it more perfectly than I otherwise 
 could have done. He was much pleased 
 with my paying so great attention to his 
 recommendation in 1763, the period 
 when our acquaintance began, and I 
 could perceive he was secretly pleased 
 to find so much of the fruit of his mind 
 preserved : and as he had been used to 
 imagine and say, that he always laboin-ed 
 when he said a good thing, — it delighted 
 him, on a review, to find tliat his conver- 
 sation teemed with point and imagery. 
 
 I said to him, '* You were yesterday, 
 sir, in remarkably good humour ; but 
 there was nothing to offend you, nothing 
 to produce irritation or violence. There 
 
   It was called " The Siege of Aleppo." 
 Mr. ilawkioH, llie aiithoiir of it, was rnrmerly 
 professor of Poetry at Oxford. It is printed 
 in his *• Misccllanie*," 3 vols, octavo. 
 
 t [Garrick had high authority for ihis ex- 
 pression. Dryden uses it in one of his critical 
 e««H}8. M.J 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 was no bold offender. There was not 
 one capital conviction. It was a maiden 
 assize. You had on your white gloves." 
 
 He found fault with our friend Langton 
 for having been too silent. " Sir (said 
 I), you will recollect that he very pro- 
 perly took up Sir Joshua for being glad 
 that Charles Fox had praised Goldsmith's 
 * Traveller,' and you joined him." John- 
 son. " Yes, sir, I knocked Fox on the 
 head without ceremony. Reynolds is too 
 much under Fox and Burke at present. 
 He is under the Fox star, and the Irish 
 constellation. He is always under some 
 planet." Bosvtell. ** There is no Fox 
 star." Johnson. " But there is a dog 
 star." BoswELL. " They say, indeed, a 
 fox and a dog are the same animal." 
 
 I reminded him of a gentleman who, 
 Mrs. Cholmondeley said, was first talka- 
 tive from affectation, and then silent from 
 the same cause ; that he first thought, " I 
 shall be celebrated as the liveliest man 
 in every company;" and then, all at 
 once, *• O ! it is much more respectable 
 to be grave and look wise." " He has 
 reversed the Pythagorean discipline, by 
 being first talkative and then silent. He 
 reverses the course of Nature too ; he 
 was first the gay butterfly, and then the 
 creeping worm." Johnson laughed loud 
 and long at this expansion and illustra- 
 tion of what he himself had told me. 
 
 We dined together with Mr. Scott (now 
 Sir William Scott, his Majesty's Advo- 
 cate General;), at his chambers in the 
 Temple, nobody else there. The com- 
 pany being small, Johnson was not in 
 such spirits as he had been the preceding 
 day, and for a considerable time little 
 was said. At last he burst forth : " Sub- 
 ordination is sadly broken down in this 
 age. No man now has the same autho- 
 rity which his father had, — except a 
 gaoler. No master has it over his ser- 
 vants : it is diminished in our colleges ; 
 nay, in our grammar schools." Bos- 
 WELL. " What is the cause of this, sir'}'* 
 Johnson. ** Why, the coming in of the 
 Scotch" (laughing sarcastically). Bos- 
 WELL. " That is to say, things have been 
 turned topsy-tui-vy. — But your serions 
 cau.se." Johnson. ** Why, sir, there arc 
 many causes, the chief of which is, I 
 think, the great increase of money. No 
 man now depends upon the Lord of a 
 Manour, when he can send to another 
 country and fetch provisions. The shoe- 
 black at the entry of my court does not 
 depend on me. I can deprive him but 
 of a penny a day, which he hopes some- 
 body else will bring him ; and that penny 
 I must carry to another shoeblack, so the 
 
 X [Now (1804) JiidRfi of the Curt of Admi- 
 ralty, and IMaster of iho I'aculiics. M.j 
 
.*:TAr. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 407 
 
 tr:ule suffers nothing. I have explained, 
 ill my 'Journey to the Hebrides,' how 
 u;oid and silver destroy feudal subordi- 
 nation. But, besides, there is a general 
 relaxation of reverence. No son now 
 (Upends upon his father as in former 
 (inies. Paternity used to be considered 
 ;;> of itself a great thing, which had a 
 I iuht to many claims. Tiiat is, in general, 
 Inced to very small bounds. My hope 
 , that as anarchy produces tyranny, this 
 xtreme relaxation will produce freni 
 strictio." 
 
 Talking of fame, for which there is so 
 great a desire, I observed how little 
 there is of it in reality, compared Mith 
 the other objects of human attention. 
 " Let every man recollect, and he will 
 be sensible how small a part of his time 
 is employed in talking or thinking of 
 Shakspeare, Voltaire, or any of the most 
 celebrated men that have ever lived, or 
 are now supposed to occupy the attention 
 and admiration of the world. Let this be 
 extracted and compressed; into what a 
 narrow space will it go!" I then slily 
 introduced Mr. Garrick's fame, and his 
 assuming the airs of a great man. John- 
 son. " Sir, it is wonderful how little 
 Garrick assumes. No, sir, Garrick/br- 
 tunam reverenfe?- habet. Consider, sir ; 
 celebrated men, such as you have men- 
 tioned, have had their applause at a dis- 
 tance ; but Garrick had it dashed in his 
 face, sounded in his ears, and went home 
 every night with the plaudits of a thou- 
 sand in his cranium. Then, sir, Garrick 
 did not find but made his way to the 
 tables, the levees, and almost the bed- 
 chambers of the great. Then, sir, Gar- 
 rick had under him a numerous body of 
 people; who, from fear of his power, 
 and hopes of his favour, and admiration 
 of his talents, were constantly submissive 
 to him. And here is a man who has 
 advanced the dignity of his profession. 
 Garrick has made a player a higher cha- 
 racter." Scott. " And he is a very 
 sprightly writer too." Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir ; and all this supported by great wealth 
 of his own acquisition. If all this had 
 happened to me, I should have had a 
 couple of fellows with long poles walk- 
 ing before me to knock down every body 
 that stood in the way. Consider, if all 
 this had happened to Cibber or Quin 
 they'd have jumped over the moon.— 
 Yet Garrick speaks to ws" (smiling). 
 BoswELL. " And Garrick is a very good 
 man, a charitable man." Johnson. " Sir, 
 a liberal man. He has given away more 
 money than any man in England. There 
 may be a little vanity mixed : but he has 
 shown that money is not his fnst object." 
 BoswEi^L. "Yet Foote used to say of 
 him, that he walked out with an inten- 
 
 tion to do a generous action ; but turning 
 the corner of a street, he met with the 
 ghost of a halfpenny, which frightened 
 him." Johnson. " Why, sir, that is 
 very true, too ; for I never knew a man 
 of whom it could be said with less cer- 
 tainty to-day what he will do to-morrow 
 than Garrick ; it depends so much on 
 his humour at the time." Scott. " I. 
 am glad to hear of his liberality. He has 
 been represented as very saving." John- 
 son. " With his domestick saving we 
 have nothing to do. I remember drink- 
 ing tea with him long ago, when Peg 
 Wotfington made it, and he grumbled at 
 her for making it too strong *. He had 
 then begun to feel money in his pnrse, 
 and did not know when he should have 
 enough of it." 
 
 On the subject of wealth, the proper 
 use of it, and the effects of that art which 
 is called economy, he observed, " It is 
 wonderful to think how men of very large 
 estates not only spend their yearly in- 
 comes, but are often actually in want of 
 money. It is clear they have not value 
 for what they spend. Lord Shelbourne 
 told me, that a man of high rank, who 
 looks into his own affairs, may have all 
 that he ought to have, all that can be of 
 any use, or appear with any advantage, 
 for five thousand pounds a year. There- 
 fore a great proportion must go in waste ; 
 and, indeed, this is the case with most 
 people, whatever their fortune is." Bos- 
 well. " I have no doubt, sir, of this. 
 But how is it? What is waste?" John- 
 son. " Why, sir, breaking bottles, and a 
 thousand other things. Waste cannot be 
 accurately told, though we are sensible 
 how destructive it is. Economy, on the 
 one hand, by which a certain income is 
 made to maintain a man genteelly, and 
 waste on the other, by which, on the 
 same income, another man lives shabbily, 
 cannot be defined. It is a very nice 
 thing ; as one man wears his coat out 
 much sooner than another, we cannot 
 tell how." 
 
 We talked of war. Johnson. " Every 
 man thinks meanly of himself for not 
 having been a soldier, or not having been 
 at sea." Boswell. " Lord Mansfield 
 does not." Johnson. " Sir, if Lord 
 Mansfield were in a company of General 
 Officers and Admirals who have been in 
 service, he would shrink ; he'd wish to 
 creep under the table." Bosw^ell. "No; 
 he'd think he could fry them all." John- 
 son. " Yes, if he could catch them : but 
 they'd try him much sooner. No, sir ; 
 were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth 
 
 * When Johnson told iliis little anecdote to 
 Sir Joslitia Revnolds, he mentioned a circum- 
 stance w hich he omitted to-day :— " Why (said 
 Garrick), it is as red as blood." 
 
408 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 of Sweden both present in any com- 
 pany, and Socrates to say, ' Follow me, 
 and hear a lecture in philosophy ;' and 
 Charles, laying his hand on his sword, to 
 say, * Follow me, and dethrone the Czar :' 
 a man would be ashamed to follow So- 
 crates. Sir, the impression is universal : 
 yet it is strange. As to the sailor, when 
 you look down from the quarter deck to 
 the space below, you see the utmost ex- 
 tremity of human misery : such crowd- 
 ing, such filth, such stench !" Boswell. 
 " Yet sailors are happy." Johnson. 
 ** They are happy as brutes are happy, 
 with a piece of fresh meat, — with the 
 grossest sensuality. But, sir, the profes- 
 sion of soldiers and sailors has the dignity 
 of danger. Mankind reverence those who 
 have got over fear, which is so general a 
 weakness." Scott. " But is not cou- 
 rage mechanical, and to be acquired 1" 
 Johnson. " Why yes, sir, in a collective 
 sense. Soldiers consider themselves only 
 as part of a great machine." Scott. 
 " We find people fond of being sailors." 
 Johnson. " I cannot account for that any 
 more than I can account for other strange 
 perversions of imagination." 
 
 His abhorrence of the profession of a 
 sailor was uniformly violent ; but in con- 
 versation he always exalted the profes- 
 sion of a soldier. And yet I have, in my 
 large and various collection 6f his writ- 
 ings, a letter to an eminent friend, in 
 which he expresses himself thus : " My 
 godson called on me lately. He is weary, 
 and rationally weary, of a military life. 
 If you can place him in some other state, 
 I think you may increase his happiness, 
 and secure his virtue. A soldier's time 
 is passed in distress and danger, or in 
 idleness and corruption." Such was his 
 cool reflection in his study ; but when- 
 ever he was warmed and animated by 
 the presence of company, he, like other 
 philosophers, whose minds are impreg- 
 nated with poetical fancy, caught the 
 common enthusiasm for splendid re- 
 nown. 
 
 He talked of Mr. Qharles Fox, of 
 whose abilities he thought highly, but 
 observed, that he did not talk much at 
 our Club. I have heard Mr. Gibbon 
 remark, " that Mr. Fox could not be 
 afraid of Dr. Johnson ; yet he certainly 
 was very shy of saying any thing in 
 Dr. Johnson's presence." Mr. Scott 
 now quoted what was said of Alcibiades 
 by a Greek poet, to which Johnson 
 assented*. 
 
 • [Wishina: to discover the ancient observa- 
 tioii here referred to, I applied to Sir William 
 Scott on the fliihject, but lie had no recollec- 
 tion of it.— iM y "old and very learned friend, 
 Pr. Michiiel Kearney, formerly senior fellow 
 of I'rinity College, Dublin, and now Archdca- 
 
 He told us that he had given Mrs. 
 Montagu a catalogue of all Daniel De- 
 foe's works of imagination ; most, if not 
 all of which, as well as of his other 
 works, he now enumerated, allowing a 
 considerable share of merit to a man, 
 who, bred a tradesman, had written so 
 variously and so well. Indeed, his " Ro- 
 binson Crusoe" is enough of itself to 
 establish his reputation. 
 
 He expressed great indignation at the 
 imposture of the Cock Lane Ghost, and 
 related, with much satisfaction, how he 
 had assisted in detecting the cheat, and 
 had published an account of it in the 
 newspapers. Upon this subject I incau- 
 tiously offended him, by pressing him 
 with too many questions, and he showed 
 his displeasure. I apologized, saying 
 that " I asked questions in order to be 
 instructed and entertained ; I repaired 
 eagerly to the fountain ; but that the 
 moment he gave me a hint, the moment 
 he put a lock upon the well, I desisted." 
 — " But, sir (said he), that is forcing one 
 to do a disagreeable thing :" and he con- 
 tinued to rate me. " Nay, sir (said I), 
 when you have put a lock upon the well, 
 so that I can no longer drink, do not 
 make the fountain of your wit play upon 
 me and wet me." 
 
 He sometimes could not bear being 
 teased wijh questions. I was once pre- 
 sent when a gentleman asked so many, 
 as, ** What did you do, sir?" " What did 
 you say, sir?" that he at last grew en- 
 raged, and said, ** I will not be put to the 
 question. Don't you consider, sir, that 
 these are not the manners of a gentle- 
 man? I will not be baited with what 
 and whp ; what is this? what is that? 
 why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's 
 tail bushy?" The gentleman, who was 
 a good deal out of countenance, said, 
 " Why, sir, you are so good that I ven- 
 ture to trouble yon." Johnson. " Sir, 
 my being so good is no reason why you 
 should be so ill." 
 
 Talking of the Justitia hulk at Wool- 
 con of Raphoe in Ireland, has, however, most 
 happily elucidated this passa}?e. He remarks 
 to me thai " Mr. Boswell's memory must here 
 have <leceived him; and that ISlr. Scolt's ob- 
 servation must have been, that • Mr. Fox, in 
 the instance mentioned, mig^ht be considered 
 as the reverse of P/i<enx, of whom, as Plutarch 
 relates in the Life o( Alcibiades, Eupolis the 
 tiatfedian said, II is true he can talk, and yit 
 he is no speaker.' " 
 
 If this discovery had been made by a scho- 
 liast OH an ancieni aulhour, with what ardour 
 and exuberant praise would Bentlcy or Taylor 
 h^ve spoken of it!— Sir William Scott, to 
 whom I coniraunicaled Dr. Kearney's remark, 
 is perfectly satisfied that it is correct. For 
 • lie other observations signed K. we are in- 
 debted to the 8ame§;enilenian. Every ola»Kical 
 reader will lament that they are not more 
 numerous. M.J 
 
JErw. 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 wich, in which criminals were punished, 
 by being confined to labour, he said, '* I 
 do not see that they are punished by this : 
 they must have worked equally, had they 
 never been guilty of stealing. They 
 now only work ; so, after all, they have 
 gained ; what they stole is clear gain to 
 them ; the confinement is nothing. Every 
 man who works is confined : the smith 
 to his shop, the tailor to his garret." 
 BoswELL. " And Lord Mansfield to his 
 Court." Johnson. " Yes, sir. You know 
 the notion of confinement may be ex- 
 tended, as in the song, * Every island is 
 a prison.' There is, in Dodsley's collec- 
 tion, a copy of verses to the anthour of 
 that song." 
 
 Smith's Latin verses on Pococke, the 
 great traveller*, were mentioned. He 
 repeated some of them, and said they 
 were Smith's best verses. 
 
 He talked with an uncommon anima- 
 tion of travelling into distant countries ; 
 that the mind was enlarged by it, and 
 that an acquisition of dignity of charac- 
 ter was derived from it. He expressed 
 a particular enthusiasm with respect to 
 visiting the wall of China. I catched it 
 for the moment, and said I really be- 
 lieved I should go and see the wall of 
 China, had I not children, of whom it 
 was my duty to take care. " Sir (said 
 he), by doing so, you would do what 
 would be of importance in raising your 
 children to eminence. There would be 
 a lustre reflected upon them from your 
 spirit and curiosity. They would be at 
 all times regarded as the children of a 
 man who had gone to view the wall of 
 China. I am serious, sir." 
 
 When we had left Mr. Scott's, he said, 
 "Will you go home with me?" "Sir 
 (said I), it is late ; but I'll go with you 
 for three minutes." Johnson. " Or 
 four." We went to Mrs. Williams's 
 room, where we found Mr. Allen the 
 printer, who was the landlord of his 
 house in Bolt Court, a worthy obliging 
 man, and his very old acquaintance ; and 
 what was exceedingly amusing, though 
 he was of a very diminutive size, he used, 
 even in Johnson's presence, to imitate 
 the stately periods and slow and solemn 
 utterance of the great man. — I this even- 
 ing boasted, that although I did not write 
 what is called stenography, or shorthand, 
 in appropriated characters devised for the 
 purpose, I had a method of my own of 
 writing half words, and leaving out some 
 altogether, so as yet to keep the sub- 
 stance and language of any discourse 
 
 * [Smith's Verses on Edward Pococke, tlie 
 great Oriental Linguist: he travelled, it is 
 true ; but Dr. liicliard Pococke, late Bisliop of 
 Ossory, who published Triivels tliroug^h liie 
 East, IS usually called the great IraveKtr, K.] 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 409 
 
 vv'hich I had heard so much in view that 
 I could give it very completely soon after 
 I had taken it down. He defied me, as 
 he had once defied an actual shorthand 
 writer; and he made the experiment by 
 reading slowly and distinctly a part of 
 Robertson's " History of America,'.* 
 while I endeavoured to write it in my 
 way of taking notes. It was found that 
 I had it very imperfectly ; the conclusion 
 from which was, that its excellence was 
 principally owing to a studied arrange- 
 ment of words, which could not be varied 
 or abridged without an essential injury. 
 
 On Sunday, April 12, I found him at 
 home before dinner. Dr. Dodd's poem, 
 entitled '* Thoughts in Prison," was lying 
 upon his table. This appearing tome an 
 extraordinary effort by a man who was 
 in Newgate for a capital crime, I was 
 desirous to hear Johnson's opinion of it : 
 to my surprise, he told me he had not 
 read a line of it. I took up the book, 
 and read a passage to him. Johnson. 
 " Pretty well, if you are previously dis- 
 posed to like them." I read another pas- 
 sage, with which he was better pleased. 
 He then took the book into his own 
 hands, and having looked at the prayer 
 at the end of it, he said, " What evidence 
 is there that this was composed the night 
 before he suffered 1 J do not believe it." 
 He then read aloud where he prays for 
 the King, &c. and observed, " Sir, do 
 you think that a man, the night before he 
 is to be hanged, cares for the succession 
 of a royal family 1 — Though, he may have 
 composed this prayer, then. A man who 
 has been canting all his life may cant to 
 the last. And yet a man who has been 
 refused a pardon after so much petition- 
 ing would hardly be praying thus fer- 
 vently for the King." 
 
 He and I and Mrs. Williams went to 
 dine with the Reverend Dr. Percy. Talk'- 
 ing of Goldsmith, Johnson said, he was 
 very envious. I defended him, by ob- 
 serving that he owned it frankly upon 
 all occasions. Johnson. " Sir, yon are 
 enforcing the charge. He had so much 
 envy Uiat he could not conceal it. He 
 was so full of it that he overflowed. He 
 talked of it to be sure often enough. 
 Now, sir, what a man avows he is not 
 ashamed to think ; though many a man 
 thinks what he is ashamed to avow. We 
 are all envious naturally ; but by check- 
 ing envy, we get the better of it. So we 
 are all thieves naturally ; a child always 
 tries to get at what it wants the nearest 
 way ; by good instruction and good habits 
 this is cured, till a man has not even an 
 inclination to seize what is another's ; has 
 no struggle with himself about it." 
 
 And here I shall record a scene of too 
 much heat between Dr. Johnson and Dr. 
 
410 
 
 Percy, which I should have snppressed, 
 were it not that it gave occasion to dis- 
 play the truly tender and benevolent heart 
 of Johnson, who, as soon as he found a 
 friend was at all hurt by any thing which 
 he had " said in his wrath," was not only 
 prompt and desirous to be reconciled, 
 but exerted himself to make ample repa- 
 ration. 
 
 Books of Travels having; been men- 
 tioned, Johnson praised Pennant very 
 highly, as he did at Dunvegan, in the 
 Isle of Sky *. Dr. Percy, knowing him- 
 self to be the heir male of the ancient 
 Perciest, and having the warmest and 
 most dutiful attachment to the noble 
 House of Northumberland, could not sit 
 quietly and hear a man praised wlio had 
 spoken disrespectfully of Alnwick Castle 
 and the Duke's pleasure grounds, espe- 
 cially as he thought meanly of his travels. 
 He therefore opposed Johnson eagerly. 
 Johnson. ** Pennant in what he has said 
 of Alnwick has done what he intended ; 
 he has made you very angry." Percy. 
 *' He has said the garden is trim, which 
 is representing it like a citizen's parterre, 
 when the truth is, there is a very large 
 extent of fine turf and gravel walks." 
 Johnson. " According to your own ac- 
 count, sir. Pennant is right. It is trim. 
 Here is grass cut close, and gravel rolled 
 smooth. Is not that trim ? The extent is 
 nothing against that: a mile may be as 
 trim as a square yard. Your extent puts 
 me in mind of the citizen's enlarged din- 
 ner, two pieces of roast beef and two 
 puddings. There is no variety, no mind 
 exerted in laying out the ground, no 
 trees." Percy. " He pretends to give 
 the natural history of Northumberland, 
 and yet takes no notice of the immense 
 
 * " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides,'' 
 edit. 3d. p. 221. 
 
 t See this accurately stated, and the descent 
 of his family from the Earls of Northumber- 
 land clearly deduced in the Reverend Dr. 
 Nash's exceflent" History «)f Worcestershire," 
 vol. ii. p. 318.— The Doctor has subjoined a 
 note, in which he says. "The Editor hath 
 seen and carefully examined the proofs of all 
 the particulais above-meniioncfl, now in the 
 possession of the Reverend Thomas Percy." 
 
 The same proofs I h,tve also myself care- 
 fully examined, and have seen some addi- 
 tional proofs which have occurred since the 
 Doctor's book was published; and both as a 
 Lawyer accu<*tomea to the consideration of 
 evidence, and as a Genealogist versed in the 
 atudv of pedijj'rees, I am fully satisfied. I can- 
 not help observinjr, as a circumstance of no 
 small moment, that in tracin<r the Bishop of 
 Dromore'g genealogy, csxential aid was (fiven 
 by the laie Elizabeth, Duchess of Northum- 
 berland, Hcirexs of that illustrious House; a 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 as became her noble blood, 
 
 of excellent 
 
 pride I can boast of the honour of her Grace' 
 correspondence, specimens of which adorn 
 r>y archives. 
 
 number of trees planted there of late." 
 Johnson. " That, sir, has nothing to do 
 with the natural history ; that is civil 
 history. A man who gives the natural 
 history of the oak is not to tell how many 
 oaks have been planted in this place or 
 that. A man who gives the natural his- 
 tory of the cow is not to tell how many 
 cows are milked at Islington. The ani- 
 mal is the same, vs'hether milked in the 
 Park or at Islington." Pkrcy. " Pen- 
 nant does not describe well ; a carrier 
 who goes along the side of Lochlomond 
 would describe it better." Johnson. " I 
 think he describes very well." Percy. 
 " I travelled after him." Johnson "And 
 / travelled after him." Percy. *' But, 
 my good friend, you are short-sighted, 
 and do not see so well as I do." I won- 
 dered at Dr. Percy's venturing thus. 
 Dr. Johnson said nothing at the time : 
 but inflammable particles were collecting 
 for a cloud to burst. In a little while 
 Dr. Percy said something more in dis- 
 paragement of Pennant. Johnson (point- 
 edly). " This is the resentment of a 
 narrow mind, because he did not find 
 every thing in Northumberland." Percy 
 (feeling the stroke). " Sir, you may be as 
 rude as you please." Johnson. " Hold, 
 sir! Don't talk of rudeness ; remember, 
 sir, you told me (puffing hard with pas- 
 sion struggling for a vent), I was sliort- 
 sighted. We have done with civility. 
 We are to be as rude as we please." 
 Percy. ** Upon my honour, sir, I did 
 not mean to be uncivil." Johnson. ** I 
 cannot say so, sir; for I did mean to be 
 uncivil, thinking you had been uncivil." 
 Dr. Percy rose, ran up to him, and taking 
 him by the hand, assured him affection- 
 ately that his meaning had been misun- 
 derstood; upon which a reconciliation 
 instantly took place. Johnson. " My 
 dear sir, I am willing yoti shall hang 
 Pennant." Percy (resuming the former 
 subject). " Pennant complains that the 
 helmet is not hung out to invite to the 
 hall of hospitality f. Now I never hoard 
 that it was a custom to hang out a hel- 
 met." Johnson. *' Hang him up, hang 
 him up." BoswELi-(humouringthe joke). 
 '' Hang out his skull instead of a helmet, 
 and you may drink ale out of it in your 
 hall of Odin, as he is your enemy ; that 
 will be truly ancient. There will be 
 
 X It certainly was a custom, as appears 
 frou) the following passage in IVroeforest, 
 vol. iii. p. 108: — '• faisoicnt mtttre an plus 
 hault de Icur hostel un licavlme,cn iigiie que 
 tons let frcntils homnies et gentilles fcnimes 
 entrasscnt hardiment en leur hostel conime 
 en leur propre," \c. K. 
 
 [The authour's second son, Mr. James Bos- 
 well, late of Bra/en-nose Colleije, in Oxford, 
 and now of the Inner Temple, had noti<TO 
 this passa)fe in I'erceforest, and sujfgested to 
 me the same remark. M.] 
 
yEiAT. 69. THE LIFE OF 
 
 * Northern Antiquities *.' " Johnson. 
 ** He's a Whig, sir; a sad dog (smiling 
 at iiis own violent expressions, merely 
 for political difference of opinion). But 
 he's the best traveller 1 ever read ; he ob- 
 serves more things than any oneelsedoes." 
 
 I could not help thinking that this was 
 too high praise of a writer who traversed 
 a wide extent of country in such haste, 
 that he could put together only curt frit- 
 tered fragments of his own, and after- 
 wards procured supplemental intelligence 
 from parochial ministers, and others not 
 the best qualified or most impartial narra- 
 tors, whose ungenerous prejudice against 
 the house of Stuart glares in misrepre- 
 sentation ; a writer, who at best treats 
 merely of superficial objects, and shows 
 MO philosophical investigation of character 
 and manners, such as Johnson has exhi- 
 bited in his masterly " Journey," over 
 part of the same ground ; and who, it 
 should seem from a desire of ingratiating 
 Limself with the Scotch, has flattered the 
 people of North Britain so inordinately 
 and with so little discrimination that the 
 judicious and candid amongst them must 
 be disgusted, while they value more the 
 plain, justj yet kindly report of Johnson. 
 
 Having impartially censured Mr. Pen- 
 nant, as a traveller in Scotland, let me 
 allow him, from authorities much better 
 than mine, his deserved praise as an able 
 Zoologist ; and let me also, from my own 
 understanding and feelings, acknowledge 
 the merit of his " London," which, though 
 said to be not quite accurate in some 
 particulars, is one of the most pleasing 
 topographical performances that ever ap- 
 peared in any language. — Mr. Pennant, 
 like his countrymen in general, has the 
 true spirit of a Gentleman. As a proof 
 of it, I shall quote from his " London " 
 the passage in which he speaks of my 
 illustrious friend. " I must by no means 
 omit Bolt Court, the long residence of 
 Doctor Samuel Johnson, a man of the 
 strongest natural abilities, great learning, 
 a most retentive memory, of the deepest 
 and most unaffected piety and morality, 
 mingled with those numerous weaknesses 
 and prejudices which his friends have 
 kindly taken care to draw from their 
 dread abode t. I brought on myself his 
 transient anger, by observing that, in his 
 tour in Scotland, he once had long and 
 woful experience of oats being the food 
 of men in Scotland as they were of horses 
 
 * Tlie title of a hook translated by Dr. 
 Percy. 
 
 t This is the common cant ag:ainst faithful 
 Biography, Does iho worthy gentleman mean 
 that i, who was taught discrimination of cha- 
 racter by Johnson, should have omitted his 
 frailties,"aiid, in short have bedanhed him as 
 llie worthy grentlenian has beilaubed Scot- 
 haul !— BOSWELL. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 4il 
 
 in England. It was a national reflection 
 unworthy of him, and I shot my bolt. In 
 return he gave me a tender hug j. Con 
 amove he also said of me, * The dog is 
 a Whig § .' I admired the virtues of Lord 
 Russel, and pitied his fall. I should have 
 been a Whig at the Revolution.— There 
 have been periods since, in which I should 
 have been, what I now am, a moderate 
 Tory, a supporter, as far as my little 
 influence extends, of a well poised ba- 
 lance between the crown and people : 
 but should the scale preponderate against 
 the Salus populi, that moment may it be 
 said * The dog's a Whig !'''*'' 
 
 We had a calm after the storm, staid 
 the evening and supped, and were plea- 
 sant and gay. But Dr. Percy told me 
 he was very uneasy at what had passed ; 
 for there was a gentleman there who 
 was acquainted with the Northumberland 
 family, to whom he hoped to have 
 appeared more respectable, by showing 
 how intimate he was with Dr. Johnson, 
 and who might now, on the contrary, go 
 away with an opinion to his disadvan- 
 tage. He begged I would mention this 
 to Dr. Johnson, which I afterwards did. 
 His observation upon it was, "This comeS 
 of stratagem ; had he told me that he 
 wished to appear to advantage before that 
 gentleman, he should have been at the 
 top of the house all the time." He spoke 
 of Dr. Percy in the handsomest manner. 
 " Then, sir (said I), may I be allowed to 
 suggest a mode by which you may effec- 
 tually counteract any unfavourable report 
 of what passed. I will write a letter to 
 you upon the subject of the unlucky con- 
 test of that day, and you will be kind 
 enough to put in writing as an answer to 
 that letter what you have now said, and 
 as Lord Pevcy is to dine with us at 
 General Paoli's soon, I will take an 
 opportunity to read the correspondence 
 in his Lordship's presence. This friendly 
 scheme was accordingly carried into exe- 
 cution without Dr. Percy's knowledge. 
 Johnson's letter placed Dr. Percy's un- 
 questionable merit in the fairest point of 
 view ; and I contrived that Lord Percy 
 should hear the correspondence, by intro- 
 ducing it at General Paoli's, as an instance 
 of Dr. Johnson's kind disposition towards 
 one in whom his Lordship was interested. 
 Thus every unfavourable impression was 
 obviated that could possibly have been 
 made on those by whom he wished most 
 to be regarded. I breakfasted the day 
 after with him, and informed him of my 
 scheme and its happy completion, for 
 
 X See Dr. Johnson's "Journey to the West- 
 ern Islands," p. 296: — see his Dictionary, 
 article oa/*:— and my "Voyage to the He- 
 brides," first edition.— Pennant. 
 
 § Mr. Bosweii's Journal, p. 38i5.— Penna.nt, 
 
412 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOxX. 
 
 which he thanked me in the warmest 
 terms, and was highly delighted with 
 Dr. Johnson's letter in his praise, of 
 which I gave him a copy. He said, " I 
 would rather have this than degrees from 
 all the Universities in Europe. It will 
 be for me, and my children and grand- 
 children." Dr. Johnson having after- 
 wards asked me if I had given him a 
 copy of it, and being told 1 had, was 
 offended, and insisted that I should get it 
 back, which I did. As, however, he did 
 not desire me to destroy either the ori- 
 ginal or the copy, or forbid me to let it 
 be seen, I think myself at liberty to 
 apply to it his general declaration to me 
 concerning his own letters : " That he 
 did not choose they should be published 
 in his life-time ; but had no objection to 
 their appearing after his death." I shall 
 therefore insert this kindly correspond- 
 ence, having faithfully narrated the cir- 
 cumstances accompanying it. 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I BEG leave to address you in behalf of 
 our friend Dr. Percy, who was much 
 hurt by what you said to him that day 
 we dined at his house * ; when, in the 
 course of the dispute as to Pennant's 
 merit as a traveller, you told Percy that 
 * he had the resentment of a narrow mind 
 against Pennant, because he did not find 
 every thing in Northumberland.' Percy 
 is sensible that you did not mean to injure 
 him ; but he is vexed to think that your 
 behaviour to him on that occasion may 
 be interpreted as a proof that he is de- 
 spised by you, which I know is not the 
 case. 1 have told him that the charge of 
 being narrow-minded was only as to the 
 particular point in question ; and that he 
 had the merit of being a martyr to his 
 noble family. 
 
 '** Earl Percy is to dine with General 
 Paoli next Friday ; and I should be sin- 
 cerely glad to have it in my power to 
 satisfy his Lor<lship how well you think 
 of Dr. Percy, who, I find, apprehends 
 that your good opinion of him may be of 
 very essential consequence ; and who as- 
 sures me that he has the highest respect 
 and the warmest aftectiou for you. 
 
 " I have only to add, that my suggest- 
 ing this occasion for the exercise of your 
 candour and generosity is altogether un- 
 known to Dr. Percy, and proceeds from 
 my good will towards him, and my per- 
 suasion that you will be happy to do him 
 an essential kindness. 
 
 " 1 am, more and more, my dear sir, 
 " Your most faithful 
 " And affectionate humble servant, 
 " James IJaswELL," 
 • Sunday, April 12, 1778. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSW^ELL, ESQ. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " The debate between Dr. Percy and 
 me is one of those foolish controversies 
 which begin upon a question of which 
 neither party cares how it is decided, 
 and which is, nevertheless, continued to 
 acrimony, by the vanity with which 
 every man resists confutation. Dr. Per- 
 cy's warmth proceeded from a cause 
 which, perhaps, does him more honour 
 than he could have derived from juster 
 criticism. His abhorrence of Pennant 
 proceeded from his opinion that Pennant 
 had wantonly and indecently censured 
 his patron. His anger made him resolve 
 that, for having been once wrong, he 
 never should be right. Pennant has much 
 in his notions that I do not like ; but still 
 I think him a very intelligent traveller. 
 If Percy is really offended, I am sorry ; 
 for he is a man whom I never knew to 
 off'end any one. He is a man very will- 
 ing to learn, and very able to teach ; a 
 man, out of whose company I never go 
 without having learned something. It is 
 sure that he vexes me sometimes, but I 
 am afraid it is by making me feel my 
 own ignorance. So much extension of 
 mind, and so much minute accuracy of 
 inquiry, if you survey your whole circle 
 of acquaintance, you will find so scarce, 
 if you find it at all, that you will value 
 Percy by comparison. Lord Hailes is 
 somewhat like him : but Lord Hailes 
 does not, perhaps, go beyond him in re- 
 search ; and I do not know that he equals 
 him in elegance. Percy's attention to 
 poetry has given grace and splendour to 
 his studies of antiquity. A mere anti- 
 quarian is a rugged being. 
 
 ** Upon the whole, you see that what I 
 might say in sport or petulance to him is 
 very consistent with full conviction of his 
 merit. 
 
 "I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 y " Your most, &c. 
 
 / '* Sam. Johnson.'-' 
 
 ''April 2J, 1778.' 
 
 TO THE REVEREND DR. PERCY, NORTH- 
 UMBERLAND HOUSE. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I WROTE to Dr. Johnson on the subject 
 of the Pennantian controversy ; and 
 have received from him an answer which 
 will delight you. I read it yesterday to 
 Dr. Robertson, at the Exhibition ; and 
 at dinner to Lord Percy, General Ogle- 
 thorpe, &.C. who dined with us at Gene- 
 ral Paoli's ; who was also a witness to 
 the high testimony to your honour. 
 
 " General Paoli desires the favour of 
 your company next Tuesday to dinner, 
 to meet Dr. Johnson. If I can, I will 
 
/Etat. G9. 
 
 call on yon to-day. I am, with sincere 
 regard, 
 
 ** Your most obedient 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 " James Boswell *." 
 
 " South Audley Street, April 25." 
 
 On Monday, April 13, I dined with 
 Johnson at Mr. Langton's, where were 
 Dr. Portens, then Bishop of Chester, 
 now of London, and Dr. Stinton. He 
 was at first in a very silent mood. Be- 
 fore dinner he said nothing but " Pretty 
 baby " to one of the children. Langton 
 said very well to me afterwards, that he 
 could repeat Johnson's conversation be- 
 fore dinner, as Johnson had said that he 
 could repeat a complete chapter of " The 
 Natural History of Iceland,'* from the 
 Danish of Ilorrebow, the whole of which 
 was exactly thus : 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 kn 
 
 to know was, whether there was real I j' a 
 peculiar style to every man whatever, as 
 there is certainly a peculiar handwriting, 
 a peculiar countenance, not widely diffe- 
 rent in many, yet always*enough to be 
 distinctive : 
 
 fades non omnibus h 
 
 ** Chap. LXXIL Concerning Snakes. 
 •* There are no snakes to be met with 
 throughout the whole island." 
 
 At dinner we talked of another mode 
 in the newspapers of giving modern cha- 
 racters in sentences from the classicks, 
 and of the passage 
 
 *' Parens deornm cultor, et ivfrequcns, 
 Insanientis dum sapientice 
 Consultvs erro, nunc relrorsum 
 Vela dare, atque ilerare cursus 
 
 Cogor relict OS. ■" 
 
 being well applied to Soame Jenyns ; 
 who, after having wandered in the wilds 
 of intidelity, had returned to the Chris- 
 tian faith. ' Mr. Langton asked Johnson 
 as to the propriety of sapientice con- 
 sultus. JoiiNSON. " Though consultus 
 was primarily an adjective, like amicus, 
 it came to be used as a substantive. So 
 we have Juris consultus, a consult in 
 law." 
 
 We talked of the styles of different 
 painters, and how certainly a connoisseur 
 could distinguish them. 1 asked, if there 
 was as clear a diflference of styles in lan- 
 guage as in painting, or even as in hand- 
 writing, so that the composition of every 
 individual may be distinguished. John- 
 son. ** Yes. Those who have a style of 
 eminent excellence, such as Dryden and 
 Milton, can always be distinguished." I 
 had no doubt of this ; but what I wanted 
 
 * Though the Bishop of Dromore kindly 
 answered the letters which I wrote to him 
 relative to Dr. Johnson's early history ; yet, in 
 justice to him, 1 think it proper to add, thai 
 the account of the foregoing conversation, 
 and the suhsequent transaction, as well as of 
 some other conversations in which he is men- 
 tioned, has been given to the publiik without 
 previous communication with his Lordship, 
 
 Nee diversa tamen.^^ 
 
 The Bishop thought not; and said, he 
 supposed that many pieces in Dodsley's 
 collection of poems, though all very 
 pretty, had nothing appropriated in their 
 style, and in that particular could not be 
 at all distinguished. Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, I think every man whatever has a 
 peculiar style, which may be discovered 
 by nice examination and comparison 
 with others: but a man must write a 
 good deal to make his style obviously 
 discernible. As logicians say, this appro- 
 priation of style is infinite in potestate, 
 limited in actu." 
 
 Mr. TophaiTi Beauclerk came in the 
 evening, and he and Dr. Johnson and I 
 staid to supper. It was mentioned that 
 Dr. Dodd had once wished to be a mem- 
 ber of the Literary Club. Johnson. " I 
 should be sorry if any of our Club were 
 hanged. I will not say but some of them 
 deserve it +." Beauclerk (supposing 
 this to be aimed at persons for whom he 
 had at that time a wonderful fancy, which, 
 however, did not last long) was irritated, 
 and eagerly said, " You, sir, have a 
 friend (naming him) who deserves to be 
 hanged ; for he speaks behind their backs 
 against those with whom he lives on the 
 best terms, and attacks them in the 
 newspapers. He certainly ought to be 
 kicked.^^ JoHJiSON. " Sir, we all do this 
 in some degree : ' Veniam petimus da- 
 musque vicissim.' To be sure it may be 
 done so much that a man may deserve to 
 be kicked." Beauclerk. " He is very 
 malignant." Johnson. *' No, sir; he is 
 not malignant. He is mischievous, if you 
 will. He would do no man an essential 
 injury ; he may, indeed, love to make 
 sport of people by vexing their vanity. 
 I, however, once knew an old gentleman 
 who was absolutely malignant. He really 
 wished evil to others, and rejoiced at it." 
 Boswell. " The gentleinan, Mr. Beau- 
 clerk, against whom yoa are so violent 
 is, I know, a man of good principles." 
 Beauclerk. " Then he does not wear 
 them out in practice." 
 
 Dr. Johnson, who, as I have observed 
 before, delighted in discrimination of 
 character, and having a masterly know- 
 ledge of human nature, was willing to 
 take men as they are, imperfect, and 
 with a mixture of good and bad quali- 
 
 t See note, p. 350. 
 
414 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 ties, I suppose thought he liad said enough 
 in defence of his friend, of whose merits, 
 notwithstanding his exceptionable points, 
 he had a just value, and added no more 
 on the subject. 
 
 On Tuesday, April 14, I dined with 
 him at General Oglethorpe's, with Gene- 
 ral PaoU and Mr. Langton. General 
 Ogletliorpe declaimed against luxury. 
 Johnson. ** Depend upon it, sir, every 
 state of society is as luxurious as it can 
 be. Men always take the best they can 
 get." Ogij;thorpe. " But the best de- 
 pends much upon ourselves; and if we 
 can be as well satisfied with plain things, 
 we are in the wrong to accustom our 
 palates to what is high-seasoned and 
 expensive. What says Addison in his 
 
 * Cato,' speaking of the Numidian? 
 
 * Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the 
 
 chase ; 
 Amid the running stream he slakes his ihirst; 
 Toils all the day ; and, at the approach oi 
 
 nig^ht, 
 On the hrst friendly bank he throws him 
 
 down, 
 Or rests his head upon a rock till morn ; 
 And if the following day he chance to find 
 A new repast, or an untasted spring, 
 blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.' 
 
 Let us have that kind of luxury, sir, if 
 you will." Johnson. *' But hold, sir ; -to 
 be merely satisfied is not enough. It is 
 in refinement and elegance that the civi- 
 lized man ditfers from the savage. A 
 great part of our industry and all our 
 ingenuity is exercised in procuring plea- 
 sure ; and, sir, a hungry man has not the 
 same pleasure in eating a plain dinner 
 that a hungry man has in eating a luxu- 
 rious dinner. You see I put the case 
 fairly. A hungry man may have as 
 much, nay, more pleasure in eating a 
 plain dinner than a man grown fastidious 
 has in eating a luxurious dinner. But 
 I suppose the man who decides between 
 the two dinners to be equally a hungry 
 man." 
 
 Talking of different governments, — 
 Johnson. " The more contracted power 
 is, the more easily it is destroyed. A 
 country governed by a despot is an in- 
 verted cone. Government there cannot 
 be 80 firm as when it rest* upon a broad 
 basis gradually contracted, as the govern- 
 ment of Great Britain, which is founded 
 on the parliament, then is in the privy 
 council, then in the King." Boswell. 
 *^* Power, when contracted into the per- 
 son of a despot, may be easily destroyed, 
 as the prince may be cut off. So Cali- 
 gula wished that the people of Rome had 
 but one neck, that he might cut them off 
 at a blow." Oglethorpe. " It was of 
 the Senate he wished that. The Senate, 
 by its usurpation, controled both the Em 
 perour and the people. And don't you 
 
 think that we see too much of that in onr 
 own parliament?" 
 
 Dr. Johnson endeavoured to trace the 
 etymology of Maccaronick verses, which 
 he thought were of Italian invention from 
 Maccaroni ; but on being informed that 
 this would infer that they were the most 
 common and easy verses, maccaroni 
 being the most ordinary and simple food, 
 he was at a loss ; for he said, "He rather 
 should have supposed it to import in its 
 primitive signification, a composition of 
 several things * ; for Maccaronick verses 
 are verses made out of a mixture of dif- 
 ferent languages, that is, of one language 
 with the termination of another." I sup- 
 pose we scarcely know of a language in 
 any country where there is any learning, 
 in which that motley ludicrous species of 
 composition may not be found. It is 
 particularly droll in Low Dutch. The 
 '* Polemo-middinia" of Drummond of 
 Hawthornden, in which there is a jumble 
 of many languages moulded, as if it were 
 all in Latin, is well known. Mr. Lang- 
 ton made us laugh heartily at one in the 
 Grecian mould, by Joshua Barnes, in 
 which are to be found such comical 
 Anglo-hellenisms as KXuS(3oKr»v e^avX^ev : 
 they were banged with clubs. 
 
 On Wednesday, April 15, I dined with 
 Dr. Johnson at Mr. Dilly's, and was in 
 high spirits, for I had been a good part 
 of the morning with Mr. Orrae, the able 
 and eloquent historian of Hindostan, w ho 
 expressed a great admiration of Johnson. 
 ** 1 do not care (said he) on what subject 
 Johnson talks ; but I love better to hear 
 him talk than any body. He either gives 
 you new thoughts or a new colouring. It 
 is a shame to the nation that he has not 
 been more liberally rewarded. Had I 
 been George the Third, and thought as 
 he did about America, I would have 
 given Johnson three hundred a year for 
 his ' Taxation no Tyranny,' alone." I 
 repeated this, and Johnson was much 
 pleased with such praise from such a 
 man as Orme. 
 
 At Mr. Dilly's to-day were Mrs.^ 
 Knowles, the ingenious Quaker ladyt» 
 Miss Seward, the poetess of Lichfield^ 
 
 * [Dr. Johnson was right in supposing that 
 this kind of poetry derived its name' from 
 maccherone, •' Ars ista poetica (says Merlin 
 Coccaie, wliose true name was Tlieophilo F«»- 
 lengo), nuncupatur ahs maCaronica, a maca- 
 rouibus derivaia ; qui rnacarones sunt quod- 
 dam pulroentum, farina, casco, butyroconiua- 
 ginatum, grossum, rude, et rusticanum. lueo 
 MACAnoN'iCA nil nitii grossedincm, ruditatem, 
 et vocABi'LAZzos debet in se coniinere." War- 
 ton's Hisi. of ling. Poet. ii. 347. M.] 
 
 t Dr. Johnson, describing her nee<lle-work, 
 in one of hi8 letters to Mrs. Thrale, uses Ihu 
 learned word sulile; which Mrs. Thrale has 
 mistaken, and made (he phrase it\jnriou8 by 
 writing ** futile i»ictures." 
 
vflTAT. ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 415 
 
 the Reverend Dr. Mayo, and the Rev. 
 Mr. Beresford, Tutor to the Duke of 
 Bedford. Before dinner Dr. Johnson 
 seized upon Mr. Charles Sheridan's* 
 " Account of the late Revolution in Swe- 
 den," and seemed to read it ravenously, 
 as if he devoured it, which was to all 
 appearance his method of studying. " He 
 knows how to read better than any one 
 (said Mrs. Knowles) ; he gets at the sub- 
 stance of a book directly ; he tears out 
 the heart of it." He kept it wrapt up in 
 the tablecloth in his lap daring the time 
 of dinner, from an avidity to have one 
 entertainment in readiness when he should 
 have finished another ; resembling (if I 
 may use so coarse a simile) a dog who 
 holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while 
 he eats something else which has been 
 thrown to him. 
 
 The subject of cookery having been 
 very naturally introduced at a table 
 where Johnson, who boasted of the nice- 
 ness of his palate, owned that " he al- 
 ways found a good dinner," he said, *' I 
 could write a better book of cookery 
 than has ever yet been written ; it should 
 be a book upon philosophical principles. 
 Pharmacy is now made much more 
 simple. Cookery may be made so too. 
 A prescription which is now compounded 
 of five ingredients had formerly fifty in 
 it. So in cookery, if the nature of the 
 ingredients be well known, much fewer 
 will do. Then, as you cannot make bad 
 meat good, I would tell what is the best 
 butcher's meat, the best beef, the best 
 pieces ; how to choose young fowls ; the 
 proper seasons of different vegetables ; 
 and then how to roast, and boil, and 
 compound." Dilly. " Mrs. Glasse's 
 ' Cookery,* which is the best, was writ- 
 ten by Dr. Hill. Half the trade\ know 
 this." Johnson. "Well,sir. Thisshows 
 how much better the subject of Cookery 
 may be treated by a philosopher. I 
 doubt if the book be written by Dr. Hill; 
 for, in Mrs. Glasse's * Cookery,' which I 
 have looked into, saltpetre and salprunella 
 are spoken of as different substances, 
 whereas salprunella is only saltpetre burnt 
 on charcoal ; and Hill could not be igno- 
 rant of this. However, as the greatest 
 part of such a book is made by transcrip- 
 tion, this mistake may have been care- 
 lessly adopted. But you shall see what a 
 Book of Cookery I shall make : I shall 
 agree with Mr. Dilly for the copyright." 
 Miss Seward. " That would be Hercules 
 with the distaff indeed." Johnson. ** No, 
 
 * [The elder brother of R. B. Sheridan, 
 Esq. He, died in 1806. M.] 
 
 t As Physicians are called the Facnlly, and 
 Counsellors at Law the Profession, the Book- 
 sellers of London are denominated the Trade, 
 Johnson disapproved of these denominations. 
 
 madam. Women can spin very well ; 
 but they cannot make a good book of 
 Cookery." 
 
 Johnson. " O ! Mr. Dilly — you must 
 know that an English Benedictine Monk 
 at Paris has translated ' The Duke of 
 Berwick's Memoirs,' from the original 
 French, and has sent them to me to sell. 
 1 offered them to Strahan, who sent them 
 back with this answer: — 'That the first 
 book he had published was the Duke of 
 Berwick's Life, by which he had lost : 
 and he hated the name.'— Now I honestly 
 tell you that Strahan has refused them ; 
 but 1 also honestly tell you that he did it 
 upon no principle, for he never looked 
 into them." Dilly. " Are they well 
 translated, sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 very well — in a style very current and 
 very clear. I have written to the Bene- 
 dictine to give me an answer upon two 
 points : — What evidence is there that the 
 letters are authentick 1 (for if they are 
 not authentick, they are nothing ;) — And 
 how long will it be before the original 
 French is published 1 For if the French 
 edition is not to appear for a considerable 
 time, the translation will be almost as 
 valuable as an original book. They will 
 make two volumes in octavo ; and I have 
 undertaken to correct every sheet as it 
 comes from the press." Mr. Dilly de- 
 sired to see them, and said he would send 
 for them. He asked Dr. Johnson if he 
 would write a Preface to them. John- 
 son. " No, sir. The Benedictines were 
 very kind to me, and I'll do what I 
 undertook to do ; but I will not mingle 
 my name with them. I am to gain no- 
 thing by them. I'll turn them loose 
 upon the world, and let them take their 
 chance." Dr. Mayo. " Pray, sir, are 
 Ganganelli's letters authentick 1" John- 
 son. " No, sir. Voltaire put the same 
 question to the editor of them that 1 did 
 to Macpherson — Where are the origi- 
 nals?" 
 
 Mrs. Knowles affected to complain that 
 men had much more liberty allowed 
 them than women. Johnson. " Why, 
 madam, women have all the liberty they 
 should wish to have. We have all the 
 labour and the danger, and the womea 
 all the advantage. We go to sea, we. 
 build houses, we do every thing, in short, 
 to pay our court to the women." Mrs. 
 Knowles. " The Doctor reasons very 
 wittily, but not convincingly. Now, take 
 the instance of building ; the mason's 
 wife, if she is ever seen in liquor, is 
 ruined ; the mason may get himself drunk 
 as often as he pleases, with little loss of 
 character; nay, may let his wife and 
 children starve." Johnson. " Madam, 
 you must consider, if the mason does get 
 himself drunk, and let his wife and chil- 
 
416 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 dren starve, the parish will oblige him 
 to find security for their maintenance. 
 We have different modes of restraining 
 evil. Stocks for the men, a ducking stool 
 for women, and a pound for beasts. If 
 we require more perfection from women 
 than from ourselves, it is doing them 
 honour. And women have not the same 
 temptations that we have ; they may al- 
 ways live in virtuous company ; men 
 must mix in the world indiscriminately. 
 If a woman has no inclination to do what 
 is wrong, being secured from it is no 
 restraint to her. I am at liberty to walk 
 into the Thames ; but if I were to try it, 
 my friends would restrain me in Bedlam, 
 and I should be obliged to them." Mrs. 
 Knowles. " Still, Doctor, I cannot help 
 thinking it a hardship that more indul- 
 gence is allowed to men than to women. 
 It gives a superiority to men, to which I 
 do not see how they are entitled." John- 
 son. " It is plain, madam, one or other 
 must have the superiority. As Shak- 
 speare says, * If two men ride on a horse, 
 one must ride behind.'" Dilly. " I 
 sHppose, sir, Mrs. Knowles would have 
 them ride in panniers, one on each 
 side." JoHNSf)N. ** Then, sir, the horse 
 would throw them both." Mrs.Knowles. 
 •* Well, I hope that in another world the 
 sexes will be equal." Boswell. "That 
 is being too ambitious, madam. We 
 might as well desire to be equal with the 
 angels. We shall all, I hope, be happy 
 in a future state, but we must not expect 
 to be all happy in the same degree. It 
 is enough if we be happy according to 
 our several capacities. A worthy carman 
 will get to heaven as well as Sir Isaac 
 Newton. Yet, though equally good, they 
 will not have the same degrees of happi- 
 ness." Johnson. "Probably not*." 
 
 Upon this subject I had once before 
 sounded him, by mentioning the late Re- 
 verend Mr. Brown of Utrecht's image ; 
 that a great and small glass, though 
 equally full, did not hold an equal quan- 
 tity ; which he threw out to refute David 
 Hume's saying, that a little miss, going 
 to dance at a ball, in a fine new dress, 
 was as happy as a great oratour, after 
 having made an eloquent and applauded 
 speech. After some thought, Johnson 
 saidt, " I come over to the parson." As 
 an instance of coincidence of thinking, 
 Mr. Dilly told me that Dr. King, a late 
 dissenting minister in London, said to 
 him, upon the happiness in a future state 
 of good men of ditierent capacities, •' A 
 
 * [See on this qiieslion Binhop Hall's Epis- 
 tles, Dec. iii. Epist. 6, '* Of the different 
 decrees of h<'avenly irlory, and of our mutntil 
 knowled(j:e of each oilier nbove." M.] 
 
 t [See p. 154, where also this subject is dis- 
 cii!>8ed. M.] 
 
 pail does not hold so much as a tub ; but 
 if it be equally full, it has no reason to 
 complain. Every Saint in heaven will 
 have as much happiness as he can hold." 
 Mr. Dilly thought this a clear, though a 
 familiar illustration of the phrase, " One 
 star ditfereth from another in bright- 
 ness." 
 
 Dr. Mayo having asked Johnson's opi- 
 nion of Soame Jenyns's " View of the 
 Internal Evidence of the Christian Reli- 
 gion ;" — Johnson. " I think it a pretty 
 book ; not very theological indeed ; and 
 there seems to be an affectation of ease 
 and carelessness, as if it were not suitable 
 to his character to be very serious about 
 the matter." Boswell. *' He may have 
 intended this to introduce his book the 
 better among genteel people, who might 
 be unwilling to read too grave a treatise. 
 There is a general levity in the age. We 
 have physicians now with bag wigs ; may 
 we not have airy divines, at least some- 
 what less solemn in their appearance 
 than they used to be "?" Johnson. " Jenyns 
 might mean as you say." Boswell.** You 
 should like his book, Mrs. Knowles, as it 
 maintains, as you friends do, that cou- 
 rage is not a Christian virtue." Mrs. 
 Knowles. " Yes, indeed, I like him 
 there ; but I cannot agree with him that 
 friendship is not a Christian virtue." 
 Johnson. " Why, madam, strictly speak- 
 ing, he is right. AH friendship is prefer- 
 ring the interest of a friend to the neglect, 
 or perhaps, against the interest of others ; 
 so that an old Greek said, * He that has 
 friends has no friend.' Now Christi- 
 anitj' recommends universal benevolence, 
 — to consider all men as our brethren ; 
 which is contrary to the virtue of friend- 
 ship, as described by the ancient philo- 
 sophers. Surely, madam, your sect must 
 approve of this; for you call all men 
 friends." Mrs. Knowles. *' We are 
 commanded to do good to all men, * but 
 especially to them who are of the house- 
 hold of Faith.' " Johnson. " Well, 
 madam. The household of Faith is wide 
 enough." Mrs. Knowles. " But, Doc- 
 tor, our Saviour had twelve Apostles, yet 
 there was one whom he loved. John was 
 called * the disciple whom Jii:siis loved.' " 
 Johnson (with eyes sparkling benig- 
 nantly). " Very well, indeed, madam. 
 You have said very well." Boswell. 
 " A fine application. Pray, sir, had you 
 ever thought of it?" Johnson. " I had 
 not, sir." 
 
 From this pleasing subject, he, I know 
 not how or why, made a sudden transi- 
 tion to one upon which he was a violent 
 aggressor; for he said, " I am willing to 
 love all mankind except an American :^^ 
 and his inflammable corruption bursting 
 into horrid fire, he " breathed out threat- 
 
^TAT. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 417 
 
 enings and slaughter ;" calling them 
 " Rascals — Robbers — Pirates ;" and ex- 
 claiming, he'd *' burn and destroy them." 
 Miss Seward, looking to him with mild 
 but steady astonishment, said, " Sir, this 
 is an instance that we are always most 
 violent against those whom we have in- 
 jured." — He was irritated still more by 
 this delicate and keen reproach ; and 
 roared out another tremendous volley, 
 which one might fancy could be heard 
 across the Atlantick. During this tem- 
 pest I sat in great uneasiness, lamenting 
 his heat of temper; till, by degrees, 1 
 diverted his attention to other topicks. 
 
 Dr. Mayo (to Dr. Johnson). " Pray, 
 sir, have you read Edwards, of New 
 England, on Grace?" Johnson. " No, 
 sir." BoswELL. " It puzzled me so 
 much as to the freedom of the human 
 will, by stating, with wonderful acute 
 ingenuity, our being actuated by a series 
 of motives which we cannot resist, that 
 the only relief I had was to forget it." 
 Mayo. ** But he makes the proper dis- 
 tinction between moral and physical 
 necessity." Boswell. " Alas, sir, they 
 come both to the same thing. You may 
 be bound as hard by chains when covered 
 by leather as when the iron appears. The 
 argument for the moral necessity of hu- 
 man actions is always, I observe, fortified 
 by supposing universal prescience to be 
 one of the attributes of the Deity." John- 
 son. ** You are surer that you are free 
 than you are of prescience ; you are 
 surer that you can lift up your linger or 
 not as you please than you are of any 
 conclusion from a deduction of reason- 
 ing. But let us consider a little the 
 objection from prescience. It is certain 
 I am either to go home to-night or not ; 
 that does not prevent my freedom." 
 Bosv^ELL. " That it is certain you are 
 either to go home or not does not pre- 
 vent your freedom : because the liberty 
 of choice between the two is compatible 
 with that certainty. But if one of these 
 events be certain now, you have no 
 future power of volition. If it be cer- 
 tain you are to go home to-night, you 
 must go home." .TohnsOxV. "If I am 
 well acquainted with a man, I can judge 
 with great probability how he will act in 
 any case, without his being restrained by 
 my judging. God may have this proba- 
 bility increased to certainty." Boswell. 
 " When it is increased to certainty free- 
 dom ceases, because that cannot be cer- 
 tainly foreknown which is not certarin at 
 the time ; but if it be certain at the time, 
 it is a contradiction in terms to maintain 
 that there can be afterwards any con- 
 tingency dependent upon the exercise of 
 will or any thing else." Johnson. " All 
 theory is against the freedom of the will ; 
 
 all experience for it." — I did not push 
 the subject any farther. I was glad to 
 tind him so mild in discussing a question 
 of the most abstract nature, involved 
 with theological tenets, which he gene- 
 rally would not suffer to be in any degree 
 opposed *. 
 
 He, as usual, defended luxury : " You 
 cannot spend money in luxury without 
 doing good to the poor. Nay, you do 
 more good to them by spending it in 
 luxury, you make them exert industry, 
 whereas by giving it, you keep them 
 idle. I own, indeed, there may be more 
 virtue in giving it immediately in charity 
 than in spending it in luxury ; though 
 there may be pride in that too." Miss 
 Seward asked, if this was not Mande- 
 ville's doctrine of" private vices publick 
 benefits." Johnson. " The fallacy of 
 that book is, that Mandeville defines 
 neither vices nor benefits. He reckons 
 among vices every thing that gives plea- 
 sure. He takes the narrowest system 
 of morality, monastick morality, which 
 holds pleasure itself to be a vice, such as 
 eating salt with our fish, because it makes 
 it eat better ; and he reckons wealth as 
 a publick benefit, which is by no means 
 always true. Pleasure of itself is not a 
 vice. Having a garden, which we all 
 know to be perfectly innocent, is a great 
 pleasure. At the same time, in this state 
 of being there are many pleasures vices, 
 which however are so immediately agree- 
 able that we can hardly abstain from 
 them. The happiness of Heaven will be, 
 that pleasure and virtue will be perfectly 
 consistent. Mandeville puts the case of 
 a man who gets drunk at an alehouse ; 
 and says it is a publick benefit, because 
 so much money is got by it to the pub- 
 lick. But it must be considered, that all 
 the good gained by this, through the gra- 
 dation of alehouse-keeper, brewer, malt- 
 ster, and farmer, is overbalanced by the 
 evil caused to the man and his family by 
 his getting drunk. This is the way to try 
 what is vicious, by ascertaining whether 
 more evil than good is produced by it 
 upon the whole, which is the case in all 
 vice. It may happen that good is pro- 
 duced by vice, but not as vice ; for 
 instance, a robber may take money from 
 its owner, and give it to one who will 
 make a better use of it. Here is good 
 produced; but not by the robbery as 
 robbery, but as translation of property. 
 I read Mandeville forty, or, I believe, 
 
 * If any of my^readers are disturbed by this 
 thoriiv question, I besf leave to recommend to 
 tliem "Letter 69 of Montesquieu's Letlres Per- 
 sannes; and the late Mr. John Palmer of Is- 
 lington's Answer to Dr. Priestley's mechanical 
 arguments for what he absurdly calls " Phi' 
 losophical necessity." 
 
 E E 
 
418 
 
 fifty years ago. He did not puzzle me ; 
 he opened my views into real life very 
 much. No, it is clear that the happiness 
 of society depends on virtue. In Sparta, 
 theft was allowed by general consent: 
 theft, therefore, was there not a crime, 
 but then there was no security ; and what 
 a life must they have had, when there 
 was no security. Without truth, there 
 must be a dissolution of society. As it 
 is, there is so little truth, that we are 
 almost afraid to trust our ears ; but how 
 should we be, if falsehood were multi- 
 plied ten times ! Society is held together 
 by communication and information ; and 
 I remember this remark of Sir Thomas 
 Brown's, ' Do the devils lie? No; for 
 then Hell could not subsist.' " 
 
 Talking of Miss , a literary 
 
 lady, he said, ** I was obliged to speak 
 to Miss Reynolds, to let her know that I 
 desired she would not flatter me so much." 
 Somebody now observed, " She flatters 
 Garrick." Johnson. " She is in the 
 right to flatter Garrick. She is in the 
 right for two reasons : first, because she 
 has the world with her, who have been 
 praising Garrick these thirty years ; and 
 secondly, because she is rewarded for it 
 by Garrick. Why should she flatter me ? 
 I can do nothing for her. Let her carry 
 her praise to a better market. (Then 
 turning to Mrs. Knowles.) You, madam, 
 have been flattering me all the evening ; 
 I wish you would give Boswell a little 
 now. If you knew his merit as well 
 as I do, you would say a great deal ; he 
 is the best travelling companion in the 
 world." 
 
 Somebody mentioned the Reverend 
 Mr. Mason's prosecution of Mr. Murray, 
 the bookseller, for having inserted in a 
 collection of '* Gray's Poems," only fifty 
 lines, of which Mr. Mason had still the 
 exclusive property, under the statute of 
 Queen Anne ; and that Mr. Mason had 
 persevered, notwithstanding his being 
 requested to name his own terms of com- 
 pensation *. Johnson signified his dis- 
 pleasure at Mr. Mason's conduct very 
 strongly ; but added, by way of showing 
 that he was not surprised at it, " Mason's 
 a Whig." Mrs. Knowles (not hearing 
 distinctly). "What! a Prig, sir?" John- 
 son. ** Worse, madam ; a Whig ! But 
 he is both." 
 
 I expressed a horrour at the thought 
 (if death. Mrs. Knowles. ** Nay, thou 
 siiouldst not have a horrour for what is 
 the gate of life." Johnson (standing upon 
 the hearth rolling about, with a serious, 
 solemn, and somewhat gloomy air). 
 ** No rational man can die without un- 
 
 » See " A Letter to W. Mason, A. IVl. from 
 J. Murray, Bookseller in London;" 2d edition, 
 p. 30. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 easy apprehension." Mrs. Knowles. 
 " The Scriptures tell us, " The righteous 
 shall have hope 'm. his death.'" John- 
 son. " Yes, madam ; that is, he shall not 
 have despair. But, consider, his hope of 
 salvation must be founded on the terms 
 on which it is promised that the media- 
 tion of our Saviour shall be applied to 
 us, — namely, obedience ; and where obe- 
 dience has failed, then, as suppletory to 
 it, repentance. But what man can say 
 that his obedience has been such as he 
 would approve of in another, or even in 
 himself upon close examination, or that 
 his repentance has not been such as to 
 require being repented of? No man can 
 be sure that his obedience and repentance 
 will obtain salvation." Mrs. Knowles. 
 " But divine intimation of acceptance 
 may be made to the soul." Johnson. 
 ** Madam, it may ; but I should not 
 think the better of a man who should tell 
 me on his deathbed, he was sure of sal- 
 vation. A man cannot be sure himself 
 that he has divine intimation of accept- 
 ance ; much less can he make others 
 sure that he has it." Boswell. ** Then, 
 sir, we must be contented to acknow- 
 ledge that death is a terrible thing." 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir. I have made no 
 approaches to a state which can look on 
 it as not terrible." Mrs. Know les (seem- 
 ing to enjoy a pleasing serenity in the 
 persuasion of benignant divine light). 
 •' Does not St. Paul say, * I have fought 
 the good fight of faith, I have finished my 
 course ; henceforth is laid up for me a 
 crown of life?'" Johnson. ** Yes, ma- 
 dam ; but here was a man inspired, a 
 man who had been converted by super- 
 natural interposition." Boswell. '* In 
 prospect death is dreadful ; but in fact 
 we find that people die easy." John- 
 son. " Why, sir, most people have not 
 thought much of the matter, so cannot 
 say much, and it is supposed they die 
 easy. Few believe it certain they are 
 then to die ; and those who do, set them- 
 selves to behave with resolution, as a 
 man docs who is going to be hanged : — 
 he is not the less unwilling to be hanged." 
 Miss Seward. ** There is one mode of 
 the fear of death, which is certainly 
 absurd : and that is the dread of annihi- 
 lation, which is only a pleasing sleep 
 without a dream." Johnson. " It is 
 neither pleasing, nor sleep ; it is nothing. 
 Now mere existence is so much better 
 than nothing that one would rather exist 
 even in pain than not exist." Boswell. 
 " If annihilation be nothing, then exist- 
 ing in pain is not a comparative state, 
 but is a positive evil, which I cannot 
 think we should choose. I must be al- 
 lowed to difter here ; and it would lessen 
 the hope of a future state founded on the 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 argument, that the Supretne Being, who 
 is good as he is great, will hereafter 
 compensate for our present sufferings in 
 this life. For if existence, such as we 
 have it here, be comparatively a good, 
 we have no reason to complain, though 
 no more of it should be given to us. But 
 if our only state of existence were in this 
 world, then we might with some reason 
 complain that we are so dissatisfied with 
 our enjoyments compared with our de- 
 sires." Johnson. " The lady confounds 
 annihilation, which is nothing, with the 
 apprehension of it, which is dreadful. It 
 is in the apprehension of it that the hor- 
 ronr of annihilation consists." 
 
 Of John Wesley he said, " He can 
 talk well on any subject." BoswEix. 
 " Pray, sir, what has he made of his 
 story of a ghost?" Johnson. "Why, 
 sir, he believes it ; but not on sufficient 
 authority. He did not take time enough 
 to examine the girl. It was at New- 
 castle, where the ghost was said to have 
 appeared to a young woman several 
 times, mentioning something about the 
 right to an old house, advising applica- 
 tion to be made to an attorney, which 
 was done ; and, at the same time, saying 
 the attorney would do nothing, which 
 proved to be the fact. • This (says 
 John) is a proof that a ghost knows our 
 thoughts.' Now (laughing) it is not ne- 
 cessary to know our thoughts, to tell that 
 an attorney will sometimes do nothing. 
 Charles Wesley, who is a more stationary 
 man, does not believe the story. I am 
 sorry that John did not take more pains 
 to inquire into the evidence for it." Miss 
 Seward (with an incredulous smile). 
 " What, sir! about a ghost?" Johnson 
 (with solemn vehemence). '* Yes, ma- 
 dam : this is a question which, after five 
 thousand years, is yet undecided : a ques- 
 tion, whether in theology or philosophy, 
 one of the most important that can come 
 before the human understanding." 
 
 Mrs. Knowles mentioned, as a pro- 
 selyte to Quakerism, Miss , a 
 
 young lady well known to Dr. Johnson, 
 for whom he had shown much affection ; 
 while she ever had, and still retained, a 
 great respect for him. Mxs. Knowles at 
 the same time took an opportunity of 
 letting him know " that the amiable 
 young creature was sorry at finding that 
 he was offended at her leaving the Church 
 of England, and embracing a simpler 
 faith ;" and, in the gentlest and most 
 persuasive manner, solicited his kind in- 
 dulgence for what was sincerely a matter 
 of conscience. Johnson (frowning very 
 angrily). " Madam, she is an odious 
 wench. She could not have any proper 
 conviction that it was her duty to change 
 her religion, which is the most important 
 
 419 
 
 of all subjects, and should be studied 
 with all care, and with all the helps we 
 can get. She knew no more of the 
 Church which she left, and that which 
 she embraced, than she did of the diffe- 
 rence between the Copernican and Ptole- 
 maick systems." Mrs. Knowles. " She 
 had the New Testament before her." 
 Johnson. " Madam, she could not under- 
 stand the New Testament, the most diffi- 
 cult book in the world, for which the 
 study of a life is required." Mrs. 
 Knowles. " It is clear as to essentials." 
 Johnson. " But not as to controversial 
 points. The heathens were easily con- 
 verted, because they had nothing to give 
 up ; but we ought not, without very 
 strong conviction indeed, to desert the 
 religion in which we have been edu- 
 cated. That is the religion given you, 
 the religion in which it may be said 
 Providence has placed you. If you live 
 conscientiously in that religion, you may 
 be safe. But errour is dangerous indeed, 
 if you err when you choose a religion for 
 yourself." Mrs. Knowles. *• Must we 
 tken go by implicit faith?" Johnson. 
 *' Why, madam, the greatest part of our 
 knowledge is implicit faith ; and as to 
 religion, have we heard all that a dis- 
 ciple of Confucius, all that a Mahometan, 
 can say for himself?" He then rose again 
 into passion, and attacked the young pro- 
 selyte in the severest terms of reproach, 
 so that both the ladies seemed to be much 
 shocked*. 
 
 We remained together till it was pretty 
 late. Notwithstanding occasional explo- 
 sions of violence, we were all delighted 
 upon the whole with Johnson. I com- 
 pared him at this time to a warm West 
 Indian climate, where you have a bright 
 sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, 
 luscious fruits ; but where the same heat 
 
 * Mrs. Knowles, not satisfied with the fame 
 of her needlework, the " sntile pictures^' 
 mentioned by Johnson, in which she has in- 
 deed displayed much dexterity, nay, with the 
 fame of reasoning belter than women geae- 
 raliy do, as 1 have fairly shown her to have 
 done, communicaied to me a Dialogue of 
 considerable length, which after many years 
 had elapsed, she wrote down as having passed 
 between Dr. Johnson and her at this inter- 
 view. As I had not the least recollection of 
 it, ami did not find the smallest trace of it in 
 my Record taken at the time, I could not, in 
 consistency with my firm regard to authenti- 
 city, insert it in my work? li has, however, 
 been published in " The Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine" for June, 1791. It chiefly relates to the 
 principles of the sect called Quake is ; and no 
 doubt the lady appears to have greatly the 
 advantage of Dr. Johnson in argument as 
 well as expression. From what 1 have now 
 stated, and from the internal evidence of the 
 paper itself, any one who may have the curi- 
 osity to peruse it will judge whether it was 
 wrong in me to reject it, however willing to 
 gratify Mrs. Kuovvles. 
 
420 
 
 sometimes produces thunder, lightning, 
 earthquakes, in a terrible degree. 
 
 April 17, being Good Friday, I waited 
 on Johnson, as usual. I observed at 
 breakfast that although it was a part of 
 his abstemious discipline on this most 
 solemn fast, to take no milk in his tea, 
 yet when Mrs. Desmoulins inadvertently 
 poured it in, he did not reject it. I talked 
 of the strange indecision of mind and 
 imbecility in the common occurrences of 
 life, which we may observe in some peo- 
 ple. Johnson. " Why, sir, I am in the 
 habit of getting others to do things for 
 me." BoswELL. *' What, sir! have you 
 that weakness?" Johnson. "Yes, sir. 
 Bat I always think afterwards I should 
 have done better for myself." 
 
 I told him that at a gentleman's house 
 where there was thought to be such ex- 
 travagance or bad management that he 
 was living much beyond his income, his 
 lady had objected to the cutting of a 
 pickled mango, and that I had taken an 
 opportunity to ask the price of it, and 
 found it was only two shillings; so here 
 was a very poor saving. Johnson. *' Sir, 
 that is the blundering economy of a nar- 
 row understanding. It is stopping one 
 hole in a sieve." 
 
 I expressed some inclination to publish 
 an account of my Travels upon the con- 
 tinent of Europe, for which I had a 
 variety of materials collected. Johnson. 
 " I do not say, sir, you may not publish 
 your travels ; but 1 give you my opinion, 
 that you would lessen yourself by it. 
 What can you tell of countries so well 
 known as those upon the continent of 
 Europe, which you have visited ?" Bos- 
 well. " But I can give an eiitertaining 
 narrative, with many incidents, anec- 
 dotes, j€ux d'esprit, and remarks, so as 
 to make very pleasant reading." John- 
 son. " Why, sir, most modern travellers 
 in Europe vvIk) have published their tra- 
 vels have been laughed at : I would not 
 have you added to the number ♦. The 
 world is now not contented to be merely 
 entertained by a traveller's narrative; 
 they want to learn something. Now 
 some of my friends asked me, why I did 
 not give some account of my travels in 
 France. The reason is plain ; intelligent 
 readers had seen more of France than I 
 had. You might have liked my Travels 
 in France, and the Club might have liked 
 them ; but upon the whole, there would 
 have been more ridicide than good pro- 
 duced by then)." BosvvELL. " I cannot 
 agree with you, sir. People would like 
 to read what you say of any thing. Sup 
 
 • I believe, however, I shall follow my own 
 opinion ; for the worltl has xhown a very 
 flattering' partiality to my wiiting's, on many 
 ■occasion*'. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 "!*l 
 
 pose a face has been painted by fifty- 
 painters before ; still we love to see it 
 done by Sir Joshua." Johnson. •* True, 
 sir, but Sir Joshua cannot paint a face 
 when he has not time to look on it." 
 Bosw^ELL. " Sir, a sketch of any sort by 
 him is valuable. And, sir, to talk to 
 you in your own style (raising my voice, 
 and shaking my head), you should have 
 given us your Travels in France. I am 
 sure I am right, and there's an end 
 on't." 
 
 I said to him that it was certainly true, 
 as my friend Dempster had observed in 
 his letter to me upon the subject, that a 
 great part of what was in his " Journey 
 to the Western Islands of Scotland," 
 had been in his mind before he left Lon- 
 don. Johnson. ** Why, yes, sir, the 
 topicks were ; and books of travels will 
 be good in proportion to what a man has 
 previously in his mind ; his knowing 
 what to observe ; his power of contrast- 
 ing one mode of life with another. As 
 the Spanish proverb says, ' He, who 
 would bring home the wealth of the In- 
 dies, must carry the wealth of the Indies 
 with him.* So it is in travelling ; a man 
 must carry knowledge with him, if he 
 would bring home knowledge." Bos- 
 WELL. '* The proverb, I suppose, sir, 
 means, he must carry a large stock with 
 him to trade with." Johnson. " Yes, 
 sir." 
 
 It was a delightful day : as we walked 
 toSt. Clement's church, I again remarked 
 that Fleet Street was the most cheerful 
 scene in the world. ^' Fleet Street (said 
 I) is in my mind more delightful than 
 Tempe." Johnson. ** Ay, sir ; but let it 
 be compared with Mull." 
 
 There was a very numerous congre- 
 gation to-day at St. Clement's church, 
 which Dr. Johnson said he observed 
 with pleasure. 
 
 And now I am to give a pretty full 
 account of one of the most curious inci- 
 dents in Johnson's life, of which he him- 
 self has made the following minute on 
 this day : " In my return from church, 
 1 was accosted by Edwards, an old fel- 
 low collegian, who had not seen me since 
 1729. He knew me and asked if I re- 
 membered one Edwards; I did not at 
 first recollect the name, but gradually, 
 as we walked along, recovered it, and 
 told him a conversation that had passed 
 at an alehouse between us. My purpose 
 is to continue our acquaintance +." 
 
 It was in Butcher Row that this meet- 
 ing happened. Mr. Edwards, who was 
 a decent looking elderly man in gray 
 clothes, and a wig of many curls, accosted 
 Johnson with familiar confidence, know- 
 
 t Prayers and Meditations, p. 164. 
 
JEr.KT. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 iiig who he was, while Johnson returned 
 his salutation with a courteous formality, 
 as to a stranger. But as soon as Edwards 
 had brought to his recollection tlieir hav- 
 ing been at Pembroke College together 
 nine-and-forty years ago, he seemed much 
 pleased, asked where he lived, and said 
 he should be glad to see him in Bolt 
 Court. Edwards. *' Ah, sir! we are old 
 men now." Johnson {who never liked 
 to think of being old). " Don't let us 
 discourage one another." Edwards. 
 ** Why, Doctor, you look stout and 
 hearty : I am happy to see you so ; for 
 the newspapers told us you were very- 
 ill." Johnson. *' Ay, sir, they are al- 
 ways telling lies of us old fellows." 
 
 Wishing to be present at more of so 
 singular a conversation as that between 
 two fellow collegians, who had lived forty 
 years in London without ever having 
 chanced to meet, I whispered to Mr. Ed- 
 wards that Dr. Johnson was going home, 
 and that he had better accompany him 
 now. So Edwards walked along with 
 us, I eagerly assisting to keep up the 
 conversation. Mr. Edwards informed 
 Dr. Johnson that he had practised long 
 as a solicitor in Chancery, but that he 
 now lived in the country upon a little 
 farm, about sixty acres, just by Steven- 
 age, in Hertfordshire, and that he came 
 to London (to Barnard's Inn, No. 6), 
 generally twice a week. Johnson appear- 
 ing to me in a reverie, Mr. Edwards 
 addressed himself to me, and expatiated 
 on the pleasure of living in the country. 
 BoswELL. ** I have no notion of this, 
 sir. What you have to entertain you is, 
 I think, exhausted in half an hour." 
 Edwards. " What? don't you love to 
 have hope realized? I see my grass, 
 and my corn, and my trees growing. 
 Now, for instance, I am curious to see if 
 this frost has not nipped my fruit trees." 
 Johnson (who we did not imagine was 
 attending). " You find, sir, you have 
 fears as well as hopes." — So well did he 
 see the whole, when another saw but the 
 half of a subject. 
 
 When we got to Dr. Johnson's house, 
 and were seated in his library, the dia- 
 logue went on admirably. Edwards. 
 '^ Sir, I remember you would not let us 
 say prodi(/ious at College. For even 
 then, sir (turning to me), he was delicate 
 in language, and we all feared him*." 
 Johnson (to Edwards). '• From your 
 having practised the law long, sir, I pre- 
 sume you must be rich." Edwards. 
 " No, sir ; I got a good deal of money ; 
 
 • Johnson said to me afterwards, " Sir, 
 they respected me for literature; and yet it 
 was not great but by comparison. Sir, it is 
 amazing^ how little literature there is in the 
 world." 
 
 42t 
 
 but I had a number of poor relations to 
 whom I gave a great part of it." John- 
 son. " Sir, you have been rich in the 
 most valuable sense of the word." Ed- 
 wards. " But I shall not die rich." 
 Johnson. " Nay, sure, it is better to live 
 rich than to die rich." Edwards. •' I 
 wish I had continued at College." John- 
 son. *' Why do you wish that, sir?" 
 Edwards. " Because I think I should 
 have had a much easier life than mine 
 has been. I should have been a parson, 
 and had a good living, like Bloxham 
 and several others, and lived comfort- 
 ably," Johnson. *' Sir, the life of a 
 parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is 
 not easy. I have always considered a 
 clergyman as the father of a larger family 
 than he is able to maintain. I would 
 rather have Chancery suits upon my hands 
 than the cure of souls. No, sir, I do not 
 envy a clergyman's life as an easy life, 
 nor do I envy the clergyman who makes 
 it an easy life." Here taking himself up 
 all of a sudden, he exclaimed, " O ! Mr, 
 Edwards ! I'll convince you that I recol- 
 lect you. Do you remember our drinking 
 together at an alehouse near Pembroke 
 gate ? At that time you told me of the 
 Eton boy, who, when verses on our Sa- 
 viour's turning water into wine were 
 prescribed as an exercise, brought up a 
 single line, which was highly admired : 
 ' Vidit et erubuit lympha pudica DeumV 
 And I told you of another tine line in 
 * Camden's Remains,' a eulogy upon one 
 of our Kings, who was succeeded by his 
 son, a prince of equal merit : 
 
 ' Mira cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta 
 est.'" 
 
 Edwards. *' You are a philosopher. 
 Dr. Johnson. I have tried too in my 
 time to be a philosopher; but, I don't 
 know how, cheerfulness was always 
 breaking in." — Mr. Burke, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, Mr. Courtenay, Mr. Malone, 
 
 * [This line has frequently been attributed 
 to Dryden, when a King's Scholar at West- 
 minster. But neither Eton nor Westminster 
 have, in truth, any claim to it, the line being 
 borrowed, with a slight change (as Mr. Bincl- 
 ley has observed to me), from an Epigram by 
 Crashaw, which was published in his ♦' Epi-' 
 graramata Sacra," first printed at Cambridge 
 without the author's name, in lfi34, 6vo.— The 
 original is much more elegant than the copy, 
 the water being personified, and the word o'n 
 which the point of the Epigram turns being 
 reserved to the close of the line: 
 
 " JOANN. 2. 
 
 Aquae in vinum vcrsse. 
 
 Unde rubor ve.stris et non sua purpura lym- 
 
 phio ? 
 
 Quae rosa mirantes tarn nova mutat aquas ! 
 
 Numen, convivae, praesens agnoscite numen, 
 
 Nympha pudica Deum vidit, et eriibnil." 
 
 M.J 
 
422 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom 
 I have mentioned this, have thought it 
 an exquisite trait of character. The truth 
 is, that philosophy, like religion, is too 
 generally supposed to be hard and se- 
 vere, at least so grave as to exclude all 
 gaiety. 
 
 Edwards. ** I have been twice mar- 
 ried. Doctor. You, I suppose, have never 
 known what it was to have a wife." 
 Johnson, " Sir, I have known what it 
 was to have a wife, and (in a solemn, 
 tender, faltering tone), I have known 
 what it was to lose a wife. — It had al- 
 most broke my heart." 
 
 Edwards. " How do you live, sir? 
 For my part, I must have my regular 
 meals, and a glass of good wine. I find 
 I require it." Johnson. " I now drink 
 no wine, sir. Early in life I drank wine : 
 for many years I drank none. I then 
 for some years drank a great deal." Ed- 
 wards. " Some hogsheads, I warrant 
 you." Johnson. "I then had a severe 
 illness, and left it off, and I have never 
 begun it again. I never felt any dift'e- 
 reiice upon myself from eating one thing 
 rather than another, nor from one kind 
 of weather rather than another. There 
 are people, I believe, who feel a ditfe- 
 I'ence, but I am not one of them. And 
 as to regular meals, I have fasted from 
 the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's 
 dinner without any inconvenience. I 
 believe it is best to eat just as one is 
 hungry : but a man who is in business, 
 or a man who has a family, must have 
 stated meals. I am a straggler. I may 
 leave this town and go to Grand Cairo 
 without being missed here or observed 
 there." Edwards. *' Don't you eat sup- 
 per, sir?" Johnson. " No, sir." Ed- 
 wards. " For my part, now, I consider 
 supper as a turnpike through which one 
 must pass in order to get to bed*." 
 
 Johnson. " You are a lawyer, Mr. 
 Edwards. Lawyers know life practi- 
 cally. A bookish man should always 
 have them to converse with. They have 
 what he wants." Edwards. " I am 
 grown old : I am sixty-five." Johnson. 
 *' I shall be sixty-eight next birthday. 
 Come, sir, drink water, and put in for a 
 hundred." 
 
 Mr. Edwards mentioned a gentleman 
 who had left his whole fortune to Pem- 
 broke College. Johnson. " Whether to 
 leave one's whole fortune to a College be 
 right must depend upon circumstances. 
 I would leave the interest of the fortune 
 I bequeathed to a College to my rela- 
 tions or my friends for their lives. It is 
 the same thing to a College, which is a 
 
 • I am not absolutely sure but this was my 
 own sugeestion, though it is truly in the cha- 
 racter ofEdwards. 
 
 permanent society, whether it gets the 
 money now or twenty years hence ; and 
 I would wish to make my relations or 
 friends feel the benefit of it." 
 
 This interview^ confirmed my opinion 
 of Johnson's most humane and benevo- 
 lent heart. His cordial and placid beha- 
 viour to an old fellow collegian, a man so 
 different from himself; and his telling 
 him that he would go down to his farm 
 and visit him, showed a kindness of dis- 
 position very rare at an advanced age. 
 He observed, " how wonderful it was 
 that they had both been in London forty 
 years, without having ever once met, 
 and both walkers in the street too !" 
 Mr. Edwards, when going away, again 
 recurred to his consciousness of senility, 
 and looking full in Johnson's face, said 
 to him, " You'll find in Dr. Young, 
 * O my coevals! remnants of yourselves.' " 
 Johnson did not relish this at all ; but 
 shook his head with impatience. Ed- 
 wards walked off seemingly highly pleased 
 with the honour of having been thus no- 
 ticed by Dr. Johnson. When he was 
 gone, I said to Johnson, I thought him 
 but a weak man. Johnson. " Why, 
 yes, sir. Here is a man who has passed 
 through life without experience : yet I 
 would rather have him with me than a 
 more sensible man who will not talk 
 readily. This man is always willing to 
 say what he has to say." Yet Dr. John- 
 son had himself by no means that will- 
 ingness which he praised so much, and I 
 think so justly ; for who has not felt the 
 painful effect of the dreary void, when 
 there is a total silence in a company, 
 for any length of time ; or, which is as 
 bad, or perhaps worse, when the conver- 
 sation is with difficulty kept up by a 
 perpetual effort? 
 
 Johnson once observed to me, *' Tom 
 Tyers described me the best : * Sir (said 
 he), you are like a ghost : you never 
 speak till you are spoken to.'" 
 
 The gentleman whom he thus fami- 
 liarly mentioned was Mr, Thomas Tyers, 
 son of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder 
 of that excellent place of publick amuse- 
 ment, Yauxhall Gardens, which must ever 
 be an estate to its proprietor, as it is 
 peculiarly adapted to the taste of the 
 English nation ; there being a mixture of 
 curious show, — gay exhibition, — musick, 
 vocal and instrumental, not too refined 
 for the general ear;— for all which only 
 a shilling is paidf ; and, though last, not 
 least, good eating and drinking for those 
 who choose to purchase that regale. Mr. 
 I'homas Tyers was bred to the law ; but 
 
 t III summer, 1793, additional and more 
 expensive decorations havingr been intro- 
 duce<l, the price of admission was raised to 
 
Etat. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 423 
 
 having a handsome fortune, vivacity of 
 temper, and eccentricity of mind, he 
 could not confine himself to the regu- 
 larity of practice. He therefore ran about 
 the world with a pleasant carelessness, 
 amusing every body by his desultory 
 conversation. He abounded in anecdote, 
 but was not sufiiciently attentive to accu- 
 racy. I therefore cannot venture to avail 
 myself much of a biographical sketch of 
 Johnson which he published, being one 
 among the various persons ambitious of 
 appending their names to that of my 
 illustrious friend. That sketch is, how- 
 ever, an entertaining little collection of 
 fragments. Those which he published of 
 Pope and Addison are of higher merit ; 
 but his fame must chiefly rest upon his 
 " Political Conferences," in which he 
 introduces several eminent persons deli- 
 vering their sentiments in the way of 
 dialogue, and discovers a considerable 
 share of learning, various knowledge, 
 and discernment of character. This much 
 may I be ajlowed to say of a man who 
 was exceedingly obliging to me, and who 
 lived with Dr. Johnson in as easy a man- 
 ner as almost any of his very numerous 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Edwards had said to me aside, 
 that Dr. Johnson should have been of a 
 profession. I repeated the remark to 
 Johnson that I might have his own 
 thoughts on the subject. Johnson. "Sir, 
 it would have been better that I had 
 been of a profession. I ought to have 
 been a lawyer." Boswell. " I do not 
 think, sir, it would have been belter, for 
 we should not have had the English Dic- 
 tionary." Johnson. " But yon would 
 have had Reports." Boswell. " Ay ; 
 but there would not have been another 
 who could have written the Dictionary. 
 There have been many very good Judges. 
 Suppose you had been Lord Chancellor ; 
 you would have delivered opinions with 
 more extent of mind, and in a more 
 ornamented manner than perhaps any 
 Chancellor ever did, or ever will do. 
 But, I believe, causes have been as judi- 
 ciously decided as you could have done." 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir. Property has been 
 as well settled." 
 
 Johnson, however, had a noble am- 
 bition floating in his mind, and had, 
 undoubtedly, often speculated on the 
 possibility of his supereminent powers 
 being rewarded in this great and liberal 
 country by the highest honours of the 
 state. Sir William Scott informs me 
 
 company may be more select; but a number 
 of the honesi commonalty are, I fear, excluded 
 from sharing' in elegant and innocent enter- 
 tainment. An attempt to abolish the one 
 shilling gallery at the playhouse has been 
 very properly counteracted. 
 
 that upon the death of the late Lord 
 Lichfield, who was Chancellor of the 
 University of Oxford, he said to John- 
 son, " What a pity it is, sir, that you 
 did not follow the profession of the law. 
 You might have been Lord Chancellor 
 of Great Britain, and attained to the dig- 
 nity of the peerage ; and now that the 
 title of Lichfield, your native city, is 
 extinct, you might have had it." John- 
 son, upon this, seemed much agitated ; 
 and, in an angry tone, exclaimed, " Why 
 will you vex me by suggesting this when 
 it is too late?" 
 
 But he did not repine at the prosperity 
 of others. The late Dr. Thomas Leland 
 told Mr. Courtenay, that when Mr. Ed- 
 mund Burke showed Johnson his fine 
 house and lands near Beaconsfield, John- 
 son coolly said, ' Nonequidem invideo ; 
 miror mayis*.' 
 
 Yet no man had a higher notion of the 
 dignity of literature than Johnson, or was 
 more determined in maintaining the re- 
 spect which he justly considered as due 
 to it. Of this, besides the general tenour 
 of his conduct in society, some charac- 
 teristical instances may be mentioned. 
 
 He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that 
 once when he dined in a numerous com- 
 pany of booksellers, where the room 
 being small, the head of the table, at 
 which he sat, was almost close to the fire, 
 he persevered in suffering a great deal of 
 inconvenience from the heat, rather than 
 quit his place, and let one of them sit 
 above him. 
 
 * I am not entirely without suspicion that 
 Johnson may have felt a little momentary 
 envy ; for no man loved the good tilings of 
 this life better tlian he did; an<l he could not 
 but be conscious that he deserved a much 
 larger share of them than he ever had. I 
 attempted in a nevpspaper to comment on the 
 above passage in the manner of Warburton, 
 who must be allowed to have shown uncom- 
 mon ingenuity, in giving to any aiithour's 
 text whatever meaning he chose it should 
 carry. As this imitation may amuse my 
 readers, I shall here introduce it: 
 
 " No saving of Dr. Johnson's has been 
 more misunderstood than his applying to 
 Mr. Burke, when he fust saw him at his fine 
 place at Beaconsfield, Non equidem invideo ; 
 miror magis. These two celeurated men had 
 been friends for many years before Mr. Burke 
 entered on his parliamentary career. They 
 were both writers, both members of The Lite- 
 rary Club; when, therefore, Dr. Johnson 
 saw Mr. Burke in a situation so much more 
 splendid than thai to which he himself had 
 attained, he did not mean to express that he 
 thought it a disproportionate prosperity; but 
 while he,asa philosopher, asserted an exemp- 
 tion from envy, non equidem invideo, he went 
 on in the words of the poet miror magis; 
 thereby signifying, either that he was occu- 
 pied in admiring what he was glad to see; 
 or, perhaps, that considering the general lot 
 of men of superiour abilities, he wondered 
 that Fortune, who is represented as blind, 
 should, in this instance, have been so just." 
 
424 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 Goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, 
 complained one day, in a mixed com- 
 pany, of Lord Camden. " I met him 
 (said he) at Lord Clare's house in the 
 country, and he took no more notice of 
 me than if I had been an ordinary man." 
 The company having laughed heartily, 
 Johnson stood forth in defence of his 
 friend. " Nay, Gentlemen (said he), 
 Dr. Goldsmith is in the riglit. A noble- 
 man ought to have made up to such a 
 man as Goldsmith ; and I think it is much 
 against Lord Camden that he neglected 
 him." 
 
 Nor could he patiently endure to hear, 
 that such respect as he thought due only 
 to higher intellectual qualities should be 
 bestowed on men of slighter, though per- 
 haps more amusing talents. I told him, 
 that one morning, when I went to break- 
 fast with Garrick, who was very vain of 
 his intimacy with Lord Camden, he ac- 
 costed me thus: — " Pray now, did you 
 — did you meet a little lawyer turning 
 the corner, eh'?" — " No, sir (said I). 
 Pray what do you mean by the ques- 
 tion?" — "Why (replied Garrick, with 
 an affected indifference, yet as if stand- 
 ing on tiptoe). Lord Camden has this 
 moment left me. We have had a long 
 walk together." Johnson. '* Well, sir, 
 Garrick talked very properly. Lord 
 Camden was a little lawyer to be asso- 
 ciating so familiarly with a player." 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds observed, with 
 great truth, that Johnson considered Gar- 
 rick to be as it were his property. He 
 would allow no man either to blame or 
 to praise Garrick in his presence without 
 contradicting him. 
 
 Having fallen into a very serious frame 
 of mind, in which mutual expressions 
 of kindness passed between us, such 
 as would be thought too vain in me to 
 repeat, I talked with regret of the sad 
 inevitable certainly that one of us must 
 survive the other. Johnson. " Yes, sir, 
 that is an affecting consideration. I re- 
 member Swift, in one of his letters to 
 Pope, says, * I intend to come over, that 
 we may meet once more; and when we 
 must part, it is what happens to all human 
 beings.' " BoswtLL. " The hope that we 
 shall see our departed friends again must 
 support the mind." Johnson. " Why 
 yes, sir*." BoswFXL. " There is a 
 strange unwillingness to part with life, 
 independent of serious fears as to futu- 
 rity. A reverend friend of ours (naming 
 him) tells me, that he feels an uneasiness 
 at the thoughts of leaving his house, his 
 study, his books." Johnson. " This is 
 foolish in • • • • *. A man need not be 
 uneasy on these grounds ; for, as he will 
 
 • [See on the same sulyect, p. 205. MJ. 
 
 retain his consciousness, he may say with 
 the philosopher. Omnia mea mecuin 
 porto." BoswELL. " True, sir : we may 
 carry our books in our heads ; but still 
 there is something painful in the thought 
 of leaving for ever what has given us 
 pleasure. I remember, many years ago, 
 when my imagination was warm, and I 
 happened to be in a melancholy mood, it 
 distressed me to think of going into a 
 state of being in which Shakspeare's 
 poetry did not exist. A lady whom I 
 then much admired, a very amiable 
 woman, humoured my fancy, and re- 
 lieved me by saying, * The first thing you 
 will meet in the other world will be an 
 elegant copy of Shakspeare's works pre- 
 sented to you.' " Dr. Johnson smiled 
 benignantly at this, and did not appear 
 to disapprove of the notion. 
 
 We went to St. Clement's church again 
 in the afternoon, and then returned and 
 drank tea and coffee in Mrs. Williams's 
 room ; Mrs. Desmoulins doing the ho- 
 nours of the tea table. I observed that 
 he would not even look at a proof sheet 
 of his " Life of Waller " on Good 
 Friday. 
 
 Mr. Allen, the printer, brought a book 
 on agriculture, which was printed, and 
 was soon to be published. It was a very 
 strange performance, the authour having 
 mixed in it his own thoughts upon vari- 
 ous topicks along with his remarks oa 
 ploughing, sowing, and other farming 
 operations. He seemed to be an absurd 
 profane fellow, and had introduced in his 
 book many sneers at religion with equal 
 ignorance and conceit. Dr. Johnson per- 
 mitted me to read some passages aloud. 
 One was, that he resolved to work on , 
 Sunday, and did work, but he owned he 
 felt some weak compunction ; and he had 
 this very curious reflection : — " I was born 
 in the wilds of Christianity, and the briers 
 and thorns still hang about me." Dr. John- 
 son could not help laughing at this ridi- 
 culous image, yet was very angry at the 
 fellow's impiety. " However (said he), 
 the Reviewers will make him hang him- 
 self." He however observed, " that for- 
 merly there might have been a dispensa- 
 tion obtained for working on Sunday in 
 the time of harvest." Indeed, in ritual 
 observances, were all the ministers of 
 religion what they should be, and what 
 many of them are, such a power might be 
 wisely and safely lodged with the Church. 
 
 On Saturday, April 14, I drank tea 
 with him. He praised the late Mr. Dun- 
 combe f, of Canterbury, as a pleasing 
 
 t [William Diuioombe, Euq. He married 
 the sister of Joiin Hiijjhes, the poet.; was the 
 iiiiliiour nf two tratredieH, and other iii^^cnioiis 
 nroduclionfi; and died Feb. 26, 1769, aged 79. 
 
i^TAT. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 425 
 
 man. " He used to come to me ; I did 
 not seek much after him. Indeed I never 
 sought much after any body." Boswell. 
 ** Lord Orrery, I suppose." Johnson. 
 " No, sir ; I never went to him but when 
 lie sent for me." Boswell. *' Richard- 
 son?" Johnson. " Yes, sir. But I 
 sought after George Psaltnanazar the 
 most. I used to go and sit with him at 
 an alehouse in the city." 
 
 I am happy to mention another in- 
 stance which 1 discovered, of his seeking 
 after a man of merit. Soon after the 
 Honourable Daines Barrington had pub- 
 lished his excellent " Observations on 
 the Statutes*," Johnson waited on that 
 worthy and learned gentleman ; and, 
 having told him his name, courteously 
 said, " 1 have read your book, sir, with 
 great pleasure, and wish to be better 
 known to you." Thus began an acquaint- 
 ance which was continued with mutual 
 regard as long as Johnson lived. 
 
 Talking of a recent seditious delin- 
 quent, he said, '* They should set him in 
 the pillory, that he may be punished in 
 a way that would disgrace him." I ob- 
 served, that the pillory does not always 
 disgrace. And 1 mentioned an instance 
 of a gentleman who, I thought, was not 
 dishonoured by it. Johnson. '' Ay, but 
 he was, sir. He could not mouth and 
 strut as he used to do after having been 
 there. People are not willing to ask a 
 man to their tables who has stood in the 
 pillory." 
 
 The gentleman who had dined with 
 us at Dr. Percy's + came in. Johnson 
 attacked the Americans with intemperate 
 vehemence of abuse. I said something 
 in their favour ; and added, that I was 
 always sorry when he talked upon that 
 subject. This, it seems, exasperated him ; 
 though he said nothing at the time. The 
 cloud was charged with sulphureous va- 
 pour, which was afterwards to burst in 
 thunder. — We talked of a gentleman who 
 was running out his fortune in London ; 
 and I said, " We must get him out of it. 
 All his friends must quarrel with him, 
 and that will soon drive him away." 
 Johnson. " Nay, sir, we'll send you to 
 him. If your company does not drive a 
 man out of his house, nothing will." 
 This was a horrible shock, for which 
 there was no visible cause. I afterwards 
 asked him why he had said so harsh a 
 thing. Johnson. " Because, sir, you 
 made me angry about the Americans." 
 Boswell. " But why did you not take 
 your revenge directly ?" Johnson (smil- 
 ing). ** Because, sir, I had nothing ready. 
 
 * [4to. 176G. The worthy atithour died many 
 vears after Johnson, March 13, 1800, ageil 
 about 74. M.] 
 
 t Seep 411. 
 
 A man cannot strike till he has his wea- 
 pons." This was a candid and pleasant 
 confession. 
 
 He showed me to-night his drawing 
 room, very genteelly fitted up ; and said, 
 *' Mrs. Thrale sneered when I talked of 
 my having asked you and your lady to 
 live at my house. I was obliged to tell 
 her, that you would be in as respectable 
 a situation in my house as in hers. Sir, 
 the insolence of wealth will creep out." 
 Boswell. " She has a little both of the 
 insolence of wealth and the conceit of 
 parts." Johnson. *' The insolence of 
 wealth is a wretched thing ; but the con- 
 ceit of parts has some foundation. To 
 be sure, it should not be. But who is 
 without it V Boswell. " Yourself, sir." 
 Johnson. " Why, I play not tricks : I 
 lay no traps." Boswell. *' No, sir. 
 You are six feet high, and you only do 
 not stoop." 
 
 We talked of the numbers of people 
 that sometimes have composed the house- 
 hold of great families. 1 mentioned that 
 there were a hundred in the family of 
 the present Earl of Eglintoune's father. 
 Dr. Johnson seeming to doubt it, I began 
 to enumerate. " Let us see : my Lord 
 and my Lady two." Johnson. *' Nay, 
 sir, if you are to count by twos, you may 
 be long enough. Boswell. " Well, but 
 now I add two sons and seven daughters 
 and a servant for each, that will make 
 twenty ; so we have the fifth part al- 
 ready." Johnson. ** Very true. You 
 get at twenty pretty readily ; but you 
 will not so easily get further on. We 
 grow to five feet pretty readily ; but it is 
 not so easy to grow to seven." 
 
 On Sunday, April 19, being Easter 
 day, after the solemnities of the festival 
 in St. Paul's Church, I visited him, but 
 could not stay to dinner. I expressed a 
 wish to have the arguments for Christi- 
 anity always in readiness, that my reli- 
 gious faith might be as firm and clear as 
 any proposition whatever, so ihat I need 
 not be under the least uneasiness when it 
 should be attacked. Johnson. '* Sir, you 
 cannot answer all objections. You have 
 demonstration for a First Cause : you see 
 he must be good as well as powerful, 
 because there is nothing to make him 
 otherwise, and goodness of itself is pre- 
 ferable. Yet you have against this, what 
 is very certain, the unhappiness of human 
 life. This, however, gives us reason to 
 hope for a future state of compensation, 
 that there may be a perfect system. But 
 of that we were not sure till we had a 
 positive revelation." I told him that his 
 " Rasselas" had often made me un- 
 happy ; for it represented the misery of 
 human life so well, and so convincingly 
 to a thinking mind, that if at any time 
 
426 
 
 the impression wore off, and I felt my- 
 self easy, I began to suspect some 
 delusion. 
 
 On Monday, April 20, I found him at 
 home in the morning. We talked of a 
 gentleman who we apprehended was 
 gradually involving his circumstances by 
 bad management. Johnson. " Wasting 
 a fortune is evaporation by a thousand 
 imperceptible means. If it wereastream, 
 they'd stop it. You must speak to him. 
 It is really miserable. Were he a game- 
 ster, it could be said he had hopes of 
 winning. Were he a bankrupt in trade, 
 he might have grown rich ; but he has 
 neither spirit to spend, nor resolution to 
 spare. He does not spend fast enough 
 to have pleasure from it. He has the 
 crime of prodigality, and the wretched- 
 ness of paj-^imony. If a man h killed in 
 a duel, he is killed as many a one has 
 been killed ; but it is a sad thing for a 
 man to lie down and die : to bleed to 
 death because he has not fortitude enough 
 to sear the wound, or even to stitch it 
 up." I cannot but pause a moment to 
 admire the fecundity of fancy and choice 
 of language which in this instance, and, 
 indeed, on almost all occasions, he dis- 
 played. It was well observed by Dr. 
 Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, " The 
 conversation of Johnson is strong and 
 clear, and may be compared to an an- 
 tique statue, where every vein and muscle 
 is distinct and bold. Oj-dinary conversa- 
 tion resembles an inferiour cast." 
 
 On Saturday, April 25, I dined with 
 him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with the 
 learned Dr. Musgrave*, Counsellor Le- 
 land of Ireland, son to the historian, 
 Mrs. Cholmondeley, and some more 
 ladies. " The Project," a new poem, 
 was read to the company by Dr. Mus- 
 grave. Johnson. " Sir, it has no power. 
 Were it not for the well known names 
 with which it is filled, it would be no- 
 thing : the names carry the poet, not 
 the poet (he names." Musgrave. ** A 
 temporary poem always entertains us." 
 Johnson. ** So docs an account of the 
 criminals hanged yesterday entertain 
 us." 
 
 He proceeded ; — ** Demosthenes Tay- 
 lor, as he was called (that is, the Editor 
 of Demosthenes), was the most silent 
 man, the merest statue of a man that 
 I have ever seen. I once dined in com- 
 pany with him, and all he said during the 
 whole time was no more than Richard, 
 How a man should say only Richard, it 
 is not easy to imagine. But it was thus : 
 Dr. Douglas was talking of Dr. Zachary 
 
 • [Samuel Musgrave, M. D. Editor of Euri- 
 pides, and aiithour of " Dissurtations on the 
 Grecian Mytholojcy," &c. piiblii>hed in 17k;2, 
 after his death, by Mr. Tyrwhitt. M.] 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 Grey, and ascribing to him something 
 that was written by Dr. Richard Grey. 
 So, to correct him, Taylor said (imitating 
 his affected sententious emphasis and 
 nod) ' Bichard.' " 
 
 Mrs. Cholmondeley, in a high flow of 
 spirits, exhibited some lively sallies of 
 hyperbolical compliment to Johnson, 
 with whom she had been long acquainted, 
 and was very easy. He was quick in 
 catching the manner of the moment, and 
 answered her somewhat in the style of 
 the hero of a romance, " Madam, you 
 crown me with unfading laurels." 
 
 I happened, I know not how, to say 
 that a pamphlet meant a prose piece. 
 Johnson. " No, sir. A few sheets of 
 poetry unbound are a pamphlet! as much 
 as a few sheets of prose." Musgrave. 
 " A pamphlet may be understood to 
 mean a poetical piece in Westminster 
 Hall, that is, in formal language ; but 
 in common language it is understood to 
 mean prose." Johnson (and here was 
 one of the many instances of his know- 
 ing clearly and telling exactly how a 
 thing is). " A pamphlet is understood 
 in common language to mean prose, only 
 from this, that there is so much more 
 prose written than poetry ; as when we 
 say a book, prose is understood for the 
 same reason, though a book may as well 
 be in poetry as in prose. We understand 
 what is most general, and we name what 
 is less frequent." 
 
 We talked of a lady's verses on Ire- 
 land. Miss Reynolds. " Have you seen 
 them, sir?" Johnson. " No, madam, I 
 have seen a translation from Horace, by 
 one of her daughters. She showed it 
 me." Miss Reynolds. " And how was 
 it, sir?" Johnson. *' Why, very well for 
 a young Miss's verses; — that is to say, 
 compared with excellence, nothing ; but, 
 very well for the person who wrote them. 
 I am vexed at being shown verses in 
 that manner." Miss^Reynolds. *• But if 
 they should be good, why not give them 
 hearty praise?" Johnson. " Why, ma- 
 dam, because I have not then got the 
 better of my bad humour from having 
 been shown them. You must consider, 
 madam ; beforehand they may be bad as 
 well as good. Nobody has a right to put 
 another under such a difficulty that he 
 must either hurt the person by telling the 
 
 t [Dr. Johnson is here perfectly correct, 
 and is supported by the us^jfe of preceding 
 writers. So in Musarum 'Dihicim, a collec- 
 tion of poems, 8vo. 1656 (the writer is speak- 
 ing of Suoklinjf's play entitled Aolaura, 
 printed in folio): 
 
 " This j?reat voluminous pamphlet may be 
 said . . 
 
 To be like one that hath more hair than 
 head." M.] 
 
JEtat. t 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 427 
 
 truth, or hurt himself by telling what 
 is not true." Boswell. " A man often 
 shows his writings to people of eminence, 
 to obtain from them, either from their 
 good nature, or from their not being able 
 to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, 
 of vv-hich he may afterwards avail him- 
 self." JoHNSOiV. '* Very true, sir. Theie- 
 fore the man who is asked by an authour, 
 what he thinks of his work, is put to the 
 torture, and is not obliged to speak the 
 truth ; so that what he says is not con- 
 sidered as his opinion ; yet he has said 
 it, and cannot retract it ; and this au- 
 thour, when mankind are hunting him 
 with a canister at his tail, can say, ' I 
 would not have published had not John- 
 son, or Reynolds, or Musgrave, or some 
 other good judge commended the work.' 
 Yet I consider it as a very difficult ques- 
 tion in conscience, whether one should 
 advise a man not to publish a work if 
 profit be his object; for the inan may 
 say, * Had it not been for you, I should 
 have had the money.' Now you cannot 
 be sure ; for you have only your own 
 opinion, and tlie publick may think very 
 differently." Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 ** You must upon such an occasion have 
 two judgments ; one as to the real value 
 of the work, the other as to what may 
 please the general taste at the time." 
 Johnson. " But you can be sure of nei- 
 ther ; and therefore I should scruple 
 much to give a suppressive vote. Both 
 Goldsmith's comedies were once refused ; 
 his first by Garrick, his second by Col- 
 man, who was prevailed on at last by 
 much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, 
 to bring it on. His ' Vicar of Wake- 
 field ' I myself did not think would have 
 had much success. It was written, and 
 sold to a bookseller before his ' Travel- 
 ler ;' but published after ; so little expec- 
 tation had the bookseller from it. Had 
 it been sold after the * Traveller,' he 
 might have had twice as much money 
 for it, though sixty guineas was no mean 
 price. The bookseller had the advantage 
 of Goldsmith's reputation from * The 
 Traveller' in the sale, though Goldsmith 
 had it not in selling the copy.' Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds. " The Beggar's Opera 
 affords a proof how strangely people will 
 differ in opinion about a literary per- 
 formance. Burke thinks it has no merit." 
 Johnson. " It was refused by one of the 
 houses ; but I should have thought it 
 would succeed, not from any great excel- 
 lence in the writing, but from the novelty, 
 and the general spirit and gaiety of the 
 piece, which keeps the audience always 
 attentive, and dismisses them in good 
 humour." 
 
 We went to the drawingroom, where 
 was a considerable increase of company. 
 
 Several of us got round Dr. Johnson, and 
 complained that he would not give us an 
 exact catalogue of his works, that there 
 might be a complete edition. He smiled, 
 and evaded our entreaties. That he in- 
 tended to do it I have no doubt, because 
 I have heard him say so ; and I have in 
 my possession an imperfect list, fairly 
 written out, which he entitles Historia 
 Studiorum. I once got from one of his 
 friends a list which there was pretty good 
 reason to suppose was accurate, for it was 
 written down in his presence by this 
 friend, who enumerated each article aloud, 
 and had some of them mentioned to him 
 by Mr. Levett, in concert with whom it 
 was made out ; and Johnson, who heard 
 all this, did not contradict it. But when 
 I showed a copy of this list to him, and 
 mentioned the evidence for its exactness, 
 he laughed and said, " I was willing to 
 let them go on as they pleased, and never 
 interfered." Upon which I read it to 
 him, article by article, and got him posi- 
 tively to own or refuse ; and then, having 
 obtained certainty so far, I got some other 
 articles confirmed by him directly, and 
 afterwards, from time to time, made 
 additions under his sanction. 
 
 His friend, Edward Cave, having been 
 mentioned, he told us, " Cave used to sell 
 ten thousand of ' The Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine;' yet such was then his minute 
 attention and anxiety that the sale should 
 not suffer the smallest decrease, that he 
 would name a particular person who he 
 heard had talked of leaving off the Maga- 
 zine, and would say, * Let us have some- 
 thing good next month.' " 
 
 It was observed that avarice was inhe- 
 rent in some dispositions. Johnson." No 
 man was born a miser, because no man 
 was born to possession. Every man is 
 born cupidus — desirous of getting; but 
 not avarus, — desirous of keeping." Bos- 
 well. " I have heard old Mr. Sheridan 
 maintain, with much ingenuity, that a 
 complete miser is a happy man ; a miser 
 who gives himself wholly to the one pas- 
 sion of saving." Johnson. " That is flying 
 in the face of all the world, who have 
 called an avaricious man a miser because 
 he is miserable. No, sir ; a man who both 
 spends and saves money is the happiest 
 man, because he has both enjoyments." 
 
 The conversation having turned on 
 Bons Mots, he quoted, from one of the 
 Ana, an exquisite instance of flattery in 
 a maid of honour in France, who being 
 asked by the Queen what o'clock it was, 
 answered, " What your majesty pleases." 
 He admitted that Mr. Burke's classical 
 pun upon Mr. Wilkes's being carried on 
 the shoulders of the mob, 
 
 Lege solnlui 
 
 —numeritsqne fertur 
 
128 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 was admirable ; and thougli he was 
 strangely unwilling to allow to that ex- 
 traordinary man the talent of wit*, he 
 also laughed with approbation at another 
 of his playful conceits ; which was, that 
 " Horace has in one line given a descrip- 
 tion of a good desirable manour : 
 
 ' Est modus hi rebus, sunt certi denique 
 fines ^;^ 
 
 that is to say, a modus as to the tithes, 
 and certain ^nes." 
 
 He observed, " A man cannot with 
 propriety speak of himself except he 
 relates simple facts ; as, * I was at Rich- 
 mond:' or what depends on mensura- 
 tion ; as, * I am six feet high.' He is 
 sure he has been at Richmond ; he is 
 sure he is six feet high : but he cannot 
 be sure he is wise, or that he has any 
 other excellence. Then, all censure of a 
 man's self is oblique praise. It is in 
 order to show how much he can spare. 
 It has all the invidiousness of self-praise, 
 and all the reproach of falsehood." Bos- 
 well. " Sometimes it may proceed from 
 a man's strong consciousness of his faults 
 being observed. He knows that others 
 would throw him down, and therefore 
 he had better lie down softly of his own 
 accord." 
 
 On Tuesday, April 28, he was engaged 
 to dine at General Paoli's, where, as I 
 have already observed, I was still enter- 
 tained in elegant hospitality, and with 
 all the ease and comfort of a home. I 
 called on him, and accompanied him in 
 a hackney coach. We stopped first at 
 the bottom of Hedge Lane, into which he 
 went to leave a letter, with '* good news 
 for a poor man in distress," as he told 
 me. I did not question him particularly 
 as to this. He himself often resembled 
 Lady Boiingbroke's lively description of 
 Pope : that " he was un politique aux 
 choux et aux raves.^' He would say, 
 '* I dine to-day in Grosvenor Square;" 
 
   See thisqueslioii fullv investisrated in the 
 Notes upon ray " Journarof a Tour to tlie He- 
 brides," edit. 3. p. 21, et seq. And here, as a 
 lawyer raindfui of the maxim Suum cuique 
 trihnito, \ cannot forbear (o mention that the 
 additional Note beginning with " i finil since 
 the former edition," is not mine, hut was 
 obligingly furnibhed by Mr. Malone, who was 
 so kind as to superintend the press while I 
 was in Scotland, and the first part of the 
 second edition was printini;. He would not 
 allow me to ascribe it to its proper authnur; 
 but, as it is exquisitely acute and elegant, I 
 take this opportunity, without his knowledge, 
 to do him justice. 
 
 + [This, as both Mr. Bindley and Dr. Kear- 
 ney have observed to me. is the motto to •' An 
 Inquiry into Customary bstutcs and Tenant's 
 Rights, (Sec— with some Considerations for 
 restraining excessive Pines.^' By Kverard 
 Fleetwooff, Esq. 8vo. 1731. But it is, probably, 
 a mere coincidence. Mr. Burke perhaps never 
 saw that pamphlet. M,] 
 
 this might be with a Duke ; or, perhaps, 
 " I dine to-day at the other end of the 
 town:" or, " A gentleman of great emi- 
 nence called on me yesterday." — He 
 loved thus to keep things floating in con- 
 jecture : Omne ignotum pro magnifico 
 est. I believe I ventured to dissipate the 
 cloud, to unveil the mystery more freely 
 and frequetitly than any of his friends. 
 We stopped again at Wirgman's, the 
 well known toy-shop, in St. James's 
 Street, at the corner of St. James's Place, 
 to which he had been directed, but not 
 clearly, for he searched about some time, 
 and could not find it at first ; and said, 
 " To direct one only to a corner shop is 
 toying with one." I suppose he meant 
 this as a play upon the word toy ; it was 
 the first time that I knew him stoop to 
 such sport. After he had been some time 
 in the shop, he sent for me to come out 
 of the coach, and help him to choose a 
 pair of silver buckles, as those he had 
 were too small. Probably this alteration 
 in dress had been suggested by Mrs. 
 Thrale, by associating with whom, his 
 external appearance was much improved. 
 He got better clothes ; and the dark co- 
 lour, from which he never deviated, was 
 enlivened by metal buttons. His wigs, 
 too, were much better ; and, during their 
 travels in France, he was furnished with 
 a Paris made wig, of handsome construc- 
 tion. This choosing of silver buckles was 
 a negotiation : " Sir (said he), I will not 
 have the ridiculous large ones now in 
 fashion ; and I will give no more than a 
 guinea for a pair." Such were the prin- 
 ciples of the business : and, after some 
 examination, he was fitted. As we drove 
 along, I foimd him in a talking humour, 
 of which I availed myself. Boswell. 
 " I was this morning in Ridley's shop, 
 sir; and was told that the collection called 
 * Johnsoniana' has sold very much." 
 Johnson. " Yet the * Journey to the 
 Hebrides ' has not had a great sale ;." 
 Boswell. " That is strange." Johnson. 
 ** Yes, sir ; for in that book I have told 
 the world a great deal that they did not 
 know before." 
 
 Boswell. " I drank chocolate, sir, this 
 morning with Mr. Eld ; and, to my no 
 small surprise, found him to be a Staf- 
 fordshire Whig, a being which I did 
 not believe had existed." Johnson. "Sir, 
 
 X Here he either was mistaken, or had a 
 different notion of an extensive sale from 
 what is generally entertained : for the fact is, 
 that four thousand copies of that exct-llent 
 work were sold very quickly. A new edition 
 has been printed since his death, besides that 
 ni the collection of his works. 
 
 [Another edition has been printed since 
 Mr. Boswell wrote the above, besides re- 
 peated editions in the general collection of 
 his works during the last ten years. M.] 
 
^TAT. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 429 
 
 Uiere are rascals in all countries." Bos- 
 well. " Eld said, a Tory was a creature 
 generated between a nonjuring parson and 
 one's grandmother." Johnson. "And I 
 have always said, the first Whig was the 
 Devil." BoswELL. ** He certainly was, 
 sir. The Devil was impatient of subor- 
 dination ; he was the first who resisted 
 power : 
 
 * Better to reign in Hell than serve in Hea- 
 ven.'" 
 
 At General Paoli's were Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Marchese Ghe- 
 rardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spot- 
 tiswoode the younger, of Spottiswoode *, 
 the solicitor. At this time fears of an 
 invasion were circulated ; to obviate 
 which Mr. Spottiswoode observed, that 
 Mr. Fraser the engineer, who had lately 
 come from Dunkirk, said that the French 
 had the same fears of us. Johnson. *' It 
 is thus that mutual cowardice keeps us 
 in peace. Were one half of mankind 
 brave, and one half cowards, the brave 
 would be always beating the cowards. 
 Were all brave, they would lead a very 
 uneasy life ; all would be continually 
 fighting : but being all cowards, we go on 
 very well." 
 
 We talked of drinking wine. Johnson. 
 ** I require wine only when I am alone. 
 I have then often wished for it, and often 
 taken it." Spottiswoode. " What, by 
 way of a companion, sir?" Johnson. 
 " To get rid of myself, to send myself 
 away. Wine gives great pleasure ; and 
 every pleasure is of itself a good. It is 
 a good, unless counterbalanced by evil. 
 A man may have a strong reason not to 
 drink wine ; and that may be greater 
 than the pleasure. Wine makes a man 
 better pleased with himself. I do not 
 say that it makes him more pleasing to 
 others. — Sometimes it does. But the dan- 
 ger is that, while a man grows better 
 pleased with himself, he may be growing 
 less pleasing to others f. — Wine gives a 
 man nothing. It neither gives him know- 
 ledge nor wit ; it only animates a man, 
 and enables him to bring out what a 
 dread of the company has repressed. It 
 
 * In the phraseology of Scotland I should 
 have said, " Mr. John Spottiswoode the 
 younger, of that ilk.^* Johnson knew that 
 sense of the word very well', and has thus ex- 
 plained it in his Dictionary, voce Ilk—" It 
 also signifies * the same;' as. Mackintosh of 
 that iln, denotes a gentleman whose surname 
 and the title of his estate are the same." 
 
 t It is observed in Waller's Life, in the 
 Biographia Britannica, that he drank only 
 water; and that while he sat in a company 
 who were drinking wine, " he had the dex- 
 terity to accommodate his discourse to the 
 pitch of theirs as it 4wn*." If excess in drink- 
 ma^ be meant, the remark is acutely just. But 
 surely a moderate use of wine gives a gaiety 
 of spjrits which water-drinkers know not. 
 
 only puts in motion what has been locked 
 up in frost. But this may be good, or it 
 inay be bad." Spottiswoode. " So, sir, 
 wine is a key which opens a box ; but 
 this box may be either full or empty?" 
 Johnson. " Nay, sir, conversation is the 
 key : wine is a picklock, which forces 
 open the box and injures it. A man 
 should cultivate his mind so as to have 
 that confidence and readiness, without 
 wine, which wine gives." Boswell. 
 " The great difficulty of resisting wine is 
 from benevolence. For instance, a good 
 worthy man asks you to taste his wine, 
 which he has had twenty years in his 
 cellar." Johnson. " Sir, all this notion 
 about benevolence arises from a man's 
 imagining himself to be of more import- 
 ance to others than' he really is. They 
 don't care a farthing whether he drinks 
 wine or not." Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 " Yes, they do for the time." Johnson. 
 '* For the tiine ! — If they care this minute, 
 they forget it the next. And as for the 
 good worthy man ; how do you know he 
 is good and worthy ? No good and worthy 
 man will insist upon another man's drink- 
 ing wine. As to the wine twenty years 
 in the cellar, — often men, three say this 
 merely because they must say something ; 
 three are telling a lie, when they say they 
 have had the wine twenty years ; — three 
 would rather save the wine ; — one, per- 
 haps, cares. I allow it is something to 
 please one's company ; and people are 
 always pleased with those who partake 
 pleasure with them. But after a man 
 has brought himself to relinquish the 
 great personal pleasure which arises from 
 drinking wine, any other consideration 
 is a trifle. To please others by drinking 
 wine is something only, if there be no- 
 thing against it. I should, however, be 
 sorry to offend worthy men : 
 
 ' Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow 
 That lends to make one worthy man my foe.' 
 
 h^ 
 
 Boswell. " Curst be the spring, the 
 water." — Johnson. *' Butlet us consider 
 what a sad thing it would be, if we were 
 obliged to drink or do any thing else that 
 may happen to be agreeable to the com- 
 pany where we are." Langton. " By 
 the same rule yon must join with a gang 
 of cut-purses." Johnson. '* Yes, sir : 
 but yet we must do justice to wine ; we 
 must allow it the power it possesses. To 
 make a man pleased with himself, let me 
 tell you, is doing a very great thing: 
 
 * Si patritE volumns, si Nobis vivere cari.^ " 
 
 I was at this time myself a water- 
 drinker, upon trial, by Johnson's recom- 
 mendation. Johnson. " Boswell is a 
 bolder combatant than Sir Joshua : he 
 argues for wine without the help of wine ; 
 
 ^ 
 
430 THE LIFE OF 
 
 but Sir Joshua with it." Sm Joshua 
 Reynolds. *' But to please one's com- 
 pany is a strong motive." Johnson (who, 
 from drinking only water, supposed every 
 body who drank wine to be elevated). 
 " I won't argue any more with you, sir. 
 You are too far gone." Sir Joshua. *' I 
 should have thought so indeed, sir, had I 
 made such a speech as you have now 
 done." Johnson (drawing himself in, 
 and I really thought blushing). '* Nay, 
 don't be angry. I did not mean to offend 
 you." Sir Joshua. " At first the taste 
 of wine was disagreeable to me ; but I 
 brought myself to drink it, that I might 
 be like other people. The pleasure of 
 drinking wine is so connected with pleas- 
 ing your company that altogether there is 
 something of social goodness in it." — 
 Johnson. " Sir, this is only saying the 
 same thing over again." Sir Joshua. 
 " No, this is new." Johnson. " You 
 put it in new words, but it is an old 
 thought. This is one of the disadvantages 
 of wine, it makes a man mistake words 
 for thoughts." Bosv^^ell. " I think it is 
 a new thought ; at least, it is in a new 
 attitude." Johnson. " Nay, sir, it is 
 only in a new coat ; or an old coat with 
 a new facing. (Then laughing heartily.) 
 It is the old dog in a new doublet. — An 
 extraordinary instance, however, may 
 occur where a man's patron will do no- 
 thing for him, unless he will drink : there 
 may be a good reason for drinking." 
 
 I mentioned a nobleman, who I be- 
 lieved was really uneasy, if his company 
 would not drink hard. Johnson. " That 
 is from having had people about him 
 whom he has been accustomed to com- 
 mand." BoswELL. " Supposing I should 
 be tcte-a-tHe with him at table." John- 
 son. " Sir, there is no more reason for 
 your drinking with Mm than his being 
 sober with you." Boswell. " Why, 
 that is true ; for it would do him less 
 hurt to be sober than it would do me to 
 get drunk." Johnson. " Yes, sir ; and 
 from what I have luarcl of him, one 
 would not wish to saciilice himself to 
 such a man. If he must always have 
 somebody to drink with him, he should 
 buy a slave, and then he would be sure 
 to have it. They who submit to drink 
 as another pleases, make themselves his 
 slaves." Boswell. ** But, sir, you will 
 surely make allowance for the duty of 
 hospitality. A gentleman, wlio lovtj- 
 drinking, comes to visit me." .Idhn.son. 
 " Sir, a man knons wlioni lie visits; In; 
 comes to Hit' ta!)lt: ot a ^u\h-y man." 
 Boswell. " J5nt, :-ir, \oii and I shoidd 
 not have beta so well i eceivcd in the 
 Highlands and Hebrides, if I had not 
 <lnmk witii our worthy friends. Had 1 
 drunk water only as you did, they would 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 1778. 
 
 not have been so cordial." Johnson. 
 " Sir William Temple mentions, that in 
 his travels through the Netherlands he 
 had two or three gentlemen with him ; 
 and when a bumper was necessary, he 
 put it on them. Were I to travel again 
 through the islands, I would have Sir 
 Joshua with me to take the bumpers." 
 Boswell. ** But, sir, let me put a case. 
 Suppose Sir Joshua should take a jaunt 
 into Scotland ; he does me the honour to 
 pay me a visit at my house in the coun- 
 try ; I am overjoyed at seeing him ; we 
 are quite by ourselves ; shall I unsociably 
 and churlishly let him sit drinking by 
 himself? No, no, my dear Sir Joshua, 
 you shall not be treated so ; I will take 
 a bottle with you." 
 
 The celebrated Mrs. Rudd being men- 
 tioned. Johnson. ** Fifteen years ago I 
 should have gone to see her." Spottis- 
 wooDE. " Because she was fifteen years 
 younger?" Johnson. ** No, sir; but 
 now they have a trick of putting every 
 thing into the newspapers." 
 
 He begged of General Paoli to repeat 
 one of the introductory stanzas of the first 
 book of Tasso's '* Jerusalem," which he 
 did, and then Johnson found fault with 
 the simile of sweetening the edges of a 
 cup for a child, being transferred from 
 Lucretius into an epick poem. The Ge- 
 neral said he did not imagine Homer's 
 poetry was so ancient as is supposed, 
 because he ascribes to a Greek colony 
 circumstances of refinement not found in 
 Greece itself at a later period, when 
 Thucydides wrote. Johnson. *' I recol- 
 lect but one passage quoted by Thucy- 
 dides from Homer, which is not to be 
 found in our copies of Homer's works ; 
 I am for the antiquity of Homer, and 
 think that a Grecian colony by being 
 nearer Persia might be more refined than 
 the mother country." 
 
 On Wednesday, April 29, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Allan Ramsay's, where were 
 Lord Binning, Dr. Robertson the histo- 
 rian. Sir Joshua Reynolds, and the Ho- 
 nourable Mrs. Boscawen, widow of the 
 Admiral, and mother of the present Vis- 
 count Falmouth ; of whom, if it be not 
 presumptuous in me to praise her, I 
 would say, that her manners are the most 
 agreeable, and her conversation the best 
 of any lady with whom I ever had the 
 liappiiK'«s to be arquaintcd. Before 
 Jt.lmM)ii can.r uf talked a uood deal of 
 hiiii ; Ramsay .^aid he iiad ah\ays loimd 
 iiiui a vtiy i)«)lite man, and tiiat he 
 treati'd him with great respect, which he 
 did very sincerely. I said, 1 worshiped 
 him. Rohertson. " But some of you 
 spoil him ; you should not worship him ; 
 you should worship no man." Boswell. 
 *' I cannot help worshiping him, he is so 
 
;Etat. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 431 
 
 much superiour to other men." Robert- 
 son. ** In criticism, and in wit and con- 
 versation, he is no doubt very excellent; 
 but in other respects he is not above other 
 men : he will believe any thing, and will 
 strenuously defend the most minute cir- 
 cumstance connected with the Church of 
 England." Bosvv^ell. *' Believe me, 
 Doctor, you are much mistaken as to 
 this ; for when you talk with him calmly 
 in private, he is very liberal in his way 
 of thinking." Robertson. " He and I 
 have been always very gracious ; the first 
 time I .met him was one evening at 
 Strahan's, when he had just had an un- 
 lucky altercation with Adam Smith, to 
 whom he had been so rough that Strahan, 
 after Smith was gone, had remonstrated 
 with him, and told him that I was com- 
 ing soon, and that he was uneasy to think 
 that he might behave in the same manner 
 to me. * No, no, sir (said Johnson), I 
 warrant you Robertson and I shall do 
 very well.' Accordingly he was gentle 
 and good humoured and courteous with 
 me the whole evening; and he has been 
 so upon every occasion that we have met 
 since. I have often said (laughing), that 
 I have been in a great measure indebted 
 to Smith for my good reception." Bos- 
 well. " His power of reasoning is very 
 strong, and he has a peculiar art of draw- 
 ing characters, which is as rare as good 
 portrait painting." Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds. " He is undoubtedly admirable 
 in this; but, in order to mark the cha- 
 racters which he draws, he overcharges 
 them, and gives people more than they 
 really have, whether of good or bad." 
 
 No sooner did he, of whom we had 
 been thus talking so easy, arrive than 
 we were all as quiet as a school upon the 
 entrance of the head-master ; and were 
 very soon sat down to a table covered 
 with such variety of good things as con- 
 tributed not a little to dispose him to be 
 pleased. 
 
 Ramsay. " I am old enough' to have 
 been a contemporary of Pope. His 
 poetry was highly admired in his life- 
 time, more a great deal than after his 
 death." Johnson. " Sir, it has not been 
 less admired since his death ; no authours 
 ever had so much fame in their own life- 
 time as Pope and Voltaire ; and Pope's 
 poetry has been as much admired since 
 his death as during his life ; it has only 
 not been as much talked of, but that is 
 owing to its being now more distant, and 
 people having other writings to talk of. 
 Virgil is less talked of than Pope, and 
 Homer is less talked of than Virgil ; but 
 they are not less admired. We must 
 read what the world reads at the mo- 
 ment. It has been maintained that this 
 superfetation, this teeming of the press 
 
 in modern times, is prejudicial to good 
 literature, because it obliges us to read so 
 much of what is of inferiour value, in 
 order to be in the fashion ; so that better 
 works are neglected for want of time, 
 because a man will have more gratifica- 
 tion of his vanity in conversation, from 
 having read modern books than from 
 having read the best works of antiquity. 
 But it must be considered that we have 
 now more knowledge generally dilfused ; 
 all our ladies read now, which is a 
 great extension. — Modern writers are the 
 moons of literature ; they shine with 
 reflected light, with light borrowed from 
 the ancients. Greece appears to me to 
 be the fountain of knowledge ; Rome of 
 elegance." Ramsay. '* I suppose Ho- 
 mer's ' Iliad ' to be a collection of pieces 
 which had been written before his time. 
 I should like to see a translation of it in 
 poetical prose, like the book of Ruth or 
 Job." R0BF.RTS0N. *' Would you. Dr. 
 Johnson, who are master of the English 
 language, but try your hand upon a part 
 of it." Johnson. *' Sir, you could not 
 read it without the pleasure of verse*." 
 
 We talked of antiquarian researches. 
 Johnson. " All that is really known of 
 the ancient state of Britain is contained 
 in a few pages. We can know no more 
 than what the old writers have told us ; 
 yet what large books have we upon it, 
 the whole of which, excepting such parts 
 as are taken from those old writers, is 
 all a dream, such as Whitaker's ' Man- 
 chester.' I have heard Henry's * History 
 of Britain' well spoken of: I am told it 
 is carried on in separate divisions, as the 
 civil, the military, the religious history ; 
 I wish much to have one branch well 
 done, and that is the history of manners, 
 of common life." Robertson. ** Henry 
 should have applied his attention to that 
 alone, which is enough for any man ; and 
 he might have found a great deal scat- 
 tered in various books, had he read solely 
 with that view. Henry erred in not sell- 
 ing his first volume at a moderate price 
 to the booksellers, that they might have 
 pushed him on till he had got reputation. 
 I sold my 'History of Scotland' at a 
 moderate price, as a work by which the 
 booksellers might either gain or not ; and 
 Cadell has told me that Millar and he 
 have got six thousand pounds by it. I 
 afterwards received a much higher price 
 for my writings. An authour should sell 
 his first work for what the booksellers 
 
 * This experiment, which Madame Dacier 
 made in vain, has since been tried in our own 
 language, by the editor of " Ossian," and we 
 must either think very meanly of his abilities, 
 or allow that Dr. Johnson was in tlie riglit. 
 And Mr. Cowper, a man of real genius, has 
 miserably failed in his blank verse transla- 
 tion. 
 
432 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1778. 
 
 will give, till it shall appear whether he 
 is an authour of merit, or, which is the 
 same thing as to purchase-money, an 
 authour who pleases the publick." 
 
 Dr. Robertson expatiated on the cha- 
 racter of a certain nobleman ; that he 
 was one of the strongest minded men that 
 ever lived ; that he would sit in company 
 quite sluggish, while there was nothing 
 to call forth his intellectual vigour; but 
 the moment that any important subject 
 was started, for instance, how this coun- 
 try is to be defended against a French 
 invasion, he would rouse himself, and 
 show his extraordinary talents with the 
 most powerful ability and animation. 
 Johnson. " Yet this man cut his own 
 throat. The true strong and sound mind 
 is the mind that can embrace equally 
 great things and small. Now I am told 
 the King of Prussia will say to a servant, 
 * Bring me a bottle of such a wine, which 
 came in such a year ; it lies in such a 
 corner of the cellars.' I would have a 
 man gieat in great things, and elegant in 
 little things." He said to me afterwards, 
 when we were by ourselves, '* Robertson 
 was in a mighty romantick humour, he 
 talked of one whom he did not know; 
 but I downed him with the King of 
 Prussia." — " Yes, sir (said I), you threw 
 a bottle at bis head." 
 
 An ingenious gentleman was men- 
 tioned, concerning whom both Robertson 
 and Ramsay agreed that he had a con- 
 stant firmness of mind ; for after a labo- 
 rious day, and amidst a multiplicity of 
 cares and anxieties, he would sit down 
 with his sisters and be quite cheerful and 
 good humoured. Such a disposition, it 
 was observed, was a happy gift of nature. 
 Johnson. " I do not think so ; a man 
 has from nature a certain portion of 
 mind ; the use he makes of it depends 
 upon liis own free will. That a man has 
 alway»the same firmness of mind I do 
 not say ; because every man feels his 
 mind less firm at one time than another ; 
 but I think, a man's being in a good or 
 bad humour depends upon'his will." — I, 
 however, could not help thinking, that a 
 man's humour is often uncoiitrolable by 
 his will. 
 
 Johnson harangued against drinking 
 wine. " A man (said he) may choose 
 whether he will have abstemiousness and 
 knowledge, or claret and ignorance." 
 Dr. Robertson (who is very companion- 
 able) was beginning to dissent as to the 
 proscription of claret. Johnson (with a 
 placid smile). " Nay, sir, you shall not 
 differ with me ; as I have said that the 
 man is most perfect who takes in the 
 most things, 1 am, for knowledge and 
 claret." Robertson (holding a glass of 
 generous claret in his hand). ** Sir, I can 
 
 only drink your health." Johnson. ** Sir, 
 I should be sorry if you should be ever 
 in such a state as to be able to do nothing 
 more." Robertson. " Dr. Johnson, 
 allow me to say, that in one respect I 
 have the advantage of you ; when you 
 were in Scotland you would not come to 
 hear any of our preachers, whereas, when 
 I am here, I attend your publick worship 
 without scruple, and, indeed, with great 
 satisfaction." Johnson. " Why, sir, that 
 is not so extraordinary : the King of 
 Siam sent ambassadours to Louis the 
 Fourteenth ; but Louis the Fourteenth 
 sent none to the King of Siam *." 
 
 Here my friend for once discovered a 
 want of knowledge or forgetfulness ; for 
 Louis the Fourteenth did send an em- 
 bassy to the King of Siam +, and the 
 Abbe Choisi, who was employed in it, 
 published an account of it in two vo- 
 lumes. 
 
 Next day, Thursday, April 30, I found 
 him at home by himself. Johnson. 
 *• Well, sir, Ramsay gave us a splendid 
 dinner. I love Ramsay. You will not 
 find a man in whose conversation there 
 is more instruction, more information, 
 and more elegance than in Ramsay's." 
 BoswELL. " What I admire in Ramsay 
 is his continuing to be so young." John- 
 son. *' Why, yes, sir, it is to be admired. 
 I value myself upon this, that there is 
 nothing of the old man in my conversa- 
 tion. I am now sixty-eight, and I have 
 no more of it than at twenty-eight." 
 BoswELL. " But, sir, would not you wish 
 to know old age? He who is never an 
 old man docs not know the whole of 
 human life ; for old age is one of the 
 divisions of it." Johnson. " Nay, sir, 
 what talk is this?" Boswell. " I mean, 
 sir, the Sphinx's description of it; — 
 morning, noon, and night. I would 
 know night, as well as morning and 
 noon." Johnson. " What, sir, would 
 you know what it is to feel the evils of 
 old age? Would you have the gout? 
 Would you have decrepitude?" — Seeing 
 him heated, I would not argue any far- 
 ther; but I was confident that 1 was in 
 the right. I would, in due time, be a 
 Nestor, an elder of the people ; and 
 there should be some difference between 
 the conversation of twenty-eight and 
 sixty-eight j. A grave picture should not 
 
 • Mrs. Piozzi confidently mentions this n* 
 having paRsed in Scotland. " Anecdotes," 
 p. 62. 
 
 t [The Abbe de Choisi was sent by Louis 
 XIV. on an rmbasgy to the King of Siam in 
 1683, with a view, it lias been said, to convert 
 the Kina: of th.it connlry to Christianity. M.] 
 
 X [Johnson <'leaily meant (what the aiithoiir 
 has often elsewhere mentioned), that he bad 
 none of the listleo^ness of old age, that he 
 had the same activity and energy oj mind as 
 
yEXAT. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 be gay. There is a serene, solemn, pla- 
 cid old age. Johnson. " Mrs. Thralo's 
 mother said of me what flattered me 
 much. A clergyman was complainuig 
 of want of society in the country where 
 he lived ; and said, * They talk of runts ;' 
 (that is, young cows)*. ' Sir (said Mrs. 
 Salusbury), Mr. Johnson would learn to 
 talk of runts :' meaning that I was a man 
 who would make the most of my situa- 
 tion, whatever it was." He added, " I 
 think myself a very polite man." 
 
 On Saturday, May 2, I dined with 
 him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where 
 there was a very large company, and a 
 great deal of conversation ; but owing to 
 some circumstance which I cannot now 
 recollect, I have no record of any part of 
 it, except that there were several people 
 there by no means of the Johnsonian 
 school ; so that less attention was paid 
 to him than usual, which put him out of 
 humour; and upon some imaginary of- 
 fence from me, he attacked me with such 
 rudeness that I was vexed and angry, 
 because it gave those persons an oppor- 
 tunity of enlarging upon his supposed 
 ferocity, and ill treatment of his best 
 friends. I was so much hurt, and had 
 my pride so much roused, that I kept 
 away from him for a week ; and, perhaps, 
 might have kept away much longer, nay, 
 gone to Scotland without seeing him 
 again, had not we fortunately met and 
 been reconciled. To such unhappy 
 chances are human friendships liable. 
 
 On Friday, May 8, I dined with him 
 at Mr. Langton's. 1 was reserved and 
 silent, which I suppose he perceived, 
 and might recollect the cause. After 
 dinner, when Mr. Langton was called 
 out of the room, and we were by our- 
 selves, he drew his chair near to mine, 
 and said, in a tone of conciliating cour- 
 tesy, " Well, how have you doue?" Bos- 
 well. ** Sir, you have made me very 
 uneasy by your behaviour to me when 
 
 formerly; not that a man of sixty-eight might 
 dance in a publick assembly will) as miich 
 propriety as he could at twenty-eight. His 
 conversation, being the product of much vari- 
 ous knowledge, great acuteness, and extraor- 
 dinary wit, was equally well suited to every 
 period of life ; and as in his vouth it probably 
 did not exhibit any unbecoming levity, so 
 certainly in his later years it was totally free 
 from the garrulity and querulousness of old 
 age. M.] 
 
 * [Such is (he siguificahon of this word in 
 Scotland, and it should seem in Wales. fSee 
 Skinner in v.) But the heifers of Scotland 
 and Wales, when brought to England, being 
 always smaller than those of this country, the 
 word riinl has acquired a secondary sense, 
 and generally signifies a heifer diminutive in 
 size, small beyond the ordinary growth of 
 that animal ; and in this sense alone the word 
 is acknowledged by Dr. Johnson, in his Dic- 
 tionary. M.] 
 
 4S3 
 
 we were last at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. 
 You know, my dear sir, no man has a 
 greater respect and affection for you, or 
 would sooner go to the end of the world 
 to serve you. Now to treat me so — ." 
 He insisted that I had interrupted him, 
 which I assured him was not the case; 
 and proceeded — *' But why treat me so 
 before people who neither love j'ou nor 
 me?" Johnson. " Well, I am sorry for 
 it. I'll make it up to you twenty differ- 
 ent ways, as you please." Bosw^ell, ** I 
 said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he ob- 
 served that you tossed me sometimes — I 
 don't care how often, or how high, he 
 tosses me when only friends are present, 
 for then I fall upon soft ground : but I do 
 not like falling on stones, which is the 
 case when enemies are present. — I think 
 this is a pretty good image, sir." John- 
 son. ** Sir, it is one of the happiest I 
 have ever heard." 
 
 The truth is, there was no venom in 
 tiie wounds which he iijflicted at any- 
 time, unless they were irritated by some 
 malignant infusion by other hands. We 
 were instantly as cordial again as ever, 
 and joined in hearty laugh at some ludi- 
 crous but innocent peculiarities of one of 
 our friends. Boswell. " Do you think, 
 sir, it is always cnlpable to laugh at a 
 man to his face?" Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, that depends upon the man and the 
 thing. If it is a slight man and a slight 
 thing, you may ; for you take nothing 
 valuable from him." 
 
 He said, " I read yesterday Dr. Blair's 
 sermon on Devotion, from the text * Cor- 
 nelius, a devout man.' His doctrine is 
 the best limited, the best expressed : 
 there is the most warmth without fana- 
 ticism, the most rational transport. There 
 is one part of it which I disapprove, and 
 I'd have him correct it; which is, that 
 * he who does not feel joy in religion is 
 far from the kingdom of Heaven !' there 
 are many good men whose fear of God 
 predominates over their love. It may 
 discourage. It was rashly said. A noble 
 sermon it is indeed. I wish Blair would 
 come over to the Church of England." 
 
 When Mr. Langton returned to us, the 
 "flow of talk" went oti. An eminent 
 authour being mentioned; — Johnson. 
 " He is not a pleasant man. His con- 
 versation is neither instructive, nor bril- 
 liant. He does not talk as if impelled 
 by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity 
 of imagination. His conversation is like 
 that of any other .sensible man. He talks 
 with no wish either to inform or to hear, 
 but only because he thinks it does not be- 
 come to sit in a company 
 
 and say nothing." 
 
 Mr. Langton having repeated the anec- 
 dote of Addison having distinguished 
 FF 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 134 
 
 between his powers in conversation and 
 his writing, by saying, *' I have only 
 nine-pence in my pocket ; but I can 
 draw for a thousand pounds." — Johnson. 
 " He had that retort ready, sir ; he had 
 prepared it beforehand." Langton (turn- 
 ing to me). "A fine surmise. Set a thief 
 to catch a thief." 
 
 Jolmson called the East Indians bar- 
 barians. BoswELL. " You will except 
 the Chinese, sir?" Johnson. " No, sir." 
 BoswELL. "Have they not arts?" John- 
 son. " They have pottery." Boswell. 
 '* What do you say to the written cha- 
 racters of their language?" Johnson. 
 " Sir, they have not an alphabet. They 
 have not been able to form what all other 
 nations have formed." Boswell. ** There 
 is more learning in their language than 
 in any other, from the immense number 
 of their characters." — Johnson. ** It is 
 only more difficult from its rudeness ; as 
 there is more labour in hewing down a 
 tree with a stone than with an axe." 
 
 He said, *' I have been reading Lord 
 Kames's ' Sketches of the History of 
 Man.* In treating of severity of punish- 
 ment, he mentions that of Madame La- 
 pouchin, in Russia, but he does not give 
 it fairly ; for I have looked at Chappe 
 D'Auteroche, from whom he has taken 
 it. He stops where it is said that the 
 spectators thought her innocent, and 
 leaves out what follows ; that she never- 
 theless was guilty. Now this is being as 
 culpable as one can conceive, to misre- 
 present fact in a book, and for what mo- 
 tive? It is like one of those lies which 
 people tell, one cannot see why. The 
 woman's life was spared ; and no punish- 
 ment was too great for the favourite of an 
 Empress, who had conspired to dethrone 
 her mistress." Boswell. " He was only 
 giving a picture of the lady in her suffer- 
 ings.*' Johnson. '* Nay, don't endea- 
 vour to palliate this. Guilt is a princi- 
 pal feature in the picture. Karnes is 
 puzzled with a question that puzzled me 
 when I was a very young man. Why 
 is it that the interest of money is lower, 
 when money is plentiful; for five pounds 
 has the same proportion of value to a 
 hundred pounds when money is plentiful 
 as when it is scarce? A lady explained 
 it to me. * It is (said she) because when 
 money is plentiful there are so many 
 more who have money to len<l, that they 
 bid down one another. Many have then 
 a hundred pounds ; and one says, — Take 
 mine rather than another's, and you shall 
 have it at four per cent." Boswell. 
 '* Does Lord Karnes decide the ques- 
 tion ?" Johnson. "I think he leaves it 
 as he found it." Boswfli,. '* This must 
 have been an extraordinary lady who 
 instructed you, sir. May I ask who she 
 
 1778. 
 
 was?" Johnson. " Molly Aston*, sir, 
 the sister of those ladies with whom you 
 
 dined at Lichfield. 1 shall be at home 
 
 to-morrow." Boswell. *' Then let us 
 dine by ourselves at the Mitre, to keep 
 up the old custom, * the custom of the 
 manor,' custom of the Mitre." Johnson. 
 *' Sir, so it shall be." 
 
 On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our 
 purpose of dining by ourselves at the 
 Mitre, according to old custom. There 
 was, on these occasions, a little circum- 
 stance of kind attention to Mrs. Williams, 
 which must not be omitted. Before 
 coming out, and leaving her to dine 
 alone, he gave her her choice of a chicken, 
 a sweetbread, or any other little nice 
 thing, which was carefully sent to her 
 from the tavern, ready dressed. 
 
 Our conversation to-day, I know not 
 how, turned, I think for the only time at 
 any length, during our long acquaintance, 
 upon the sensual intercourse between the 
 sexes, the delight of which he ascribed 
 chiefly to imagination. " Were it not 
 for imagination, sir (said he), a man 
 would be as happy in the arms of a 
 Chambermaid as of a Duchess. But such 
 is the adventitious charm of fancy, that 
 we find men who have violated the best 
 principles of society, and ruined their 
 fame and their fortune, that they might 
 possess a woman of rank." It would not 
 be proper to record the particulars of 
 such a conversation in moments of unre- 
 served frankness, when nobody was pre- 
 sent on whom it could have any hurtful 
 effect. That subject, when philosophi- 
 cally treated, may surely employ the 
 mind in a curious discussion, and as in- 
 nocently, as anatomy ; provided that 
 
 * Johnson had an extraordinary atlmiration 
 of fhis iady, nolwithst^inding she was a vio- 
 lent Whig. In answer to her high flown 
 speeches for Liberty, he addressed to her tlie 
 following Epigram, of which I presume to 
 offer a translation: 
 
 " Lihor ul esse velim, snasisti, pulchra Maria; 
 Ut nianeam liber, pulchra Maria, vale." 
 
 Adieu, Maria! since you'd have me free; 
 For, who heholds thy charms a slave must be. 
 
 A correspondent of " The Gonflemao's Ma- 
 gazine,** who subscribes himself SciOLUs, to 
 whom I am indebted for several excellent 
 remarks, ol)serve8, " The turn of Dr. John- 
 son's lines to Miss Aston, whose Whig prin- 
 ciples he had been combating, appears to me 
 to be taken from an ingenious epigram in the 
 ' Mtiiagiava,'' [Vol. iii.~ p. 376, edit. 1716. J ou 
 a young lady who appeared at a masquerade, 
 hnbilUe in jcsnite, uuFing the Ikrce conten- 
 tions of the followers of Molinos and Janse- 
 nius concerning free will : 
 
 * On s'etonue ici que Caliste 
 Ait pris I'habit de Moliniste. 
 i'liisquc C€(te jeime beaule 
 0(<; a chacun sa hberte, 
 N'est ce pas une Janseriiste ?"' 
 
iETAT. 69. 
 
 those who do treat it keep clear of 
 inflammatory incentives. 
 
 ** From grave to gay, from lively to 
 severe," — we were soon engaged in very 
 different speculation ; humbly and reve- 
 rently considering and wondering at the 
 universal mystery of all things, as our 
 imperfect faculties can now judge of 
 them. " There are (said he) innumer- 
 able questions to which the inquisitive 
 mind can in this state receive no answer : 
 Why do you and I exist? Why was 
 this world created? Since it was to be 
 created, why was it not created sooner?" 
 
 On Sunday, May 10, I supped with 
 him at Mr. Hoole's, with Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. I have neglected the memo- 
 rial of this evening, so as to remember no 
 more of it than two particulars: one that 
 he strenuously opposed an argument by 
 Sir Joshua, that virtue was preferable to 
 vice, considering this life only ; and that 
 a man would be virtuous, were it only 
 to preserve his character : and that he 
 expressed much wonder at the curious 
 formation of the bat, a mouse with wings ; 
 saying, that it was almost as strange a 
 tiling in physiology as if the fabulous 
 dragon could be seen. 
 
 On Tuesday, May 12, I waited on the 
 Earl of Marchmont, to know if his Lord- 
 ship would favour Dr. Johnson with in- 
 formation concerning Pope, whose Life 
 he was about to write. Johnson had not 
 flattered himself with the hopes of receiv- 
 ing any civility from this nobleman ; for 
 he said to me, when I mentioned Lord 
 Marchmont as one who could tell him a 
 great deal about Pope, — " Sir, he will 
 tell me nothing." I had the honour of 
 being known to his Lordship, and applied 
 to him of myself, without being commis- 
 sioned by Johnson. His Lordsiiip be- 
 haved in the most polite and obliging 
 manner, promised to tell all he recol- 
 lected about Pope, and was so very 
 courteous as to say, " Tell Dr. Johnson, 
 I have a great respect for him, and am 
 ready to show it in any way I can. I 
 am to be in the city to-morrow, and will 
 call at his house as I return." His Lord- 
 ship however asked, " Will he write the 
 Lives of the Poets impartially? He was 
 the first that brought Whig and Tory into 
 a Dictionary. And what do you think of 
 his definition of Excise? Do you know 
 the history of his aversion to the word 
 transpire r' Then taking down the 
 folio Dictionary, he showed it with this 
 censure on its secondary sense : '* * To 
 escape from secrecy to notice ; a sense 
 lately innovated from France, without 
 necessity.' The truth was. Lord Boling- 
 broke, who left the Jacobites, first used 
 it ; therefore it was to be condemned. 
 He should have shown what word would 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 436 
 
 do for it, if it was unnecessary." I 
 
 afterwards put the question to Johnson : 
 '* Why, sir (said he), get abroad." Bos- 
 WELi,. " That, sir, is using two words." 
 Johnson. " Sir, there is no end of this. 
 You may as well insist to have a word 
 for old age." Boswell. " Well, sir, 
 Senectus." Johnson. ** Nay, sir, to 
 insist always that there should be one 
 word to express a thing in English, be- 
 cause there is one in another language, is 
 to change the language." 
 
 I availed myself of this opportunity to 
 hear from his Lordship many particulars 
 both of Pope and Lord Bolingbroke, 
 which I have in writing. 
 
 I proposed to Lord Marchmont, that 
 he should revise Johnson's Life of Pope : 
 " So (said his Lordship) you would put 
 me in a dangerous situation. "You know he 
 knocked down Osborne, the bookseller." 
 
 Elated with the success of my sponta- 
 neous exertion to procure material and 
 respectable aid to Johnson for his very 
 favourite work, *' the Lives of the Poets," 
 I hastened down to Mr. Thrale's at Strea- 
 tham, where he now was, that I might 
 insure his being at home next day ; and 
 after dinner, when I thought he would 
 receive the good news in the best humour, 
 I announced it eagerly: ** I have been 
 at work for you to-day, sir. I have been 
 with Lord Marchmont. He bade me 
 tell you, he has a great respect for you, 
 and will call on you to-morrow, at one 
 o'clock, and communicate all he knows 
 about Pope." — Here I paused, in full 
 expectation that he would be pleased 
 with this intelligence, would praise my 
 active merit, and would be alert to em- 
 brace such an offer from a nobleman. 
 But whether I had shown an over exul- 
 tation, which provoked his spleen ; or 
 whether he was seized with a suspicion 
 that I had obtruded him on Lord March- 
 mont, and humbled him too much ; or 
 whether there was any thing more than 
 an unlucky fit of ill humour, I know not ; 
 but, to my surprise, the result was, — 
 Johnson. " I shall not be in town to- 
 morrow. I don't care to know about 
 Pope." Mrs. Thrale (surprised as I . 
 was, and a little angry). "I suppose, sir, 
 Mr. Boswell thought, as you are to write 
 Pope's Life, you would wish to know 
 about him." Johnson. *' Wish ! why 
 yes. If it rained knowledge, I'd hold 
 out my hand ; but I would not give my- 
 self the trouble to go in quest of it." 
 There was no arguing with him at the 
 moment. Some time afterwards he said, 
 " Lord Marchmont will call on mtv and 
 then I shall call on Lord Marchii.ont." 
 Mrs. Thrale was uneasy U this unac- 
 countable caprice ; and told me, that if 
 I did not take care to bring about \ 
 
430 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ineetiug between Lord Marchmoiit and 
 him, it would never take place, which 
 would be a great pity. I sent a card 
 to his Lordship, to be left at Johnson's 
 house, acquainting him that Dr. Johnson 
 could not be in town next day, but would 
 do himself the honour of waiting on him 
 at another time. — I give this account 
 fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy 
 temper with which this great and good 
 man had occasionally to struggle, from 
 something morbid in his constitution. 
 I^et the most censorious of my readers 
 suppose himself to have a violent lit of 
 the toothach, or to have received a severe 
 stroke on the shin bone, and when in 
 such a state to be asked a question ; and 
 if he has any candour, he will not be 
 surprised at the answers which Johnson 
 sometimes gave in moments of irritation, 
 which, let me assure them, is exquisitely 
 painful. But it must not be erroneously 
 supposed that he was, in the smallest 
 degree, careless concerning any work 
 which he undertook, or that he was ge- 
 nerally thus peevish. It will be seen 
 that in the following year he had a very 
 agreeable interview with Lord March- 
 mont, at his Lordship's house ; and this 
 very afternoon he soon forgot any fretful- 
 ness, and fell into conversation as usual. 
 I mentioned a reflection having been 
 throw"h out against four Peers for having 
 presumed to rise in opposition to the 
 opinion of the twelve Judges, in a cause 
 in the House of Lords, as if that were 
 indecent. Johnson. ** Sir, there is no 
 ground for censure. The Peers are Judges 
 themselves : and supposing them really 
 to be of a ditferent opinion, they might 
 from duty be in opposition to the Judges, 
 who were there only to be consulted." 
 
 In this observation I fully concurred 
 with him ; for unquestionably all the 
 Peers are vested with the highest judi- 
 cial powers ; and when they are not con- 
 fident that they understand a cause, are 
 not obliged, nay ought not, to acquiesce 
 in the opinion of the ordinary Law Judges, 
 or even in that of those who from their 
 studies and experience are called the 
 Law Lords. 1 consider the Peers in 
 general as I do a Jury, who ought to 
 listen with respectful attention to the 
 sages of the law; but, if after hearing 
 them, they have a firm opinion of their 
 own, are bound, as honest men, to decide 
 accordingly. Nor is it so ditficult for 
 them to understand even law questions, 
 as is generally thought; provided they 
 will bestow sivtllcient attention upon them. 
 This observation was made by my ho- 
 noured relation to the late Lord Catlicart, 
 who had spent his life in camps and 
 courts ; yet assured njc, that he could 
 form a clear opinion upon most of the 
 
 causes that came before the House 
 Lord, " as they were so well enucleated 
 in the Cases." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale told us, that a curious 
 clergyman of our acquaintance had dis- 
 covered a licentious stanza, which Pope 
 had originally in his" Universal Prayer," 
 before the stanza, 
 
 *' What conscience dictates to be done. 
 Or warns us not to do," &c. 
 
 It was this : 
 ** Can sins of moment claim the rod 
 
 Of everlasiin? tires? 
 And that offend great Nature's God 
 
 Whicli Nature's self inspires!" 
 
 and that Dr. Johnson observed, " it had 
 been borrowed from Guarini." There 
 are, indeed, in Pastor Fido, many such 
 flimsy superficial reasonings, as that in 
 the last two lines of this stanza. 
 
 BoswELL,. " In that stanza of Pope's, 
 'rod of fires,'' is certainly a bad meta- 
 phor." Mrs. Thrale. ** And ' sins of 
 moment ' is a faulty expression ; for its 
 true import is momentous, which cannot 
 be intended." Johnson. " It must have 
 been written * of moments.' Of moment, 
 is momentous ; of mome?ifs, momentary. 
 I warrant you, however. Pope wrote this 
 stanza, and some friend struck it out. 
 Boileau wrote some such thing, and 
 Arnaud struck it out, saying, * Vous 
 yaynerez deux on trois impics, et per- 
 drez je ne sgais combien des honnettes 
 gensi' These fellows want to say a daring 
 thing, and don't know how to go about 
 it. Mere poets know no more of funda- 
 mental principles than—" Here he was 
 interrupted somehow. Mrs. Thrale men- 
 tioned Dryden. Johnson. " He puzzled 
 himself about predestination. — How fool- 
 ish was it in Pope to give all his friend- 
 ship to Lords, who thought they honoured 
 him by being with him ; and to choose 
 such Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, 
 and Bolingbroke? Bathurst was nega- 
 tive, a pleasing man ; and I have heard 
 no ill of Marchmont;— and then always 
 saying, * I do not value you for being a 
 Lord;' which was a sure proof that he 
 did. I never say, I do not value Boswell 
 more for being born to an estate, because 
 I do not care." Boswell. " Nor for 
 being a Scotchman?" Johnson. " Nay, 
 sir, I do value you more for being a 
 Scotchman. You are a Scotchman with- 
 out the faults of Scotchmen. You would 
 not have been so valuable as you are, had 
 you not been a Scotchman." 
 
 Talking of divorces, I asked if Othello's 
 doctrine was not plausible ; 
 •' He that is robb'd, not wanting what is 
 
 Let him not iinow't, and he's not robb'd at 
 
 all." 
 Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale joined 
 
.«TAT. 69. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 against this. Johnson. " Ask any man 
 if he'd wish not to know of such an in- 
 jury." BoswELL,. " Would you tell your 
 friend to make him unhappy?" John- 
 son. " Perhaps, sir, I should not ; but 
 that would be from prudence on my own 
 account. A man would tell his father." 
 BoswELL. ** Yes ; because he would not 
 have spurious children to get any share 
 of the family inheritance." Mrs. Thrale. 
 **Orhe would tell his brother." Boswell. 
 ** Certainly his elder brother." John- 
 son. " You v/ould tell your friend of a 
 woman's infamy, to prevent his marry- 
 ing a whore : there is the same reason to 
 i tell him of his wife's intidelity, when he 
 is married, to prevent the consequences 
 of imposition. It is a breach of confi- 
 dence not to tell a friend." Boswell. 
 
 *' Would you tell Mr. (naming a 
 
 gentleman who assuredly was not in the 
 least danger of such a miserable disgrace, 
 though married to a fine woman) ?" John- 
 son. "No, sir; because it would do no 
 good : he is so sluggish, he'd never go to 
 parliament and get through a divorce." 
 
 He said of one of our friends, " He is 
 ruininghimself without pleasure. A man 
 who loses at play, or who runs out his 
 fortune at court, makes his estate less, in 
 hopes of making it bigger (I am sure of 
 this word, which was often used by 
 him) : but it is a sad thing to pass through 
 the quagmire of parsimony to the gulf of 
 ruin. To pass over the flowery path of 
 extravagance is very well." 
 
 Amongst the numerous prints pasted 
 on the walls of the dining room at Strea- 
 tham,was Hogarth's" Modern Midnight 
 Conversation." I asked him what he 
 knew of Parson Ford, who makes a 
 conspicuous figure in the riotous group. 
 Johnson. ** Sir, he was my acquaintance 
 and relation, my mother's nephew. He 
 had purchased a living in the country, 
 but not simoniacally. I never saw him 
 but in the country. I have been told he 
 was a man of great parts ; very profli- 
 gate, but I never heard he was impious." 
 Boswell. " W^as there not a story of his 
 ghost having appeared?" Johnson. " Sir, 
 it was believed. A waiter at the Hum- 
 mums, in which house Ford died, had 
 been absent for some time, and returned, 
 not knowing that Ford was dead. Going 
 down to the cellar, according to the 
 story, he met him ; going down again, 
 he met him a second time. When he 
 came up, he asked some of the people 
 of the house what Ford could be doing 
 there. They told him Ford was dead. 
 The waiter took a fever, in which he lay 
 for some time. When he recovered he 
 said he had a message to deliver to some 
 women from Ford ; but he was not to 
 tell what, or to whom. He walked out ; 
 
 4S7 
 
 he was followed ; but somewhere about 
 St. Paul's they lost him. He came back, 
 and said he had delivered the message, 
 and the women exclaimed, * Then we 
 are all undone!' Dr. Pellet, who was 
 not a credulous man, inquired into the 
 truth of this story, and he said, the evi- 
 dence was irresistible. My wife went to 
 the Hummums (it is a place where peo- 
 ple get themselves cupped). I believe 
 she went with the intention to hear about 
 this story of Ford. At first they were 
 unwilling to tell her ; but, after they had 
 talked to her, she came away satisfied 
 that it was true. To be sure, the man 
 had a fever ; and this vision may have 
 been the beginning of it. But if the mes- 
 sage to the women, and their behaviour 
 upon it, were true as related, there was 
 something supernatural. That rests upon 
 his word ; and there it remains." 
 
 After Mrs. Thrale was gone to bed, 
 Johnson and I sat up late. We resumed 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's argument on the 
 preceding Sunday, that a man would be 
 virtuous, though he had no other motive 
 than to preserve his character. JoiiNSON. 
 " Sir, it is not true : for, as to this world, 
 vice does not hurt a man's character." 
 Boswell. *' Yes, sir,debauching a friend's 
 wife will." Johnson. " No, sir. Who 
 thinks the worse of   for it?" Bos- 
 well. " Lord was not his friend." 
 
 Johnson. " That is only a circumstance, 
 sir; a slight distinction. He could not 
 
 get into the house but by Lord , 
 
 A man is chosen Knight of the shire, not 
 the less for having debauched ladies." 
 Boswell. "What, sir, if he debauched 
 the ladies of gentlemen in the county, 
 will not there be a general resentment 
 against him?" Johnson. " No, sir. He 
 will lose those particular gentlemen ; but 
 the rest will not trouble their heads about 
 it (warmly)." Boswell. " Well, sir, I 
 cannot think so." Johnson. " Nay, sir, 
 there is no talking with a man who will 
 dispute what every body knows (angrily). 
 Don't you know this?" Boswell. " No, 
 sir; and I wish to think better of your 
 country than you represent it. I knew 
 in Scotland a gentleman obliged to leave 
 it for debauching a lady ; and in one of 
 our counties an Earl's brother lost his 
 election, because he had debauched the 
 lady of another Earl in that county, and 
 destroyed the peace of a noble family." 
 
 Still he would not yield. H'e pro- 
 ceeded : " Will you not allow, sir, that 
 vice does not hurt a man's character so 
 as to obstruct his prosperity in life, when 
 
 you know that was loaded 
 
 with wealth and honours ; a man who 
 had acquired his fortune by such crimes 
 that his consciousness of them impelled 
 him to cut his own throat?" Boswell, 
 
438 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " You will recollect, sir, that Dr. Ro- 
 bertson said he cut his throat because he 
 was weary of still life; little things not 
 being sufficient to move his great mind." 
 Johnson (very angry). " Nay, sir, what 
 atuflf is this? You had no more this opi- 
 nion after Robertson said it than before. 
 I know nothing more ott'ensive than re- 
 peating what one knows to be foolish 
 things, by way of continuing a dispute, 
 to see what a man will answer, — to make 
 him your butt (angrier still) !" Boswell. 
 *' My dear sir, I had no such intention 
 as you seem to suspect : I had not indeed. 
 Might not this nobleman have felt every 
 thing * weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,' 
 as Hamlet says?" Johnson. " Nay, if you 
 are to bring in gabble, I'll talk no more. 
 I will not, upon my honour." — My 
 readers will decide upon this dispute. 
 
 Next morning I stated to Mrs. Thrale 
 at breakfast, before he came dow^n, the 
 dispute of last night as to the influence 
 of character upon success in life. She 
 said he was certainly wrong ; and told 
 me that a Baronet lost an election in 
 Wales, because he had debauched the 
 sister of a gentleman in the county, 
 whom he made one of his daughters in- 
 vite as her companion at his seat in the 
 country, when his lady and his other 
 children were in London. But she would 
 not encounter Johnson upon the subject. 
 
 I staid all this day with him at Strea- 
 tham. He talked a great deal in very 
 good humour. 
 
 Looking at Messrs. Dilly's splendid 
 edition of Lord Chesterfield's miscella- 
 neous works, he laughed, and said, " Here 
 are now two speeches ascribed to him, 
 both of which were written by me: and 
 the best of it is, they have found out that 
 one is like Demosthenes, and the other 
 like Cicero." 
 
 He censured Lord Karnes's " Sketches 
 of the History of Man," for misrepresent- 
 ing Clarendon's account of the appear- 
 ance of Sir George Villiers's ghost, as if 
 Clarendon were weakly credulous ; when 
 the truth is that Clarendon only says, 
 that the story was upon a better foun- 
 dation of credit than usually such dis- 
 courses are founded upon ; nay, speaks 
 thus of the person who was reported to 
 have seen the vision, " the poor man, {f 
 he had been at all wakiny ;'' which 
 Lord Karnes has omitted. He added, 
 " In this book it is mantained that virtue 
 is natural to man, and, that if we would 
 but consult our own hearts, we should be 
 virtuous. Now after consulting our own 
 hearts all we can, and with all the helps 
 we have, we find how few of us are vir- 
 tuous. This is saying a thing which all 
 mankind know not to be true." Bos- 
 well. ** Is not modesty natural ?" John- 
 
 17; 
 
 SON. " I cannot say, sir, as we find no 
 people quite in a state of nature; but I 
 think, the more they are taught the more 
 modest they are. The French are a gross, 
 ill bred, untaught people ; a lady there 
 will spit on the floor and rub it with her 
 foot. What I gained by being in France 
 was, learning to be better satisfied with 
 my own country. Time may be em- 
 ployed to more advantage from nineteen 
 to twenty-four, almost in any way than 
 in travelling; when you set travelling 
 against mere negation, against doing no- 
 thing, it is better, to be sure ; but how 
 much more would a young man improve 
 were he to study during those years. 
 Indeed, if a young man is wild, and must 
 run after women and bad company, it is 
 better this should be done abroad, as, on 
 his return, he can break off such con- 
 nexions, and begin at home a new man, 
 with a character to form, and acquaint- 
 ances to make. How little does travel- 
 ling supply to the conversation of any 
 man who has travelled ; how little to 
 Beauclerk?" Boswell. ** What say yon 
 
 to Lord V Johnson. '* I never 
 
 but once heard him talk of what he had 
 seen, and that was of a large serpent 
 in one of the Pyramids of Egypt." 
 Boswell. " Well, I happened to hear 
 him tell the same thing, which made me 
 mention him." 
 
 I talked of a country life. — Johnson. 
 '* Were I to live in the country, I would 
 not devote myself to the acquisition of 
 pc^pularity ; I would live in a much bet- 
 ter way, much more happily ; I would 
 have my time at my own command." 
 Boswell. " But, sir, is it not a sad thing 
 to be at a distance from all our literary 
 friends?" Johnson. ** Sir, you will by 
 and by have enough of this conversation, 
 which now delights you so much." 
 
 As he was a zealous friend of subordi- 
 nation, he was at all times watchful to 
 repress the vulgar cant against the man- 
 ners of the great: " High people, sir 
 (said he), are the best ; take a hundred 
 ladies of quality, you'll find them better 
 wives, better mothers, more willing to 
 sacrifice their own pleasure to their chil- 
 dren, than a hundred other women. 
 Tradeswomen (I mean the wives of 
 tradesmen) in the city, who are worth 
 from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are 
 the worst creatures upon the earth, grossly 
 ignorant, and thinking viciousnoss fa- 
 shionable. Farmers, I think, are often 
 worthless fellows. Few lords will cheat j 
 and if they do, they'll be ashamed of it : 
 farmers cheat, and are not ashamed of it : 
 they have all the sensual vices too of the 
 nobility, with cheating into the bargain. 
 There is as much fornication and adultery 
 amongst farmers as amongst noblemen. 
 
^TAT. (59. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 BoswELL. " The notion of the world, sir, 
 however, is, that the morals of women 
 of quality are worse than those in lower 
 stations." Johnson. " Yes, sir, the licen- 
 tiousness of one woman of quality makes 
 more noise than that of a number of wo- 
 men in lower stations ; then, sir, you are 
 to consider the malignity of women in 
 the city against women of quality, which 
 will make them believe any thing of 
 them, such as that they call their coach- 
 men to bed. No, sir, so far as I have 
 observed, the higher in rank, the richer 
 ladies are, they are the better instructed 
 and the more virtuous," 
 
 This year the Reverend Mr. Home 
 published his *' Letter to Mr. Dunning, 
 on the English Particle ;" Johnson read 
 it, and though not treated in it with suffi- 
 cient respect, he had candour enough to 
 say to Mr. Sewai"d, " Were I to make a 
 new edition of my Dictionary, I would 
 adopt several* of Mr. Home's etymolo- 
 gies ; I hope they did not put the dog in 
 the pillory for his libel ; he has too much 
 literature for that." 
 
 On Saturday, May 16, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Beaucierk's, with Mr. Lang- 
 ton, Mr. Steevens, Dr. Higgins, and 
 some others. I regret very feelingly 
 every instance of my remissness in re- 
 cording his memorabilia ; I am afraid 
 it is the condition of humanity (as Mr. 
 Windham, of Norfolk, once observed to 
 me, after having made an admirable 
 speech in the House of Commons, which 
 was highly applauded, but which he 
 afterwards perceived might have been 
 better), " that we are more uneasy from 
 thinking of our wants than happy in 
 thinking of our acquisitions." This is 
 an unreasonable mode of disturbing our 
 tranquillity, and should be corrected ; 
 let me then comfort myself with the large 
 treasure of Johnson's conversation which 
 I have preserved for my own enjoyment 
 and that of the world, and let me exhibit 
 what I have upon each occasion, whether 
 a bulse or only a few sparks of a dia- 
 njond. 
 
 He said, " Dr. Mead lived more in the 
 broad sunshine of life than almost any 
 man." 
 
 The disaster of General Burgoyne's 
 army was then the common to pick of 
 conversation. It was asked why piling 
 their arms was insisted upon as a matter 
 
 * In Mr. Home Tooke's enlargement of 
 that ** Letter," which he has since published 
 with the title of " ETrca TTTEpocvTa ; or, the 
 Diversions of Piirley ;" he mentions this com- 
 pliment, as if Dr. Johnson instead oi several 
 of his etymoloijies had said all. His recollec- 
 tion having thus magnified it shows how am- 
 bitious he was of the approbation of so great 
 ^ mao. 
 
 439 
 
 of such consequence when it seemed to 
 be a circumstance so inconsiderable in 
 itself. Johnson. " Why, sir, a French 
 authour says, ' II y a beaucoup de ptie- 
 rilitcs dans la guerre.' All distinctions 
 are trifles, because great things can sel- 
 dom occur, and those distinctions are 
 settled by custom. A savage would as 
 willingly have his meat sent to him in 
 the kitchen as eat it at the table here : 
 as men become civilized, various modes 
 of denoting honourable preference are 
 invented." 
 
 He this day made the observations 
 upon the similarity between " Rasselas" 
 and " Candide" : which I have inserted 
 in its proper place when considering his 
 admirable philosophical Romance. He 
 said " Candide " he thought had more 
 power in it than any thing that Voltaire 
 had written. 
 
 He said, " The lyrical part of Horace 
 never can be perfectly translated ; so 
 much of excellence is in the numbers and 
 the expression. Francis has done it the 
 best ; I'll take his, five out of six, against 
 them all." 
 
 On Sunday, May 17, I presented to 
 him Mr. Fullarton. of Fullarton, who has 
 since distinguished himself so much in 
 India, to whom he naturally talked of 
 travels, as Mr. Brydone accompanied 
 him in his tour to Sicily and Malta. 
 He said, " The information which we 
 have from modern travellers is much 
 more authentick than what we had from 
 ancient travellers ; ancient travellers 
 guessed ; modern travellers measure. The 
 Swiss admit that there is but one errour 
 in Stanyan. If Brydone were more at- 
 tentive to his Bible, he would be a good 
 traveller." 
 
 He said, " Lord Chatham was a Dic- 
 tator ; he possessed the power_of putting 
 the State in motion; now there is no 
 power, all order is relaxed." Bcswell. 
 " Is there no hope of a change to the 
 better?" Johnson. " Why, yes, sir, 
 when we are weary of this relaxation. 
 So the City of London will appoint its 
 Mayors again by seniority." Boswell. 
 " But is not that taking a mere chance 
 for having a good or a bad Mayor?" 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir, but the evil of com- 
 petition is greater than that of the worst 
 Mayor that can come ; besides, there is 
 no more reason to suppose that the choice 
 of a rabble will be right than that chance 
 will be right." 
 
 On Tuesday, May 19, 1 W'as to set out 
 for Scotland in the evening. He was en- 
 gaged to dine with me at Mr. Dilly's ; I 
 waited upon him to remind him of his 
 appointment and attend him thither ; he 
 gave me some salutary counsel, and re- 
 commended vigorous resolution against 
 
 ^^: 
 
440 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 any deviation from moral duty. Bos- 
 well. " But you would not have me to 
 bind myself by a solemn obligation?" 
 Johnson (much agitated). "What! a 
 vow — O, no, sir, a vow is a horrible 
 thing; it is a snare for sin. The man 
 •who cannot go to heaven without a vow 
 — may go — ." Here, standing erect in 
 the middle of his library, and rolling 
 grand, his pause was truly a curious com- 
 pound of the solemn and the ludicrous ; 
 he half whistled in his usual way when 
 pleasant, and he paused as if checked by 
 a religious awe. — Methought he would 
 have added — to Hell — but was restrained. 
 I humoured the dilemma. " What! sir 
 (said I), ' In ccelum jusseris ibit J"' al- 
 luding to his imitation of it, 
 " And bid him go to Hell, to Hell he goes." 
 I had mentioned to him a slight fault 
 in his noble " Imitation of the Tenth 
 Satire of Juvenal," a too near recur- 
 rence of the verb spread, in his descrip- 
 tion of the young Enthusiast at College : 
 
 " Through all his veins the fever of renown 
 Spreads from the strong cont.igion of the 
 
 gown; 
 O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread. 
 And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head." 
 
 He had desired me to change spreads 
 to burns, but for perfect authenticity I 
 now had it done with his own hand *. I 
 thought this alteration not only cured the 
 fault, but was poetical, as it might carry 
 an allusion to the shirt by which Her- 
 cules was inflamed. 
 
 We had a quiet comfortable meeting 
 at Mr. Dilly's ; nobody there but our- 
 selves. Mr. Dilly mentioned somebody 
 having wished that Milton's " Tractate 
 on Education" should be printed along 
 with his Poems in the edition of the Eng- 
 lish Poets then going on. Johnson, "It 
 would be breaking in upon the plan ; but 
 would be of no great consequence. So 
 far as it would be any thing, it would be 
 wrong. Education in England has been 
 in danger of being hurt by two of its 
 greatest men, Milton and Locke. Mil- 
 ton's plan is impracticable, and I sup- 
 pose has never been tried. Locke's, I 
 fancy, has been tried often enough, but 
 is very imperfect; it gives too much to 
 one side, and too little to the other; it 
 gives too little to literature— I shall do 
 what I can for Dr. Watts; but my ma- 
 terials are very scanty. His poems are 
 by no means his best works; I cannot 
 praise his poetry itself highly ; but I can 
 praise its design." 
 
 * The slip of paper on \\hicli he made the 
 correction is depositeil by me in the noble 
 library to which it relates, and to which I 
 have presented other pieces of his handwrit- 
 
 My illustrious friend and I parted with 
 assurances of atfectionate regard. 
 
 I wrote to him on the 25th of May, 
 from Thorpe in Yorkshire, one of the 
 seats of Mr. Bosville, and gave an ac- 
 count of my having passed a day at Lin- 
 coln unexpectedly, and therefore without 
 having any letters of introduction, but 
 that I had been honoured with civilities 
 from the Rev. Mr. Simpson, an acquaint- 
 ance of his, and Captain Broadley, of the 
 Lincolnshire Militia; but more particu- 
 larly from the Rev. Dr. Gordon, the 
 Chancellor, who first received me with 
 great politeness as a stranger, and, when 
 I informed him who I was, entertained 
 me at his house with the most flattering 
 attention ; I also expressed the pleasure 
 with which I had found that our worthy 
 friend, Langton, was highly esteemed in 
 his oWn country town. 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, June 18, 1778. 
 *' MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Since my return to Scotland, I have 
 been again at Lanark, and have had more 
 conversation with Thomson's sister. It 
 is strange that Murdoch, who was his in- 
 timate friend, should have mistaken his 
 mother's maiden name, which he says 
 was Hume, whereas Hume was the name 
 of his grandmother by the mother's side. 
 His mother's name was Beatrix Trotter t, 
 a daughter of Mr. Trotter, of Fogo, a 
 small proprietor of land. Thomson had 
 one brother, whom he had with him in 
 England as his amanuensis ; but he was 
 seized with a consumption, and having 
 returned to Scotland, to try what his 
 native air would do for him, died young. 
 He had three sisters; one married to 
 Mr. Bell, minister of the parish of Strat- 
 haven ; one to Mr. Craig, father of the 
 ingenious architect, who gave the plan of 
 the New Town of Edinburgh ; and one 
 to Mr. Thomson, master of the grammar 
 school at Lanark. He was of a humane 
 and benevolent disposition ; not only 
 sent valuable presents to his sisters ; but 
 a yearly allowance in money, and was 
 always wishing to have it in his power 
 to do them more good. Lord Lytielton's 
 observation, that * he loathed much to 
 write,' was very true. His letters to his 
 sister, Mrs. Thomson, were not frequent, 
 and in one of them he says, 'All my 
 friends who know me know how back- 
 ward I am to write letters ; and never 
 impute the negligence of my hand to the 
 coldness of my heart.' I send you a 
 
 t Dr. Jolinson was by no means attentive 
 to minute accuracy in his " Lives of the 
 l-'ofts;" for notwithstanding my having de- 
 tected thiK mistake, he has continued it. 
 
JEtkt. C9. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 441 
 
 copy of the last letter which she had 
 from him ; she never heard that he had 
 any intention of going into holy orders. 
 From this late interview with his sister, 
 I think much more favourably of him, as 
 I hope you will. I am eager to see more 
 of your Prefaces to the Poets ; I solace 
 myself with the few proof sheets which 
 I have. 
 
 " I send another parcel of Lord Hailes's 
 * Annals,' which you will please to return 
 to me as soon as you conveniently can. 
 He says, * he wishes you would cut a 
 little deeper ;' but he may be proud that 
 there is so little occasion to use the criti- 
 cal knife. 
 
 " I ever am, my dear sir, 
 
 ** Your faithful and affectionate 
 " humble servant, . 
 
 " James Boswell Jr 
 
 Mr. Langton has been pleased, at my 
 request, to favour me with some parti- 
 culars of Dr. Johnsqrj's visit to Warley 
 Camp, where this gentleman was at the 
 time stationed as a Captain in the Lin- 
 colnshire militia. I shall give them in 
 his own words in a letter to me. 
 
 *' It was in the summer of the year 
 1778, that he complied with my invita- 
 tion to come down to the Camp at War- 
 ley, and he staid with me about a week ; 
 the scene appeared, notwithstanding a 
 great degree of ill health that he seemed 
 to labour under, to interest and amuse 
 him, as agreeing with the disposition that 
 I believe you know he constantly mani- 
 fested towards inquiring into subjects of 
 the military kind. He sat, with a patient 
 degree of attention, to observe the pro- 
 ceedings of a regimental court martial, 
 that happened to be called in the time of 
 his slay with us ; and one night, as late 
 as at eleven o'clock, he accompanied the 
 Major of the regiment in going what are 
 styled the Rounds, where he might ob- 
 serve the forms of visiting the guards, for 
 the seeing that they and their sentries are 
 ready in their duty on their several posts. 
 He took occasion to converse at times on 
 military topicks, one in particular that I 
 see the mention of in your ' Journal of a 
 Tour to the Hebrides,' which lies open 
 before me *, as to gunpowder ; which he 
 spoke of to the same effect, in part, that 
 you relate. 
 
 " On one occasion, when the regiment 
 were going through their exercise, he 
 went quite close to the men at one of the 
 extremities of it, and watched all their 
 practices attentively ; and, when he came 
 away, his remark was, * The men, in- 
 deed, do load their musquets and fire 
 with wonderful celerity.' He was like- 
 
 * Thiid Edition, p, ill. 
 
 wise particular in requiring to know what 
 was the weight of the musquet balls in 
 use, and within what distance they might 
 be expected to take effect when fired 
 off. 
 
 " In walking among the tents, and 
 observing the difference between those of 
 the officers and private men, he said, that 
 the superiority of accommodation of the 
 better conditions of life, to that of the 
 inferiour ones, was never exhibited to 
 him in so distinct a view. The civilities 
 paid to him in the camp were from the 
 gentlemen of the Lincolnshire regiment, 
 one of the officers of which accommo- 
 dated him with a tent in which he slept ; 
 and from General Hall, who very courte- 
 ously invited him to dine with him, where 
 he appeared to be very well pleased with 
 his entertainment, and the civilities he 
 received on the part of the General t ; 
 the attention likewise of the GeneraPs 
 aide-de-camp. Captain Smith, seemed to 
 be very welcome to him, as appeared by 
 their engaging in a great deal of discourse 
 together. The gentlemen of the East York 
 regiment likewise, on being informed of 
 his coming, solicited his company at din- 
 ner, but by that time he had fixed his 
 departure, so that he could not comply 
 with the invitation." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I HA.VE received two letters from yon, 
 of which the second complains of the 
 neglect shown to the first. You must 
 not tie your friends to such punctual 
 correspondence. You have all possible 
 assurances of my affection and esteem ; 
 and there ought to be no need of reiter- 
 ated professions. When it may happen 
 that I can give you either counsel or 
 comfort, I hope it will never happen to 
 me that I should neglect you ; but you 
 must not think me criminal or cold if I 
 say nothing when I have nothing to say. 
 
 " You are now happy enough. Mrs. 
 Boswell is recovered ; and I congratulate 
 you upon the probability of her long life. 
 If general approbation will add any thin^ 
 to your enjoyment, 1 can tell you that I 
 have heard you mentioned as a 'man 
 whom every body likes. I think life has 
 little more to give. 
 
 " has gone to his regiment. 
 
 He has laid down his coach, and talks of 
 making more contractions of his expense : 
 how he will succeed I know not. It is 
 difficult to reform a household gradually; 
 it may be better done by a system totally 
 
 + When I one day at Court expressed to 
 General Hall mv sense of the honour he had 
 done my friend," lie pn\itc\y answered, " Sir» 
 I did /wy^e// honour." 
 
442 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 n«vv. I am afraid he has always some- 
 thing to hide. When we pressed him to 
 
 go to , he objected tlie necessity 
 
 of attending his navigation ; yet he could 
 talk of going to Aberdeen, a place not 
 much nearer his navigation. I believe 
 he cannot bear the thought of living at 
 
 in a state of diminution ; and of 
 
 appearing among the gentlemen of the 
 neighbourhood shorn of his beams. This 
 is natural, but it is cowardly. What I 
 told him of the increasing expense of a 
 growing family seems to have struck 
 him. He certainly had gone on with 
 very confused views, and we have, I 
 think, shown him that he is wrong ; 
 though, with the common deficience of 
 advisers, we have not shown him how to 
 do right. 
 
 ** I wish you would a little correct or 
 restrain your imagination, and imagine 
 that happiness, such as life admits, may 
 be had at other places as well as London. 
 Without asserting Stoicism* it may be 
 said, that it is our business to exempt 
 ourselves as much as we can from the 
 power of external things. There is but 
 one solid basis of happiness: and that is, 
 the reasonable hope of a happy futurity. 
 This may be had every where. 
 
 ** I do not blame your preference of 
 London to other places, for it is really to 
 be preferred, if the choice is free; but 
 few have the choice of their place or 
 their manner of life ; and mere pleasure 
 ought not to be the prime motive of 
 action. 
 
 ** Mrs. Thrale, poor thing, has a daugh- 
 ter. Mr. Thrale dislikes the times, like 
 the rest of us. Mrs. Williams is sick ; 
 Mrs. Desmoulins is poor. I have miser- 
 able nights. Nobody is well but Mr. 
 Levett. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most, &c. 
 
 •* Sam. Johnson." 
 *' London, July 3, 1776." 
 
 In the course of this year there was a 
 difference between him and his friend 
 Mr. Strahan ; the particulars of which it 
 is unnecessary to relate. Their reconci- 
 liation was communicated to me in a 
 letter from Mr. Strahan in the following 
 words : 
 
 " The notes I showed you that passed 
 between him and me were dated in 
 March last. The matter lay dormant 
 till July 17, when he wrote to me as 
 follows : 
 
 * [I 8iispect that this is a miflprint. and 
 that Johnson wrote " without afferting: Stoic- 
 ism ;" — but the oriirinal letter heini; burned 
 in a inaHS of papers in Scotland, I have not 
 bpen able to ascertain whether my conjecture 
 14 well founded or not. The exprension in the 
 te;(t, however, may be justified. M.] 
 
 * TO WILLIAM STRAHAN, ESQ. 
 * SIR, 
 
 ' It would be very foolish for us to con- 
 tinue strangers any longer. You can 
 never by persistency make wrong right. 
 If I resented too acrimoniously, I re- 
 sented only to yourself. Nobody ever 
 saw or heard what I wrote. You saw 
 that my anger was over, for in a day or 
 two I came to your house. I have given 
 you a longer time ; and I hope you have 
 made so good use of it as to be no longer 
 on evil terms with, sir, 
 
 * Your, &c. 
 
 * Sam. Johnson.' 
 
 *' On this I called upon him : and he 
 has since dined with me." 
 
 After this time the same friendship as 
 formerly continued between Dr. Johnson 
 and Mr. Strahan. My friend mentioned 
 to me a little circumstance of his atten- 
 tion, which, though we may smile at it, 
 must be allowed to have its foundation 
 in a nice and true knowledge of human 
 life. " When I write to Scotland (said 
 he), I employ Strahan to frank my let- 
 ters, that he may have the consequence 
 of appearing a Parliament man among 
 his countrymen." 
 
 " to CAPTAIN LANGTONt, WARLEY CAMP. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " When I recollect how long ago I was 
 received with so much kindness at War- 
 ley Common, I am ashamed that I have 
 not made some inquiries after my friends. 
 
 " Pray how many sheep stealers did 
 yon convict? and how did you punish 
 them ? When are you to be cantoned in 
 better habitations? The air grows cold, 
 and the ground damp. Longer stay in 
 the camp cannot be without much danger 
 to the health of the common men, if even 
 the officers can escape. 
 
 '* You see that Dr. Percy is now Dean 
 of Carlisle ; about five hundred a year, 
 with a power of presenting himself to 
 some good living. He is provided for. 
 
 " The session of the Club is to commence 
 with that of the Parliament. Mr. Banks 
 desires to be admitted ; he will be a very 
 honourable accession. 
 
 " Did the King please you? The Cox- 
 heath men, I think, have some reason to 
 complain: Reynolds says your camp is 
 better than theirs. 
 
 *' I hope you find yourself able to 
 encounter this weather. Take care of 
 your own health ; and, as you can, of 
 
 t Dr. Johnson here addresses liis worthy 
 friend, Bennet Langton, Esq. by his title a« 
 Captain of liie Lincolnshire militia, in which 
 he has since been most deservedly raised tQ 
 the rank of Major. 
 
vEtat, ( 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 44d 
 
 your men. Be pleased to make my 
 compliments to all the gentlemen whose 
 notice I have had, and whose kindness I 
 have experienced. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Oct. 31, 1778." 
 
 I wrote to him on the 18th of August, 
 the 18th of September, and the 6th of 
 November; informing him of my having 
 had another son born, whom I had called 
 James; that I had passed some time at 
 Aucliinleck ; that the Countess of Lou- 
 doun, now in her ninety-ninth year, was 
 as fresh as when he saw her, and remem- 
 bered him with respect ; and that his 
 mother by adoption, the Countess of 
 Eglintoune, had said to me, "Tell Mr. 
 Johnson I love him exceedingly ;" that 
 I had again sutFered much from bad spi- 
 rits; and that, as it was very long since 
 I heard from him, 1 was not a little 
 uneasy. 
 
 The continuance of his regard for his 
 friend Dr. Burney appears from the fol- 
 lowing letters : 
 
 *' TO THE REVEREND DR. WHEELER, 
 OXFORD. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Dr. Burney, who brings this paper, is 
 engaged in a History of Musick ; and, 
 having been told by Dr. Markham of 
 some MSS. relating to his subject, 
 which are in the library of your College, 
 is desirous to examine them. He is my 
 friend ; and therefore I take the liberty 
 of entreating your favour and assistance 
 in his inquiry : and can assure you, with 
 great confidence, that if you knew him 
 he would not want any intervenient soli- 
 citation to obtain the kindness of one 
 who loves learning and virtue as you 
 love them. 
 
 " I have been flattering myself all the 
 summer with the hope of paying my 
 annual visit to my friends ; but some- 
 thing has obstructed me : I still hope not 
 to be long without seeing you. I should 
 be glad of a little literary talk ; and glad 
 to show you, by the frequency of my 
 visits, how eagerly I love it when you 
 talk it. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 p. ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 I ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 I « Laadon, Nov. 2, 1778." 
 
 I " TO THE REVEREND DR. EDWARDS, 
 
 * OXFORD. 
 
 ** SIR, 
 
 " The bearer. Dr. Burney, has had 
 some account of a Welsh Manuscript in 
 the Bodleian library, from which he 
 hopes to gain some materials for his His- 
 
 tory of Musick ; but, being ignorant of 
 the language, is at a loss where to find 
 assistance. I make no doubt but you, 
 sir, can help him through his difficulties, 
 and therefore take the liberty of recom- 
 mending him to your favour, as I am 
 sure you will find him a man worthy of 
 every civility that can be shown, and 
 every benefit that can be conferred. 
 
 " But we must not let Welsh drive us 
 from Greek. What comes of Xenophon ? 
 If you do not like the trouble of publish- 
 ing the book, do not let your commenta- 
 ries be lost ; contrive that they may be 
 published somewhere. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, Nov. 2, 1778." 
 
 These letters procured Dr. Burney 
 great kindness and friendly offices from 
 both of these gentlemen, not only on that 
 occasion, but in future visits to the uni- 
 versity. The same year Dr. Johnson 
 not only wrote to Dr. Joseph Warton 
 in favour of Dr. Burney's youngest son, 
 who was to be placed in the college of 
 Winchester, but accompanied him when 
 he went thither. 
 
 We surely cannot but admire the bene- 
 volent exertions of this great and good 
 man, especially when we consider how 
 grievously he was afflicted with bad 
 health, and how uncomfortable his home 
 was made by the perpetual jarring of 
 those whom he charitably accommodated 
 under his roof. He has sometimes suf- 
 fered me to talk jocularly of his group of 
 females, and call them his Seraglio. He 
 thus mentions them, together with ho- 
 nest Levett, in one of his letters to Mrs. 
 Thrale * : " Williams hates every body ; 
 Levett hates Desmoulins, and does not 
 love Williams ; Desmoulins hates them 
 both ; Poll t loves none of them,'* 
 
 *' to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR sir, 
 " It is indeed a long time since I wrote, 
 and I think you have some reason to 
 complain; however, you must not let 
 small things disturb you when you have 
 such a fine addition to your happiness as 
 a new boy, and I hope your lady's health 
 restored by bringing him. It seems very 
 probable that a little care will now re- 
 store her, if any remains of her complaints 
 are left. 
 
 ** You seem, if I understand your let- 
 ter, to be gaining ground at Auchinleck, 
 an incident that would give me great 
 delight. 
 
 " When any fit of anxiety, or gloomi- 
 
 * Vol. ii. p. 
 
 t Miss Csirmicha^l, 
 
444 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ness, or perversion of mind, lays lioUl 
 upon you, make it a rule not to publish 
 it by complaints, but exert your whole 
 care to liide it; by endeavouring to hide 
 it you will drive it away. Be always 
 busy. 
 
 " The Club is to meet with the parlia- 
 ment ; we talk of electing Banks, the 
 traveller; he will be a reputable mem- 
 ber. 
 
 ** Langton- has been encamped with 
 his company of militia on Warley Com- 
 mon ; I spent five days amongst them ; 
 he signalized himself as a diligent officer, 
 and has very high respect in the regiment. 
 He presided when I was there at a court- 
 martial ; he is now quartered in Hert- 
 fordshire ; his lady and little ones are in 
 Scotland. Paoli came to the camp, and 
 commended the soldiers. 
 
 ** Of myself I have no great matters to 
 say ; my health is not restored, my nights 
 are restless and tedious. The best night 
 that I have had these twenty years was at 
 Fort Augustus. 
 
 ** I hope soon to send you a few lives 
 to read. I am, dear sir, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " November 21, 1778." 
 
 About this time the Rev. Mr. John 
 Hussey, who had been some time in 
 trade, and was then a clergyman of the 
 church of England, being about to un- 
 dertake a journey to Aleppo, and other 
 parts of the East, which he accom- 
 plished. Dr. Johnson (who had long 
 been in habits of intimacy with him) ho- 
 noured him with the following letter : 
 
 ** TO MR. JOHN HUSSEY. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I HAVE sent you the * Grammar,' and 
 have left you two books more, by which 
 I hope to be remembered : write my 
 name in them ; we may perhaps see 
 each other no more ; you part with my 
 good wishes, nor do 1 despair of seeing 
 you return. Let no opportunities of vice 
 corrupt you ; let no bad example seduce 
 you ; let the blindness of Mahometans 
 confirm you in Christianity. God bless 
 you. I am, di^ar sir, 
 
 ** Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " December 29, 1778." 
 
 Johnson this year expressed great sa- 
 tisfaction at the publication of the first 
 volume of " Discourses to the Royal 
 Academy," by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 whom he always considered as one of 
 his literary school. Much praise indeed 
 is due to (hose excellent Discourses, 
 >vljjch are so universally admired, and 
 
 for which the authonr received from the 
 Empress of Russia a gold snuff-box, 
 adorned with her profile in has relief^ 
 set in diamonds ; and containing what is 
 infinitely more valuable, a slip of paper, 
 on which are written with her Imperial 
 Majesty's own hand, the following words : 
 " Pour le Chevalier Reynolds en 
 temoiynage du contentement que j'ai 
 ressentie a la lecture de ses excellens 
 discours sur la peinture." 
 
 This year, Johnson gave the world a 
 luminous proof that the vigour of his 
 mind in all its faculties, whether me- 
 mory, judgment, or imagination, was 
 not in the least abated ; for this year 
 came out the first four volumes of his 
 " Prefaces, biographical and critical, 
 to the most eminent of the English 
 Poets," (a) published by the booksel- 
 lers of London. The remaining volumes 
 came out in the year 1780. The poets 
 were selected by the several booksellers 
 who had the honorary copyright, which 
 is still preserved among them by mutual 
 compact, notwithstanding the decision 
 of the House of Lords against the perpe- 
 tuity of Literary Property. We have 
 his own authority*, that by his recom- 
 mendation the poems of Blackmore, 
 Watts, Pomfret, and Yalden, were added 
 to the collection. Of this work I shall 
 speak more particularly hereafter. 
 
 On the 22d of January, I wrote to him 
 on several topicks, and mentioned that 
 as he had been so good as to permit me 
 to have the proof sheets of his " Lives of 
 the Poets," I had written to his servant, 
 Francis, to take care of them for me. 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Feb. 2, 1779. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Garrick's death is a striking event ; 
 not that we should be surprised with the 
 death of any man who has lived sixty- 
 two years + ; but because there was a 
 vivacity in our late celebrated friend 
 which drove away the thoughts of death 
 from any association with him. 1 am 
 sure you will be tenderly affected with 
 his departure; and I would wish to 
 hear from you upon the subject. I was 
 obliged to him in my days of efferves- 
 cence in London, when poor Derrick 
 was my governour; and since that time 
 I received many civilities from him. Do 
 
 • Life of Watts. 
 
 t [On Mr. Gai rick's Monument in Lichfield 
 Catbedral, he ii> sajc-l to have died " aged 64 
 years.'' But it is a mistake, and Mr. Hoswell 
 IS peifeclly correct. Garrif-k was baptized at 
 Hereford, Feb. 28, 1716-17, and died at hit 
 bou^e in London, Jan. 20, 1779. The inaccur 
 racy of lapidary inscriptions is well known. 
 
/Etat. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 445 
 
 you remember how pleasing it was when 
 I received a letter from him at Inverary, 
 upon our first return to civilized living 
 after our Hebridean journey? I shall 
 always remember him with affection as 
 well as admiration. 
 
 " On Saturday last, being the 30th of 
 January, I drank coffee and old port, 
 and had solemn conversation with the 
 Reverend Mr. Falconer, a nonjuring 
 bishop, a very learned and worthy man. 
 He gave two toasts, which you will be- 
 lieve I drank with cordiality. Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson, and Flora Macdonald. I sat 
 about four hours with him, and it was 
 really as if I had been living in the last 
 century. The Episcopal Church of Scot- 
 land, though faithful to the royal house 
 of Stuart, has never accepted of any 
 conge d'eiire since the Revolution ; it is 
 the only true Episcopal Church in Scot- 
 land, as it has its own succession of 
 bishops. For as to the Episcopal clergy 
 who take the oaths to the present govern- 
 ment, they indeed follow the rites of the 
 Church of England, but, as Bishop Fal- 
 coner observed, ' they are not Episco- 
 pals ; for they are under no bishop, as a 
 bishop cannot have authority beyond his 
 diocese.' This venerable gentleman did 
 me the honour to dine with me yesterday, 
 and he laid his hands upon the heads of 
 my little ones. We had a good deal of 
 curious literary conversation, particularly 
 about Mr. Thomas Ruddiman, with whom 
 he lived in great friendship. 
 
 ** Any fresh instance of the uncertainty 
 of life makes one embrace more closely 
 a valuable friend. My dear and much 
 respected sir, may God preserve you 
 long in this world while I am in it. 
 " I am ever, 
 " Your much obliged, 
 "And affectionate humble servant, 
 ** James Boswell." 
 
 On the 23d of February I wrote to 
 him again, complaining of his silence, as 
 I had heard he was ill, and had written 
 to Mr. Thrale for information concern- 
 ing him ; and I announced my intention 
 of soon being again in London. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Why should yon take such delight to 
 ; make a bustle, to write to Mr. Thral»i 
 f that I am negligent, and to Francis to 
 do what is so very unnecessary ? Thrale, 
 you may be sure, cared not about it; 
 and I shall spare Francis the trouble by 
 ordering a set both of the Lives and 
 Poets to dear Mrs. Boswell *, in acknow- 
 
 * He sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, 
 which was received as a very handsome pre- 
 sent. 
 
 ledgment of her marmalade. Persuade 
 her to accept them, and accept them 
 kindly. If I thought she would receive 
 them scornfully, I would send them to 
 Miss Boswell, who, I hope, has yet none . 
 of her mamma's ill will to me. 
 
 " I would send sets of Lives, four 
 volumes, to some other friends, to Lord 
 Hailes first. His second volume lies 
 by my bed side ; a book surely of great 
 labour, and to every just thinker of great 
 delight. Write me word to whom I 
 shall send besides ; would it please Lord 
 Auchinleck? Mrs. Thrale waits in the 
 coach. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " March 13, 1779." 
 
 This letter crossed me on the road to 
 London, where I arrived on Monday, 
 March 15, and next morning at a late 
 hour, found Dr. Johnson sitting over his 
 tea, attended by Mrs. Desmoulins, Mr. 
 Levett, and a clergyman, who had come 
 to submit some poetical pieces to his 
 revision. It is wonderful what a number 
 and variety of writers, some of them even 
 unknown to him, prevailed on his good 
 nature to look over their works, and 
 suggest corrections and improvements. 
 My arrival interrupted for a little while 
 the important business of this true repre- 
 sentative of Bayes ; upon its being re- 
 sumed, I found that the subject under 
 immediate consideration was a transla- 
 tion, yet in manuscript, of the Carmen 
 Seculare of Horace, which had this year 
 been set to musick, and performed as a 
 publick entertainment in London, for the 
 joint benefit of Monsieur Philidor and 
 Signor Baretti. Vvlien Johnson had 
 done reading, the authour asked him 
 bluntly, '* If upon the whole it was a 
 good translation?" Johnson, whose re- 
 gard for truth was uncommonly strict, 
 seemed to be puzzled for a moment what 
 answer to make ; as he certainly could 
 not honestly commend the performance : 
 with exquisite address he evaded the 
 question thus : " Sir, I do not say that 
 it may not be made a very good transla- 
 tion." Here nothing whatever in favour 
 of the performance was affirmed, and yet 
 the writer was not shocked. A printed 
 " Ode to the Warlike Genius of Britain" 
 came next in view ; the bard was a lank 
 bony figure, with short black hair ; he 
 was writhing himself in agitation while 
 Johnson read ; and, showing his teeth in 
 a grin of earnestness, exclaimed in bro- 
 ken sentences, and in a keen sharp tone, 
 "Is that poetry, sir?— Is it Pindar?" 
 Johnson. " Why, sir, there is here a 
 great deal of what is called poetry." 
 Then, turning to me, the poet cried. 
 
446 
 
 " My muse has not been long upon the 
 town, and (pointing to the Ode) it trem- 
 bles under the hand of the great critick." 
 — Johnson, in a tone of displeasure, asked 
 him. " Why do you praise Anson V I 
 did not trouble him by asking his reason 
 for this question. He proceeded," Here 
 is an errour, sir ; you have made Genius 
 feminine." — " Palpable, sir (cried the 
 entliusiast) ; I know it. But (in a lower 
 tone) it was to pay a compliment to the 
 Duchess of Devonshire, with which her 
 Grace was pleased. She is walking 
 across Coxheath, in the military uniform, 
 and I suppose her to be the Genius of 
 Britain." Johnson. "Sir, yon are giving 
 a reason for it; but that will not make 
 it right. You may have a reason why 
 two and two should make five ; but they 
 •will still make but four." 
 
 Although I was several times with him 
 in the course of the following days, such 
 it seems were my occupations or such 
 my negligence that I have preserved no 
 memorial of his conversation till Friday, 
 March 26, when I visited him. He said 
 he expected to be attacked on account 
 of his " Lives of the Poets." '* However 
 (said he) I would rather be attacked than 
 unnoticed. For the worst thing yon can 
 do to an authour is to be silent as to his 
 works. An assault upon a town is a bad 
 thing ; but starving it is still worse : an 
 assault may be unsuccessful ; you may 
 have more men killed than you kill ; but 
 if yon starve the town, you are sure of 
 victory." 
 
 Talking of a friend of ours associating 
 with persons of very discordant princi- 
 ples and characters ; I said, he was a very 
 universal man, quite a man of the world. 
 Johnson. " Yes, sir ; but one may be so 
 much a man of the world as to be noUiing 
 in the world. I remember a passage in 
 Goldsmith's   Vicar of Wakefield,' which 
 he was afterwards fool enough to ex- 
 punge : * I do not love a man who is 
 zealous for nothing.' " Boswkll. " That 
 was a fine passage." Johnson. ** Yes, 
 sir: there was another fine passage too, 
 which he struck out : * When I Was a 
 young man, being anxious to distinguish 
 myself, I was perpetually starting new 
 propositions. But I soon gave this over ; 
 for I found that generally what was new 
 was false*.' " 1 said, I did not like to 
 sit with people of whom I had not a good 
 opinion. Johnson. " But you must not 
 indulge your delicacy too much, or you 
 will be a tSte-d-tUte man all your life." 
 
 • [Dr. finrney, Jn a note introduce*! in a 
 former page, has mentioned this ciniimst.* nee, 
 ronreriunfif Goldsmith, as comnuniicatJd to 
 tiiiii hy Dr. Johnson; not recollecting that it 
 "cciirred here.— His remark, however, is not 
 wholly superfluous, as it ascertains that the 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 During my stay in London this spring, 
 I find I was unaccountably negligent in 
 preserving Johnson's sayings, more so 
 than at any time when 1 was happy 
 enough to have an opportunity of hear- 
 ing his wisdom and wit. There is no 
 help for it now. I must content myself 
 with presenting such scraps as I have. 
 But I am nevertheless ashamed and vexed 
 to think how much has been lost. It is 
 not that there was a bad crop this year ; 
 but that I was not sufficiently careful in 
 gathering it in. I, therefore, in some 
 instances can only exhibit a few de- 
 tached fragments. 
 
 Talking of the wonderful concealment 
 of the authonr of the celebrated letters 
 signed Junius j^ he said, '* I should have 
 believed Burke to be the Junius, because 
 I knaw no man but Burke who is capa- 
 ble of writing these letters ; but Burke 
 spontaneously denied it to me. The case 
 would have been different, had 1 asked 
 him if he was the authour ; a man so 
 questioned, as to an anonymous publica- 
 tion, may think he has a right to deny 
 it." 
 
 He observed that his old friend, Mr. 
 Sheridan, had been honoured with extra- 
 ordinary attention in his own country, 
 by having had an exception made in his 
 favour in an Irish Act of Parliament con- 
 cerning insolvent debtors. " Thus to be 
 singled out (said he) by a legislature, as 
 an object of publick consideration and 
 kindness, is a proof of no common 
 merit." 
 
 At Streatham, on Monday, March 29, 
 at breakfast, he maintained that a father 
 had no right to control the inclinations oi 
 his daughters in marriage. 
 
 On Wednesday, March 31, when I 
 visited him, and confessed an excess of 
 which I had very seldom been guilty ; 
 that I had spent a whole night in playing 
 at cards, and that I could not look back 
 on it with satisfaction : instead of a harsh 
 animadversion, he mildly said, "Alas, 
 sir, on how few things can we look back 
 with satisfaction !" 
 
 On Thursday, April 1, he commended 
 one of the Dukes of Devonshire for " a 
 dogged veracity t." He said too, " Lon- 
 don is nothing to some people ; but to a 
 man whose pleasure is intellectual, Lon- 
 don is the place. And there is no place 
 where economy can be so'well practised 
 as in London : more can be had here 
 for the money, even by ladies, than any 
 
 vvor-ls uhich Goldsmith had put into (he 
 month of ii flctiiioU'^ character in the " Vicar 
 of Waketif-ld," and which as we learn from 
 Dr. John>()n he afterwards expuiiijed, rvlaled, 
 like manv other pas!9a{fes in his Novel, to 
 himself. M.] 
 t See p. 380. 
 
^TAT. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 447 
 
 where else. You cannot play tricks with 
 your fortune in a small place ; yon must 
 make a uniform appearance. Here a 
 lady may have well furnished apart- 
 ments and elegant dress, without any 
 meat in her kitchen." 
 
 I was amused by considering with how 
 much ease and coolness he could write 
 or talk to a friend, exhorting him not to 
 suppose that happiness was not to be 
 found as well in other places as in Lon- 
 don ; when he himself was at all times 
 sensible of its being, comparatively speak- 
 ing, a heaven upon earth. The truth is, 
 that by those who from sagacity, atten- 
 tion, and experience have learnt the full 
 advantage of London, its preeminence 
 over every other place, not only for va- 
 riety of enjoyment but for comfort, will 
 be felt with a philosophical exultation. 
 The freedom from remark and petty 
 censure, with which life may be passed 
 there, is a circumstance which a man 
 who knows the teasing restraint of a 
 narrow circle must relish highly. Mr. 
 Burke, whose orderly and amiable do- 
 mestick habits might make the eye of 
 observation less irksome to him than to 
 most men, said once very pleasantly, in 
 my hearing, " Though I have the honour 
 to represent Bristol, I should not like to 
 live there ; I should be obliged to be so 
 much upon my good behaviour." In 
 London a man may live in splendid 
 society at one time, and in frugal retire- 
 ment at another, without animadversion. 
 There, and there alone, a man's own 
 house is truly his castle, in which he can 
 be in perfect safety from intrusion when- 
 ever he pleases. I never shall forget how 
 well this was expressed to me one day 
 by Mr. Meynell : " The chief advantage 
 of London (said he) is, that a man is 
 always so near his burrow," 
 
 He said of one of his old acquaint- 
 ances, " He is very fit for a travelling 
 governour. He knows French very vvell. 
 He is a man of good principles ; and there 
 would be no danger that a young gentle- 
 map should catch his manner; for it is 
 so very bad that it must be avoided. In 
 that respect he would be like the drunken 
 Helot." 
 
 A gentleman has informed me that 
 Johnson said of the same person, " Sir, 
 be has the most inverted understanding 
 of any man whom I have ever known." 
 
 On Friday, April 2, being Good Fri- 
 day, I visited him in the morning as 
 usual ; and finding that we insensibly 
 fell into a train of ridicule upon the 
 foibles of one of our fiieads, a very 
 worthy man, I, by way of a check, 
 quoted some good admonition from "The 
 Government of the Tongue," that very 
 pious book. It happened also remark- 
 
 ably enough that the subject of the ser- 
 mon preached to us to-day by Dr. Bur- 
 rows, the rector of St. Clement Danes, 
 was the certainty that at the last day we 
 must give an account of the ** deeds done 
 in the body ;" and amongst various acts 
 of culpability he mentioned evil speak- 
 ing. As we were moving slowly along in 
 the crowd from church, Johnson jogged 
 my elbow, and said, " Did you a»tend to 
 the sermon 1" — ** Yes, sir (said I), it was 
 very applicable to us." He, however, 
 stood upon the defensive. " Why, sir, 
 the sense of ridicule is given us, and may 
 be lawfully used. The authour of ' The 
 Government of the Tongue ' would have 
 us treat all men alike." 
 
 In the interval between morning and 
 evening service, he endeavoured to em- 
 ploy himself earnestly in devotional ex- 
 ercise ; and, as he has mentiojied in his 
 " Prayers and Meditations*," gave me, 
 " Les Pensees de Paschal," that I 
 might not interrupt him. I preserve the 
 book with reverence. His presenfirtg it 
 to me is marked upon it with his own 
 hand, and I have found in it a truly 
 divine unction. We went to church 
 again in the afternoon. 
 
 On Saturday, April 3, I visited him at 
 night, and found him sitting in Mrs. Wil- 
 liams's room, with her and one who he 
 afterwards told me was a natural son + of 
 the second Lord Southwell. The table 
 had a singular appearance, being co- 
 vered with a heterogeneous assemblage 
 of oysters and porter for his company, 
 and tea for himself. I mentioned my 
 having heard an eminent physician, who 
 was himself a Christian, argue in favour 
 of universal toleration, and maintain that 
 no man could be hurt by another man's 
 differing from him in opinion. Johnson. 
 " Sir, you are to a certain degree hurt by 
 knowing that even one man does not 
 believe." 
 
 On Easter day, after solemn service at 
 St. Paul's, I dined with him: Mr. Allen 
 the printer was also his guest. He was 
 uncommonly silent ; and I have not 
 written down any thing, except a single 
 curious fact, which, having the sanction 
 of his inflexible veracity, may be received 
 as a striking instance of human insensi- 
 bility and inconsideration. As he was 
 passing by a fishmonger who was skin- 
 ning an eel alive, he heard him " curse 
 it, because it would not lie still." 
 
 Ou Wednesday, April 7, I dined with 
 him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. I have 
 not marked what company was there. 
 Johnson harangued upon the qualities of 
 different liquors; and spoke with great 
 
 * Pasre 173. 
 
 t [Mr. Mauritius Lowe, a painter. 
 
 M.] 
 
448 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 contempt of claret, as so weak that " a 
 man would be drowned by it before it 
 made him drunk." He was persuaded 
 to drink one glass of it, that he might 
 judge, not from recollection, which might 
 be dim, but from immediate sensation. 
 He shook his head and said, '* Poor stuff! 
 No, sir, claret is the liquor for boys ; 
 port for men ; but he who aspires to be 
 a hero (smiling) must drink brandy. In 
 the first place, the flavour of brandy is 
 most grateful to the palate ; and then 
 brandy will do soonest for a man what 
 drinking can do for him. There are, 
 indeed, few who are able to drink brandy. 
 That is a power rather to be wished for 
 than attained. And yet (proceeded he), 
 as in all pleasure hope is a considerable 
 part, I know not but fruition conies too 
 quick by brandy. Florence wine I think 
 the worst; it is wine only to the eye ; it 
 is wine neither while you are drinking it, 
 nor after you have drunk it ; it neither 
 pleases the taste, nor exhilarates the 
 spirits." I reminded him how heartily 
 he and I used to drink wine together 
 when we were first acquainted ; and 
 how I used to have a headache after sit- 
 ting up with him. He did not like to 
 have tills recalled, or, perhaps, thinking 
 that I boasted improperly, resolved to 
 have a witty stroke at me : " Nay, sir, 
 it was not the wine that made your head 
 ache, but the sense that I put into it." 
 Bos\VELL. " What, sir! will sense make 
 the head ache?" Johnson. " Yes, sir 
 (with a smile), when it is not used to it." 
 — No man who has a true relish of plea- 
 santry could be offended at this ; espe- 
 cially if Johnson in a long intimacy had 
 given him repealed proofs of his regard 
 and good estimation. I used to say that 
 as he had given me a thousand pounds 
 in praise, he had a good right now and 
 then to take a guinea from me. 
 
 On Thursday, April 8, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Allen Ramsay's, with Lord 
 Graham and some other company. We 
 talked of Shakspeare's witches. John- 
 S(,>\. " They are beings of his own crea- 
 tion ; they are a compound of malignity 
 and meanness, without any abilities ; 
 and are quite different from the Italian 
 niagician. King James says in his ' Da;- 
 nionology,* ' Magicians command the 
 devils : witches are their servants.' The 
 Italian magicians are elegant beings." 
 RvMSAV. " Opera witches, not Drury 
 Lane witches." — Johnson observed, that 
 abilities might be employed in a narrow 
 sphere, as in getting money, which he 
 said he believed no man could do without 
 vigorous parts, though concentrated to a 
 point. Ramsay. "Yes, like a strong 
 iiorsc in a mill; he pulls better." 
 
 Lord Graham, while he praised the 
 
 beauty of Lochlomond, on the banks of 
 which is his family seat, complained of 
 the climate, and said he could not bear 
 it. Johnson. " Nay, my Lord, don't 
 talk so : you may bear it well enough. 
 Your ancestors have borne it more years 
 than I can tell." This was a handsome 
 compliment to the antiquity of the House 
 of Montrose. His Lordship told me 
 afterwards that he had only affected to 
 complain of the climate ; lest, if he had 
 spoken as favourably of his country as 
 he really thought. Dr. Johnson might 
 have attacked it. Johnson was very 
 courteous to Lady Margaret Macdonald. 
 " Madam (said he), when I was in the 
 Isle of Sky, I heard of the people run- 
 ning to take the stones off the road, lest 
 Lady Margaret's horse should stumble." 
 
 Lord Graham commended Dr. Drum- 
 mond at Naples as a man of extraordi- 
 nary talents ; and added, that he had a 
 great love of liberty. Johnson. " He is 
 young, my Lord (looking to his Lordship 
 with an arch smile) ; all hoys love liberty, 
 till experience convinces them they are 
 not so fit to govern themselves as they 
 imagined. We are all agreed as to oar 
 own liberty ; we would have as much of 
 it as we can get ; but we are not agreed 
 as to the liberty of others: for in pro- 
 portion as we take, others must lose. I 
 believe we hardly wish that the mob 
 should have liberty to govern us. When 
 that was the case some time ago, no man 
 was at liberty not to have candles in his 
 windows." Ramsav. " The result is, that 
 order is better than confusion." John- 
 son. " The result is, that order cannot 
 be had but by subordination." 
 
 On Friday, April 16, I had been 
 present at the trial of the unfortunate 
 Mr. Hackman, who, in a fit of frantick 
 jealous love, had shot Miss Ray, the 
 favourite of a nobleman. Johnson, in 
 whose company I dined to-day with 
 some other friends, was much interested 
 by my account of what passed, and par- 
 ticularly with his prayer for the mercy of 
 heaven. He said, in a solemn fervid 
 tone, *' I hope he shall find mercy." 
 
 This day a violent altercation arose 
 between Johnson and Beauclerk, which 
 having made much noise at the time, I 
 think it proper, in order to prevent any 
 future misrepresentation, to give a minute 
 account of it. 
 
 In talking of Hackman, Johnson, 
 argued, as Judge Blackstone had done, 
 that his being furnished with two pistols 
 was a proof that he meant to shoot two 
 persons. Mr. Beauclerk said, " No ; 
 ioY that every wise man who intended 
 to shoot himself, took two pistols, that he 
 might be sure of doing it at once. Lord 
 's cook shot himself with one 
 
pistol, and lived ten days in great agony. 
 Mr. , who loved buttered muf- 
 
 fins, but durst not eat thenn because they 
 disagreed with his stomach, resolved to 
 shoot himself; and then he eat three 
 buttered muffins for breakfast, before 
 shooting himself, knowing that he should 
 not be troubled with indigestion : he had 
 two charged pistols ; one was found lying 
 charged upon the table by him, after he 
 had shot himself with the other." — 
 " Well (said Johnson, with an air of 
 triumph), you see here one pistol was 
 sufficient." Beauclerk replie<l smartly, 
 " Because it happened to kill him." 
 And either then or a very little after- 
 wards, being piqued at Johnson's trium- 
 phant remark, added, " This is what you 
 don't know, and I do." There was then 
 a cessation of the dispute ; and some 
 minutes. interveneil, during which dinner 
 and the glass went on cheerfully ; when 
 Johnson suddenly and abruptly exclaim- 
 ed, " Mr. Beauclerk, how came you to 
 talk so petulantly to me, as, * This is 
 what you don't know, but what I know?' 
 One thing 1 know, which you don't seem 
 to know, that you are very uncivil," 
 Beauclerk. *' Because you began by 
 being uncivil (which you always are)." 
 The words in parentheses were, I be- 
 lieve, not heard by Dr. Johnson. Here 
 again there was a cessation of arms. 
 Johnson told me, that the reason why he 
 waited at first some time without taking 
 any notice of what Mr. Beauclerk said 
 was because he was thinking whether he 
 should resent it. But when he consi- 
 dered that there were present a young 
 Lord and an eminent traveller, two men 
 of the world with whom he had never 
 dined before, he was apprehensive that 
 they might think they had a right to take 
 such liberties with him as Beauclerk did, 
 and therefore resolved he would not let 
 it pass ; adding, " that he would not ap- 
 pear a coward." A little while after this, 
 the conversation turned on the violence 
 of Hackman's temper. Johnson then 
 said, " It was his business to command 
 his temper, as my friend Mr. Beauclerk 
 should have done some time ago." Beau- 
 clerk. " I should learn of you, sir." 
 Johnson. " Sir, you have given me op- 
 portunities enough of learning, when I 
 have been in your company. No man 
 loves to be treated with contempt." 
 Beauclerk (with a polite inclination 
 towards Johnson). *' Sir, you have 
 known me twenty years, and however I 
 may have treated others, you may be 
 sure I could never treat you with con- 
 tempt." Johnson. " Sir, you have said 
 more than was necessary." Thus it ended ; 
 and Beauclerk's coach not having come 
 for him till very late. Dr. Johnson and 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. * 449 
 
 another gentleman sat with him a long 
 time after the rest of the company were 
 gone; and he and I dined at Beauclerk's 
 on the Saturday se'nnighl following. 
 
 After this tempest had subsided, I re- 
 collect the following particulars of his 
 conversation. 
 
 " I am always for getting a boy for- 
 ward in his learning ; for that is a sure 
 good. I would let him at first read any 
 English book which happens to engage 
 his attention ; because you have done a 
 great deal when you have brought him 
 to have entertainment from a book. He'll 
 get better books afterwards." 
 
 " Mallet, I believe, never wrote a 
 single line of his projected life of the 
 Duke of Marlborough. He groped for 
 materials, and thought of it, till he had 
 exhausted his mind. Thus it sometimes 
 happens that men entangle themselves in 
 their own schemes." 
 
 " To be contradicted, in order to force 
 you to talk, is mighty unpleasing. You 
 sAme, indeed ; but it is by \m\ng ground." 
 
 Of a gentleman who made some figure 
 among the Literati of his time (Mr. 
 Fitzherbert), he said, " What eminence 
 he had was by a felicity of manner : he 
 had no more learning than what he could 
 not help." 
 
 On Saturday, April 24, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Beauclerk's, with Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, Mr. Jones (afterwards Sir 
 William), Mr. Langton, Mr. Steevcns, 
 Mr. Paradise, and Dr. Higgins. I men- 
 tioned that Mr. Wilkes had attacked 
 Garrick to me, as a man who had no 
 friend. Johnson. " I believe he is right, 
 sir. Ot <+)tXo», ou cfjiXof— He had friends, 
 but no friend *. Garrick was so diffused, 
 he had no man to whom he wished to 
 unbosom himself. He found people 
 always ready to applaud him, and that 
 always for the same thing: so he saw 
 life with great uniformity." I took upon 
 me, for once, to fight with Goliath's 
 weapon's, and play the sophist. — " Gar- 
 rick did not need a friend, as he got 
 from every body all he wanted. What 
 is a friend? One who supports you 
 and comforts you, while otheis do not. 
 Friendship, you know, sir, is the cordial 
 drop, ' to make the nauseous draught of 
 life go down :' but if the draught be not 
 nauseous, if it be all sweet, there is 
 no occasion for that drop." Johnson. 
 " Many men would not be content to 
 live so. I hope I should not. They 
 would wish to have an intimate friend, 
 with whom they might compare minds, 
 and cherish private virtues." One of 
 the company mentioned Lord Chester- 
 field, as a man who had no friend. John- 
 
 
 f See p. 416. 
 GG 
 
450 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 SON. ** There were more materials to 
 make friendship in Garrick, had he not 
 been so diflfnsed." Bosvvell. ** Garrick 
 was pnre gold, but beat out to a tliin 
 leaf. Lord Chesterfield was tinsel." 
 Johnson. " Garrick was a very good 
 man, the cheerfulest man of his age; a 
 decent liver in a profession which is 
 supposed to give indulgence to licenti- 
 ousness ; and a man who gave away, 
 freely, money acquired by hijnself. He 
 began the world with a great hunger for 
 money ; the son of a half-pay officer, 
 bred in a family whose study was to 
 make fourpence do as much as others 
 made fourpence halfpenny do. But, 
 when he had got money, he was very 
 liberal." I presumed to animadvert on 
 his eulogy on Garrick, in his " Lives of 
 the Poets." " You say, sir, his death 
 eclipsed the gaiety of nations." Johnson. 
 " I could not have said more nor less. It 
 is the truth ; eclipsed, not extinguished ; 
 and his death did eclipse ; it was like a 
 storm." BoswELL. " But why nations? 
 Did his gaiety extend further than his 
 own nation?" Johnson. ** Why, sir, 
 some exaggeration must be allowed. 
 Besides, nations may be said — if we allow 
 the Scotch to be a nation, and to have 
 gaiety, which they have not. You are 
 an exception, though. Come, gentlemen, 
 let us candidly admit, that there is one 
 Scotchman who is cheerful." Beau- 
 clerk. *' But he is a very unnatural 
 Scotchman." I, however, continued to 
 think the compliment to Garrick hyper- 
 bolical ly untrue. His acting had ceased 
 some time before his death ; at any rate 
 he had acted in Ireland but a short time, 
 at an early period of his life, and never 
 in Scotland. 1 objected also to what 
 appears an anticlimax of praise, when 
 contrasted with the preceding panegy- 
 rick, — " and diminished the publick 
 stock of harmless pleasure !" — " Js not 
 harmless pleasure very tame?" John- 
 son. " Nay, sir, harmless pleasure is the 
 highest praise. Pleasure is a word of 
 dubious import; pleasure is in general 
 dangerous, and pernicious to virtue ; to 
 bo able therefore to furnish pleasure 
 that is harmless, pleasure pure and unal- 
 loyed, is as great a power as man can 
 possess." This was, perhaps, as inge- 
 nious a defence as could be made ; still, 
 Iiowever, I was not satisfied. 
 
 A celebrated wit being mentioned, he 
 >aid, ** One may say of him as was said 
 of a French wit, II n'a de V esprit que 
 cojitre Dieu, I have been several limes 
 in company with him, but never per- 
 ceived any strong power of wit. He 
 produces a general effect by various 
 means ; he has a cheerful countenance 
 and a gay voice. Besides his trade is 
 
 wit. It would be as wild in him to come 
 into company without merriment, as for 
 a highwayman to take the road without 
 his pistols." 
 
 Talking of the effects of drinking, he 
 said, " Drinking may be practised with 
 great prudence ; a man who exposes 
 himself when he is intoxicated has not 
 the art of getting drunk ; a sober man 
 who happens occasionally to get drunk 
 readily enough goes into a new company, 
 which a man who has been drinking 
 should never do. Such a man will un- 
 dertake any thing; he is without skill in 
 inebriation. I used to slink home when 
 I had drunk too much. A man accus- 
 tomed to self-examination will be con- 
 scious when he is drunk, though an ha- 
 bitual drimkard will not be conscious of 
 it. I knew a physician, who for twenty 
 years was not sober ; yet in a pamphlet, 
 which he wrote upon fevers, he appealed 
 to Garrick and me for his vindication 
 from a charge of drunkenness. A book- 
 seller (naming him) who got a large 
 fortune by trade, was so habitually and 
 equally drunk that his most intimate 
 friends never perceived that he was more 
 sober at one time than another." 
 
 Talking of celebrated and successful 
 irregular practisers in physick, he said, 
 *' Taylor * was the most ignorant man I 
 ever knew, but sprightly : Ward, the 
 dullest. Taylor challenged me once to 
 talk Latin with him (laughing). I quoted 
 some of Horace, which he took to be a 
 part of my own speech. He said a few 
 words well enough." Beaucleuk.. " I 
 remember, sir, you said, that Taylor was 
 an instance how far impudence could 
 carry ignorance." — Mr. Beauclerk was 
 very entertaining this day, and told us a 
 number of short stories in a lively elegant 
 manner, and with that air of the world 
 which has I know not what impressive 
 effect, as if there were something more 
 than is expressed, or than perhaps we 
 could perfectly understand. As Johnson 
 and I accompanied Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 in his coach, Johnson said, ** There is in 
 Beauclerk a predominance over his com- 
 pany, that one does not like. But he is 
 a man who has lived so much in the 
 world that he has a short story on every 
 occasion ; he is always ready to talk, and 
 is never exhausted." 
 
 Johnson and I passed the evening at 
 Miss Reynolds's, Sir Joshua's sister. I 
 mentioned that an eminent friend of ours, 
 talking of the common remark, that 
 affection descends, said, that " this was 
 wisely contrived for the preservation of 
 mankind ; for which it was not so neces- 
 
 • [The Clievalier Taylor, the celebrated 
 Oculist. IVI.] 
 
iETAT. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 sary that there should be affection from 
 children to parents, as from parents to 
 children ; nay, there would be no harm 
 in that view though children should at a 
 certain age eat their parents." Johnson. 
 ** But, sir, if this were known generally 
 to be the case, parents would not have 
 affection for children." BoswEt,L.**True, 
 sir ; for it is in expectation of a return 
 that parents are so attentive to their chil- 
 dren ; and I know a very pretty instance 
 of a little girl of whom her father was very 
 fond, who once when he was in a me- 
 lancholy fit, and had gone to bed, per- 
 suaded him to rise in good humour by- 
 saying, ' My dear papa, please to get 
 up, and let me help you on with your 
 clothes, that I may learn to do it when 
 you are an old man.' " 
 
 Soon after this time a little incident 
 occurred which I will not suppress, be- 
 cause I am desirous that my work should 
 be, as much as is consistent with the 
 strictest truth, an antidote to the false 
 and injurious notions of his character 
 which have been given by others, and 
 therefore I infuse every drop of genuine 
 sweetness into my biographical cup. 
 
 " TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I AM in great pain with an inflamed 
 foot, and obliged to keep my bed, so am 
 prevented from having the pleasure to 
 dine at Mr. Ramsay's to-day, which is 
 very hard ; and my spirits are sadly 
 sunk. Will you be so friendly as to 
 come and sit an hour with me in the 
 evening? I am ever 
 
 ** Your most faithful 
 ** And affectionate humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 " South Audley Street, 
 Monday, April 26." 
 
 ** TO MR. BOSWELL. 
 
 *' Mr. Johnson laments the absence of 
 Mr. Boswell, and will come to him." 
 
 " Harley Street.-' 
 
 He came to me in the evening, and 
 brought Sir Joshua Reynolds. I need 
 scarcely say, that their conversation, 
 while they sat by my bedside, was the 
 most pleasing opiate to pain that could 
 have been administered. 
 
 Johnson being now better disposed to 
 obtain information concerning Pope than 
 he was last year*, sent by me, to my 
 Lord Marchmont, a present of those 
 volumes of his " Lives of the Poets" 
 which were at this time published, with 
 a request to have permission to wait on 
 him ; and his Lordship, who had called 
 on him twice, obligingly appointed Sa- 
 turday, the 1st of May, for receiving us. 
 
 * See p. 435. 
 
 45^1 
 
 On that morning Johnson came to 
 me from Streatham, and after drinking 
 chocolate at General Paoli's, in South 
 Audley Street, we proceeded to Lord 
 Marchmont's in Curzon Street. His 
 Lordship met us at the door of his 
 library, and with great politeness said to 
 Johnson, '* I am not going to make an 
 encomium upon myself, by telling you 
 the high respect I have for you, sir." 
 Johnson was exceedingly courteous ; and 
 the interview, which lasted about two 
 hours, during which the Ear! communi- 
 cated his anecdotes of Pope, was as 
 agreeable as I could have wished. When 
 we came out, I said to Johnson, that, 
 considering his Lordship's civility, I 
 should have been vexed if he had again 
 failed to come. "' Sir (said he), I would 
 rather have given twenty pounds than 
 not have come." I accompanied him 
 to Streatham, where we dined, and re- 
 turned to town in the evening. 
 
 On Monday, May 3, I dined with him 
 at Mr. Dilly's; I pressed him this day 
 for his opinion on the passage on Parnell, 
 concerning which I had in vain ques- 
 tioned him in several letters, and at 
 length obtained it in due form of law. 
 
 " Case for Dr. Johnson's Opinion ; 
 3d of May, 1779. 
 
 ** Parnell, in his * Hermit,' has the 
 following passage : 
 
 ' To clear this doubt, to know the world by 
 
 sight. 
 To find ifbooks and swains report it right ; 
 (For yet by swains alone the world he knew. 
 Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly 
 
 dew).' 
 Is there not a contradiction in its being 
 /rsi supposed that the Hermit knew both 
 what books and swains reported of the 
 world : yet afterwards said, that he 
 knew it by swains alone ?" 
 
 *' I think it an inaccuracy. — He 
 mentions two instructors in the 
 first line, and says he had only 
 one in the next\." 
 This evening I set out for Scotland. 
 
 t '* I do not (says Mr. Malone)see any diffi- 
 culty in this passage, and wonder that Dr. 
 Johnson should have acknowledged it to be 
 inaccurate. The Hermit, it should be observed, 
 had no actual experience of the world what- 
 soever: all his knowledge concerning it had 
 been obtained in two ways ; from books, and 
 from the relations of those country swains who 
 had seen a little of it. The plain meaning, 
 therefore, is, ' To clear his doubrs concerning 
 Providence, and to obtain some knowledge of 
 the world hy actual experience; to see whe- 
 iher the accounts furnished by books or by 
 the oral communications of swains were just 
 representations of it; [1 say, sroains,'] for his 
 oral or viva voce information had been ob- 
 tained from that part of mankind alone, Sic' 
 The word alone here does not relate to the 
 
452 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 " TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 •'* DEAR MADAM, 
 
 *' Mr. Green has informed me that yon 
 are much better; I hope I need not tell 
 you that I am glad of it. I cannot boast 
 of being much better; my old nocturnal 
 complaint still pursues me, and my res- 
 piration is difficult, though much easier 
 than when I left you the summer before 
 last. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale are well; 
 Miss has been a little indisposed ; but 
 she is got well again. They have, since 
 the loss of their boy, had two daughters ; 
 but they seem likely to wayt a son. 
 
 '' I hope you had some books which I 
 sent you. I was sorry for poor Mrs. 
 Adcy's death, and am afraid you will be 
 sometimes solitary; but endeavour, whe- 
 ther alone or in company, to keep your- 
 self cheerfid. My friends likewise die 
 very fast; but such is the state of man. 
 " I am, dear love, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " May 4, 1779." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 He had, before I left London, resumed 
 the conversation concerning the appear- 
 ance of a ghost at Newcastle upon Tyne, 
 which Mr. John Wesley believed, but to 
 which Johnson did not give credit. I 
 was, however, desirous to examine the 
 question closely, and at the same time 
 wished to be made acquainted with Mr. 
 John Wesley; for though I differed from 
 hini in some points, I admired his vari- 
 ous talents, and loved his pious zeal. At 
 my request, therefore. Dr. Johnson, gave 
 me a letter of introduction to him. 
 
 " to the reverend MR. JOHN WESLEY. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Mr. Bosw^ell, a gentleman who has 
 been long known to me, is desirous of 
 being known to you, and has asked this 
 recommendation, which I give him with 
 great willingness, because I think it very 
 
 whole of the preceding line, as has been sup- 
 posed, but, by a common license, to the words 
 —0/ all mankind, which are understood, and 
 of which it is restrictive." i 
 
 Mr. Mdlone. it must be owned, bus shown 
 much critical ineenuity \n his explanation of 
 this passage. His interpretation, however, 
 seems to me much too recondite. Tlie mean- 
 ing of the passage may be certain enough; ; 
 but surely the expression is confused, and 
 one part of it contradictory to the otiur. I 
 
 [But why too recondite ?— When a meaning^ 
 i^ siven to a passage by understandinc; words 
 Ml an uncommon sense, the interpretation 
 may be said to be recondite^ and, however 
 Miijenious, may be suspected not to be sound : 
 I'lit when words are explained in their ordi- 
 i;;iry acceptation, and ttie explication which 
 IS tairly deduced from ihem without any force 
 or constraint is also perfectly justified by tiie 
 context, it surj ly may be safely accepted; 
 and the calling such an explication recondite. 
 when nothing else can be said against it, will 
 not make it the less just. M.] 
 
 much to be wished that worthy and reli- 
 gions men should be acquainted with 
 each other, I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " May 3, 1779." " Sam. Johnson. * 
 
 Mr. Wesley being in the course of his 
 ministry at Edinburgh, I presented this 
 letter to him, and was very politely re- 
 ceived. I begged to have it returned to 
 me, which was accordingly done. — His 
 state of the evidence as to the ghost did 
 not satisfy me. 
 
 I did not write to Johnson, as usual, 
 upon my return to my family ; but tried 
 how he would be affected by my silence. 
 Mr. Dilly sent me a copy of a note which 
 he received from him on the 13th of July, 
 in these words : 
 
 " to MR. dilly. 
 "sir, 
 " Since Mr. Boswell's departure I have 
 never heard from him ; please to send 
 word what you know of him, and whe- 
 ther you have sent my books to his lady. 
 " I am, «&c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 My readers will not doubt that his so- 
 licitude about me was very flattering. 
 
 -*' to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** What can possibly have happened 
 that keeps us two such strangers to each 
 other? I expected to have heard from 
 you when you came home ; I expected 
 afterwards. I went into the country and 
 returned, and yet there is no letter from 
 Mr. Bosvvell. No ill I hope has hap- 
 pened ; and if ill should happen, why 
 should it be concealed from him who 
 loves you? Is it a fit of humour that has 
 disposed you to try who can hold out 
 longest without writing? If it be, you 
 have the victory. But I am afraid of 
 something bad ; set me free from niy 
 suspicions. 
 
 " My thoughts are at present cm ployed 
 in guessing the reason of your silence: 
 you must not expect that I should teil 
 you any thing, if I had any thing to tell. 
 Write, pray write to me, and let me 
 know what h, or what has been, the 
 cause of this long interruption. 
 " 1 am, dear sir, 
 " Your most attectionatc 
 
 '* Humble servant, 
 "July 13, 1779." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " to dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 « Edinburgh, July 17, 1779. 
 ** MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " What may be justly denominated a 
 supine indolence of mind has been my 
 state of existence since I last returned to 
 
JEtat. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 453 
 
 Scotland. In a livelier state I had often 
 suffered severely from long intervals of 
 silence on your part ; and I had even 
 been chid by you for expressing my 
 uneasiness. 1 was vvilling to take advan- 
 tage of my insensibility, and while I 
 could bear the experiment, to try whe- 
 ther your affection for me would, after 
 an unusual silence on my part, make you 
 write first. This afternoon I have had 
 very high satisfaction by receiving your 
 kind letter of inquiry, for which 1 inost 
 gratefully thank you. I am doubtful if 
 it was right to make the experiment ; 
 though I have gained by it. I was be- 
 ginning to grow tender, and to upbraid 
 myself, especially after having dreamed 
 two nights ago that I was with you. I 
 and my uife, and my four children, are 
 all well. I would not delay one post to 
 answer your letter ; but as it is late, I 
 have not time to do more. You shall soon 
 hear from me upon many and various 
 particulars ; and I shall never again put 
 you to any test. I am, with veneration, 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your much obliged 
 ** And faithful humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 On the 22d of July I wrote to him 
 again ; and gave him an account of my 
 last interview with my worthy friend, 
 Mr. Edward Dilly, at his brother's house 
 at Southill in Bedfordshire, where he 
 died soon after I parted from him, leaving 
 me a very kind remembrance of his 
 regard. 
 
 I informed him that Lord Hailes, who 
 had promised to furnish him with some 
 anecdotes for his " Lives of the Poets," 
 had sent me three instances of Prior's 
 borrowing from Gomhauld,m " Recueil 
 des Poetes," tome 3. Epigram "To John 
 I owed great obligation," p. 25. " To 
 the Duke of Noailles," p. 32. '* Saun- 
 tering Jack and Idle Joan," p. 25. 
 
 My letter was a pretty long one, and 
 contained a variety of particulars ; but 
 he, it should seem, had not attended to 
 it ; for his next to me was as follows : 
 
 "to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Are you playing the same trick again, 
 and trying who can keep silence longest ? 
 Remember that all tricks are either 
 knavish or childish ; ami that it is as 
 foolish to make experiments upon the 
 constancy of a frjpnd as upon the chas- 
 tity of a wife. 
 
 " Wh^t can be the cause of this second 
 fit of silence I cannot conjecture; but 
 after one trick, 1 will not be cheated by 
 another, nor will harass my thoughts 
 mill co)3Jectijres about the motives of a 
 
 man who, probably, acts only by caprice. 
 I therefore suppose you are well, and 
 that Mrs. Boswell is well too; and that 
 the fine summer has restored Lord Au- 
 chinleck. I am much better than you 
 left me ; T think I am better than when 
 I was in Scotland. 
 
 *' I forgot whether I informed you 
 that poor Thrale has been in great dan- 
 ger. Mrs. Thrale likewise has miscar- 
 ried, and been much indisposed. Every 
 body else is well ; Langton is in camp. 
 I intend to put Lord Hailes's description 
 of Dryden* into another edition, and as 
 I know his accuracy, wish he would 
 consider the dates, which I could not 
 always settle to my own mind. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale goes to Brighlhelmstone 
 about Michaelmas, to be jolly and ride 
 a hunting. I shall go to town, or perhaps 
 to Oxford. Exercise and gaiety, or 
 rather carelessness, will I hope dissipate 
 all remains of his malady ; and I likewise 
 hope by the change of place to find some 
 opportunities of growing yet better my- 
 self. I am, dear sir, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 " Sam. Jounson." 
 " Streatham, Sept. 9, 1779." 
 
 My readers will not be displeased at 
 being told every slight circumstance of 
 the manner in which Dr. Johnson con- 
 trived to amuse his solitary hours. He 
 sometimes employed himself in chymis- 
 try, sometimes in watering and pruning 
 a vine, sometimes in small experiments, 
 at which those who may smile should 
 recollect that there are moments which 
 admit of being soothed only by trifles t. 
 
 On the 20th of September I defended 
 myself against his suspicion of me, which 
 I did not deserve ; and added, " Pray let 
 us write frequently, A whim strikes me, 
 that we should send off a sheet once a 
 week, like a stage coach, whether it be 
 
 * Which 1 communicated to him from his 
 Lordship, but it lias not yet been published. 
 i have a copy of it. 
 
 [The few notices concerniH? Dryden, which 
 Lord Hailes had collected, the authour after- 
 wards g;ave to Mr. Maione. M.] 
 
 t In one of his manuscript Diaries there is 
 the following entry, which marks his curious 
 minute attention : " July 26, 1768. I sliaved 
 my nail by accident in whetting the knife, 
 about an eigrhtli of an inch from the bottom, 
 and about a fourth from the top. This I mea- 
 sure that I may know the s^rowtli of nails; 
 the whole is about five eiffhths of an inch." 
 
 Another of the same kind appears, " Autr. 
 7, 1779, Partem brachii dexlri carpo proximam 
 et cutcvi pectoris circa mamiliam dextram 
 rasi, ut notnm fierel quanta temporis pili 
 rejiovarentnr.'^ 
 
 And, " Autf. 15, 1783. I cut from the vine 
 41 leaves, which weighed five oz, and a half 
 and eieht scruples:— I lay them upon my 
 bookcase to see what weight they will lose by 
 •Irving." 
 
454 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 full or not ; nay, tliongh it should be 
 empty. The very sight of your hand- 
 writing would comfort me; and were a 
 sheet to be thus sent regularly, we should 
 much oftencr convey something, were it 
 only a few kind words." 
 
 My friend Colonel James Stuart, second 
 son of the Earl of Bute, who had distin- 
 i^uished himself as a good officer of the 
 Bedfordshire militia, had taken a publick 
 spirited resolution to serve his country in 
 its difficulties, by raising a regular regi- 
 ment, and taking the command of it 
 himself. This, in the heir of the immense 
 property of Wortley, was highly honour- 
 able. Having been in Scotland recruiting, 
 he obligingly asked me to accompany 
 him to Leeds, then the head quarters of 
 his corps ; from thence to London for a 
 short time, and afterwards to other places 
 to which the regiment might be ordered. 
 Such an offer, at a time of the year when 
 1 had full leisure, was very pleasing ; 
 especially as I was to accompany a man 
 of sterling good sense, information, dis- 
 cernment, and conviviality ; and was to 
 have a second crop in one year of London 
 nnd Johnson. Of this I informed my 
 illustrious friend, in characteristical warm 
 terms, in a letter dated the 30th of Sep- 
 tember, from Leeds. 
 
 On Monday, October 4, I called at his 
 house before he was up. He sent for me 
 to his bedside, and expressed his satis- 
 faction at this incidental meeting with as 
 much vivacity as if he had been in the 
 gaiety of youth. He called briskly, 
 " Frank, go and get coffee, and let us 
 breakfast in splendour." 
 
 During this visit to London I had seve- 
 ral interviews with him, which it is un- 
 necessary to distinguish particularly. I 
 consulted him as to the appointment of 
 guardians to my children in case of my 
 death. " Sir (said he), do not appoint a 
 number of guardians. When there are 
 many, they trust one to another, and the 
 business is neglected. I would advise 
 you to choose only one ; let him be a 
 man of respectahh; character, who, for 
 his own credit, will do what is right ; let 
 him be a rich man, so that he may be 
 undir no tcinplalion to take advantage; 
 niid let him he a man of business, who is 
 u.M(l to coiiducl atlairs with ability and 
 e\i)crtuess, to whom tlii-rcfore the exe- 
 cution of the trust will not be hnnlen 
 some." 
 
 On Sunday, Ortoher 10, we dined 
 toc'etlier at Mr. Slialian's. The conver- 
 sation liaviii'4 liiiiied on the prevailini,' 
 piaetic- ol <,'oin- lo the I'la^t Indies in 
 f|ue>totweallli ; -Johnson. " A man had 
 better have ten thousand i)oini(ls at the 
 end of ten year-^ passed in Kni^land than 
 twenty thousand pounds at the end of ten 
 
 years passed in India, because yon must 
 compute what you t/ive for money ; and 
 a man who has lived ten years in India 
 has given up ten years of social comfort, 
 and all those advantages which arise from 
 living in England. The ingenious Mr. 
 Brown, distinguished by the name of 
 Capability Broivn, told me, that he was 
 once at the seat of Lord Clive, who had 
 returned from India with great wealth ; 
 and that he showed him at the door of 
 his bedchamber a large chest, which he 
 said he had once had full of gold; upon 
 which Brown observed, ' I am glad yon 
 can bear it so near your bedchamber.' " 
 
 We talked of the state of the poor in 
 London. — Johnson. " Saunders Welch, 
 the Justice, who was once High-Con- 
 stable of Holborn, and had the best 
 opportunities of knowing the state of the 
 poor, told me, that I underrated the 
 number when I computed that twenty a 
 week, that is, above a thousand a year, 
 died of hunger ; not absolutely of imme- 
 diate hunger; but of the wasting and 
 other diseases which are the consequences 
 of hunger. This happens only in so large 
 a place as London, where people are not 
 known. What we are told about the great 
 sums got by begging is not true : the trade 
 is overstocked. And, you may depend 
 upon it, there are many who cannot get 
 work. A particular kind of manufacture 
 fails : those who have been used to work 
 at it can, for some time, work at nothing 
 else. You meet a man begging ; yon 
 charge him with idleness : he says, * I 
 am willing to labour. Will you give me 
 work?'—' I cannot.'—' Why then you 
 have no right to charge me with idle- 
 ness."* 
 
 We left Mr. Strahan's at seven, as 
 Johnson had said he intended to go to 
 evening prayers. As we walked along, 
 he complained of a little gout in his toe, 
 and said. " I shan't go to prayers to- 
 night ; I shall go to-morrow : whenever 
 I miss church on a Sunday, I resolve to 
 go another day. But I do not always do 
 it." This was a fair exhibition of that 
 vibration between pious rtsohitions and 
 indolence, which many of ns have too 
 often experienced. 
 
 I went home with him, and we had a 
 long quiet conversation. 
 
 I read him a letter from Dr. Hugh 
 niiir concerning Pope (in writing whose 
 lile he w as now employed)* which I shall 
 insert as a literary curiosity*. 
 
 * riie Rev. 1)1. l.iuv, Bishop of Carlisle, in 
 ilic IVcl.ue to his viiluiible edition of Arch- 
 l)i.%li()ji Kind's " Kssay on the Orieriii of Evil," 
 mentions that the principles maiiitained in it 
 liad been adopted bv Pope in his " Essay on 
 Man;" and adds, "Tlie fact, notwilbstanding 
 sucli denial (Bisliop Warbnrtf)n's'), might have 
 l)een strictly verified bv an nnc\ce|)ti()nablo 
 
A:tat. 70. 
 
 '* TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ^' In the year 1763, being at London, I 
 was carried by Dr. Jolin Blair, Preben- 
 dary of Westminster, to dine at old Lord 
 Bathiirst's ; where we found the late 
 Mr. Mallet, Sir James Porter, who had 
 been Ambassadour at Constantinople, the 
 late Dr. Macanley, and two or three 
 mure. The conversation turning on Mr. 
 Pope, Lord Bathurst told us, that ' The 
 Essay on Man' was originally composed 
 by Lord Bolingbroke in prose, and that 
 Mr. Pope did no more than put it into 
 verse : that he had read Lord Boling- 
 broke's manuscript in his own hand- 
 writing ; and remembered well, that he 
 was at a loss whether most to admire the 
 elegance of Lord Bolingbroke's prose or 
 the beauty of Mr. Pope's verse. When 
 Lord Bathurst told this, Mr. Mallet bade 
 me attend, and remember this remark- 
 able piece of information ; as, by the 
 course of Nature, I miglit survive his 
 Lordship, and be a witness of his having 
 said so. The conversation was indeed too 
 remarkable to be forgotten. A few days 
 after, meeting with you, who were then 
 also at London, yon will remember that 
 I mentioned to yon what had passed on 
 this subject, as 1 was much struck with 
 this anecdote. But what ascertains my 
 recollection of it beyond doubt is, that 
 being accustomed to keep a journal of 
 what passed when I was at London, 
 which I wrote out every evening, I find 
 the particulars of the above information, 
 jnst as I have now given them, distinctly 
 marked ; and am thence enabled to fix 
 this conversation to have passed on Fri- 
 day, the 22d of April, 1763. 
 
 " 1 remember also distinctly (though 
 I have not for this the authority of my 
 journal), that the conversation going on 
 concerning Mr. Pope, I took notice of a 
 report which had been sometimes propa- 
 gated, that he did not understand Greek. 
 Lord Bathurst said to me, that he knew 
 that to be false ; for that part of the Iliad 
 was translated by Mr. Pope in his house 
 in the country ; and that in the morning 
 when they assembled at breakfast, Mr. 
 
 testimony, viz. that of the late Lord Bathinst, 
 who saw the very same system ofthe TofieXrtov 
 (taken from the Archbishop) in Lord Boling- 
 broke's own hand, lyinfiT before Mr. Pope while 
 he was composing his Essay." This is respect- 
 atjle evidence J but that of Dr. Blair is more 
 direct from the fountain-head, as well as more 
 full. Let me add to it that of Dr. Joseph 
 Warton ; " I'he late Lord Bathurst repeatedly 
 assured me that he had read the whole scheme 
 of ' the Essa^ on Man ' in the handwriting of 
 Bolingbroke, and drawn up in a series of pro- 
 positions, which Pope was to versify and illus- 
 trate." Essay on the Genius and Writings of 
 Pope, vol. ii. p. 62. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 455 
 
 Pope used frequently to repeat, with 
 great rapture, the Greek lines which he 
 had been translating, and then to give 
 them his version of them, and to compare 
 them together. 
 
 '' If these circumstances can be of any 
 use to Dr. Johnson, you have my full 
 liberty to give them to him. I beg you 
 will at the same time present to him my 
 most respectful compliments, with best 
 wishes for his success and fame in all his 
 literary undertakings. I am, with great 
 respect, mx dearest sir, 
 
 " Your most affectionate, 
 
 " And obliged humble servant, 
 *' Hugh Blair." 
 
 "Broughton Park, Sept. 21, 1779." 
 
 Johnson. '* Depend upon it, sir, this 
 is too strongly stated. Pope may have 
 had from Bolingbroke the philosophick 
 stamina of his Essay ; and admitting this 
 to be true. Lord Bathurst did not inten- 
 tionally falsify. But the thing is not true 
 in the latitude that Blair seems to ima- 
 gine ; we are sure that the poetical 
 imagery, which makes a great part of 
 the poem, was Pope's own. It is amaz- 
 ing, sir, what deviations there are frora 
 precise truth in the account which is 
 given of almost every thing. I told 
 Mrs. Thrale, ' You have so little anxiety 
 about truth, that you never tax your 
 memory with the exact thing.' Now 
 what is the use of the memory to truth 
 if one is careless of exactness? Lord 
 Hailes's 'Annals of Scotland' are very 
 exact ; but they contain mere dry parti- 
 culars. They are to be considered as a 
 Dictionary. You know such things are 
 there; and may be looked at when you 
 please. Robertson paints; but the mis- 
 fortune is, you are sure he does not know 
 the people whom he paints ; so you can- 
 not suppose a likeness. Characters should 
 never be given by an historian, unless he 
 knew the people whom he describes, or 
 copies from those who knew them." 
 
 BoswELL. " Why, sir, do people play 
 this trick which I observe now, when I 
 look at your grate, putting the shovel 
 against it to make the fire burn 1" John- 
 son. " They play the trick, but it does 
 not make the fire bum*. Tjiere is a 
 better; (setting the poker perpendicu- 
 larly up at right angles with the grate). 
 In (lays of superstition they thought, as 
 it made a cross with the bars, it would 
 drive away the witch." 
 
 BosvvELL. *' By associating with you, 
 sir, I am always getting an accession 
 of wisdom. But perhaps a man, after 
 
 * [It certainly does make the fire burn : by 
 repelling the air it throws a blast on the fire, 
 and so pertorms the part in some degree of a 
 blower or bellows. K.] 
 
456 THE LIFE OF 
 
 knowing his own character— the limited 
 strength of his own mind, should not be 
 desirous of having too much wisdom, 
 considering, quid valeant humeri, how 
 little he can carry.." Johnson. " Sir, be 
 as wise as you can ; let a man be aliis 
 IcetuSy sapiens sibi : 
 * Thougli pleased to see the dolphins play, 
 I mind my compass and my way *.' 
 
 Yon may be wise in your study in the 
 morning, and gay in company at a tavern 
 in the evening. Every man is to take 
 care of his own wisdom and his own 
 virtue, without minding too much what 
 others think." 
 
 He said, ** Dodsley first mentioned to 
 me the scheme of an English Dictionary ; 
 but I had long thought of it." Bosvvell. 
 " You did not know what you were un- 
 dertaking." Johnson. *' Yes, sir, I knew 
 very well what I was undertaking,— and 
 very well how to do it,— and have done 
 it very well." Boswell. " An excellent 
 climax! and it ^as availed you. In your 
 Preface you say, • What would it avail 
 me in this gloom of solitude V You have 
 been agreeably mistaken." 
 
 In his life of Milton, he observes, " I 
 cannot but remark a kind of respect, 
 perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great 
 man by his biographers : every house in 
 which he resided is historically men- 
 tioned, as if it were an injury to neglect 
 naming any place that he honoured by his 
 presence." I had, before I read this 
 observation, been desirous of showing 
 that respect to Johnson by various in- 
 quiries. Finding him this evening in a 
 very good humour, I prevailed on him 
 to give me an exact list of his places of 
 residence, since he entered the metro 
 polls as an authour, which I subjoin in a 
 note+. 
 
 I mentioned to him a dispute between 
 a friend of mine and his lady, concerning 
 conjugal infidelity, which my friend had 
 maintained was by no means so bad in 
 the husband as in the wife. Johnson. 
 " Your friend was in the right, sir. Be- 
 « The Spleen, a Poem. 
 
 t 1. Exeter Street, off Catharine Street, 
 Strand. 
 
 2. Greenwich. 
 
 3. Woodstrxk Street, near Hanover 
 
 Square. 
 
 4. Castle Street, Cavendish Sfiiiare, No. 6. 
 
 5. Strand. 
 
 6. Boswell Court. 
 
 7. SJrand, ag;ain. 
 
 8. Bow Street. 
 
 9. Holbotn. 
 
 10. Fetter Lane. 
 
 11. Holborn, again. 
 
 12. Gough Square. 
 
 13. Staple Inn. 
 
 14. Gray's Inn. 
 11. Inner Temple Lane, No. l. 
 
 16. Johnsons Court, No. 7. 
 
 17. Boll Court, No. 8. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1779. 
 
 tvveen a man and his Maker it is a diffe- 
 rent question : but between a man and 
 his wife, a husband's infidelity is nothing. 
 They are connected by children, by for- 
 tune, by serious considerations of com- 
 munity. Wise married women don'l 
 trouble themselves about infidelity in 
 their husbands." Boswell. " To be sure 
 there is a great difference between the 
 offence of infidelity in a man and that of 
 his wife." Johnson. " The difference is 
 boundless. The man imposes no bastards 
 upon his wife." 
 
 Here it may be questioned whether 
 Johnson was entirely in the right. I sup- 
 pose it will not be controverted that the 
 diflference in the degree of criminality ia 
 very great, on account of consequences : 
 but still it may be maintained that, inde- 
 pendent of moral obligation, infidelity is 
 by no means a light offence in a husband ; 
 because it must hurt a delicate attach- 
 ment, in which a nuitoal constancy is 
 implied, with such refined sentiments aa 
 Massinger has exhibited in his play of 
 ** The Picture." — Johnson probably at 
 another time would have admitted this 
 opinion. And let it be kept in remem- 
 brance that he was very careful not to 
 give any encouragement to irregular con- 
 duct. A gentleman, not adverting to the 
 distinction made by him upon this sub- 
 ject, supposed a case of singular perverse- 
 ness in a wife, and heedlessly said, " That 
 then he thought a husband might do as 
 he pleased with a safe conscience." John- 
 son. ** Nay, sir, this is wild indeed 
 (smiling) : you must consider that forni- 
 cation is a crime in a single man ; and 
 you cannot have more liberty by being 
 married." 
 
 He this evening expressed himself 
 strongly against the Roman Catholicks ; 
 observing, '* In every thing in which they 
 differ from us they are wrong." He was 
 even against the invocation of Saints ; in 
 short, he was in the humour of opposition. 
 
 Having regretted to him that I had 
 learnt little Greek, as is too generally the 
 case in Scotland; that I had for a long 
 lime hardly applied at all to the study of 
 that noble language, and that I was de. 
 sirous of being told by him what method 
 to follow ; he recommended to me as 
 easy helps, Sylvanus's " First book of 
 the Iliad;" Dawson's " Lexicon to the 
 Greek New Testament ;" and" Hesiod," 
 with Pasoris Lejcicon at the end of it. 
 
 On Tuesday, October 12, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Ramsay's, with Lord New- 
 haven and some other company, none of 
 whom I recollect, but a beautiful Miss 
 Graham*, a relation of his Lordship's, 
 who asked Dr. Johnson to hob or nob 
 
 I Now the lady of Sir Henry Dashwood, Bart, 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 /Etat. 70. 
 
 with her. He was flattered by such 
 pleasing attention, and politely told her 
 he never drank wine ; but if she would 
 drink a glass of water he was much at 
 her service. She accepted. " Oho, sir ! 
 (said Lord Newhaven) you are caught." 
 Johnson. ** Nay, I do not see how I 
 am caught ; but if I am caught, I don't 
 want to get free again. If I am caught, 
 I hope to be kept." Then when the two 
 glasses of water were brought, smiling 
 placidly to the young lady, he said, 
 " Madam, let us reciprocate." 
 
 Lord Newhaven and Johnson carried 
 on an argument for some time, concern- 
 ing the Middlesex election. Johnson said, 
 " Parliament may be considered as bound 
 by law, as a man is bound where there is 
 nobody to tie the knot. As it is clear 
 that the House of Commons may expel 
 and expel again and again, why not allow 
 of the power to incapacitate for that par- 
 liament, rather than have a perpetual 
 contest kept up between parliament and 
 the people?" Lord Newhaven took the 
 opposite side ; but respectfully said, " I 
 speak with great deference to you. Dr. 
 Johnson; I speak to be instructed." This 
 had its full eiffect on my friend. He 
 bowed his head almost as low as the 
 table, to a complimenting nobleman ; 
 and called out, " My Lord, my Lord, I 
 do not desire all this ceremony ; let us 
 tell our minds to one another quietly." 
 After the debate was over, he said, " I 
 have got lights on the subject to-day, 
 which I had not before." This was a 
 great deal from him, especially as he had 
 written a pamphlet upon it. 
 
 He observed, " The House of Com- 
 mons was originally not a privilege of 
 the people, but a check for the Crown, 
 on the House of Lords. I remember 
 Henry the Eighth wanted them to do 
 something; they hesitated in the morn- 
 ing, but did it in the afternoon. He told 
 them, * It is well you did ; or half your 
 heads should have been upon Temple 
 Bar.' But the House of Commons is 
 now no longer under the povver of the 
 crown, and therefore must be bribed." 
 He added, ** I have no delight in talking 
 of publick atfairs." 
 
 Of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated 
 Mr. George Whitefield, he said, " White- 
 field never drew as much attention as a 
 mountebank does ; he did not draw at- 
 tention by doing better than others, but 
 by doing what was strange. Were Astley 
 to preach a sermon standing upon his 
 head on a horse's back, he would collect 
 a multitude to hear him ; but no wise 
 man would say he had made a better 
 sermon for that. I never treated White- 
 field's ministry with contempt ; I believe 
 be did good. He had devoted himself to 
 
 457 
 
 the lower classes of mankind, and among 
 them he was of use. But when fami- 
 liarity and noise claim the praise due to 
 knowledge, art, and elegance, we must 
 beat down such pretensions." 
 
 What I have preserved of his conver- 
 sation during the remainder of my stay 
 in London at this time is only what fol- 
 lows : I told him that when I objected 
 to keeping company with a notorious 
 infidel, a celebrated friend of ours said 
 to me, " I do not think that men who 
 live laxly in the world, as you and I do, 
 can with propriety assume such an autho- 
 rity : Dr. Johnson may, who is uniformly 
 exemplary in his conduct. But it is not 
 very consistent to shun an infidel to-day, 
 and get drunk to-morrow." Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, this is sad reasoning. Be- 
 cause a man cannot be right in all things, 
 he is to be right in nothing. Because a 
 nian sometimes gets drunk, is he there- 
 fore to steal ? This doctrine would very 
 soon bring a man to the gallows." 
 
 After all, however, it is a difficult 
 question how far sincere Christians should 
 associate with the avowed enemies of 
 religion ; for in the first place, almost 
 every man's mind may be more or less 
 " corrupted by evil communications;" 
 secondly, the world may very naturally 
 suppose that they are not really in ear- 
 nest in religion who can easily bear its 
 opponents ; and thirdly, if the profane 
 find themselves quite well received by 
 the pious, one of the checks upon an open 
 declaration of their infidelity, and one of 
 the probable chances of obliging them 
 seriously to reflect, which their being 
 shunned would do, is removed. 
 
 He, I know not why, showed upon all 
 occasions an aversion to go to Ireland, 
 where I proposed to him that we should 
 make a tour. Johnson. *' It is the last 
 place where I should wish to travel.'* 
 BosWELL. *' Should you not like to see 
 Dublin, sir?" Johnson. " No, sir; 
 Dublin is only a worse capital." Bos- 
 well. " Is not the Giant's Causeway 
 worth seeing?" Johnson. " Worth see- 
 ing? yes ; but not worth going to see." 
 Yet he had a kindness for the Irish 
 nation, and thus generously expressed 
 himself to a gentleman from that country, 
 on the subject of a union which artful 
 Politicians have often had in view : *' Do 
 not make a union with us, sir. We should 
 unite with you only to rob you. We 
 should have robbed the Scotch if they 
 had had any thing of which we could 
 have robbed them." 
 
 Of an acquaintance of ours, whose 
 
 manners and every thing about him, 
 
 though expensive, were coarse, he said, 
 
 " Sir, you see in him vulgar prosperity.'* 
 
 A foreign minister of no very high 
 
458 
 
 talents, who had been in his companj 
 for a considerable time quite overlooked, 
 liappened luckily to mention that he had 
 read some of his " Rambler '' in Italian, 
 and admired it much. This pleased him 
 greatly ; he observed that the title had 
 been translated, II Genio errante, though 
 I have been told it was rendered more 
 ludicrously, 11 Vayahondo ; and finding 
 that this minister gave such a proof of 
 his taste, he was all attention to him, 
 and on the first remark which he made, 
 however simple, exclaimed, "The Am- 
 bassadour says well ; — his Excellency 
 observes — ;" And then he expanded and 
 enriched the little that had been said, in 
 so strong a manner that it appeared some- 
 thing of consequence. This was exceed- 
 ingly entertaining to the company who 
 were present, and many a time after- 
 wards it furnished a pleasant topick of 
 merriment: *' The Ambassadour says 
 well" became a laughable term of ap- 
 plause when no mighty matter had been 
 expressed. 
 
 I left London on Monday, October 18, 
 and accompanied Colonel Sluartto Ches- 
 ter, where his regiment was to lie for 
 some time. 
 
 MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Chester, October 22, 1773. 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " It was not till one o'clock on Monday 
 morning that Colonel Stuart and I left 
 London ; for we chose to bid a cordial 
 adieu to Lord Mountstuart, who was lo 
 set out on that day on his embassy to 
 Turin. We drove on excellently, and 
 reached Lichfield in good time enough 
 that night. The Colonel had heard so 
 preferable a character of the George that 
 he w ould not put up at the Three Crowns, 
 so that I did not see our host, Wilkins. 
 We found at the George as good accom- 
 modations as we could wish to have, and 
 I fully enjoyed the comfortable thought 
 that / was in Lichfield again. Next 
 morning it rained very hard ; and as I 
 had much to do in a little time, I ordered 
 a postchaise, and between eight and nine 
 sallied forth to make a round of visits. I 
 first went to Mr. Green, hoping to have 
 had him to accompany me to all my 
 other friends, but he was engaged to 
 attend the Bishop of Sodor and Man, 
 who was then lying at Lichfield very ill 
 of the gout. Having taken a hasly glance 
 at the additions to Green's niuseum, from 
 which it was not easy to break away, I 
 next went to the Friery, where I at first 
 occasioned some tumult in the ladies, 
 who were not prepared to receive com- 
 pany so early : but my name, which has 
 by wonderful felicity come to be closely 
 
 iTrd^l 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 171 
 
 associated with yours, soon made all 
 easy; and Mrs. Cobb and Miss Adcy 
 reassumed their seats at the breakfast 
 table, which they had quitted with some 
 precipitation. They received me with 
 the kindness of an old acquaintance ; and 
 after we had joined in a cordial chorus 
 to your praise, Mrs. Cobb gave me the 
 high satisfaction of hearing that yon said, 
 ' Boswell is a man who I believe never 
 left a house without leaving a wish for 
 his return.' And she afterwards added, 
 that she bid you tell me that if ever I 
 came to Lichfield, she hoped I would 
 take a bed at the Friery. From thence 
 I drove to Peter Garrick's*, where I 
 also found a very flattering welcome. 
 He appeared to me to enjoy his usual 
 cheerfulness; and he very kindly asked 
 me to come when I could, and pass a 
 week with him. From Mr. Garrick's I 
 went to the Palace to wait on Mr. Seward. 
 I was first entertained by his lady and 
 daughter, he himself being in bed with a 
 coki, according to his valetudinarian cus- 
 tom. But he desired to see me ; and I 
 found him dressed in his black gown, 
 with a white flannel nightgown above it; 
 so that he looked like a Dominican friar. 
 He was good humoured and polite ; and 
 under his roof too my reception was very- 
 pleasing. I then proceeded to Stow Hill, 
 and first paid my respects to Mrs. Gas- 
 trell, whose conversation I was not will- 
 ing to quit. But my sand-glass was now 
 beginning to run low, as I could not 
 trespass too long on the Colonel's kind- 
 ness, who obligingly waited for me ; so 
 I hastened to Mrs. Aston'sf, whom I 
 found much better than 1 feared I should ; 
 and there I met a brother-in-law of these 
 ladies, who talked much of you, and very 
 well too, as it appeared to me. It then 
 only remained to visit Mrs. Lucy Porter, 
 which I did, I really believe, with sin- 
 cere satisfaction on both sides. I am 
 sure I was glad to see her again; and, as 
 I take her to be very honest, I trust she 
 was glad to see me again ; for she ex- 
 pressed herself so, that I could not doubt 
 of her being in earnest. What a great 
 keystone of kindness, my dear sir, were 
 you that morning! for we were all held 
 together by our common attachment to 
 you. I cannot say that I ever passed 
 two hours with more self-complacency 
 than 1 did those two at Lichfield. Let 
 nie not entertain any guspicion that this 
 is idle vanity. Will not you confirm 
 me in my persuasion that he who finds 
 
 • fTiiis jfentlenian survived his brother 
 David many jears; and died at Lichfield, 
 Dec. 12, 1795, oetat. 86. A. C] 
 
 t f A maidt'U sister of Johnson's favourite, 
 Molly Aston, who married Captain Brodie, of 
 the Navjr. M.] 
 
.^TAT. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 himself so regarded has just reason to be 
 happy ? 
 
 " We got to Chester about midnight 
 on Tuesday ; and here again I am in a 
 state of much enjoyment. Colonel Stuart 
 and his officers treat me with all the civi- 
 lity I could wish ; and I play my part 
 admirably. JLcetus aliis, sapiens sibi, 
 the classical sentence which you, I ima- 
 gine, invented the other day, is exempli- 
 fied in my present existence. The Bishop, 
 to whom I had the honour to be known 
 several years ago, shows me much atten- 
 tion ; and I am edified by his conversa- 
 tion. T must not omit to tell you that 
 his Lordship admires, very highly, your 
 Prefaces to the Poets. I am daily ob- 
 taining an extension of agreeable acquaint- 
 ance, so that I am kept in animated 
 variety ; and the study of the place itself, 
 by the assistance of books, and of the 
 Bishop, is sufficient occupation. Chester 
 pleases my fancy more than any town I 
 ever saw. But I will not enter upon it 
 at all in this letter. 
 
 " How long I shall stay here I cannot 
 yet say. I told a very pleasing young 
 lady*, niece to one of the Prebendaries, 
 at whose house I saw her, * I have come 
 to Chester, madam, I cannot tell how ; 
 and far less can I tell how I am to get 
 away from it.' Do not think me too 
 juvenile. I beg it of you, my dear sir, 
 to favour me with a letter while I am 
 here, and add to the happiness of a happy 
 friend, who is ever, with affectionate 
 veneration, 
 
 " Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " James Boswell. 
 
 ** If you do not write directly, so as 
 to catch me here, I shall be disappointed. 
 Two lines from you will keep my lamp 
 burning bright." 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Why should you importune me so 
 earnestly to write? Of what importance 
 can it be to hear of distant friends, to a 
 man who finds himself welcome wherever 
 he goes, and makes new friends faster 
 than he can want them ? If to the delight 
 of such universal kindness of reception, 
 any thing can be added by knowing that 
 you retain my good will, you may in- 
 dulge yourself in the full enjoyment of 
 that small addition. 
 
 " 1 am glad that you made the round 
 of Lichfield with so much success : the 
 oftener you are seen, the more you will 
 be liked. It was pleasing to me to read 
 that Mrs. Aston was so well, and that 
 Lucy Porter was so glad to see yon. 
 
 » Miss Letitia Barnston. 
 
 459 
 
 " In the place where you now are, 
 there is much to be observed ; and you 
 will easily procure yourself skilful direc- 
 tors. But what will you do to keep away 
 the black dog that worries you at home? 
 If you would, in compliance with your 
 father's advice, inquire into the old te- 
 nures and old charters of Scotland, you 
 would certainly open to yourself many 
 striking scenes of the manners of the 
 middle ages. The feudal system, in a 
 country half barbarous, is naturally pro- 
 ductive of great anomalies in civil life. 
 The knowledge of past times is naturally 
 growing less in all cases not of pnblick 
 record ; and the past time of Scotland is 
 so unlike the present that it is already 
 difficult for a Scotchman to image the 
 economy of his grandfather. Do not 
 be tardy nor negligent ; but gather up 
 eagerly what can yet be found t- 
 
 " We have, I think, once talked of 
 another project, a History of the late 
 insurrection in Scotland, with all its in- 
 cidents. Many falsehoods are passing 
 into uncontradicted history. Voltaire, 
 who loved a striking story, has told what 
 he could not find to be true. 
 
 " You may make collections for either 
 of these projects, or for both, as oppor- 
 tunities occur, and digest your materials 
 at leisure. The great direction which 
 Burton has left to men disordered like 
 you is this. Be not solitary; he not 
 idle: which I would thus modify; — If 
 you are idle, be not solitary ; if you are 
 solitary, be not idle. 
 
 " There is a letter for you, from 
 " Your humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, October 27, 1779." 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Carlisle, Nov. 7, 1779- 
 
 *' MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " That I should importune you to write 
 to me at Chester is not wonderful, when 
 you consider what an avidity I have for 
 delight ; and that the amor of pleasure, 
 like the amor nummi, increases in pro- 
 portion with the quantity which we pos- 
 sess of it. Your letter, so full of polite 
 kindness and masterly counsel, came like 
 a large treasure upon me, while already 
 glittering with riches. I was quite en- 
 chanted at Chester, so that I could with 
 difficulty quit it. But the enchantment 
 
 t I have a valuable collection made by my 
 Father, which, with some additions and ilhis- 
 traiions of my own. I intend to publish. I 
 have some hereditary claim to be an Anti- 
 quary; not only fronrmy Father, but as bein^ 
 descended, by the mother's side, from tlie 
 able and learned Sir John Skene, whose meiit 
 bids defiance to ail the attempts which have 
 been made to lessen his fame. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 460 
 
 was the reverse of that of Circe ; for so 
 far was there from being any thing sen- 
 sual in it that I was all mind. I do not 
 mean all reason only ; for my fancy was 
 kept finely in play. And why not? — If 
 you please I will send you a copy, or an 
 abridgment, of my Chester journal, wliicii 
 is truly a log-book of felicity. 
 
 " The Bishop treated me with a kind- 
 ness which was very flattering. I told 
 him, that you regretted you had seen so 
 little of Chester. His Lordship bade me 
 tell you, that he should be glad to show 
 you more of it. I am proud to find the 
 friendship with which you honour me is 
 known in so many places. 
 
 " I arrived here late last night. Our 
 friend, the Dean, has been gone from 
 hence some months ; but I am told at my 
 inn, that he is very populous (popular). 
 However, I found Mr. Law, the Arch- 
 deacon, son to the Bishop, and with him 
 I have breakfasted and dined very agree- 
 ably. I got acquainted with him at the 
 assizes here, about a year and a half ago ; 
 he is a man of great variety of know- 
 ledge, uncommon genius, and, I believe, 
 sincere religion. I received the holy 
 sacrament in the Cathedral in the morn- 
 ing, this being the first Sunday in the 
 month ; and was at prayers there in the 
 morning. It is divinely cheering to me 
 to think that there is a Cathedral so near 
 Auchinleck ; and I now leave Old Eng- 
 land in such a state of mind as I am 
 thankful to Gou for granting me. 
 
 ** The black dog that worries me at 
 home I cannot but dread ; yet as I have 
 been for some time past in a military 
 train, I trust I shall repulse him. To 
 hear from you will animate me like the 
 sound of a trumpet ; I therefore hope 
 that, soon after my return to the northern 
 field, I shall receive a few lines from 
 you. 
 
 ** Colonel Stuart did me the honour to 
 escort me in his carriage to show me 
 Liverpool, and from thence back again 
 to Warrington, wh^-e we parted *. In 
 justice to my valuable wife, I must in- 
 form you she wrote to me, that as I was 
 so happy, she would not be so selfish as 
 to wish me to return sooner than busi- 
 ness absolutely required my presence. 
 She made my clerk write to me a post 
 or two after to the same purpose, by 
 commission from her ; and this day a 
 kind letter from her met me at the Post 
 Otfice here, acquainting me that she and 
 
 * His regiment was afterwards ordered to 
 Jamaica, where he arconipanifd if, and 
 almoit lo«t liis life by the climate. Tliis jni- 
 partidl order I siiould tliink a sufficieni refu- 
 tation of the idle rsimonr tlial " there was still 
 BoinethinK heliind the throne greater than the 
 throne itself." 
 
 1779. 
 
 the little ones were well, and expressing 
 all their wishes for my return home. I 
 am more and more, my dear sir, 
 *' Your affectionate 
 ** And obliged humble servant, 
 ** James Bos well." 
 
 " to james boswell, esq. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your last letter was not only kind but 
 fond. But I wish you to get rid of all 
 intellectual excesses, and neither to exalt 
 your pleasures nor aggravate your vexa- 
 tions beyond their real and natural state. 
 Why should you not be as happy at 
 Edinburgh as at Chester? In culpa est 
 animus, qui se non effugit usquam. 
 Please yourself with your wife and chil- 
 dren, and studies, and practice. 
 
 " I have sent a petition + from Lucy 
 Porter, with which I leave it to your 
 discretion whether it is proper to com- 
 ply. Return me her letter, which I 
 have sent, that you may know the whole 
 case, and not be seduced to any thing 
 that you may afterwards repent. Miss 
 Doxy perhaps you know to be Mr. Gar- 
 rick's niece. 
 
 ** If Dean Percy can be popular at 
 Carlisle, he may be very happy. He 
 has in his disposal two livings, each equal 
 or almost equal in value to the deanery ; 
 he may take one himself, and give the 
 other to his son. 
 
 " How near is the Cathedral to Au- 
 chinleck, that you are so much delighted 
 with it? It is, I snppose, at least, a hun- 
 dred and fifty miles off. However, if 
 you are pleased, it is so far well. 
 
 ** Let me know what reception you 
 have from your father, and the &thtc of 
 his health. Please him as much as yo^ 
 can, ami add no pain to his last years. 
 
 " Of our friends here I can recollect 
 nothing to tell you. I have neither seen 
 nor heard of Langton. Beauclerk is just 
 returned from Brighthelmstone, I am 
 told, much better. Mr. Thrale and his 
 family are still there; and his health is 
 said to be visibly improved ; he lias not 
 bathed, but hunted. 
 
 " At Bolt Court there is much malig, 
 nity, but of late little open hostility j. I 
 have had a cold, but it is gone. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, &c. I am, SIR, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 *• Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, Nov. 13, 1779." 
 
 On November 22, and Pecember 21, 
 I wrote to him from Edinburgh, giving a 
 
 t Requesting me to inquire concerninfif tke 
 family of a gentlemun who wa» then paying 
 iiis addresses to Miss Doxy, 
 
 ; See page 4 to. 
 
Mtat. 70. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 very favourable report of the family of 
 Miss Doxy's lover ; — that after a good 
 deal of inquiry I had discovered the sis- 
 ter of Mr. Francis Stewart, one of iiis 
 amanuenses when writing his Dictionary ; 
 — that I had, as desired by him, paid her 
 a guinea for an old pocket-book of her 
 brother's wliich he had retained ; and 
 that the good woman, who was in very 
 moderate circumstances, but contented 
 and placid, wondered at his scrupulous 
 and liberal honesty, and received the 
 guinea as if sent her by Providence. — 
 That I had repeatedly begged of him to 
 keep his promise to send me his letter to 
 Lord Chesterfield, and that this memento, 
 like Delenda est Carthago, must be in 
 every letter that I should write to him, till 
 I had obtained my object. 
 
 In 1780, the world was kept in impa- 
 tience for the completion of his " Lives 
 of the Poets," upon which he was em- 
 ployed so far as his indolence allowed 
 him to labour. 
 
 I wrote to him on January 1, and 
 March 13, sending him ray notes of 
 Lord Marchmont's information concern- 
 ing Pope; — complaining that I had not 
 heard from him for almost four months, 
 though he was two letters in my debt; — 
 that I had suffered again from melan- 
 choly ; — hoping that he had been in so 
 much better company (the Poets), that 
 he had not time to think of his distant 
 friends ; for if that were the case, I should 
 have some recompense for my uneasi- 
 ness ; — that the state of my affairs did 
 not admit of my coming to London this 
 year; and begging he w^ould return me 
 Goldsmith's two poems, with his lines 
 marked. 
 
 His friend Dr. Lawrence having now 
 suffered the greatest affliction to which a 
 man is liable, and which Johnson him- 
 self had felt in the most severe manner, 
 Johnson wrote to him in an admirable 
 strain of sympathy and pious consola- 
 tion. 
 
 " TO DR. LAWRENCE. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' At a time when all your friends ought 
 to show their kindness, and with a cha- 
 racter which ought to make all that know 
 you your friends, you may wonder that 
 you have yet heard nothing from me. 
 
 " I have been hindered by a vexatious 
 and incessant cough, for which within 
 these ten days I have been bled once, 
 fasted four or five times, taken physick 
 five times, and opiates, I think, six. 
 This day it seems to remit. 
 
 " The loss, dear sir, which you have 
 lately suffered I felt many years ago, 
 and know therefore how much has been 
 
 461 
 
 taken from you, and how little help can 
 be had from consolation. He that out- 
 lives a wife whom he has long loved sees 
 himself disjoined from the only mind 
 that has the same hopes, and fears, and 
 interest ; from the only companion with 
 whom he has shared much good or evil ; 
 and with whom he could set his mind at 
 liberty, to retrace the past or anticipate 
 the future. The continuity of being is 
 lacerated ; the settled course of sentiment 
 and action is stopped ; and life stands 
 suspended and motionless, till it is driven 
 by external causes into a new channel. 
 But the time of suspense is dreadful. 
 
 " Our first recourse in this distressed 
 solitude is, perhaps for want of habitual 
 piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in neces- 
 sity. Of two mortal beings, one must 
 lose the other ; but surely there is a 
 higher and bettor comfort to be drawn 
 from the consideration of that Provi- 
 dence which watches over all, and a 
 belief that the living and the dead are 
 equally in the hands of God, who wiW 
 reunite those whom he has separated ; or 
 who sees that it is best not to reunite. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " iSa.m. Johnson." 
 " January 20, 1780." 
 
 ** to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' Well, I had resolved to send you the 
 Chesterfield letter; but I will write once 
 again without it. Never impose tasks 
 upon mortals. To require two things is 
 the way to have them both undone. 
 
 " For the difficulties which you men- 
 tion in your affairs, I am sorry ; but dif- 
 ficulty is now very general : it is not 
 therefore less grievous, for there is less 
 hope of help. I pretend not to give you 
 advice, not knowing the state of your 
 \ affairs ; and general counsels about pru- 
 dence and frugality would do you little 
 good. You are, however, in the right 
 not to increase your own perplexity by 
 a journey hither ; and I hope that by 
 staying at home you will please your 
 father. 
 
 " Poor dear Beauclerk * — nee, ut soles, 
 dabis joca. His wit and his folly, his 
 acuteness and maliciousness, his merri- 
 ment and reasoning, are now over. Such 
 another will not often be found among 
 mankind. He directed himself to be 
 buried by the side of his mother, an 
 instance of tenderness which I hardly 
 expected. He has left his children to 
 the care of Lady Di, and if she dies, of 
 
 * [The Hon.Tophani Beauclerk died March 
 IJ, 1780. M.] 
 
462 
 
 Mr. Langton, and of Mr. Leicester his 
 relation, and a man of good character. 
 His library has been offered to sale to the 
 Russian anibassadour*. 
 
 ** Dr. Percy, notwithstanding all the 
 noise of the newspapers, has had no 
 literary lossf. Clothes and moveables 
 were burned to the value of about one 
 hundred poynds ; but his papers, and I 
 think his books, were all preserved. 
 
 " Poor Mr. Thrale has been in extreme 
 danger from an apoplectical disorder, and 
 recovered, beyond the expectation of his 
 physicians ; he is now at Bath, that his 
 mind may be quiet, and Mrs. Thrale and 
 Miss are with him. 
 
 " Having told you what has happened 
 to your friends, let me say something to 
 you of yourself. Your are always com- 
 plaining of melancholy, and I conclude 
 from those complaints that you are fond 
 of it. No man talks of that which he 
 is desirous to conceal, and every man 
 desires to conceal that of which he is 
 ashamed. Do not pretend to deny it ; 
 inanifestum hahemus furem ; make it 
 an invariable and obligatory law to your- 
 self, never to mention your own mental 
 diseases : if you are never to speak of 
 them, you will think on them but little ; 
 and if you think little of them, they will 
 molest you rarely. When you talk of 
 them, it is plain that you want either 
 praise or pity ; for praise there is no 
 room, and pity will do you no good ; 
 therefore, fro/n this hour speak no more, 
 think no more, about them. 
 
 " Your transaction with Mrs. Stewart 
 gave me great satisfaction ; I am much 
 obliged to you for your attention. Do 
 not lose sight of her; your countenance 
 may be of great credit, and of conse- 
 quence of great advantage to her. The 
 memory of her brother is yet fresh in 
 my mind ; he was an ingenious and wor- 
 thy man. 
 
 " Please to make my compliments to 
 your lady and to the young ladies. I 
 should like to see them, pretty loves. 
 •* I am, DEAii SIR, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " April 8, 1760." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale being now at Bath with 
 her husband, the correspondence between 
 Johnson and her was carried on bi iskly. 
 I shall present my readers with one of 
 her orignial letters to him at this time, 
 which will amuse thejn probably more 
 
 * [Mr. BeaucU-rk's l^ibr.iry w;is sol. I l)v 
 publick auction in April ;iii(\ ."Nlav, I7hI, loV 
 5011/. M.] 
 
 t My a fire in NoiMmmhirluul House, uIktc 
 lie harl an apartnieiil, in whicli I li.ivc |ia>sf.l 
 i.i uiy an agreeable Uour. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S0. 
 
 than those well written but studied epis- 
 tles which she has inserted in her collec- 
 tion, because it exhibits the easy viva- 
 city of their literary intercourse. It is 
 also of value as a key to Johnson's an- 
 swer, which she has printed by itself, 
 and of which I shall subjoin extracts. 
 
 MRS. THRALE TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " I HAD a very kind letter from you yes- 
 terday, dear sir, with a most circumstan- 
 tial date. You took trouble with my 
 circulating letter, Mr. Evans writes me 
 word, and thank you sincerely for so 
 doing: one might do mischief else, not 
 being on the spot. 
 I " Yesterday's evening vvas passed at 
 Mrs. Montagu's: there was Air. Mel- 
 moth ; I do not like him thonyh, nor he 
 me ; it was expected we should have 
 pleased each other; he is, however, just 
 Tory enough to hate the Bishop of Peter- 
 borough J for Whiggism, and Whig 
 enough to abhor you for Toryisiti. 
 
 " Mrs. Montagu flattered him finely ; 
 so he had a good afternoon on't. This 
 evening we spend at a concert. Poor 
 Queeney's§ sore eyes have just released 
 her : she had a long confinement, and 
 could neither read nor write, so my 
 master Jl treated her very goodnaturedly 
 with the visits of a young woman in this 
 town, a tailor's daughter, who professes 
 musick, and teaches so as to give six 
 lessons a day to ladies, at five and three- 
 pence a lesson. Miss Burney says she 
 is a great performer ; and I respect the 
 wench for getting her living ?v) prettily ; 
 she is very modest and pretty mannered, 
 and not seventeen years ol 1. 
 
 " You live in a fine wiiirl indeed ; if 
 I did not write regularly y()u would half 
 forget me, and that would be very wrong, 
 for Ifidt my regard for you in my face 
 last night, when the criticisms were 
 going on. 
 
 "This morning it was all connois?our- 
 ship; we went to see some pictures 
 painted by a gentleman artist, Mr. Tay- 
 lor, of this place ; my master makes one 
 every where, and has got a good dawling 
 companion to ride with liiin now. * * » • 
 * * *. He looks well enou-li, but I have 
 no notion of health for a man whose 
 mouth cannot be sowed up. Burney an*) 
 I and (^lU'tMicy tease him every meal 1: 
 eats, and Mis. .Montagu is quite serioi: 
 with hiiii ; ixit what can one do? Hi 
 will eat, I think, and if li(> does eat I 
 know he will not live ; it nKike> me very 
 
 X Dr. Jolin MinchliflV. 
 
 f A kind of nickname uIn.'u to Mrs. Tlirale's 
 el<l(;.-,t dauphter, whose u.uwt Ix in:; Eilhir 
 >liu niii,'ht he assiniilaieil to a Qiuin. 
 
 II Mr. Thrale. 
 
/EF^T. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR 
 
 Let nie 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 
 46S 
 
 unhappy, but I must bear it. 
 always have your friendship. 
 
 " I am most sincerely, dear sir, 
 " Your faithful servant, 
 " H. L. T." 
 " Bath, Friday, April 28," 
 
 DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. THRALE. 
 " DEAREST MAUAM, 
 
 ** Mr. Thrale never will live abstinently, 
 till he can persuade himself to live by 
 rule, f* * * *. Encourage, as you 
 can, the musical girl. 
 
 *' Nothing is more common than mu- 
 tual dislike, where mutual approbation 
 is particularly expected. There is often 
 on both sides a vigilance not over bene- 
 volent ; and as attention is strongly ex- 
 cited, so that nothing drops unheeded, 
 any difference in taste or opinion, and 
 some difference where there is no restraint 
 will commonly appear, immediately ge- 
 nerates dislike. 
 
 ** Never let criticisms operate on your 
 face or your mind ; it is very rarely that 
 an authour is hurt by his criticks. The 
 blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, 
 but it often dies in the socket; a very 
 few names may be considered as perpe- 
 tual lamps that shine unconsumed. From 
 tlie authour of ' Fitzosborne's letters' 1 
 cannot think myself in much danger. 1 
 met him only once, about thirty years 
 ago, and in some small dispute reduced 
 him to whistle ; having not seen him 
 since, that is the last impression. Poor 
 Moore, the fabulist, was one of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Mrs. Montagu's long stay, against 
 her own inclination, is very convenient. 
 You would, by your own confession, 
 want a companion ; and she is par plu- 
 ribus ; conversing with her, you may 
 Jind variety in one." 
 " London, May 1, 1780." 
 On the 2d of May I wrote to him, and 
 requested that we might have another 
 meeting somewhere in the North of 
 England, in the autumn of this year. 
 
 From Mr. Langton I received soon 
 after this time a letter, of which I extract 
 a passage, relative both to Mr. Beauclerk 
 and Dr. Johnson. 
 
 " The melancholy information you 
 have received concerning Mr. Beau- 
 clerk's death is true. Had his talents 
 been directed in any sufficient degree as 
 they ought, I have always been strongly 
 of opinion that they were calculated to 
 make an illustrious figure ; and that opi- 
 nion, as it had been in pait formed upon 
 Dr. Johnson's judgment, receives more 
 and more confirmation by hearing what, 
 since his death. Dr. Johnson has said con- 
 
 + I have taken the liberty to leave out a few 
 
 lines. 
 
 cerning them : a few evenings ago he was 
 at Mr.Vesey's,M'here Lord Althorpe, who 
 was one of a numerous company there, 
 addressed Dr. Johnson on the subject of 
 Mr. Beauclerk's death, saying, ' Our 
 Club has had a great loss since we met 
 last.' He replied, ' A loss that perhaps 
 the whole nation could not repair!' The 
 Doctor then went on to speak of his en- 
 dowments, and particularly extolled the 
 wonderful ease with which he uttered 
 v.hat was highly excellent. He said that 
 ' no man ever was so free when he was 
 going to say a good thing, from a look 
 that expressed that it was coming ; or, 
 when he had said it, from a look that 
 expressed that it had come.' At Mr. 
 Thrale's, some days before when we 
 were talking on the same subject, he 
 said, referring to the same idea of his 
 wonderful facility, ' That Beauclerk's 
 talents were those which he had felt 
 himself more disposed to envy than those 
 of any whom he had known.' 
 
 " On the evening I have spoken of 
 above, at Mr. Vesey's, you would have 
 been much gratified, as it exhibited an 
 instance of the high importance in which 
 Dr. Johnson's character is held, I think 
 even beyond any I ever before was wit- 
 ness to. The company consisted chiefly 
 of ladies, among whom were the Duchess 
 Dowager of Portland, the Duchess of 
 Beaufort, whom I suppose from her rank 
 I must name before her mother, Mrs. 
 Boscawen, and her elder sister Mrs. Lew- 
 son, who was likewise there; Lady Lu- 
 can. Lady Clermont, and others of note 
 both for their station and understandings. 
 Among the gentlemen were Lord Al- 
 thorpe, whom I have before named. 
 Lord Macartney, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 Lord Lucan, Mr. Wraxal, whose book 
 you have probably seen, ' 7'Ae Tour to 
 the Northern Parts ofJEuropej' a very 
 agreeable ingenious man ; Dr. Warren, 
 Mr. Pepys, the Master in Chancery, 
 whom I believe you know, and Dr. Ber- 
 nard, the Provost of Eton. As soon as 
 Dr. Johnson was come in, and had taken 
 a chair, the company began to collect 
 round him till they became not less than 
 four, if not five, deep ; those behind 
 standing, and listening over the heads of 
 those that were sitting near him. The 
 conversation for sometime was chiefly 
 between Dr. Johnson and the Provost of 
 Eton, while the others contributed occa- 
 sionally their remarks. Without attempt- 
 ing to detail the particulars of the con- 
 versation, which perhaps if I did I 
 should spin my account out to a tedious 
 length, I thought, my dear sir, this gene- 
 ral account of the respect with which our 
 valued friend was attended to might be 
 acceptable." 
 
464 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1780. 
 
 TO THE REVEREND DR. FARMER. 
 "sir, May 25, 1780. 
 
 *' I KNOW your disposition to second any 
 literary attempt, and therefore venture 
 upon the liberty of entreating you to 
 procure from College or University regis- 
 ters, all the dates or other informations 
 which they can supply relating to Am- 
 brose Philips, Broome, and Gray, who 
 ^yere all of Cambridge, and of whose 
 lives I am to give such accounts as T can 
 gather. Be pleased to forgive this trou- 
 ble from, SIR, 
 
 '* Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 While Johnson was thus engaged in 
 preparing a delightful literary entertain- 
 ment for the world, the tranquillity of 
 the metropolis of Great Britain was un- 
 expectedly disturbed by the most horrid 
 series of outrage that ever disgraced a 
 civilised country. A relaxation of some 
 of the severe penal provisions against 
 our fellow subjects of the Catholick 
 communion had been granted by the 
 Legislature, with an opposition so incon- 
 siderable that the genuine mildness of 
 Christianity united with liberal policy 
 seemed to have become general in this 
 island. But a dark and malignant spirit 
 of persecution soon showed ftself, in an 
 unworthy petition for the repeal of the 
 wise and humane statute. That petition 
 was brought forward by a mob, with the 
 evident purpose of intimidation, and was 
 justly rejected. But the attempt was 
 accompanied and followed by such daring 
 violence as is unexampled in history. Of 
 this extraordinary tumult Dr. Johnson 
 has given the following concise, lively, 
 and just account in his ** Letters to Mrs. 
 Thrale*:" 
 
 ** On Friday t the good Protestants 
 met in Saint George's Fields, at the 
 summons of Lord George Gordon, and, 
 jnarching to Westminster, insulted the 
 Lords and Commons, who all bore it 
 with great tameness. At night the out- 
 rages began by the demoliUon of the 
 masshouse by Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 " An exact journal of a week's defi- 
 ance of government I cannot give yon. 
 On Monday Mr. Strahan, who had been 
 insulted, spoke to Lord Mansfield, who 
 had I think been insulted too, of the 
 licentiousness of the populace ; and hia 
 Lordship treated it as a very slight irre- 
 gularity. On Tuesday night they pulled 
 down Fielding's house +, and burned his 
 
 » Vol. ii. p. 143, ct seq. I have selecled 
 puHsagcg fiotn several letters, without men- 
 tioning dates. 
 
 t June 2. 
 
 X [Tills is not quite correct. Sir John Field- , 
 iii^-^ was, I think, then dead. It was Justice 
 
 goods in the street. They had gutted on 
 Monday Sir George Savile's house, but 
 the building was saved. On Tuesday 
 evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they 
 went to Newgate to demand their com- 
 panions, who had been seized demolish- 
 ing the chapel. — The keeper could not 
 release them but by the Mayor's permis- 
 sion, which he went to ask ; at his return 
 he found all the prisoners released, and 
 and Newgate in a blaze. They then 
 went to Bloomsbury, and fastened upon 
 Lord Mansfield's house, which they 
 pulled down ; and as for his goods they 
 totally burnt them. They have since 
 gone to Caen Wood, but a guard was 
 there before them. They plundered some 
 Papists, I think, and burnt a masshouse 
 in Moorfields the same night." 
 
 " On Wednesday I walked with Dr. 
 Scot to look at Newgate, and found it in 
 ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I 
 went by the Protestants were plundering 
 the Sessions House at the Old Bailey. 
 There were not, I believe, a hundred ; 
 but they did their work at leisure, in full 
 security, without sentinels, without tre- 
 pidation, as men lawfully employed in 
 full day. Such is the cowardice of a 
 commercial place. On Wednesday they 
 broke open the Fleet, and the King's 
 Bench, and the Marshalsea, and Wood 
 Street Compter, and Clerkenwell Bride- 
 well, and released all the prisoners. 
 
 ** At night they set fire to the Fleet, 
 and to the King's Bench, and I know not 
 how many other places ; and one might 
 see the glare of conflagration fill the sky 
 from many parts. The sight was dread- 
 ful. Some people were tlneatened : Mr. 
 Strahan advised me to take care of my- 
 self. — Such a time of terrour you have 
 been happy in not seeing. 
 
 "The King said in council, *That the 
 magistrates had not done their duty, but 
 that he would do his own ;' and a pro- 
 clamation was published, directing us to 
 keep our servants within doors, as the 
 peace was now to be preserved by force. 
 —The soldiers were sent out to ditterent 
 parts, and the town is now [June 9] at 
 quiet. 
 
 *' The soldiers are stationed so as to 
 be every where within call : there is no 
 longer any body of rioters, and the indi- 
 viduals are hunted to their holes, and led 
 to prison ; Loid George was last night 
 sent to the Tower. Mr. John Wilkes 
 was this day in my neighbourhood, to 
 seize the publisher of a seditious paper." 
 
 " Several chapels have been destroyed, 
 and several inotiensive Papists have been 
 plundered, but the high sport was to burn 
 
 Hyde's house in St. Martin's Street, Leirester 
 Fields, that was trulted, and his goods burnt 
 in the street. H.J 
 
iETAT. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 465 
 
 the gaols. This was a good rabble trick. 
 The debtors and the criminals were all 
 set at liberty ; but of the criminals, as 
 has always happened, many are already 
 retaken ; and two pirates have surren- 
 dered themselves, and it is expected that 
 they will be pardoned." 
 
 *' Government now acts again with its 
 proper force; and we are all under the 
 protection of the King and the law. I 
 thought that it would be agreeable to you 
 and my master to have my testimony to 
 the publick security ; and that you would 
 sleep more quietly when I told you that 
 you are safe." 
 
 " There has, indeed, been a universal 
 panick, from which the King was the 
 first that recovered. Without the con- 
 currence of his ministers, or the assist- 
 ance of the civil magistrates, he put the 
 soldiers in motion, and saved the town 
 from calamities, such as a rabble's go- 
 vernment must naturally produce." 
 
 " The publick has escaped a very 
 heavy cfilamity. The rioters attempted 
 the Bank on Wednesday night, but in no 
 great number ; and like other thieves, 
 with no great resolution. Jack Wilkes 
 headed the party that drove them away. 
 It is agreed that if they had seized the 
 Bank on Tuesday, at the heat of the 
 panick, when no resistance had been 
 prepared, they might have carried irre- 
 coverably away whatever they had found. 
 Jack, who was always zealous for order 
 and decency, declares that if he be trusted 
 with power, he will not leave a riotsr 
 alive. There is, however, now no longer 
 any need of heroism or bloodshed ; no 
 blue riband * is any longer worn." 
 
 Such was the end of this miserable 
 sedition, from which London was deli- 
 vered by the magnanimity of the Sove- 
 reign himself. Whatever some may 
 maintain, I am satisfied that there was 
 no combination or plan, either domestick 
 or foreign ; but that the mischief spread 
 by a gradual contagion of frenzy, aug- 
 mented by the quantities of fermented 
 liquors, of which the deluded populace 
 possessed themselves in the course of their 
 depredations. 
 
 I should think myself very much to 
 blame, did I here neglect to do justice to 
 my esteemed friend Mr. Akerman, the 
 keeper of Newgate, who long discharged 
 a very important trust with a uniform 
 intrepid firmness, and at the same time 
 a tenderness and a liberal charity, which 
 entitle him to be recorded with distin- 
 . guished honour. 
 
 Upon this occasion, from the timidity 
 and negligence of magistracy on the one 
 
 * [Lord George Gordon and his followers, 
 diiiina- these outrages, wore blue ribantl«> in 
 .. iheir hats. M.] 
 
 hand, and the almost incredible exer- 
 tions of the mob on the other, the first 
 prison of this great country was laid 
 open, and the prisoners set free ; but that 
 Mr. Akerman, whose house was burnt, 
 would have prevented all this had proper 
 aid been sent him in due time, there can 
 be no doubt. 
 
 Many years ago a fire broke out in the 
 brick part which was built as an addition 
 to the old gaol of Newgate. The prisoners 
 were in consternation and tumult, calling 
 out, " We shall be burnt!— we shall be 
 burnt ! Down with the gate ! — down with 
 the gate!" Mr. Akerman hastened to 
 them, showed himself at the gate, and 
 having, after some confused vociferation 
 of " Hear him— hear him !" obtained a 
 silent attention, he then calmly told them, 
 that the gate must not go down ; that 
 they were under his care, and that they 
 should not be permitted to escape : but 
 that he could assure them they need not 
 be afraid of being burnt, for that the fire 
 was not in the prison, properly so called, , 
 which was strongly built with stone ; an(i ' 
 that if they would engage to be quiet, he 
 himself would come in to them, and con- 
 duct them to the further end of the build- 
 ing, and would not go out till they gave 
 him leave. To this proposal they agreed ; 
 upon v.hich Mr. Akerman, having first - 
 made them fall back from the gate, went 
 in, and with a determined resolution 
 ordered the outer turnkey upon no ac- 
 count to open the gate, even though the 
 prisoners (though he trusted they would 
 not) should br^ak their word, and by 
 force bring himself to order it. " Never 
 mind me (said he), should that happen." 
 The prisoners peaceably followed him 
 while he conducted them through pas- 
 sages of which he had the keys to the 
 extremity of the gaol which was most 
 distant from the fire. Having by this 
 veryjudiciousconductfully satisfied them 
 that there was no immediate risk, if any 
 at all, he then addressed them thus : 
 " Gentlemen, you are now convinced 
 that I told you true. I have no doubt 
 that the engines will soon extinguish this 
 fire ; if they should not, a sufficient guard 
 will come, and you shall be all taken out 
 and lodged in the Compters. I assure 
 you, upon my word and honour, that I 
 have not a farthing insured. I have left 
 my house that I might take care' of you, 
 I will keep my promise and stay with 
 you if you insist upon it ; but if you will 
 allow me to go out and look after my 
 family and property, I shall be obliged 
 to you." Struck with his behaviour, 
 they called out, ** Master Akerman, yoiji 
 have done bravely ; it was very kind in 
 you : by all means go and take care of 
 I your own concerns," He did so accordi 
 I H H 
 
46G 
 
 iiigly, while they remained, and were all 
 preserved. 
 
 Johnson has been heard to relate the 
 substance of this story with high praise, 
 in which he was joined by Mr. Burke. 
 My illustrious friend, speaking of Mr. 
 Akerman's kindness to his prisoners, 
 pronounced this eulogy upon his charac- 
 ter : — " He who has long had constantly- 
 in his view the worst of mankind, and is 
 yet enninent for the humanity of his dis- 
 position, must have had it originally in a 
 great degree, and continued to cultivate 
 it very carefully." 
 
 In the course of this month my brother 
 David waited upon Dr. Johnson, with 
 the following letter of introduction, which 
 1 had taken care should be lying ready 
 on his arrival in London. 
 
 '• TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, April 29, 1780. 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 " This will be delivered to you by my 
 brother David, on his return from Spain. 
 You will be glad to see the man who 
 vowed to * stand by the old castle of Au- 
 chinleck, with heart, purse, and sword ;* 
 that romantick family solemnity devised 
 by me, of which you and I talked with 
 complacency upon the spot. I trust that 
 twelve years of absence have not lessened 
 his feudal attachment; and that you will 
 find him worthy of being introduced to 
 your acquaintance. 
 
 ** I have the honour to be, 
 
 ** With affectionate veneration, 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 '* Your most faithful humble servant, 
 " James Boswell." 
 
 Johnson received him very politely, 
 and has thus mentioned him in a letter to 
 Mrs. Thrale * : " I have had with me a 
 brother of Boswell's, a Spanish mer- 
 chant t, whom the war has driven from 
 his residence at Valencia ; he is gone to 
 see his friends, and will find Scotland 
 but a sorry place after twelve years' 
 residence in a happier climate. He is 
 a very agreeable man, and speaks no 
 Scotch." 
 
 ** TO DR. BEATTIE, AT ABEUUEEN. 
 **SIR, 
 
 *' More yearsj than I li;ive any delight 
 to reckon have past since you and I saw 
 one another : of this, however, there is 
 no reason for making any reprehensory 
 compld'uit :— Sic fata ferunt. But me- 
 thinks there might pass some small inter- 
 
 • Vol. II. p. 163. Mrs. l>if)zzi has omitled 
 tin; name, she best knows why. 
 
 t Now settled in London. 
 
 X I had been five yeatH absent from Lon- 
 (Jon. Beattie. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1780. 
 
 change of regard between us. If you say 
 that I ought to have written, I now write ; 
 and I write to tell you that I have much 
 kindness for you and Mrs. Beattie ; and 
 that I wish your health better, and your 
 life long. Try change of air, and come 
 a few degrees Southwards ; a softer cli- 
 mate may do you both good ; winter is 
 coming in ; and London will be warmer, 
 and gayer, and busier, and more fertile 
 of amusement than Aberdeen. 
 
 " My health is better ; but that will be 
 little in the balance when I tell yon that 
 Mrs. Montagu has been very ill, and is, 
 I doubt, now but weakly. Mr. Thrale 
 has been very dangerously disordered ; 
 but is much better, and I hope will 
 totally recover. He has withdrawn him- 
 self from business the whole summer. 
 Sir Joshua and his sister are well; and 
 Mr. Davies has got great success as an 
 authour j, generated by the corruption 
 of a bookseller. More news I have not 
 to tell you, and therefore you must be 
 contented with hearing what I know not 
 whether you much wish to hearlj, that I 
 am, sir, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Bolt Court, Fleet Street, 
 August 21, 1780." 
 
 '* TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I FIND you have taken one of your fits 
 of taciturnity, and have resolved not to 
 write till you are written to ; it is but a 
 peevish humour, but you shall have your 
 way. 
 
 '• I have sat at home in Bolt Court all 
 the summer, thinking to write the Lives, 
 and a great part of the time only think- 
 ing. Several of them, however, are done, 
 and I still think to do the rest. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale and his family have, 
 since his illness, passed their lime first at 
 Bath, and then at Brighthelmstone ; but 
 I have been at neither place. I would 
 have gone to Lichfield if I could have 
 had time, and L might have had time if 
 I had been active ; but I have missed 
 much, and done little. 
 
 § Meaning his entertaining " Memoirs of 
 David Garrirk, Esq." of which Johnson (as 
 Davies int'onncd nie) wrote the first sentence; 
 thus giving, as it were, the key-note to the 
 perfoimanco. It is, indeed, very character- 
 isticHl of its authour, beginning with a maxim, 
 and proceeding to illustrate. — " All excel- 
 lence has a right to be recorded. I shall 
 therefore think it superfluous to apologize for 
 writing the life of a man who, by an uncom- 
 mon assemblage of private virtues, adorned 
 the highest eminence in a public profession." 
 
 II I wish he had omilled the suspicion ex- 
 pressed here, though 1 believe he meant no- 
 thing but jocularity ; for though he and I 
 difl'ered sometimes in opinion, lie well knew 
 how much I loved and revered him. Bkattib. 
 
i^TAT. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 467 
 
 " In the late disturbances, Mr. Tbrale's 
 house and stock were in great danger ; 
 the mob was pacified at their first inva- 
 sion with about fifty pounds in drink and 
 meat ; and at their second were driven 
 away by the soldiers. Mr. Strahan got 
 a garrison into his house and maintained 
 them a fortnight ; he was so frighted that 
 he removed part of his goods. Mrs. Wil- 
 liams took shelter in the country. 
 
 '* I know not whether I shall get a 
 ramble this autumn ; it is now about the 
 time when we were travelling. I have, 
 however, better health than I had then, 
 and hope you and I may yet show our- 
 selves on some part of Europe, Asia, or 
 Africa*. In the mean time let us play 
 no trick, but keep each other's kindness 
 by all means in our power. 
 
 *' The bearer of this is Dr. Dunbar, of 
 Aberdeen, who has written and pub- 
 lished a very ingenious book f, and who 
 I think has a kindness for me, and will, 
 when he knows you, have a kindness for 
 you. 
 
 " I suppose your little ladies are grown 
 tall ; and your son has become a learned 
 young man. I love them all, and I love 
 your naughty lady, whom I never shall 
 persuade to love me. When the Lives 
 are done, I shall send them to complete 
 her collection, but must send them in 
 paper, as for want of a pattern I cannot 
 bind them to fit the rest. I am, sir, 
 ** Yours, most affectionately, 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, August 21, 1780." 
 
 This year he wrote to a young clergy- 
 man in the country the following very 
 excellent letter, which contains valuable 
 advice to Divines in general : 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Not many days ago Dr. Lawrence 
 showed me a letter, in which you make 
 mention of me : I hope, therefore, you 
 will not be displeased that I endeavour 
 to preserve your good will by some 
 observations which your letter suggested 
 to me. 
 
 " You are afraid of falling into some 
 improprieties in the daily service by 
 reading to an audience that requires no 
 exactness. Your fear, I hope, secures 
 
 * It will no doubt be remarked how he 
 avoids the rebellious land of America. This 
 puts me in mind of an anecdote for which I 
 am obliged to my worthv social friend, Gover- 
 nour Richard Penn : " At one of Miss E. Her- 
 ▼ey's assemblies. Dr. Johnson was following 
 her up and down the room ; upon which Lord 
 Abington observed to her, ' Your great friend 
 19 very fond of you : you can go nowhere wiili- 
 oiithim.'— « Ay (said she), he would follow me 
 to any part of the world.'—' Then (said the 
 Earl), ask him to go with you to America.^ '^ 
 
 t " Essays on the History of Mankind." 
 
 you from danger. They who contract 
 absurd habits are such as have no fear. 
 It is impossible to do the same thing 
 very often without some peculiarity of 
 manner : but that manner may be good 
 or bad, and a little care will at least 
 preserve it from being bad : to make it 
 good there must, I think, be something of 
 natural or casual felicity, which cannot 
 be taught. 
 
 " Your present method of making your 
 sermons seems very judicious. Few fre- 
 quent preachers can be supposed to have 
 sermons more their own than yours will 
 be. Take care to register, somewhere or 
 other, the authoursfrom whom your seve- 
 ral discourses are borrowed ; and do not 
 imagine that you shall always remember 
 even what perhaps you now think it 
 impossible to forget. 
 
 ** My advice, however, is, that you 
 attempt, from time to time, an original 
 sermon ; and in the labour of composi- 
 tion, do not burden your mind with too 
 iTiuch at once ; do not exact from your- 
 self, at one efiort of excogitation, pro- 
 priety of thought and elegance of expres- 
 sion. Invent first, and then embellish. 
 The production of something where no- 
 thing was before is an act of greater 
 energy than the expansion or decoration 
 of the thing produced. Set down dili- 
 gently your thoughts as they rise in the 
 first words that occur; and when you 
 have matter, you will easily give it form : 
 nor, perhaps, will this method be always 
 necessary ; for by habit your thoughts and 
 diction will flow together. 
 
 " The composition of sermons is not 
 very difficult : the divisions not only help 
 the memory of the hearer, but direct the 
 judgment of the writer; they supply- 
 sources of invention, and keep every part 
 in its proper place. 
 
 " What I like least in your letter is 
 your account of the manners of your 
 parish ; from which I gather that it has 
 been long neglected by the parson. The 
 Dean of Carlisle j, who was then a little 
 rector in Northamptonshire, told me, 
 that it might be discerned whether or no 
 there was a clergyman resident in a pa- 
 rish, by the civilor savage manner of the 
 people. Such a congregation as yours 
 stands in need of much reformation ; and 
 I would not have you think it impossible 
 to reform them. A very savage parish 
 was civilized by a decayed gentlewoman, 
 who came among them to teach a petty 
 school. My learned friend Dr. Wheeler, 
 of Oxford, when he was a young man, 
 had the care of a neighbouring parish for 
 fifteen pounds a year, which he was never 
 paid ; but he counted it a convenience, 
 
 X Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore. 
 
408 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1780. 
 
 Uiat it compelled him to make a sermon 
 weekly. One woman he could not bring 
 to the communion ; and when he re- 
 proved or exhorted her, she only an- 
 swered, that she was no scholar. He 
 was advised to set some good woman or 
 man of the parish, a little wiser than 
 herself, to talk to her in a language level 
 to her mind. Such honest, I may call 
 them holy artifices must be practised by 
 every clergyman ; for all means must be 
 tried by which souls may be saved. Talk 
 to your people, however, as much as you 
 can ; and you will tind, that the more 
 frequently yon converse with them upon 
 religious subjects, the more willingly 
 they will attend, and the more submis- 
 sively they will learn. A clergyman's 
 diligence always makes him venerable. 
 I think I have now only to say, that in 
 the momentous work you have under- 
 taken I pray God to bless you. 
 ** I am, SIR, 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Bolt Court, Aug. 30, 1780." 
 
 My next letters to him were dated 
 August 24, September 6, and October 1, 
 and from them I extract the following 
 passages : 
 
 " My brother David and I find the 
 long indulged fancy of our comfortable 
 meeting again at Auchinleck so well 
 realized that it in some degree confirms 
 the pleasing hope of O ! prceclarum 
 diem ! in a future state. 
 
 " I beg that you may never again har- 
 bour a suspicion of my indulging a peevish 
 humour, or playing tricks ; you will re- 
 collect-that, when I confessed to you that 
 I had once been intentionally silent to 
 try your regard, I gave you my word 
 and honour that I would not do so 
 again. 
 
 ** I rejoice to hear of your good state 
 of health ; I pray God to continue it 
 long. I have often said, that I would 
 willingly have ten years added to my 
 life, to have ten taken from yours ; I 
 mean, that I would be ten years oJder, to 
 have you ten years younger. But let me 
 be thankful for the years during which I 
 have enjoyed yonr friendship, and please 
 myself with the hopes of enjoying it 
 many years to come in this state of 
 being, trusting always that, in another 
 -tate, we shall meet never to be sepa- 
 rated. Of this we can form no notion ; 
 but the thought, though indistinct, is 
 delightful when the mind is calm and 
 clear. 
 
 " The riots in London were certainly 
 horrible ; but you give me no account of 
 your own situation during the barbarous 
 anarchy. A description of it by Dr. 
 
 Johnson would be a great painting * ; 
 you might write another * London, a 
 Poem.' 
 
 '* I am charmed with your condescend- 
 ing affectionate expression, * let us keep 
 each other's kindness by all the means 
 in our power :' my revered Friend ! how 
 elevating is it to my mind that I am 
 found worthy to be a companion to Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson ! All that you have said 
 in grateful praise of Mr. Walmsley I 
 have long thought of you ; but we are 
 both Tories, which has a very general 
 influence upon our sentiments. I hope 
 that you will agree to meet me at York 
 about the end of this month ; or if you 
 will come to Carlisle, that would be 
 better still, in case the Dean be there. 
 Please to consider, that to keep each 
 other's kindness we should every year 
 have that free and intimate communi- 
 cation of mind which can be had only 
 when we are together. We should have 
 both our solemn and our pleasant talk." 
 
 *' I write now, for the third time, to 
 tell you that my desire for our meeting 
 this autumn is much increased. I wrote 
 to Squire Godfrey Bosville, my York- 
 shire chief, that I should, perhaps, pay 
 him a visit, as I was to hold a conference 
 with Dr. Johnson at York. I give you 
 my word and honour that I said not a 
 word of his inviting you ; but he wrote 
 to me as follows : 
 
 " * I need not tell you I shall be happy 
 to see you here the latter end of this 
 month, as you propose; and I shall like- 
 wise be in hopes that you will persuade 
 Dr. Johnson to finish the conference here. 
 It will add to the favour of yonr own 
 company, if you prevail upon such an 
 associate to assist your observations. 1 
 have often been entertained with his 
 writings, and I once belonged to a club 
 of which he was a member, and I never 
 spent an evening there but I heard some- 
 thing from him well worth remember- 
 ing.' 
 
 *' >\ e have thus, my dear sir, good 
 comfortable quarters in the neighbour- 
 hood of York, where, you may be as- 
 sured, we shall be heartily welcome. I 
 pray you then resolve to set out ; and let 
 not the year 1780 be a blank in our social 
 calendar, and in that record of wisdom 
 and wit, which I keep with so much dili- 
 gence, to your honour, and the instruc- 
 tion and delight of others." 
 
 Mr. Thrale had now another contest 
 for the representation in parliament of 
 the borough of Southwark, and Johnson 
 kindly lent him his assistance, by writ- 
 
 * I had not then seeo his Letters to Mrs. 
 
 Thrale. 
 
ing advertisements and letters for him. 
 1 shall insert one as a specimen : (aj 
 
 " TO THE WORTHY ELECTORS OF THE 
 BOROUGH OF SOUTHWARK. 
 " GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " A NEW Parliament being now called, 
 I again solicit the honour of being elected 
 for one of your representatives; and so- 
 licit it with the greater confidence, as I 
 am not conscious of having neglected my 
 duty, or of having acted otherwise than 
 as becomes the independent representa- 
 tive of independent constituents ; supe- 
 rior to fear, hope, and expectation, who 
 has no private purposes to promote, and 
 whose prosperity is involved in the pros- 
 perity of his country. As my recovery 
 from a very severe distemper is not yet 
 perfect, I have declined to attend the 
 Hall, and hope an omission so necessary 
 will not be harshly censured. 
 
 " I can only send my respectful wishes, 
 that all your deliberations may tend to 
 the happiness of the kingdom, and the 
 peace of the borough. 
 
 " I am, GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " Your most faithful 
 
 " And obedient servant, 
 " Henry Thrale." 
 "Soulhwark, Sept. 5, 17S0." 
 
 [" TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY 
 SOUTHWELL*, DUBLIN. 
 
 " MADAM, 
 
 ** Among the numerous addresses of con- 
 dolence which your great loss must have 
 occasioned, be pleased to receive this 
 from one whose name perhaps you have 
 never heard, and to whom your Lady- 
 ship is known only by the reputation of 
 your virtue, and to whom your Lord 
 was known only by his kindness and 
 beneficence. 
 
 " Your Ladyship is now again sum- 
 
 * [Maig'aret, the second daughter and one 
 of the co-heirtsses of Arthur Cecil Hamilton, 
 Esq. She was married in 1741 to Thomas 
 George, the third Baron, and first Viscount, 
 Southwell, and lived with him in the most 
 perfect connubial felicity till September, 178O, 
 when Lord Southwell died: a loss which she 
 never ceased to lament to tlie hour of her own 
 dissolution, in her eighty-first year, August 16, 
 1802.— The " illustrious example of piety and 
 fortitude," to which Dr. Johnson alludes, was 
 tlie submitting, when past her fiftieth year, 
 to an extremely painful surgical operation, 
 which she endured with extraordinary firm- 
 ness and composure, not allowing herself to 
 be tied to her chair, nor uttering a single 
 moan.— This slight tribute of aff"ection to the 
 memory of these two most amiable and excel- 
 lent persons, who were not less distinguished 
 by their piety, beneficence, and unbounded 
 charity, than "by a suavity of manners which 
 endeared them to all who knew them, it is 
 hoped, will be forgiven from one who was 
 honoured by their kindness and friemlship 
 from his childhood. M.J 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 469 
 
 moned to exert that piety of which you 
 once gave, in a state of pain and dan- 
 ger, so illustrious an example ; and your 
 Lord's beneficence may be still continued 
 by those who with his fortune inherit his 
 virtues. 
 
 " I hope to be forgiven the liberty 
 which I shall take of informing your 
 Ladyship, that Mr. Mauritius Lowe, a 
 son of your late Lord's father +, had, by 
 recommendation to your Loid, a quar- 
 terly allowance of ten pounds, the last of 
 which, due July 26, he has not received : 
 he was in hourly hope of its remittance, 
 and flattered himself that on October 26 
 he should have received the whole half 
 year's bounty, when he was struck with 
 the dreadful news of his benefactor's 
 death. 
 
 " May I presume to hope that his 
 want, his relation, and his merit, which 
 excited his Lordship's charity, will con- 
 tinue to have the same eftect upon those 
 whom he has left behind ; and that, 
 though he has lost one friend, he may 
 not yet be destitute. Your Ladyship's 
 charity cannot easily be exerted where 
 it is wanted more ; and to a mind like 
 yours, distress is a sufficient recom- 
 mendation. 
 
 *' I hope to be allowed the honour of 
 being, 
 
 " Madam, 
 ** Your Ladyship's 
 
 " Most humble servant, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson."] 
 
 " Bolt Court, Fleet Street, London, 
 Sept. 9, 1780.'' 
 
 On his birthday Johnson has this note : 
 " I am now beginning the seventy-second 
 year of my life, with more strength of 
 body, and greater vigour of mind, than I 
 think is common at that age." But still 
 he complains of sleepless nights and idle 
 days, and forgetfulness, or neglect of 
 resolutions. He thus pathetically ex- 
 presses himself: " Surely I shall not 
 spend my whole life with my own total 
 disapprobation J." 
 
 Mr. Macbean, whom I have mentioned 
 
 + [Thomas, the second Lord Southwell, who 
 died in London, in 1766. Johnson was well 
 acquainted wiih this nobleman, and said, " he 
 was the highest bred man, wiihout insolence, 
 that he was ever in company with." His 
 younger brother, Edmund Southwell, lived in 
 intimacy wiih Johnson for many years. (See 
 an account of him in Hawkins's Life of John- 
 son, p. 405). He died in London, Nov. 22, 
 1772. 
 
 In opposition to the Knight's unfavourable 
 representation of this gentleman, to whom 1 
 was indebted for my first introduction to John- 
 son, I take this opportunity to add, that he 
 appeared to me a pious man, and was very 
 fond of leading the conversation to religious 
 subjects. M.] 
 
 X Prayers and Meditations, p. 185. 
 
470 THE LIFE OF 
 
 more than once as one of Johnson's 
 humble friends, a deserving but unfortu- 
 nate man, being now oppressed by age 
 and poverty, Johnson solicited the Lord 
 Chancellor Thurlow to have him admitted 
 into the Charter House. I take the liberty 
 to insert his Lordship's answer, as I am 
 eager to embrace every occasion of aug- 
 menting the respectable notion which 
 should ever be entertained of my illus- 
 trious friend : 
 
 " TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 *' SIR, London, October 24, 1760. 
 
 *' I HAVE this moment received your 
 letter dated the 19th, and returned from 
 Bath. 
 
 *' In the beginning of the summer I 
 placed one in the Chartreux, without the 
 sanction of a recommendation so distinct 
 and so authoritative as yours of Macbean ; 
 and I am afraid that, according to the 
 establishment of the House, the oppor- 
 tunity of making the charity so good 
 amends will not soon recur. But when- 
 ever a vacancy shall happen, if you'll 
 favour me with notice of it, I will try to 
 recommend him to the place, even though 
 it should not be my turn to nominate. 
 ** I am, SIR, with great regard, 
 *' Your most faithful 
 
 " And obedient servant, 
 " Thurlow." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM sorry to write you a letter that 
 will not please you, and yet it is at last 
 what I resolve to do. This year must 
 pass without an interview ; the summer 
 has been foolishly lost, like many other 
 of my summers and winters. I hardly 
 saw a green field, but staid in town to 
 work, without working much. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale's loss of health has lost 
 him the election ; he is now going to 
 Brighthelmstone, and expects me to go 
 with him ; anfl how long I shall stay I 
 cannot tell. I do not much like the place, 
 but yet I shall go, and stay while my 
 stay is desired. We must, therefore, 
 content ourselves with knowing what we 
 know as well as man can know the mind 
 of man, that we love one another, and 
 that we wish each other's happiness, and 
 that the lapse of a year cannot lessen our 
 mutual kindness. 
 
 " I was pleased to be told that I ac- 
 cused Mrs. Boswell unjustly, in supposing 
 that she bears me ill will. I love you so 
 much that I would be glad to love all 
 that love you, and that you love ; and I 
 have love very ready for Mrs. Boswell, 
 if she thinks it worthy of acceptance. I 
 liope all the young ladies ami gentlemen 
 are well. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S0. 
 
 ** I take a great liking to your brother. 
 He tells me that his father received him 
 kindly, but not fondly ; however, you 
 seem to have lived well enough at Au- 
 chinleck, while you staid. Make your 
 father as happy as you can. 
 
 " You lately told me of your health : 
 I can tell you in return, that my health 
 has been, for more than a year past, 
 better than it has been for many years 
 before. Perhaps it may please God to 
 give us some time together before we 
 are parted. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Yours, most affectionately, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Oct. 17, 1780." 
 
 [" TO THE REVEREND DR. VYSE, AT 
 LAMBETH. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I HOPE you will forgive the liberty I 
 take in soliciting your interposition with 
 his Grace the Archbishop : my first peti- 
 tion was successful, and I therefore ven- 
 ture on a second. 
 
 " The matron of the Chartreux is about 
 to resign her place, and Mrs. Desmoulins, 
 a daughter of the late Dr. Swinfen*, 
 who was well known to your father, is 
 desirous of succeeding her. She has 
 been accustomed, by keeping a boarding 
 school, to the care of children ; and I 
 think is very likely to discharge her 
 duty. She is in great distress, and there- 
 fore may properly receive the benefit of 
 a charitable foundation. If you wish to 
 see her, she will be willing to give an 
 account of herself. 
 
 ** If you shall be pleased, sir, to men- 
 tion her favourably to his Grace, you will 
 do a great act of kindness to, sir, 
 " Your most obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 *' Sam. Johnson."] 
 '* December 30, 1780." 
 
 Being disappointed in my hopes of 
 meeting Johnson this year, so that 1 could 
 hear none of his admirable sayings, I 
 shall compensate for this want by insert- 
 ing a collection of them, for which I am 
 indebted to my worthy friend Mr. Lang- 
 ton, whose kind communications have 
 been separately interwoven in many 
 parts of this work. Very few articles of 
 this collection were committed to writing 
 by himself, he not having that habit ; 
 which he regrets, and which those who 
 know the numerous opportunities he had 
 of gathering the rich fruits of Johjisonian 
 wit and wisdom must ever regret. I how- 
 ever found, in conversation with him, 
 that a good store of Johnsouiana was 
 treasured in his mind ; and I compared 
 
 • [See p. 18. M.] 
 
JEtat. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 4T1 
 
 it to Herculaneum, or some old Roman 
 tield, which, when dug, fully rewards the 
 labour employed. The authenticity of 
 every article is unquestionable. For the 
 expression, I, who wrote them down in 
 kis presence, am partly answerable. 
 
 ** Theocritus is not deserving of very 
 high respect as a writer ; as to the pasto- 
 ral part, Virgil is very evidently supe- 
 riour. He wrote when there had been a 
 larger influx of knowledge into the world 
 than when Theocritus lived. Theocritus 
 does not abound in description, though 
 living in a beautiful country : the man- 
 ners painted are coarse and gross. Virgil 
 has much more description, more senti- 
 ment, more of nature, and more of art. 
 Some of the most excellent parts of 
 Theocritus are, where Castor and Pollux, 
 going with the other Argonauts, land on 
 the Bebrycian coast, and there fall into 
 a dispute with Amycus, the King of that 
 country ; which is as well conducted as 
 Euripides could have done it ; and the 
 battle is well related. Afterwards they 
 carry off a woman, whose two brothers 
 come to recover her, and expostulate 
 with Castor and Pollux on their injus- 
 tice ; but they pay no regard to the 
 brothers, and a battle ensues, where 
 Castor and his brother are triumphant. 
 — Theocritus seems not to have seen that 
 the brothers have the advantage in their 
 argument over his Argonaut heroes. — 
 * The Sicilian Gossips' is a piece of 
 merit." 
 
 " Callimachus is a writer of little ex- 
 cellence. The chief thing to be learned 
 from him is his account of Rites and 
 Mythology ; which, though ;desirable to 
 be known for the sake of understanding 
 other parts of ancient authours, is the 
 least pleasing or valuable part of their 
 writings." 
 
 *' Mattaire's account of the Stephani 
 is a heavy book. He seems to have been 
 a puzzle headed man, with a large share 
 of scholarship, but with little geometry 
 or logick in his head, without method, 
 and possessed of little genius. He wrote 
 Latin verses from time to time and pub- 
 lished a set in his old age, which he 
 called ' Senilia;^ in which he shows so 
 little learning or taste in writing as to 
 make Carteret a dactyl. — In matters of 
 genealogy it is necessary to give the bare 
 names as they are ; but in poetry and 
 in prose of any elegance in the writing, 
 they require to have inflection given to 
 them. — His book of the Dialects is a sad 
 heap of confusion ; the only way to 
 write on them is to tabulate them with 
 Notes, added at the bottom of the page, 
 and references." 
 
 " It may be questioned whether there 
 is not some mistake as to the methods of 
 
 employing the poor, seemingly on a sup- 
 position that there is a certain portion of 
 work left undone for want of persons to 
 do it; but if that is otherwise, and all^ 
 the materials we have are actually 
 worked up, or all the manufactures we 
 can use or dispose of are already exe- 
 cuted, then what is given to the poor 
 who are to be set at work must be taken 
 from some who now have it : as time 
 must be taken for learning (according to 
 Sir William Petty's observation), a cer- 
 tain part of those very materials that, as 
 it is, are properly worked up must be 
 spoiled by the unskiifulness of novices. 
 We may apply to well meaning, but 
 misjudging persons in particulars of this 
 nature, what Giannone said to a monk 
 who wanted what he called to convert 
 him : ' Tu sei santo, ma tu non set 
 Jilosopho.' — It is an unhappy circum- 
 stance that one might give away live 
 hundred pounds in a year to those that 
 importune in the streets, and not do any 
 good." 
 
 " There is nothing more likely to be- 
 tray a man into absurdity than conde- 
 scension ; when he seems to suppose his 
 understanding too powerful for his com- 
 pany." 
 
 " Having asked Mr. Langton if his 
 father and mother had sat for their pic- 
 tures, which he thought it right for each 
 generation of a family to do, and being 
 told they had opposed it, he said, ' Sir, 
 among the anfractuosities of the human 
 mind, I know not if it may not be one, 
 that there is a superstitious reluctance to 
 sit for a picture.' '' 
 
 " John Gilbert Cooper related that, 
 soon after the publication of his Dic- 
 tionary, Garrick being asked by Johnson 
 what people said of it, told him that 
 among other animadversions, it was ob- 
 jected that he cited authorities which 
 were beneath the dignity of such a work, 
 and mentioned Richardson. * Nay (said 
 Johnson), I have done worse than that : 
 I have cited thee, David.' " 
 
 " Talking of expense, he observed, 
 with what munificence a gi-eat merchant 
 will spend his money, both for his having 
 it at command, and from his enlarged 
 views by calculation of a good eltect 
 upon the whole. * Whereas (said he) 
 you will hardly ever find a country gen- 
 tlemaJi who is not a good deal discon- 
 certed at an unexpected occasion for his 
 being obliged to lay out ten pounds.' " 
 
 " When in good humour, he would 
 talk of his own writings with a wonderful 
 frankness and candour, and would even 
 criticise them with the closest severity. 
 One day, having read over one of his- 
 Ramblers, Mr. Langton asked him how 
 he liked that paper; he shgok his head. 
 
472 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1780. 
 
 aiul answered, * too wordy.' At another 
 time, when one was reading his tragedy 
 of* Irene,' to a compauy at a house in 
 the country, he left the room : and some- 
 body having asked him the reason of 
 this, he replied, * Sir, I thought it had 
 been better.' " 
 
 " Talking of a point of delicate scru- 
 pulosity of moral conduct, he said to Mr. 
 Langton, * Men of harder minds than 
 ours will do many things from which 
 you and I would shrink ; yet, sir, they 
 will, perhaps, do more good in life than 
 we. But let us try to help one another. 
 If there be a wrong twist, it may be set 
 right. It is not probable that two people 
 can be wrong the same way.' " 
 
 ** Of the Preface to Capel's Shaks- 
 peare, he said, ' If the man would have 
 come to me, I would have endeavoured 
 to ' endow his purposes with words ;' for 
 as it is, he doth * gabble monstrously.' " 
 
 " He related that he had once in a 
 dream a contest of wit with some other 
 person, and that he was very much mor- 
 tified by imagining that his opponent had 
 the better of him. ' Now (said he), one 
 may mark here the eflfect of sleep in 
 M eakening the power of reflection ; for 
 had not my judgment failed me, I should 
 have seen that the wit of this supposed 
 antagonist, by whose superiority I felt 
 myself depressed, was as much furnished 
 by me as that which I thought I had been 
 uttering in my own character.'" 
 
 " One evening in company, an ingeni- 
 ous and learned gentleman read to him a 
 letter of compliment which he had re- 
 ceived from one of the Professors of a 
 Foreign University. Johnson, in an irri- 
 table tit, thinking there was too much 
 ostentation, said, * I never receive any 
 (♦f these tributes of applause from abroad. 
 One instance I recollect of a foreign pub- 
 lication, in which mention is made of 
 I'iUustre Lockman*.' " 
 
 " Of Sir Joshua Reynolds, he said, 
 * Sir, I know no man who has passed 
 through life with more observation than 
 Reynolds.' " 
 
 *• He repeated to Mr. Langton, with 
 great energy, in the Greek, our Saviour's 
 gracious expression concerning the for- 
 giveness of Mary Magdalen f, *H ttjoti; 
 CTB <rsruix.e as' 'jrofeuiu «f «f)iv*jv.' * Thy 
 faith hath saved thee; go in peace j.' 
 He said, ' the manner of this dismission 
 is exceedingly afiecting.* " 
 
 " He thus defined the difference be- 
 tween physical and moral truth : * Phy- 
 
 * Secrelarv to (he Briti'>li Herring Fishery, 
 remarkable for an extraordinary imniber o(" 
 occasional verses, not of eminent merit. 
 
 t [It does not appearihat the woman for- 
 give ii was Mary Magdalen. K.J 
   ; I. like vii. 50. 
 
 sical truth is, when you tell a thing as it 
 actually is. Moral truth is, when you tell 
 a thing sincerely and precisely as it ap- 
 pears to you. I say such a one walked 
 across the street; if he really did so, I 
 told a physical truth. If I thought so, 
 though I should have been mistaken, I 
 told a moral truth §.' " 
 
 *' Hnggins, the translator of Ariosto, 
 and Mr. Thomas Warton, in the early 
 part of his literary life, had a dispute 
 concerning that poet, of whom Mr. War- 
 ton, in his ' Observations on Spenser's 
 Fairy Queen,' gave some account which 
 Huggins atteinpted to answer with vio- 
 lence, and said, ' I will militate no 
 longer against his nescience.' Huggins 
 was mas^ter of the subject, but waiited 
 expression. Mr. Warton's knowledge 
 of it was then imperfect, but his manner 
 lively and elegant. Johnson said, * It 
 appears to me that Huggins has ball 
 without powder, and Warton powder 
 without ball.' " 
 
 " Talking of the Farce of ' High Life 
 below Stairs,' he said, * Here is a Farce 
 which is really very diverting when you 
 see it acted ; and yet one may read it 
 and not know that one has been reading 
 any thing at all.' " 
 
 " He used at one time to go occa- 
 sionally to the green room of Drury 
 Lane Theatre, where he was much re- 
 garded by the players, and was very 
 easy and facetious with them. He had 
 a very high opinion of Mrs. Clive's 
 comick powers, and conversed more 
 with her than any of them. He said, 
 ' Clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by : 
 she always understands what you say»' 
 And she said of him, ' I love to sit by 
 Dr. Johnson : he always entertains me/ 
 One night, when 'The Recruiting Officer' 
 was acted, he said to Mr. Holland, who 
 had been ex pressing an apprehension that 
 Dr. Johnson would disdain the works of 
 Farquhar ; ' No, sir ; 1 think Farquhar 
 a man whose writings have considerable 
 merit.' " 
 
 " His friend Garrick was so busy in 
 conducting the drama that they could not 
 have so much intercour-se as Mr. Garrick 
 used to profess an anxious wish that 
 there should bej]. There might, indeed, 
 be something in the contemptuous seve- 
 rity as to the merit of acting, which his 
 old preceptor nourished in himself, that 
 would mortify Garrick after the great 
 applause which he received from the 
 audience. For though Johnson said of 
 
 § [This account of the diflTcrence between 
 moral and physical truth is in Locke's "Essay 
 on the Human llnderstandinsr," and many 
 ctiier books. K.] 
 
 II [In a letter wittcn bv Johnson to a friend 
 in Jan. 1742-3, he says' '♦ 1 never see Gar* 
 rick." IM.] 
 
.^TAT. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. K)HN 
 
 :1^Nr 
 
 him, * Sir, a man who has a nation to 
 admire him every night may well be 
 expected to be somewhat elated :' yet he 
 would treat theatrical matters with a 
 ludicrous slight. He mentioned one 
 evening, * I met David coming off the 
 stage, dressed in a woman's riding hood, 
 when he acted in * The Wonder ;' I 
 came full upon him, and I believe he 
 was not pleased.' " 
 
 " Once he asked Tom Davies, whom 
 he saw dressed in a fine suit of clothes, 
 ' And what art thou to-night ?' Tom an- 
 swered, ' The Thane of Ross' (which it 
 will be recollected is a very inconsider- 
 able character). ' O brave !' said John- 
 son." 
 
 " Of Mr. Longley, at Rochester, a 
 gentleman of very considerable learning, 
 whom Dr. Johnson met there, he said, 
 * My heart warms towards him. I was 
 surprised to find in him such a nice ac- 
 quaintance with the metre in the learned 
 languages : though I was somewhat mor- 
 tified that I had it not so much to myself, 
 as I should have thought.'" 
 
 " Talking of the minuteness with which 
 people will record the sayings of eminent 
 persons, a story was told, that when 
 Pope was on a visit to Spence at Ox- 
 ford, as they looked from the window 
 they saw a Gentleman Commoner, who 
 was just come in from riding, amusing 
 himself with whipping at a post. Pope 
 took occasion to say, ' That young gen^ 
 tleman seems to have little to do.' Mr. 
 Beauclerk observed, ' Then, to be sure, 
 Spence turned round aad wrote that 
 down ;' and went on to say to Dr. John- 
 son, ' Pope, sir, would have said the 
 same of you, if he had seen you distil- 
 ling.' Johnson. * Sir, if Pope had told 
 me of my distilling, I would hav^ told 
 him of his grotto.' " 
 
 " He would allow no settled indul- 
 gence of idleness upon principle, and 
 always repelled every attempt to urge 
 excuses for it. A friend one day sug- 
 gested, that it was not wholesome to 
 study soon after dinner. Johnson. * Ah, 
 sir, don't give way to such a fancy. At 
 one time of mj' life I had taken it into 
 my head that it was not wholesome to 
 study between breakfast and dinner.' " 
 
 ** Mr. Beauclerk one day repeated to 
 Dr. Johnson Pope's lines, 
 
 * Let modest Foster, if he will, excel 
 Ten metropolitans in preaching- well:' 
 
 Then asked the Doctor, ' Why did Pope 
 say this?' Johnson. ' Sir, he hoped it 
 would vex somebody.' " 
 
 '' Dr. Goldsmith, upon occasion of Mrs. 
 Lennox's bringing out a play*, said to 
 
 * [Probably "The Sisters," a comedy per- 
 fonued one night only, at Covent Garden, in 
 
 Dr. Johnson at the Club, that a person^ 
 \ifkc\ advised, him to go and hiss it, b»-^j 
 cl^ise she had attacked Shakspeare in 
 ha' book called ' Shakspeare Illustrated.' 
 Johnson. 'And did not you tell him that 
 he was a rascal ?' Goldsmith. * No, sir, 
 I did not. Perhaps he might not mean 
 what he said.' Johnsojn. ' Nay, sir, if he 
 lied, it is a different thing.' Colman 
 slily said (but it is believed Dr. Johnson 
 did not hear him), 'Then the proper ex- 
 pression should have been, — Sir, if you 
 don't lie, you're a rascal.' " 
 
 " His affection for Topham Beauclerk 
 was so great that, when Beauclerk was 
 labouring under that severe, illness which 
 at last occasioned his death, Johnson 
 said (with a voice faltering with emotion), 
 * Sir, I would walk to the extent of the 
 diameter of the earth to save Beau- 
 clerk.' " 
 
 " One night at the Club he produced 
 a translation of an Epitaph which Lord 
 Elibank had written in English, for his 
 Lady, and requested of Johnson to turn 
 it into Latin for him. Having read 
 Domina de North et Gray, he said to 
 Dyerf, ' You see, sir, what barbarism 
 we are compelled to make use of when 
 modern titles are to be specifically men- 
 tioned in Latin inscriptions.' When he 
 had read it once aloud, and there had 
 been a general approbation expressed by 
 the company, he addressed himself to 
 Mr. Dyer in particular, and said, ' Sir, 1 
 beg to have your judgment, for I know 
 your nicety.' Dyer then very properly 
 desired to read it over again ; which 
 having done, he pointed out an incon- 
 gruity in one of the sentences. Johnson 
 immediately assented to the observation, 
 and said, ' Sir, this is owing to an alter- 
 ation of a part of the sentence, from the 
 form in which I had first written it; and 
 I believe, sir, you may have remarked, 
 that the making a partial change, with- 
 out a due regard to the general structure 
 of the sentence, is a very frequent cause 
 of errour in composition.' " 
 
 "Johnson was well acquainted with 
 Mr. Dossie, authour of a treatise on 
 Agriculture; and said of him, 'Sir, of 
 the objects which the Society of Arts 
 have chiefly in view, the chymical effects 
 of bodies operating upon other bodies, 
 he knows more than almost any man.* 
 Johnson, in order to give Mr. Dossie his 
 vote to be a member of this Society, paid 
 up an arrear which had run on for two 
 years. On this occasion he mentioned a 
 
 1769. Dr. Goldsmith wrote an excellent epi- 
 lo|?ue lo it. — Mrs. Lennox, whose maiden 
 name was Ramsay, died in London in dis- 
 tressed circumstances, in her eighty-fourth 
 year, January 4, 1804. Al.] 
 t See p. 157. M.] 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 474 
 
 circumstance, as cliaracteristick of the 
 Scotch. * One of that nation (said he) 
 who liad been a candidate, against whom 
 I had voted, came up to me with a civil 
 salutation. Now, sir, this is their way. 
 An Englishman would have stomached 
 it, and been sulky, and never have taken 
 further notice of you ; but a Scotchman, 
 sir, though you vote nineteen times against 
 him, will accost you with equal complai- 
 sance after each time, and the twentieth 
 time, sir, he will get your vote.' " 
 
 " Talking on the subject of toleration, 
 one day when some friends were with 
 him in his study, he made his usual re- 
 mark, that the State has a right to regu- 
 late the religion of the people, who are 
 the children of the State. A clergyman 
 having readily acquiesced in this, John- 
 son, who loved discussion, observed, 
 * But, sir, you must go round to other 
 States than our own. You do not know 
 what a Bramin has to say for himself*. 
 In short, sir, I have got no further than 
 this : Every man has a right to utter what 
 he thinks truth, and every other man has 
 a right to knock him down for it. Mar- 
 tyrdom is the test.' " 
 
 " ' A man, he observed, should begin 
 to write soon ; for, if he waits till his 
 judgment is matured, his inability, 
 through want of practice to express his 
 conceptions, will make the disproportion 
 so great, between what he sees and what 
 he can attain, that he will probably be 
 discouraged from writing at all. As a 
 proof of the justness of this remark, we 
 may instance what is related of the great 
 Lord Granville t ; that after he had writ- 
 ten his letter giving an account of the bat- 
 tle of Dettingen, he said,* Here is a letter, 
 expressed in terms not good enough for a 
 tallowchandler to have used.' " 
 
 *' Talking of a Court-martial that was 
 sitting upon a very momentous publick 
 occasion, he expressed much doubt of an 
 enlightened decision ; and said, that per- 
 haps there was not a member of it, who, 
 in the whole course of his life, had ever 
 spent an hour by himself in balancing 
 probabilitiL'S." 
 
 ** Goldsmith one day brought to the 
 Club a printed Ode, which he, with 
 others, had been hearing read by its au- 
 thour in a publick room, at the rate of 
 five shillings each for admission. One 
 of the company having read it aloud, Dr. 
 Johnson said, * Bolder words and more 
 
 • Here Lord Macarlnry remarks, "A Bra- 
 miu or any cast of the fliiKlooH will iiciiher 
 admit you to be of iheir reliarion nor be con- 
 verted to yours:— a thing which struck the 
 PorltiGTuese with the s^reatest astonishment, 
 when they first discovered the East Indies." 
 
 t [Joiin, ihn fifHt Earl Granville, who died, 
 January 2, i7Ca. M.] 
 
 17S0. 
 
 timorous meaning, I think, never were 
 brought together.' " 
 
 " Talking of Gray's Odes, he said, 
 ' They are forced plants, raised in a hot- 
 bed ; and they are poor plants ; they are 
 but cucumbers after all.' A gentleman 
 present, who had been running down 
 Ode-writing in general, as a bad species 
 of poetry, unluckily said, * Had they 
 been literally cucumbers, they had been 
 better things than Odes.' — * Yes, sir (said 
 Johnson), for a hoy.' " 
 
 *' His distinction of the different de- 
 grees of attainment of learning was thus 
 marked upon two occasions. Of Queen 
 Elizabeth he said, * She had learning 
 enough to have given dignity to a bishop ;' 
 and of Mr. Thomas Davies he said, * Sir, 
 Davies has learning enough to give credit 
 to a clergyman.' " 
 
 '* He used to quote, with great warmth, 
 the saying of Aristotle recorded by Dio- 
 genes Laertius ; that there was the same 
 difference between one learned and un- 
 learned as between the living and the 
 dead." 
 
 " It is very remarkable, that he re- 
 tained in his memory very slight and 
 trivial, as well as important things. As 
 an instance of this, it seems that an infe- 
 riour domestick of the Duke of Leeds 
 had attempted to celebrate his Grace's 
 marriage in such homely rhymes as he 
 could make; and this curious composi- 
 tion having been sung to Dr. Johnson, 
 he got it by heart, and used to repeat it 
 in a very pleasant manner. Two of the 
 stanzas were these : 
 
 •When the Duke of Leeds shall married be 
 To a fine youoff lady of high quality, 
 How happy will that gentlewoman be 
 In his Grace of Leeds's good company. 
 
 She shall have all that's fine and fair. 
 And. the best of silk and satin shall wear; 
 And ride in a coach to take the air, 
 And have a house in St. James's Square J.' 
 
 To hear a man, of the weight and dig- 
 nity of Johnson, repeating such humble 
 attempts at poetry, had a very amusing 
 effect. He, however, seriously observed 
 of the last stanza repeated by him, that 
 it nearly comprised all the advantages 
 that wealth can give." 
 ** An eminent foreigner, when he was 
 
 X The corespondent of the Gentleman's Ma- 
 gazine, who subscribes himself SciOLUS, fur- 
 nishes the following supplement : 
 
 •' A lady of my acquaintance remembers 
 to have heard her uncle sing those homely 
 stanzas more than forty-five years ago. He 
 repeated the second thus: 
 
 She shall breed voung lords and ladies fair, 
 And ride abroad in a coach and three pair, 
 And the best, &c. 
 And liave a house, &c. 
 
 And remembered a third which scemk to have 
 
JEtw. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 475 
 
 shown the British Museum, was very 
 troublesome with many absurd inquiries. 
 * Now there, sir (said he), is the differ- 
 ence between an Englishman and a 
 Frenchman. A Frenchman must be 
 always talking, whether he knows any 
 thing of the matter or not; an English- 
 man is content to say nothing, when he 
 has nothing to say.' " 
 [- *' His unjust contempt for foreigners 
 ^ was, indeed, extreme. One evening, at 
 I Old Slaughter's coffee-house, when a 
 ' number of them were talking loud about 
 little matters, he said, * Does not this 
 confirm old Meynell's observation — For 
 I any thing J see, foreigners are fools?" 
 I ** He said, that once, when he had a 
 
 violent toothach, a Frenchman accosted 
 him thus : ^ Ah, monsieur, vous etudiez 
 trap.' " 
 *' Having spent an evening at Mr. 
 ^ Langton's, with the Reverend Dr. Parr, 
 t he was much pleased with the conver- 
 r sation of that learned gentleman ; and, 
 I after he was gone, said to Mr. Langton, 
 r * Sir, I am obliged to you for having 
 asked me this evening. Parr is a fair 
 man *. I do not know when I have had 
 an occasion of such free controversy. It 
 ^ is remarkable how much of a man's life 
 may pass w ithout meeting with any in- 
 stance of this kind of open discussion.' " 
 " We may fairly institute a criticism 
 between Shakspeare and Corneille, as 
 they both had, though in a different de- 
 gree, the lights of a latter age. It is not 
 so just between the Gre^k dramatick 
 writers and Shakspeare. It may be 
 replied to what is said by one of the 
 remarkers on Shakspeare, that though 
 Darius's shade had prescience, it does 
 not necessarily follow that he had all 
 past particulars revealed to him." 
 
 " Spanish plays, being wildly and im- 
 probably farcical, would please children 
 here, as children are entertained with 
 stories full of prodigies ; their experience 
 not being sufficient to cause them to be 
 so readily startled at deviations from the 
 natural course of life. The machinery of 
 
 been the introductory one, and is believed to 
 
 have been the only remaining: one: 
 
 When the Duke of Leeds shall have made his 
 
 choice 
 Of a charming young lady that's beautiful and 
 
 wise, 
 She'll be the liappiest young gentlewoman 
 
 under tlie skies, 
 As long as the suti and moon shall rise, 
 And how happy shall, &c." 
 
 It is with pieabiure I add that this stanza 
 could never be more truly applied than at this 
 present time [I7i)2]. 
 
 * [When the Corporation of Norwich ap- 
 plied to John!=on to point out to them a pro- 
 per master for Iheir Grammar School, he 
 recommended Dr. Farr, on his ceasing to be 
 usher to Sumner at Harrow. B,] 
 
 the Pagans is uninteresting to us : when' 
 a Goddess appears in Homer or Virgil, 
 we grow weary ; still more so in the 
 Grecian tragedies, as in that kind of 
 composition a nearer approach to Na- 
 ture is intended. — Yet there are good 
 reasons for reading romances ; as — the 
 fertility of invention, the beauty of style 
 and expression, the curiosity of seeing 
 with what kind of performances the age 
 and country in which they were written 
 was delighted ; for it is to be appre- 
 hended, that at the time when very wild 
 improbable tales were well received, the 
 people were in a barbarous state, and so 
 on the footing of children, as has been 
 explained." 
 
 " It is evident enough that no one who 
 writes now can use the Pagan deities and 
 mythology ; the only machinery, there- 
 fore, seems that of ministering spirits, 
 the ghosts of the departed, witches, and 
 fairies, though these latter, as the vulgar 
 superstition concerning them (which, 
 while in its force, infected at least the 
 imagination of those that had more ad- 
 vantage in education, though their reason 
 set them free from it) is every day wear- 
 ing out, seem likely to be of little further 
 assistance in the machinery of poetry. 
 As I recollect, Hammond introduces a 
 hag or witch into one of his love elegies, 
 where the effect is unmeaning and dis- 
 gusting." 
 
 " The man who uses his talent of ridi- 
 cule in creating or grossly exaggerating 
 the instances he gives, who imputes ab- 
 surdities that did not happen, or when a 
 man was a little ridiculous, describes him 
 as having been very much so, abuses his 
 talents greatly. The great use of deli- 
 neating absurdities is, that we may know 
 how far human folly can go ; the account, 
 therefore, ought of absolute necessity to 
 be faithful. A certain character (naming 
 the person) as to the general cast of it, is 
 well described by Garrick, but a great 
 deal of the phraseology he uses in it is 
 quite his own, particularly in the prover- 
 bial comparisons, ' obstinate as a pig,' &c. 
 but I don't know whether it might not be 
 
 true of Lord , that from a too great 
 
 eagerness of praise and popularity, and a 
 politeness carried to a ridiculous excess, 
 he was likely, after asserting a thing in 
 general, to give it up again in parts. For 
 instance, if he had said Reynolds was the 
 first of painters, he was capable enough 
 of giving up, as objections might happen 
 to be severally made, first, his outline, — 
 then the grace in form, — then the colour- 
 ing, and lastly, to have owned that he 
 was such a mannerist that the disposition 
 of his pictures was all alike." 
 
 " For hospitality, as formerly practised, 
 there is no longer the same reason ; here- 
 
476 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1780. 
 
 toforc tlie poorer people were more nu- 
 merous, and from want of commerce, 
 their means of getting a livelihood more 
 difficult ; therefore the supporting them 
 was an act of great benevolence ; now 
 that the poor can find maintenance for 
 themselves, and their labour is wanted, a 
 general undiscerning hospitality tends to 
 ill, by withdrawing them from their work 
 to idleness and drunkenness. Then, for- 
 merly rents were received in kind, so 
 that there was a great abundance of pro- 
 visions in possession of the owners of the 
 linds, which, since the plenty of money 
 afforded by commerce, is no longer the 
 case." 
 
 '* Hospitality to strangers and foreign- 
 ers in our country is now almost at an 
 end, since, from the increase of them 
 that come to us, there have been a suffi- 
 cient number of people that have found 
 an interest in providing inns and proper 
 accommodations, which is in general a 
 more expedient method for the entertain- 
 ment of travellers. Where the travellers 
 and strangers are few, more of that hos- 
 pitality subsists, as it has not been worth 
 while to provide places of accommoda- 
 tion. In Ireland there is still hospitality 
 to strangers, in some degree ; in Hun- 
 gary and Poland probably more." 
 
 " Colman, in a note on his translation 
 of Terence, talking of Shakspeare's learn- 
 ing, asks, * What says Farmer to this? 
 What says Johnson V Upon this he 
 observed, ' Sir, let Farmer answer for 
 himself: /never engaged in this contro- 
 versy. I always said, Shakspeare had 
 Latin enough to gramniaticise his Eng- 
 lish.' " 
 
 " A clergyman, whom he character- 
 ized as one who loved to say little oddi- 
 ties, was affecting one day, at a Bishop's 
 table, a sort of slyness and freedom not 
 in character, and repeated, aS if part of 
 
 * The Old Man's Wish,' a song by Dr. 
 Walter Pope, a verse bordering on licen- 
 tiousness. Johnson rebuked him in tlie 
 finest manner, by first showing him that 
 he did not know the passage he was aim- 
 ing at, and thus humbling him : * Sir, 
 that is not the song : it is thus.' And he 
 gave it right. Then looking steadfastly 
 on him, * Sir, there is a part of that song 
 which I should wish to exemplify in my 
 own life: 
 
 * May I govern my passions with absolute 
 
 sway!' " 
 
 " Being asked if Karnes knew a good 
 deal of Greek, he answered, * I doubt, 
 sir, he was unoculus inter avcos*.'" 
 
 • [Johnson, in his Life of M ilton, after nien- 
 lioniiie thai great poet's extraordinary fancy 
 that the worM was in its decay, and that his 
 book was to be written in an age too late for 
 
 " He used frequently to observe, that 
 men might be very eminent in a profes- 
 sion, without our perceiving any particu- 
 lar power of mind in them in conversa- 
 tion. * It seems strange (said he) that a 
 man should see so far to the riglit, who 
 sees so short a way to the left. Burke is 
 the only man whose common conversa- 
 tion corresponds with the general faine 
 which he has in the world. Take up 
 whatever topick you please, he is ready 
 to meet you.' " 
 
 " A gentleman by no means deficient 
 in literature, having discovered less ac- 
 quaintance with one of the Classicks than 
 Johnson expected, when the gentleman 
 left the room, he observed, ' You see, 
 now, how little any body reads.' Mr. 
 Langton happening to mention his having 
 reid a good deal in Clenardns's Greek 
 Grammar, * Why, sir (said he), who is 
 there in this town who knows any thing 
 of Clenardus but you and I V And upon 
 Mr. Langton's mentioning that he had 
 taken the pains to learn by heart the 
 Epistle of St. Basil, which is given in 
 that Grammar as a praxis, * Sir (said he), 
 I never made such an effort to attain 
 Greek.' " 
 
 " Of Dodsley's * Publick Virtue, a 
 Poem,' he said, * It was fine blank 
 (meaning to express his usual contempt 
 for blank verse): however, this miser- 
 able poem did not sell, and my poor 
 friend Doddy said, Publick \ irtue was 
 not a subject to interest the age.' " 
 
 *' Mr. Langton, when a very young 
 man, read Dodsley's* Cleone, a Tragedy,' 
 to him, not aware of his extreme impa- 
 tience to be read to. As it went on he 
 turned his face to the back of his chair, 
 and put himself into various attitudes, 
 which marked his uneasiness. At the 
 end of an act, however, he said, ' Come 
 let's have some more, let's go into the 
 slaughterhouse again, Lankey. But I am 
 afraid there is more blood than brains.' 
 Yet he afterwards said, ' When I heard 
 you read it, 1 thought higher of its power 
 of language : when I read it myself, I 
 was more sensible of its pathetick effect ;' 
 and then he paid it a compliment which 
 many will think very extravagant. 'Sir 
 (said he), if Olway had written this play, 
 no other of his pieces would have been 
 remembered.' Dodsley himself, upon 
 this being repeated to him, said, * It was 
 too much :' it must be remembered, 
 
 heroick poesy, thus concludes: '* However 
 inferiour to the heroes who were born in bel- 
 ter ages, \n: niiijht still be aireat among his 
 contemporaries, with the liope of growing 
 every day greater in the dwindle of posterity ; 
 be mighl still be a giant anion? the pigmies, 
 the one-eyed monarch of the btind." J. B.— 
 O.j 
 
^TAT. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 477 
 
 that Johnson always appeared not to 
 b» sutllcientiy sensible of the merit of 
 Otway *." 
 
 *' * Snatches of reading (said he) will 
 not make a Bentley or a Clarke. They 
 are, however, in a certain degree advan- 
 tageous. I would put a child into a 
 library (where no untit books are), and 
 let him read at his choice. A child should 
 not be discouraged from reading any 
 thing that he takes a liking to, from a 
 notion that it is above his reach. If that 
 be the case, the child will soon find out 
 and desist ; if not, he of course gains the 
 instruction ; which is so much the more 
 likely to come, from the inclination with 
 which he takes up the study.' " 
 
 " Though he used to censure c'areless- 
 ness with great vehemence, he owned 
 that he once, to avoid the trouble of lock- 
 ing up five guineas, hid them, he forgot 
 Where, so that he could not find tliem." 
 
 *• A gentleman who introduced his 
 brother to Dr. Johnson was earnest to 
 recornmend him to the Doctor's notice, 
 which he did by saying — ' When we have 
 sat together some time, you'll find my 
 brother grovv very entertaining.' — * Sir 
 (said Johnson), I can wait.' " 
 
 " When the rumour was strong that we 
 should have a war, because the French 
 would assist the Americans, he rebuked 
 a friend with some asperity for supposing 
 it, saying, * No, sir, national faith is not 
 yet sunk so low.' " 
 
 ** In the latter part of his life, in order 
 to satisfy himself whether his mental fa- 
 culties were impaired, he resolved that 
 he would try to learn a new language, 
 and fixed upon the Low Dutch for that 
 purpose, and this he continued till he 
 had read about one half of ' Thomas a 
 Kempis;' and finding that there ap- 
 peared no abatement of his power of 
 acquisition, he then desisted, as thinking 
 the experiment had been duly tried. Mr. 
 Burke justly observed that this was not 
 the most vigorous trial. Low Dutch being 
 a language so near to our own ; had it 
 been one of the languages entirely dif- 
 ferent, he might have been very soon 
 satisfied." 
 
 " Mr. Langton and he having gone to 
 see a Freemason's funeral procession, 
 when they were at Rochester, and some 
 solemn musick being played on French 
 horns, he said, * This is the first time that 
 I have ever been affected by musical 
 sounds;' adding, * that the impression 
 made upon him was of a melancholy 
 kind.' Mr. Langton saying, that this 
 
 * [This assertion concerning Johnson's in- 
 sensibility to the pathetick powers of Otway 
 is too round. I once asked him, whether he 
 did not think Otway freeiiicntly lender: when 
 he answered, " Sir, be is all tenderness." B.J 
 
 effect was a fine one ; Johnson. * Yes, if 
 it softens the mind so as to prepare it for 
 the reception of salutary feelings, it may 
 be good; but inasmucli as it is melan- 
 choly per se, it is bad f.' " 
 
 '* Goldsmith had long a visionary pro- 
 ject that some time or other, when his 
 circumstances should be easier, he would 
 go to Aleppo, in order to acquire a know- 
 ledge, as far as might be, of any arts 
 peculiar to the East, and introduce them 
 into Britain. When this was talked of 
 in Dr. Johnson's company, he said, ' Of 
 all men Goldsmith is the most unfit to 
 go out upon such an inquiry ; for he is 
 utterly ignorant of such arts as we already 
 possess, and consequently could not know 
 what would be accessions to our present 
 stock of mechanical knowledge. Sir, he 
 would bring home a grinding-barrow, 
 which you see in every street in London, 
 and think that he had furnished a won- 
 derful improvement.' " 
 
 '* ' Greek, sir (said he) is like lace ; 
 every man gets as much of it as he 
 canj.'" 
 
 " When Lord Charles Hay, after his 
 return from America, was preparing his 
 defence to be offered to the Court Mar- 
 tial which he had demanded, having 
 heard Mr. Langton as high in expres- 
 sions of admiration of Johnson as he 
 usually was, he requested that Dr. John- 
 son might be introduced to him ; and 
 Mr. Langton having mentioned it to 
 Johnson, he very kindly and readily 
 agreed ; and being presented by Mr. 
 Langton to his Lordship, while under 
 arrest, he saw him several times ; upon 
 one of which occasions Lord Charles 
 read to him what he had prepared, which 
 Johnson signified his approbation of, say- 
 ing, ' It is a very good soldierly defence.' 
 Johnson said, that he had advised his 
 Lordship that, as it was in vain to con- 
 tend with those who were in possession 
 of power, if they would offer him the 
 rank of Lieutenant General and a govern- 
 ment, it would be better judged to desist 
 from urging his complaints. It is well 
 known that his Lordship died before the 
 sentence was made known." 
 
 ** Johnson one day gave high praise to 
 Dr. Bentley's verses § in Dodsley's Col- 
 lection, which he recited with his usual 
 
 t [The French horn, however, is so far from 
 being melancholy per se, that when the strain 
 is light, and in the field, there is nothing so 
 clu erftil ! It was the funeral occasion, and 
 probably the solemnity of the strain that pro- 
 duced the plaintive effect here mentioned. 
 B.] 
 
 X [It should be remembered that this was 
 ,«aid twenty-five or thirty years ago, when lace 
 was very generally worn. M.] 
 
 § Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Cowley, says 
 that ihesfc are " the only English verses which 
 Bentley is known to have written." I shaU 
 
4T8 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 energy. Dr. Adam Smith, who was 
 present, observed in his decisive profes- 
 sorial manner, ' Very well — Very well.' 
 — Johnson however added, * Yes, they 
 are very well, sir; but you may observe 
 in what manner they are well. They are 
 the forcible verses of a man of a strong 
 mind, but not accustomed to write verse ; 
 for there is some uncouthness in the ex- 
 pression*.' " 
 
 *' Drinking tea one day at Garrick's 
 with Mr. Langton, he was questioned if 
 
 here insert them, and hope my readers will 
 apply them. 
 
 *< Who strives to mount Parnassus' hill, 
 
 And thence poecick laurels briner, 
 Must first actjuire due force and skill. 
 
 Must fly with swan's or ea8:le's wing'. 
 Who Nature's treasures would explore. 
 
 Her mysteries and arcana know ; 
 Must high as lofty Newton soar. 
 
 Must stoop as delving Woodward low. 
 Who studies ancient laws and rites. 
 
 Tongues, arts, and arms, and history ; 
 Must drudge, like Selden, days and nights, 
 
 And in the endless labour die. 
 Who travels in religious jars, 
 
 (Truth mixt with errour, shades with rays), 
 Like Whiston, wanting- pyx or stars. 
 
 In ocean wide or sinks or strays. 
 But grant our hero's hope long toil 
 
 And comprehensive genius crown, 
 All sciences, all arts his spoil, 
 
 Yet what reward, or what reaown? 
 Envy, innate in vulgar souls. 
 
 Envy steps in and stops his rise ; 
 Envy with poison'd tarnish fouls 
 
 His lustre, and h>s worth <lecries. 
 He lives inglorious or in want, 
 
 To college and old books confined; 
 Instead orlearii'd, he's cali'd pedant; 
 
 Dunces advanced, he's left behind: 
 Yet left content, a genuine Stoick he. 
 Great without patron, rich without South 
 Sea." 
 
 [A different and probably a more accurate 
 copy of these spirited verses is to be found in 
 "The Grove, or a Collection of Original 
 Poems and Translations," &c. 1721. In this 
 miscellany the last stanza, which in Dodsley's 
 copy is unquestionably uncouth, is thus exhi- 
 bited : 
 
 " Inglorious or hy wants inlhraWd, 
 
 To college and old books confined, 
 A pedant from his learning called, 
 Dunceu advanced, he's left behind." 
 
 J. B.-O.] 
 * The difference between Johnson and 
 Smith is apparent even in this slight instance. 
 . Smith was a man of extraordinary applica- 
 tion, and had his mimi crowded with all 
 manner of subjtcifi ; but the force, acuteness. 
 and vivacity of JtUinson were not to be found 
 there. He had bookmuking so much in his 
 thoughts, and was so chary of what might be 
 turned to account in that way, that he once 
 said to Sir Joshua Reynolds that he made it a 
 rule when in company never to talk of what 
 lie understood. Beauclerk had for a short 
 time a pretty high opinion of Smith's convcr- 
 nation. Gan ick, after listening to him for a 
 while, as to one of whom his expectations had 
 been raised, turned slyly to a friend and 
 whispered him, " What say you to this?— 
 eh]Jtabby, I think." 
 
 1780. 
 
 he was not somewhat of a heretick as to 
 Shakspeare ; said Garrick, * I doubt he 
 is a little of an infidel.' — ' Sir (said 
 Johnson), I will stand by the lines I have 
 written on Shakspeare in my Prologue 
 at tlie opening of your Theatre.' Mr. 
 Langton suggested that in the line 
 * And panting Time toil'd after hijy in vain, 
 Johnson might have had in his eye the 
 passage in the * Tempest,' where Pros- 
 pero says of Miranda, 
 
 * She will outstrip all praise. 
 
 And make it_halt behind her.' 
 
 Johnson said nothing. Garrick then ven- 
 tured to observe, * I do not think that the 
 happiest line in the praise of Shaks- 
 peare.' Johnson exclaimed (smiling), 
 ' Prosaical rogues ! next time I write, 
 I'll make both time and space pantf.' " 
 
 " It is well known that tiiere was for- 
 merly a rude custom for those who were 
 sailing upon tiie Thames to accost each 
 other, as they passed, in the most abusive 
 language they could invent, generally, 
 however, with as much satirical humour 
 as they were capable of producing. Ad- 
 dison gives a specimen of this ribaldry in 
 Number 383 of ' The Spectator,' when 
 Sir Roger de Coverly and he are going 
 to Spring Garden. Johnson was once 
 eminently successful in this species of 
 contest: a fellow having attacked him 
 with some coarse raillery, Johnson an- 
 swered him thus, * Sir, your wife, under 
 pretence of keeping a hawdyhouse, is a 
 receiver of stolen goods.' One evening 
 when he and Mr. Burke and Mr. Lang- 
 ton were in company together, and the 
 admirable scolding of Timon of Athens 
 was mentioned, this instance of Johnson's 
 was quoted, and thought to have at least 
 equal excellence." 
 
 " As Johnson always allowed the ex- 
 traordinary talents of Mr. Burke, so Mr. 
 
 t I am sorry to see, in the " Transactions 
 of the Royal Society of Edinburgh," Vol. ii. 
 " An Essay on the character of Hamlet," 
 written, I should suppose, by a very young 
 man, though called " Reverend ;" who speaks 
 with presumptuous petulance of the first lite- 
 rary character of his age. Amidst a cloudy 
 confusion of words (which hath of late too 
 often passed in Scotland for Metaphysicks) 
 he thus ventures to criticise one of the noblest 
 lines in our language: — Dr. Johnson has re- 
 marked, that 'time toiled after him in vain.' 
 But I should apprehcn<l that this is entirely 
 to mistake the character. Time toils after 
 every great man^ as well as after Shakspeare. 
 The worhiues of an ordinary mind keep pace, 
 indeed, with time; thev move no faster; they 
 have their beginning , their middle, and their 
 end ; hut superinur natures can reduce these 
 into a point. They do not, indeed, suppress 
 them ; but they suspend, or they lock them 
 up in the breati." 'l1ie learned Society, under 
 ^vliose sanction such g-ahhle is ushered into 
 the world, would do w<dl to offer a premium 
 to any one who will discover its meaiiiug. 
 
JEtat. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Burke was fully sensible of the wonder- 
 ful powers of Johnson. Mr. Langton 
 recollects having passed an evening with 
 both of them, when Mr. Burke repeat- 
 edly entered upon topicks which it was 
 evident he would have illustrated with 
 extensive knowledge and richness of ex- 
 pression ; but Johnson seized upon the 
 conversation, in which, however, he ac- 
 quitted himself in a most masterly man- 
 ner. As Mr. Burke and Mr. Langton 
 were walking home, Mr. Burke observed 
 that Johnson had been very great that 
 night : Mr. Langton joined in this, but 
 added, he could have wished to hear 
 raore from another person (plainly inti- 
 mating that he meant Mr. Burke). * O, 
 no (said Mr. Burke), it is enough forme 
 to have rung the bell to him.' " 
 
 " Beauclerk having observed to him 
 of one of their friends, that he was awk- 
 ward at counting mtKiey; 'Why, sir 
 (said Johnson), I am likewise awkward 
 at counting money. But then, sir, the 
 reason is plain ; I have had very little 
 money to count.' " 
 
 *' He had an abhorrence of affectation. 
 Talking of ol'd Mr. Langton, of whom he 
 said, ' Sir, you will seldom see such a 
 gentleman, such are his stories of litera- 
 ture, such his knowledge in divinity, and 
 such his exemplary life ;' he added, * and, 
 sir, he has no grimace, no gesticulation, 
 no bursts of admiration on trivial occa- 
 sions ; he never embraces jou with an 
 overacted cordiality.' " 
 
 " Being in company with a gentleman 
 who thought fit to maintain Dr. Berke- 
 ley's ingenious philosophy, that nothing 
 exists but as perceived by some mind ; 
 when the gentleman was going away, 
 Johnson said to him, ' Pray, sir, don't 
 leave us ; for we may, perhaps, forget 
 to think of you, and then you will cease 
 ^o exist.' " 
 
 ** Goldsmith, upon being visited by 
 Johnson one day in the Temple, said to 
 him with a little jealousy of the appear- 
 ance of his accommodation, ' I shall soon 
 be in better chambers than these.' John- 
 son at the same time checked him and 
 paid him a handsome compliment, im- 
 plying that a man of his talents should be 
 above attention to such distinctions, — 
 * Nay, sir, never mind that. Nil te 
 qiuBsiveris eatra.' " 
 
 " At the time when his pension was 
 granted to him, he said, with a noble 
 literary ambition, * Had this happened 
 twenty years ago, I should. have gone to 
 Constantinople to learn Arabick, as Po- 
 cocke did^' " 
 
 " As an instance of the niceness of his 
 taste, though he praised West's transla- 
 tion of Pindar, he pointed out the fol- 
 lowing passages as faulty, by expressing 
 
 470 
 
 a circumstance so minute as to detract 
 from the general dignity which should 
 prevail : 
 
 • Down then from thy glittering nail 
 Take, O muse, thy Dorian lyre."" 
 
 '* When Mr. Vesey * was proposed as 
 a member of the Literary Club, Mr. 
 Burke began by saying that he was a 
 man of gentle manners. ' Sir (said John- 
 son), you need say no more. When you 
 have said a man of gentle manners, you 
 have said enough.' •" 
 
 ** The late Mr. Fitzherbert told Mr. 
 Langton that Johnson said to him, ' Sir, 
 a man has no more right to say an un- 
 civil thing than to act one ; no more 
 right to say a rude thing to another than 
 to knocH bini down.' " 
 
 " My dear friend Dr. Bathurst (said 
 he, with a warmth of approbation) de- 
 clared, he was glad that his father, who 
 was a West Indian planter, had left his 
 affairs in total ruin, because, having no 
 estate, he was not under the temptation 
 of having slaves.' " 
 
 " Richardson had little conversation, 
 except about his own works, of which 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds said he was always 
 willing to talk, and glad to have them 
 introduced. Johnson, when he carried 
 Mr. Langton to see him, professed that 
 he could bring him out into conversation, 
 and used this allusive expression, * Sir^^ 
 I can make him rear.' But he failed ; 
 for in that interview Richardson, said 
 little else than that there lay in the room 
 a translation of his Clarissa into Ger- 
 man f." 
 
 " Once when somebody produced a 
 newspaper in which there was a letter of 
 stupid abuse of Sir Joshua Reynolds, of 
 which Johnson himself came"^ in for a 
 share, — * Pray (said he), let us have it 
 
 * [The Right Honourable Agmondesham 
 Vesey was elected a member of the Literary 
 Club in 1773, and died in 1784. M.] 
 
 t A literary lady has favoured me with a 
 characteristick anecdote of Richardson. One 
 day at his country house at Northen(4, wliere 
 a large company was assembled at dinner, a 
 gentleman who was just relumed from Paris, 
 willing to please Mr. Richardson, mentioned 
 to him a very flattering circumstance,— that 
 he had seen his Clarissa lying on the King's 
 brother's table. Richardson observing that 
 part of the company were engaged in talking 
 to each other, affected then not to attend to 
 it. But by and by, when there was a general 
 silence, and he thought that the flatter v might 
 be fully lieard, he addressed himself to the 
 gentleman, " 1 think, sir, you were saying 
 something about,—" pausing in a high flutter 
 of expectation. The gentleman, provoked at 
 his inordinate vanity, resolved not to indulge 
 it, and with an exquisitely sly air of indiflfer- 
 ence answered, " A mere trifle, sir, not worth 
 repeating." The mortification of Richardson 
 was visible, and he did not speak ten words 
 more the whole day. Dr. Johnson was pre- 
 sent, and appeared to enjoy it much. 
 
480 
 
 read aloud from beginning to end ;' wiiich 
 being done, he with a ludicrous earnest- 
 ness, and not directing his looli to any 
 particular person, called out, * Are we 
 alive after all this satire !' " 
 
 ** He had a strong prejudice against 
 the political character of Seeker, one 
 instance of which appeared at Oxford, 
 where he expressed great dissatisfaction 
 at his varying the old established toast, 
 
 * Church and King.' * The Archbishop 
 of Canterbury,' said he (with an aflfected, 
 smooth, smiling grimace), drinks * Con- 
 stitution in Church and State.' Being 
 asked what difference there was between 
 the two toasts, he said, * Why, sir, you 
 may be sure he meant something.' Yet 
 when the life of that prelate, prefixed to 
 his sermons by Dr. Porteus and Dr. 
 Stinton, his chaplains, first came out, he 
 read it with the utmost avidity, and said, 
 ' It is a life well written, and that well 
 deserves to be recorded.' " 
 
 " Of a certain noble Lord, he said, 
 
 * Respect him you could not ; for he had 
 no mind of his own. Love him you could 
 not ; for that which you could do with 
 him, every one else could.' " 
 
 *' Of Dr. Goldsmith he said, * No man 
 was more foolish when he had not a pen 
 in his hand, or more wise when he 
 had.' " 
 
 " He told in his lively manner the fol- 
 lowing literary anecdote : * Green and 
 Guthrie, an Lishman and a Scotchnjan, 
 undertook a translation of Duhalde's 
 History of China. Green said of Guthriej 
 that he knew no English, and Guthrie of 
 Green, that he knew no French ; and 
 these two undertook to translate Du- 
 halde's History of China. In this trans- 
 lation there was found * the twenty-sixth 
 day of the new moon.' Now as the whole 
 age of the moon is but twenty-eight days, 
 the moon, instead of being new, was 
 nearly as old as it could be. The blunder 
 arose from their mistaking the word 
 neuviime ninth, for nouvelle or ncuve, 
 new.' " 
 
 *' Talking of Dr. Blagden's copious- 
 ness and precision of communication. 
 Dr. Johnson said, * Blagden, sir, is a 
 delightful fellow.' " 
 
 "On occasion of Dr. Johnson publish- 
 ing his pamphlet of ' The False Alarm,' 
 there came out a very angry answer (by 
 many supposed to be by Mr. Wilkes). 
 Dr. Johnson determined on not an- 
 swering it; but, in conversation with 
 Mr. Langton, mentioned a particular or 
 two, which if he had replied to it, he 
 might perhaps have inserted. — In the 
 the answerer 8 pamphlet, it had been said 
 with solemnity, ' Do you consider, sir, 
 that a House of Commons is to the peo- 
 ple as a creature is to its Creator?'   To 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 this question,' said Dr. Johnson, * I couM 
 have replied that — -in the first place — the 
 idea of a Creator must be such as that 
 he has a power to unmake or annihilate 
 his creature. 
 
 " * Then it cannot be conceived that a 
 creature can make laws for its Crea- 
 tor*.' " 
 
 " Depend upon it, said he, that if a man 
 talks of his misfortunes, there is some- 
 thing in them that is not disagreeable 
 to him ; for where there is nothing but 
 pure misery, there never is any recourse 
 to the mention of it." 
 
 *' A man must be a poor beast that 
 should read no more In quantity than he 
 could utter aloud." 
 
 ** Imlac in * Rasselas,' I spelt with a c 
 at the end, because it is lej^s like English, 
 which should always have the Saxon k 
 added to the c\." 
 
 " JVIany a man is mad in certain in- 
 stances, and goes through life without 
 having it perceived : — for example, a 
 madness has seized a person of supposing 
 himself obliged literally to pray continu- 
 ally ; had the madness turned the oppo- 
 site way, and the person thought it a 
 crime ever to pray, it might not impro- 
 bably have continued unobserved." 
 
 " He apprehended that the delineation 
 oi characters in the end of the first Book 
 of the * Retreat of the ten thousand ' was 
 the first instance of the kind that was 
 known." 
 
 " Supposing (said he) a wife to be 
 of a studious or argumentative turn, it 
 would be very troublesome : for instance, 
 — if a woman should continually dwell 
 upon the subject of the Arian heresy." 
 
 ** No man speaks concerning another, 
 even suppose it be in his praise, if he 
 thinks he does not hear him, exactly as 
 he would, if he thought he was within 
 hearing." 
 
 " ' The applause of a single human 
 being is of great consequence.' This he 
 said to me with great earnestness of 
 manner, very near the time of his de- 
 cease, on occasion of having desired me 
 to read a letter addressed to him from 
 some person in the north of England ; 
 which when I had done, and he asked 
 
 • His profound adoration of the Great 
 First Cai'se wan such as to bet him above 
 that ** Fliilogophy and vuin deceit," with 
 which men of narrow conccpiions have been 
 infected. I have hcanl him stronirly main- 
 tain that " what is rit(ht is not so from any 
 natural fltuess, but because God wills it to be 
 right;" and it is certainly so, because he has 
 predisposed the relations of things so as that 
 which he wills must be rig'.t. Koswei.l. 
 
 + I hope the authority of the prtat Master 
 of our lauguape will stop that curlailin;,' inno- 
 vation by which we see critic, public, Sec. 
 frequently written instead of ciitick, pnOlieiit 
 &c. 
 
iETAT. 71. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 me what the contents were, as I thought 
 being particular upon it might fatigue 
 him, it being of great length, I only told 
 him in general that it was highly in his 
 praise ; — and then he expiessed himself 
 as above." 
 
 ** He mentioned with an air of satis- 
 faction what Baretti had told him ; that, 
 meeting, in the course of his studying 
 English, with an excellent paper in the 
 Spectator, one of four that were written 
 by the respectable Dissenting Minister 
 Mr. Grove of Taunton, and observing 
 the genius and energy of mind that it 
 exhibits, it greatly quickened his curi- 
 osity to visit our country ; as he thought, 
 if such were the lighter periodical essays 
 of our authours, their productions on 
 more weighty occasions must be wonder- 
 ful indeed!" 
 
 *' He observed once, at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, that a beggar in the street 
 will more readily ask alms from a man, 
 though theie should be no marks of 
 wealth in his appearance, than from even 
 a well dressed woman* ; which he ac- 
 counted for from the great degree of care- 
 fulness as to money, that is to be found 
 in women; saying farther upon it, that 
 the opportunities in general that they 
 possess of improving their condition are 
 much fewer than men have ; and adding, 
 as he looked round the company, which 
 consisted of men only, — there is not one 
 of us who does not think he might be 
 richer, if he would use his endeavour." 
 
 " He thus characterized an ingenious 
 writer of his acquaintance : ' Sir, he is 
 an enthusiast by rule.' " 
 
 " * He may hold up that shield 
 against all his enemies;' — was an ob- 
 servation on Homer, in reference to his 
 description of the shield of Achilles, 
 made by Mrs. Fitzherbert, wife to his 
 friend Mr. Fitzherbert, of Derbyshire, 
 and respected by Dr. Johnson as a very 
 fine one. He had in general a very high 
 opinion of that lady's understanding." 
 
 *• An observation of Bathurst's may 
 t)e mentioned, which Johnson repeated, 
 appearing to acknowledge it to be well 
 founded ; namely, it was somewhat re- 
 markable how seldom, on occasion of 
 coming into the company of any new 
 person, one felt any wish or inclination 
 to see him again." 
 
 This year the Reverend Dr. Franklin 
 having published a translation of '* Lu- 
 cian," inscribed to him the Demonax 
 thus : 
 
 " To Dr. Samuel Johnson, the De- 
 monax of the present age, this piece is 
 
 * Sterne is of a direct contrary opinion. 
 See his *'SentimeritalJourney," Article " The 
 Mystery,''^ Boswell. 
 
 inscribed by 
 respectable talents. 
 
 481 
 
 sincere admirer of his 
 
 The Translator." 
 Though upon a particular comparison 
 of Demonax and Johnson, there does not 
 seem to be a great deal of similarity be- 
 tween them, this Dedication is a just 
 compliment from the general character 
 given by Lucian of the ancient Sage, 
 " aftiTTOV wv otSa syui <^\o<TO^iiov ysvofxevoy, 
 the best philosopher whom I have ever 
 seen or known." 
 
 In 1781, Johnson at last completed his 
 " Lives of the Poets," of which he gives 
 this account ; " Some time in March I 
 finished the ' Lives of the Poets,' which 
 I wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and 
 hastily, unwilling to work, and working 
 with vigour and haste +." In a memo- 
 randum previous to this, he says of them : 
 " Written, I hope, in such a manner as 
 may tend to the promotion of piety j." 
 
 This is the work which, of all Dr. John- 
 son's writings, will perhaps be read most 
 generally, and with most pleasure. Phi- 
 lology and biography were his favourite 
 pursuits, and those who lived most in 
 intimacy with him, heard him upon 
 all occasions, when there was a proper 
 opportunity, take delight in expatiating 
 upon the various merits of the English 
 Poets : upon the niceties of their charac- 
 ters, and the events of their progress 
 through the world which they contributed 
 to illuminate. His mind was so full of 
 that kind of information, and it was so 
 well arranged in his memory, that in 
 performing what he had undertaken in 
 this way he had little more to do than to 
 put his thoughts upon paper; exhibiting 
 first each Poet's life, and then subjoining 
 a critical examination of his genius and 
 works. But when he began to write, 
 the subject swelled in such a manner that, 
 instead of prefaces to each poet, of no 
 more than a few pages as he had origi- 
 lly intended §, he produced an ample, 
 rich, and most entertaining view of them 
 in every respect. In this he resembled 
 Quintilian, who tells us, that in the com- 
 position of his Institutions of Oratory, 
 
 + Prayers and Meditations, p. 190. 
 
 X Ibid. p. 174. , . u- ,.j 
 
 § His design is thus announced in his Adver- 
 tisement: "The Booksellers havina: <leter- 
 niined lo publish a body of English Poetry, I 
 was persuaded to promise them a pretace to 
 the works of each authour; an undertaking, 
 as it was then presented to my mind, not very 
 tedious or difficult. ,, ^ .^ 
 
 *♦ My purpose was only to have allotted to 
 every poet an Advertisement like that which 
 we find in the French Miscellanies, contain- 
 ing a few dates, and a general character; but 
 I have been led beyond my intention, I hope 
 by the honest desire of giving useful plea- 
 
 I I 
 
482 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " Liatius se tamen aperiente materia, 
 plus quam imponebatur oneris sponte 
 suscepi." The booksellers, justly sensi- 
 ble of the great additional value of the 
 copyrit>ht, presented him with another 
 hundred pounds over and above two hun- 
 dred, for ■which his agreement was to 
 fur«ish such prefaces as he thought tit. 
 
 This was, however, but a small recom- 
 pense for such a collection of biography, 
 and such principles and illustrations of 
 criticism as, if digested and arranged in 
 one system by some modern Aristotle or 
 Longinus, might form a code upon that 
 subject, such as no other nation can show. 
 As he was so good as to make me a pre- 
 sent of (the greatest part of the original 
 and indeed only manuscript of this ad- 
 mirable work, I have an opportunity of 
 observing with wonder the correctness 
 with which he rapidly struck off such 
 glowing composition. He may be assimi- 
 lated to the Lady in Waller, who could 
 impress with " Love at first sight :" 
 
 •• Some other nymphs, with colours faint 
 And pencil slow, may Cupid paint. 
 And a weak heart in time destroy; 
 Slie has a stamp, and prints the boy." 
 
 That he, however, had a good deal of 
 trouble and some anxiety in carrying on 
 the work, we see from a series of letters 
 to Mr. Nichols the printer*, whose va- 
 riety of literary inquiry and obliging dis- 
 position rendered him useful to Johnson. 
 Mr. Steevens appears, from the papers 
 in my possession, to have supplied him 
 with some anecdotes and quotations ; and 
 1 observe the fair hand of Mrs. Thrale as 
 one of his copyists of select passages. 
 But he was principally indebted to my 
 toady filend Mr. Isaac Reed, of Staple 
 
 * I lius:— " In the Lifeof Wallrr.Mr. Nichols 
 will find a reference to the Parliamentary His- 
 tory, from which a lone: quotation is to he 
 inserted. If Mr. Nichols cannot easily find 
 tlie book, iSIr. Johnson will send it from 
 Strearhani." 
 
 " Clarendon is here returned." 
 
 *' By some accident I laid your note upon 
 Duke up so safely that I cannot find it. Your 
 itif'irmaiions have been of ^reat use to roe. i 
 iimst beg it a^ain; with another list of our 
 iiiihouiR, for ihave laid tiMt with the other. 
 J have sent Stepney's tpiiaph. Lei me have 
 the revises as soon as can be. Dec. 1778." 
 
 " I have scut F'hilips, with his Epitaphs, to 
 be inserted. The fragment of a preface is 
 li.irdly worth ilie impression, but that we may 
 N( em to do somelUiiiK;. It may be added to 
 the Life of Philips. The Latin' page is to he 
 vidded to the Life of Smith. 1 sirill he at 
 home to revise the two sheets of Milton. 
 .Aliirch 1, 1779." 
 
 " Please to get me the last edition of 
 il iqfheti's Letters; and try to get Dt-nntte upon 
 J'lackraore, and upon Cato, and any thin^ of 
 ihe same writer againut Pope. Our materials 
 aie defective." 
 
 '♦ As Waller profcg«ed to have imitated 
 Fiirf*«x, «to you think a fi*w pages of Fairfax 
 would enrich our edition ! Few'readers (jave 
 
 1781^1 
 
 Inn, whose extensive and accurate know- 
 ledge of English literaiy History I do 
 not express with exaggeration when I 
 say it is wonderful ; indeed his labours 
 have proved it to the world ; and all who 
 have the pleasure of his acquaintance can 
 bear testimony to the frankness of his 
 communications in private society. 
 
 It is not my intention to dwell upon 
 each of Johnson's " Lives of the Poets," 
 or attempt an analysis of their merits, 
 which, were I able to do it, would take 
 up too much room in this work ; yet I 
 shall make a few observations upon some 
 of them, and insert a few various read- 
 ings. 
 
 The Life of Cowley he himself consi- 
 dered as the best of the whole, on account 
 of the dissertation which it contains 
 on the Metaphysical Poets. Dryden, 
 whose critical abilities were equal to his 
 poetical, had mentioned them in his ex- 
 cellent Dedication of his Juvenal, but 
 had barely mentioned them. Johnson 
 has exhibited them at large, with such 
 happy illustration from their writings, 
 and in so luminous a manner, that indeed 
 he may be allowed the full merit of no- 
 velty, and to have discovered to us, aS^ it 
 were, a new planet in the poetical he- 
 misphere. 
 
 It is remarked by Johnson, in consi- 
 dering the works of a poet +, that 
 ** amendments are seldom made without 
 some token of a rent;" but I do not liiid 
 that this is applicable to prose;. We 
 shall see that, though his amendments in 
 this work are for the better, there is 
 nothing of the pannus assutus ; the tex- 
 ture is uniform : and, indeed, what had 
 been there at first is very seldom unfit 
 to have remained. 
 
 seen it, and it may please them. Hut it is not 
 necessary." 
 
 •'An Account of the Lives and Works of 
 some of the most eminent English Poets. By, 
 <&c.— 'The English Poets, biographical ly and 
 crilicallv considered, by S>am. Johnson.*— I^t 
 Mr. Nichols take iiis choice, or make another 
 to his mind. May, 1781." 
 
 " You somehow forgot the advertisement 
 for the new edition, li was not enclosed. Of 
 <iay'« Letters i se« not that any use can he 
 nia<le, for they give no information of any 
 thin'.^ That he was a member of a Philoso- 
 phical Society is something; but surely he 
 could be but a correspomiiug member, liou. 
 ever, not having his life here, I know not ho\. 
 to put it in, and it is of little importance." 
 
 See several more in "The Gentleman's Mi- 
 gazine." 17W. The Editor of that Miscellany, 
 in which Johnson wrote for several yeais, 
 seeni'i justly to tiiihk that every fragment of 
 so grt-at a man is worthy of beiijg pre8er\ed. 
 
 t Life of Sh»ffield. 
 
 X f See, however, n. 473, where the same re- 
 mark is made, and Johnson is iheie speaking 
 of prose. lu his Lif«' oi Dr>dn>, his observa- 
 tions in the Opera of" Kin";-: Arthur" furnish 
 a Kirikiog iQitance of the truth of this reniark. 
 M.J 
 
JEr\T. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 483 
 
 Various Readings* of the Life of 
 Cowley. 
 
 '* All [future votaries of] that may 
 hereafter pant for solitude. 
 
 " To conceive and execute the [agita- 
 tion or perception] pains and the plea- 
 sures of other minds. 
 
 ** The wide efltalgence of [the blazing] 
 a summer noon." 
 
 In the Life of Waller, Johnson gives 
 a distinct and animated narrative of pub- 
 lick affairs in that variegated period, with 
 strong yet nice touches of character ; and 
 having a fair opportunity to display his 
 political principles, does it with an un- 
 qualified manly confidence, and satisfies 
 his readers how nobly he might have 
 executed a Tory History of his country. 
 
 So easy is his style in these Lives, that 
 I do not recollect more than three uncom- 
 mon or learned words ; one, when giving 
 an account of the approach of Waller's 
 mortal disease, he says, " he found his 
 legs grow tumid;" by using the expres- 
 sion his legs swelled, he would have 
 avoided this ; and there would have been 
 no impropriety in its being followed by 
 the interesting question to his physician, 
 " What that st^eZ//w^ meant?" Another, 
 when he mentions that Pope had emitted 
 proposals ; when published or issued 
 would have been more readily under- 
 stood ; and a third, when he calls Orrery 
 and Dr. Delany writers both midoubt- 
 edly veracious ; when true, honest, or 
 faithful, might have been used. Yet, it 
 must be owned, that none of these are 
 hard or too big words : that custom 
 would make them seem as easy as any 
 otliers ; and that a language is richer and 
 capable of more beauty of expression by 
 having a greater variety of synonymes. 
 
 His disertation upon the unfitness of 
 poetry for the awful subjects of our holy 
 religion, though I do not entirely agree 
 with him, has all the merit of originality, 
 with uncommon force and reasoning. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Waller. 
 
 ** Consented to [tlie insertion of their 
 names] their own nomination. 
 
 " [After] paying a fine of ten thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 " Congratulating Charles the Second 
 on his [coronation] recovered right. 
 
 " He that has liattery ready for all 
 whom the vicissitudes of the world 
 happen to exalt must be [confessed to 
 degrade his powers] scorned as a pros- 
 tituted mind. 
 
 " The characters by which Waller in^ 
 
 * The original reading is enclosed in 
 crotchets, and the present one tirinted in 
 kalicks. 
 
 tended to distinguish his writings are 
 [elegance] sprightliness and tlignily. 
 
 '* Blossoms to be valued only as they 
 [f^ich^ foretell fruits. 
 
 " Images such as the superficies of na- 
 ture [easily] readily supplies. 
 
 •* [His] Some applications [are some- 
 times] may he thought too remote and 
 unconsequential. 
 
 " His images are [sometimes confused] 
 not always distinct." 
 
 Against his Life of Milton the hounds 
 of Whiggism have opened in full cry. 
 But of Milton's great excellence as a 
 poet, where shall we find such a blazon 
 as by the hand of Johnson 1 I shall select 
 only the following passage concerning 
 " Paradise Lost :" 
 
 " Fancy can hardly forbear to conjec- 
 ture with what temper Milton surveyed 
 the silent progress of his work, and 
 marked his reputation stealing its way in 
 a kind of subterraneous current through 
 fear and silence. I cannot but conceive 
 him calm and confident, little disap- 
 pointed, not at all dejected, relying on 
 his own merit with steady consciousness, 
 and waiting, without impatience, the 
 vicissitudes of opinion, and the impar> 
 tiality of a future generation." 
 
 Indeed even Dr. Towers, who may 
 be considered as one of the warmest zea- 
 lots of The Revolution Society itself, 
 allows that " Johnson has spoken in the 
 highest terms of the abilities of that great 
 poet, and has bestowed on his principal 
 poetical compositions the most honour- 
 able encomiums!." 
 
 That a man, who venerated the Church 
 and Monarchy as Johnson did, should 
 speak with a just abhorrence of Milton 
 as a politician, or rather as a daring foe 
 
 t See *'An Essay on the Life, Character, 
 and Writing;s of Dr. Samuel Johnson," Lon- 
 don, 1787; wliich is very well written, niakirisr 
 a proper allowance for the deniocraiical 
 bisfotry of its auihour: wlioni I cannot how- 
 ever but admire for iiis liberality in speakino- 
 thus of my illustrious friend: ° 
 
 " He possessed extraordinary powers of 
 nnderbtauding, which weie much cultivated 
 by study, and still more by meditation and 
 reflection. His memory was reniaikably re- 
 tentive, his iiMitgination nnconinionly vigo r- 
 ons, and his judgment keen and penetratnia:. 
 He liad a strons; sense of the importance of 
 religion; his piety was sincere, and some- 
 times ardent; and his zeal for the interests 
 of virtue was often manifested in his conver- 
 saiion and in his viritings. The same energy 
 which was displayed in. his literary produc- 
 tions was exhibited also in his conversation, 
 which was various, striking, and instructive j 
 and perhaps no man ever equalled him for 
 nervous and pointed reparfees. 
 
 ** His Dictionary, his moral Essays, and his 
 productions in polite literature will convey 
 useful instruction and elegant rnt-ertainment, 
 as long as the language in which they are 
 wriiteh shall be nmierstood.'*- 
 
484 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 to good polity, was sorely to be expected ; 
 and to those who censure him, I would 
 recommend his commentary on Milton's 
 celebrated complaint of his situation, 
 when by the lenity of Charles the Se- 
 cond, " a lenity of which (as Johnson 
 well observes) the world has had per- 
 haps no other example, he, who had 
 written in justification of the murder of 
 liis Sovereign, was safe under an Act of 
 Oblivion." *' No sooner is he safe than 
 he finds himself in danger, fallen on 
 evil days and evil tongues, with dark- 
 ness and with dangers compassed 
 round. This darkness, had his eyes 
 been better employed, had undoubtedly 
 deserved compassion ; but to add the 
 mention of danger was ungrateful and 
 unjust. He was fallen, indeed, on evil 
 days ; the time was come in which regi- 
 cides could no longer boast their wicked- 
 ness. But of evil tongues for Milton to 
 complain required impudence at least 
 equal to his other powers ; Milton, whose 
 warmest advocates must allow that he 
 never spared any asperity of reproach or 
 brutality of insolence." 
 
 I have, indeed, often wondered how 
 Milton, " an acrimonious and surly Re- 
 publican *," — *' a man who in his domes- 
 tick relations was so severe and arbi- 
 trary t," and whose head was filled with 
 the hardest and most dismal tenets of 
 Calvinism, should have been such a 
 poet ; should not only have written with 
 sublimity, but with beauty, and even 
 gaiety ; should have exquisitely painted 
 the sweetest sensations of which our na- 
 ture is capable ; imaged the delicate rap- 
 tures of connubial love ; nay, seemed to 
 be animated with all the spirit of revelry. 
 It is a proof that in the human mind the 
 departments of judgment and imagina- 
 tion, perception and temper may some- 
 times be divided by strong partitions ; 
 and that the light and shade in the same 
 character may be kept so distinct as 
 never to be blended j. 
 
 In the Life of Milton, Johnson took 
 occasion to maintain his own and the 
 general opinion of the excellence of 
 rhyme over blank verse, in English poe- 
 try; and quotes this apposite illustration 
 of it by " an ingenious critick," that it 
 seems to be verse only to the eye $. The 
 
 • Johnson's Life of Milton. t Ibid. 
 
 J Mr. Maloiie thinks it is rather a proof 
 thvU he fell nnihini? ofthot-e cheerful sensa- 
 tions which lie liaH describecl : tliat on these 
 to|>icks it i« the poet, and not the man, that 
 writrs. 
 
 § (>n« of the most natural instances of the 
 eflfect of blank vcis«- occniretl to the late Earl 
 of Hopcton, His Lordship observed one of 
 his sli«'pberds |>orini^ in the fields upon Mil- 
 ton's '• Paradise Lost/' and havinp asked 
 him what book it was, the man answered, 
 
 irfi^l 
 
 gentleman whom he thus characterizes is 
 (as he told Mr. Seward) Mr. Lock, of 
 Norbnry Park, in Surrey, whose know- 
 ledge and taste in the fine arts is univer- 
 sally celebrated ; with whose elegance of 
 manners the writer of the present work 
 has felt himself much impressed, and to 
 whose virtues a common friend, who has 
 known him long, and is not much ad- 
 dieted to flattery, gives the highest testi- 
 mony. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Milton. 
 
 " I cannot find any meaning but this 
 which [his most bigoted advocates] even 
 kindness and reverence can give. 
 
 ** [Perhaps no] scarcely any xnjiX\G\er 
 wrote so much, and praised so few. 
 
 " A certain [rescue] preservative from 
 oblivion. 
 
 " Let me not be censured for this 
 digression, as [contracted] pedantick or 
 paradoxical. 
 
 " Socrates rather was of opinion that 
 what we had to learn was how to [obtain 
 and communicate happiness] do good 
 and avoid evil. 
 
 " Its elegance [who can exhibit?] is 
 less attainable.'* 
 
 I could with pleasure, expatiate upon 
 the masterly execution of the Life of 
 Dryden, which we have seen || was one 
 of Johnson's literary projects at an early 
 period, and which it is remarkable that, 
 after desisting from it from a supposed 
 scantiness of materials, he should at an 
 advanced age, have exhibited so amply. 
 
 His defence of that great poet against 
 the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his 
 embracing the Roman Catholick com- 
 munion had been a time-serving measure, 
 is a piece of reasoning at once able and 
 candid. Indeed, Dryden himself, in his 
 ** Hind and Panther," hath given such a 
 picture of his mind that they who know 
 the anxiety for repose as to the awfnl 
 subject of our state beyond the grave, 
 though they may think his opinion ill 
 founded, must think charitably of his 
 sentiment : 
 
 " But, gracious God, how well dost thou pro- 
 vide 
 
 For errinff judpments an unerrina: ^nide; 
 
 Tliy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, 
 
 A blaze of g:lory tbar forbids the 'sight. 
 
 O ! leach me to' believe thee thus ronceai'd, 
 
 And search no farther than tliyself revealM; 
 
 Diit Her nlnne for my director take, 
 
 Whom IboM hast promised never to forsake. 
 
 My thouerhtlcss youih was wing'd with vain 
 desires; 
 
 My manhood long misled by wandering fires< 
 
 ♦' An't please votir Lordship, this is a very odd 
 sort of an anthoiir: he would fain rhyme, but 
 cannot get at it." 
 II See p. 338. 
 
iETAT. 72. 
 
 Follow'd falselights; and when their glimpse 
 
 was gone, 
 My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. 
 Such was I, such by nature still 1 am; 
 Be ihine the glory, and be mine the shame. 
 Good life be now my task: my doubts are 
 
 done; 
 What more could shock my faith than Three 
 
 in One]" 
 In drawing Dryden's character, John- 
 son has given, though I suppose uninten- 
 tionally, some touches of his own. Thus : 
 ** The power that predominated in his 
 intellectual operations was rather strong 
 reason than quick sensibility. Upon all 
 occasions-lhat were presented, he studied 
 rather than felt ; and produced senti- 
 ments not such as Nature enforces, but 
 meditation supplies. With the simple 
 and elemental passions as they spring 
 separate in the mind, he seems not much 
 acquainted. He is, therefore, with all 
 his variety of excellence, not often pa- 
 thetick* ; and had so little sensibility of 
 the power of effusions purely natural that 
 he did not esteem them in others." — It 
 may indeed be observed that in all the 
 numerous writings of Johnson, whether 
 in prose or verse, and even in his Tra- 
 gedy, of which the subject is the distress 
 of an unfortunate Princess, there is not a 
 single passage that ever drew a tear. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Dryuen. 
 
 ** The reason of this general perusal, 
 Addison has attempted to [find in] de- 
 rive from the delight which the mind 
 feels in the investigation of secrets. 
 
 " His best actions are but [convenient] 
 inahility o/" wickedness. 
 
 ** When once he had engaged himself 
 in disputation, [matter] thoughts flowed 
 in on either side. 
 
 *' The abyss of an unideal [emptiness] 
 vacaricp. 
 
 ** These, like [many other harlots,] 
 the harlots of other men, had his love, 
 though not his approbation. 
 
 " He [sometimes displays] descends 
 to display his knowledge with pedantick 
 ostentation. 
 
 ** French words which [were.then used 
 in] had then crept into conversation." 
 
 The Life of Pope was written by John- 
 son con amore, both from the early pos- 
 session which that writer had taken of 
 his mind, and from the pleasure which 
 he must have felt in for ever silencing 
 all attempts to lessen his poetical fame, 
 by demonstrating his excellence, and 
 pronouncing the following triumphant 
 eulogium : — "After all this, it is surely 
 superfluous to answer the question that 
 
 * [It seems to me, that there are many 
 pathetick passages in Johnson's works, both 
 jjrose and verst. K.J 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 485 
 
 has once been asked. Whether Pope was 
 a poet? otherwise than by asking in re- 
 turn, if Pope be not a poet, where is 
 
 poetry to be found? To circumscribe 
 poetry by a definition will only show the 
 narrowness of the definer ; though a de- 
 finition which shall exclude Pope will 
 not easily be made. Let us look round 
 upon the present time, and back upon 
 the past; let us inquire to whom the 
 voice of mankind has decreed the wreath 
 of poetry ; let their productions be exa- 
 mined, and their claims stated, and the 
 pretensions of Pope will be no more dis- 
 puted." 
 
 I remember once to have heard John- 
 son say, " Sir, a thousand years may 
 elapse before there shall appear another 
 man with a power of versification equal 
 to that of Pope." That power must un- 
 doubtedly be allowed its due share in 
 enhancing the value of his captivating 
 composition. 
 
 Johnson who had done liberal justice 
 to Warburton in his edition of Shak- 
 speare, which was published during the 
 life of that powerful writer, with still 
 greater liberality took an opportunity, in 
 the life of Pope, of paying the tribute 
 due to him when he was no longer in 
 " high place," but numbered with the 
 dead+. 
 
 It seems strange that two such men as 
 Johnson and Warburton, who lived in 
 
 t Of Johnson's conduct towards Warburton 
 a very honourable notice is taken by the Edi- 
 tor of " Tracts by Warburton, and a Warbur- 
 tonian, not admitted into the Collection of 
 their respective Works." After an able and 
 "fond, though not undistinguishing" con- 
 sideration of Warburton's character, he says, 
 '• In two immortal works, Johnson has stood 
 forth in the foremost rank of his admirers. 
 Bv the testimony of such a man, inipertinence 
 must be abashed, and malignity itself must 
 be softened. Of literary merit, Johnson, as 
 we all know, was a sagacious but a most 
 severe judffe. Such was his discernment that 
 he pierced into the most secret spriirgs of 
 human actions: and such was bis integrity, 
 that he always weighed the moral characters 
 of his fellow-creatulesin the   balance of the 
 sanctuary.' He was too courageous to pro- 
 pitiate a rival, and too proml to truckle to a 
 superiour. Warburton he knew, as I know 
 hiui, and as every man of sense and virtue 
 would wish to be known,— I mean, boih from 
 his own writings, and from the writings of 
 those who dissented from his principles, or 
 who envied his reputation. Bu , as to favours, 
 he had never received or asked any from the 
 Bishop of Gloucester: and, if my memory 
 fails me not, he had seen him only once, 
 ^^llen they met almost without design, con- 
 versed without much effort, an<l parted ^vithout< 
 any lasting impression of hatred or affection. 
 Yet, with all the ardour of sympathetick 
 genius, Johnson had done that spontaneously 
 and ablv, which by some writers, had been 
 before attempted injudiciously, and which, 
 by others, from whom more successful attempts 
 mi:iht have been expected, has not hitlierio 
 been done at i^ll. He spoke well of \V^^)> 
 
486 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1761. 
 
 the same age and country, should not 
 only not liave been in any degree of 
 intimacy, but been almost personailj' 
 unacquainted. But such instances, though 
 ^ve must wonder at them, are not rare. 
 If I am rightly informed, after a careful 
 inquiry, they never met but once, which 
 was at the house of Mrs. French, in Lon- 
 don, well known for her elegant assem- 
 blies, and bringing eminent characters 
 together. The interview proved to be 
 mutually agreeable. 
 
 I am well informed that Warburton 
 said of Johnson, " I admire him, but 1 
 cannot bear his style :" and that John- 
 son being told of this, said, " That is 
 exactly my case as to him." The man- 
 ner in which he expressed his admiration 
 of the fertility of Warburton's genius 
 and of the variety of his materials, was, 
 " The table is always full, sir. He brings 
 things from the north, and the south, and 
 from every quarter. In his * Divine 
 Legation,' yon are always entertained. 
 He carries you round and round, without 
 carrying yon forward to the point ; but 
 then you have no wish to be carrie<i for- 
 ward." He said to the Reverend Mr. 
 Strahan, *' Warburton is perhaps the last 
 man who has written with a mind full of 
 reading and reflection." 
 
 It is remarkable that, in the Life of 
 Broome, Johnson takes notice of Dr. 
 VV^arburton using a mode of expression 
 which he himself used, and that not sel- 
 
 hurton, without insulting those whom War- 
 l>urton despised. He suppressed not the im- 
 
 Serfections of this exiraordinary man, while 
 e endeavoured to do justice to his numerous 
 and transcendental excellences. He defended 
 liim when living, amidst ihe clamours of his 
 enemies; and praised him when dead, amidst 
 llie silence of his friends y 
 
 Having aval led inyselfof this editor's enlogy 
 on my departed friend, for which I warmly 
 thank him, let me not suffer the lustre of his 
 repniation, honestly acquired by profound 
 learning and vigorous elofjuence, to be tar- 
 nished oy a charge of illiberaliJy. He has 
 hctn accused of invidionslv dragging again 
 into light certain writings ora person respect- 
 able by his talents, \\'\i learning, his station, 
 and his age, which were published a great 
 uiany years ago, and have sirKre, it is said, 
 been silently given up by their authour. But 
 when il is considered that these writings 
 wore not sins of youth, but deliberate works 
 of one well advanced in life, overflowing at 
 once with flattery to a ereat man of great 
 interest in the ('Imrch, and with unjust and 
 acrimonious abuse of two men of eminent 
 merit; and ihai, thougli it would have been 
 unreasonable to expect a humiliating recan- 
 tation, no apology whatever has been maile 
 in the cool of the evening for the oppressive 
 fervour of the heat of the day; no slight re- 
 lenting indication has appeared in any note, 
 or any corner of later publications; is it not 
 fdir to niider«tan<l him as superciliously per- 
 •everinirl When he allows the shafts to remain 
 in the woumls, and will not stretch forth a 
 lenient hand, is it wrong, is it not generous 
 to become an indiijnaiit avenger J 
 
 dom, to the great offence of those who 
 did not know him. Having occasion to 
 mention a note, stating the (Utferent parts 
 which were executed by the associated 
 translators of " The Odyssey," he says, 
 " Dr. Warburton told me, in his warm 
 language, that he thought the relation 
 given in the note a lie." The language 
 is ivarm indeed ; and, I must own, can- 
 not be justified in consistency with a 
 decent regard to the established forms of 
 speech. Johnson had accustomed him- 
 self to use the word lie, to express h 
 mistake or an errour in relation ; in 
 short, when the thing was not so as 
 told, though the relator did not mean to 
 deceive. When he thought there was 
 intentional falsehood in the relator, his 
 expression was, " He lies, and be knoics 
 he lies." 
 
 Speaking of Pope's not having beea 
 known to excel in conversation, Johnson 
 observes that, " traditional memory re- 
 tains no sallies of raillery, or sentences 
 of observation ; nothing either pointed 
 or solid, wise or merry : and that one 
 apophthegm only is recorded." In this 
 respect, Pope ditfered widely from John- 
 son, whose conversation was, perhaps, 
 more admirable than even his writings, 
 however excellent. Mr. Wilkes has, 
 however, favoured me with one repartee 
 of Pope, of which Johnson was not in- 
 formed. Johnson, after justly censuring 
 him for having " nursed in his mind a 
 foolish disesteem of Kings," tells us, " yet 
 a little regard shown him by the Prince 
 of Wales melted his obduracy ; and he 
 had not much to say when he was asked 
 by his Royal Highness, how he could 
 love a Prince, while he disliked Kings f 
 The answer which Pope mafic, was 
 " The young lion is harmless, and even 
 pla>ful; but when his claws are full 
 grown he becomes cruel, dreadful, and 
 mischievous." 
 
 But although we have no collection of 
 Pope's sayings, it is not therefore to he 
 concluded that he was not agreeable in 
 social intercourse; for Johnson has been 
 heard to say, "that the happiest con- 
 versation is that of which nothing is dis- 
 tinctly remembered, but a general effect 
 of pleasing impression." The late Lord 
 Somerville*, who saw much both of 
 
 • [James Lord Somerville, who died in 1766. 
 
 Let me here express my grateful remem- 
 brance of Lord Snmervllle's kindness to me, 
 at a very early period. He was ihe first per- 
 son of high r.ink that took particular notice 
 of me in Ihe way most flatteriner to a young 
 man fondly aiiibilious of beiiic (listingiiislicd 
 for his lircr.iry talents; and by the honour of 
 his encouragement made me think well of 
 mvself, and aspire to deserve il better. He 
 had a happy art of communicating his varied 
 knowledge of the world, in short remarks and 
 
JEr\r. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 487 
 
 gieat and brilliant life, told me that he 
 had dined in company with Pope, and 
 that after dinner the little man, as he 
 called him, drank his bottle of Bur- 
 gundy, and was exceedingly gay and 
 entertaining. 
 
 I cannot withhold from my great friend 
 a censure of at least culpable inattention 
 to a nobleman, who, it has been shown, 
 behaved to him with uncommon polite- 
 ness. He says, " Except Lord Bathurst, 
 none of Pope's noble friends were such 
 as that a good man would wish to have 
 his intimacy with them known to poste- 
 rity." This will not apply to Lord Mans- 
 field, who was not ennobled in Pope's 
 lifetime ; but Johnson should have recol- 
 lected that Lord Marchmont was one of 
 those noble friends. He includes his 
 Lordship along with Lord Bolingbroke, 
 in a charge of neglect of the papers 
 which Pope left by his will ; when, in 
 truth, as I myself pointed out to him, 
 before he wrote that poet's life, the 
 papers w^ere " committed to the sole 
 care and judgment of Lord Boling- 
 broke, unless he (Lord Bolingbroke) 
 shall not survive me ;" so that Lord 
 Marchmont had no concern whatever 
 with them. After the first edition of the 
 Lives, Mr. Malone, whose love of justice 
 is equal to his accuracy, made, in my 
 hearing, the same remark to Johnson ; 
 yet he omitted to correct the erioneons 
 statement*. These particulars I men- 
 lion, in the belief that there was only 
 foi-getfulness in my friend ; but I owe 
 this much to the Earl of Marchmont's 
 reputation, who, were there no other 
 memorials, will be immortalized by that 
 line of Pope, in the verses on his Grotto : 
 
 *' And the bright flame was shot through 
 Marchmont's soul." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Pope. 
 
 ** [Somewhat free] sufficiently hold 
 in his criticism. 
 
 ** All the gay [niceties] varieties of 
 diction. 
 
 " Strikes the imagination with far 
 [more] greater force. 
 
 " It is [probably] certainly the noblest 
 version of poetry which the world has 
 ever seen. 
 
 anecdotes, with a quiet pleasant sfravity, t)iat 
 was exceedinsfly engaging. Never shall I 
 fors^et the hours which I enjoyed with him 
 at his apartments in the Royal Palace of 
 Holy Hood House, and at his seat near Edin- 
 burgh, which he himself had formed with an 
 elegant taste. 
 
 * [This neglect, however, assuredly did not 
 arise from any ill will towards Lord March- 
 mont, but from inattention; just as he nrs:- 
 lected to correct the statement ooncernins 
 the family of Thomson, the poet, after it had 
 been shown to be erroneous. M.J 
 
 " Every sheet enabled him to write 
 the next with [less trouble] more faci- 
 lity. 
 
 " No man sympathizes with [vanity- 
 depressed] the sorrows of vanity. 
 
 " It had been [criminal] less easily 
 excused. 
 
 " When he [threatened to lay down] 
 talked of laying down his pen. 
 
 " Society [is so named emphatically 
 in opposition to] politically regulated is 
 a state contradistinguished from a state 
 of nature. 
 
 " A fictitious life of an [absurd] infa- 
 tuated scholar. 
 
 *' A foolish [contempt, disregard] dis- 
 esteem of Kings. 
 
 " His hopes and fears, his joys and 
 sorrows [were like those of other mor- 
 tals] acted strongly upon his mind. 
 
 " Eager to pursue knowledge and at- 
 tentive to [accumulate] retain it. 
 
 " A mind [excursive] active, ambi- 
 tious, and adventurous. 
 
 ** In its [noblest] widest searches still 
 longing to go forward. 
 
 " He wrote in such a manner as might 
 expose him to few [neglects] hazards. 
 
 *' The [reasonableness] justice of my 
 determinalion. 
 
 " A [favourite] delicious employment 
 of the poets. 
 
 " More terrifick and more powerful 
 [heinge] phantoms perform on the stormy 
 ocean. 
 
 " The inventor of [those] this petty 
 [beings] nation. 
 
 " The [mind] heart naturally loves 
 truth." 
 
 In the Life of Addison we find an 
 unpleasing account of his having lent 
 Steele ahundred pounds, and "reclaimed 
 his loan by an execution." In the new 
 edition of the Biographia Britannica, 
 the authenticity of this anecdote is de- 
 nied. But Mr. Malone has obliged me 
 with the following note concerning it: — 
 
 " Many persons having doubts con- 
 cerning this fact, I applied to Dr. John- 
 son to learn on what authority he asserted 
 it. He told me he had it from Savage, 
 who lived in intimacy with Steele, and 
 who mentioned that Steele told him the 
 story with tears in his eyes. — Ben Vic- 
 tor, Dr. Johnson said, likewise informed 
 him of this remarkable transaction from 
 the relation of Mr. Wilkes the comedian, 
 who was also an intimate of Steele's f. — 
 Some, in defence of Addison, have said 
 that ' the act was done with the good 
 
 t [The late Mr. Burke informed me, in 
 1792, that Lady Dorothea Primrose, whooied 
 at a great age, I think in 1768, and had been 
 well acquainted with Stcek", told him th^ 
 same stoiy. M.] 
 
488 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 natmed view of rousing Steele, and cor- 
 recting tliat profusion which always made 
 him necessitous.' — ' If that were the case 
 (said Johnson), and that he only wanted 
 to alarm Steele, he would afterwards 
 have returned the money to his friend, 
 which it is not pretended he did.' — * Tliis 
 too (he added) might be retorted by an 
 advocate for Steele, who might allege 
 that he did not repay the loan intention- 
 ally, merely to see whether Addison 
 would be njean and ungenerous enough 
 to make use of legal process to recover 
 it. But of such speculations there is no 
 end: we cannot dive into the hearts of 
 men ; but their actions are open to ob- 
 servation.' 
 
 " I then mentioned to him that some 
 people thought that Mr. Addison's cha- 
 racter was so pure that the fact, though 
 true, ought to have been suppressed. 
 He saw no reason for this. * If nothing 
 but the bright side of characters should 
 be shown, we should sit down in despond- 
 ency and think it utterly impossible to 
 imitate them in any thing. The sacred 
 writers (he observed) related the vicious 
 as well as the virtuous actions of men ; 
 which had this moral effect, that it kept 
 mankind from despair, into which other- 
 wise they would naturally fall, were they 
 not supported by the recollection that 
 others had offended like themselves, and 
 by penitence and amendment of life had 
 been restored to the favour of Heaven.' 
 
 " March 15, 1782." «' E. M." 
 
 The last paragraph of this note is of 
 great importance ; and I request that my 
 readers may consider it with particular 
 attention. It will be afterwards referred 
 to in this work. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 
 AUUISON. 
 
 ** [But he was our fust example] He 
 was, however, one of our earliest ex- 
 amples of correctness. 
 
 " And [overlook] Jesj>ise their masters. 
 
 " His instructions were such as the 
 [state] character of his [own time] 
 readers made [necessary] proper. 
 
 *' His purpose was to [diffuse] infuse 
 literary curiosity by gentle and unsus- 
 pected conveyance [among] into the gay, 
 the idle, and the wealthy. 
 
 " Framed rather for those that [wish] 
 are learning to write. 
 
 ** Domestick [manners] scenes." 
 
 In his Life of Parneij,, I wonder that 
 Johnson omitted to insert an Epitaph 
 which he had long before composed for 
 that amiable man, without ever writing 
 it down, but which he was so good as, at 
 my request, to dictate to me, by which 
 means it has been preserved. 
 
 " Hie requiescit Thomas Parnell, 
 S. r. P. 
 
 " Qui sacerdos pariier et poeta, 
 
 Utrasqne partes ita implevil, 
 
 Ut neqne sacerdoti suavilas poctte, 
 
 Nee poelee sacerdolis sanctitas, deesstt.''^ 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 
 Pa UN ELL. 
 
 " About three years [after] after 
 wards. 
 
 " [Did not much want] was in nc 
 great need o/' improvement. 
 
 ** But his prosperity did not last long 
 [was clouded with that which took away 
 all his powers of enjoying either profit 
 or pleasure, the death of his wife, whom 
 he is said to have lamented with such 
 sorrow as hastened his end *.] His end, 
 whatever was the cause, was now ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 ** In the Hermit, the [composition] 
 narrative, as it is less airy, is less 
 pleasing." 
 
 In the Life of Blackmore we find that 
 writer's reputation generously cleared 
 by Johnson from the cloud of prejudice 
 which the malignity of contemporary 
 wits had raised around it. In this spi- 
 rited exertion of justice he has been 
 imitated by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his 
 praise of the architecture of Vanbrugh. 
 
 We trace Johnson's own character in 
 his observations on Blackmore's '* mag- 
 nanimity as an authour."— " The inces- 
 sant attacks of his enemies, whether 
 serious or merry, are never discovered 
 to have disturbed his quiet, or to have 
 lessened his confidence in himself." John- 
 son, I recollect, once tohl me, laughing 
 heartily, that he understood it had been 
 said of him, ** He appears not to feel ; 
 but when he is alone, depend upon it, he 
 suffers sadly." I am as certain as I 
 can be of any man's real sentiments, 
 that he enjoyed the perpetual shower of 
 little hostile arrows as evidences of his 
 fame. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Blackmore. 
 
 " To [set] engage poetry [on the side ] 
 in the cause of virtue. 
 
 " He likewise [established] enforced 
 the truth of Revelation. 
 
 " [Kindness] 6eneyo/e«ce was ashamed 
 to favour. 
 
 ** His practice, which was once [very 
 extensive] invidiously great. 
 
 "There is scarcely any distemper of 
 
 • I jshonld have ihonefht that Johnson, who 
 hail fell the Htvcie affiiotinii from which Par- 
 nell never recovered, would have preserved 
 this passaare. 
 
 [He omitted it, doubtless, because he afrer- 
 wardii learned that, however he mieht have 
 lamented his wife, hii> end was hablened by 
 other means. iM.J 
 
iEXAT. 72. 
 
 dreadful name [of] which he has not 
 [shown] taught his reader how [it is to 
 be opposed] to oppose. 
 
 " Of this [contemptuous] indecent ar- 
 rogance. 
 
 *' [He wrote] but produced likewise 
 a work of a different kind. 
 
 " At least [vvritten] compiled with 
 integrity. 
 
 " Faults which many tongues [were 
 desirous] would have made haste to 
 publish. 
 
 " But though he [had not] could not 
 boast o/'much critical knowledge. 
 
 ** He [used] ivaitedfor no felicities of 
 fancy. 
 
 ** Or had ever elated his [mind] views 
 to that ideal perfection which, every 
 [mind] genius born to excel is con- 
 demned always to pursue and never 
 overtake. 
 
 "The [first great] fundamental prin- 
 ciple of wisdom and of virtue." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Philips. 
 
 " His dreadful [rival] antagonist Fope. 
 
 " They [have not often much] are not 
 loaded with thought. 
 
 " In his translation from Pindar, he 
 [will not be denied to have reached] 
 found the art of reaching all the ob- 
 scurity of the Theban bard." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 
 CONGREVE. 
 
 ** Congreve's conversation must surely 
 have been at least equally pleasing with 
 his writings. 
 
 " It apparently [requires] presupposes 
 a familiar knowledge of many characters. 
 
 " Reciprocation of [similes] conceits. 
 
 " The dialogue is quick and [various] 
 sparkling. 
 
 " Love for Love ; a comedy [more 
 drawn from life] of nearer alliance to 
 life. 
 
 " The general character of his miscel- 
 lanies is, that they show little wit and 
 [no] little virtue. 
 
 " [Perhaps] certainly he had not the 
 fire requisite for the higher species of 
 lyrick poetry." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 
 TlCKELL. 
 
 ** [Longed] long wished to peruse it. 
 
 ** At the [accession] arrival of King 
 George. 
 
 ** Fiction [unnaturally] unskilfully 
 compounded of Grecian deities and Go- 
 thick fairies." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Akenside. 
 
 " For [another] a different purpose. 
 
 " [A furious] an unnecessary and out» 
 rageous zeal. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 489 
 
 [Something which] what he called 
 and thought liberty. 
 
 " A [favourer of innovation] lover of 
 contradiction. 
 
 Warburton's [censure] objections. 
 His rage [for liberty] of patriotism. 
 Mr. Dyson with [a zeal] an ardour 
 of friendship." 
 
 In the Life of Lyttelton, Johnson 
 seems to have been not favourably dis- 
 posed towards that nobleman. Mrs. 
 Thrale suggests that he was offended by 
 Molly Asion's preference of his Lord- 
 ship to him*. I can by no means join 
 in the censure bestowed by Johnson on 
 his Lordship, whom he calls ** poor Lyt- 
 telton," for returning thanks to the Cri- 
 tical Reviewers for having '* kindly 
 commended" his "Dialogues of the 
 Dead." Such " acknowledgments (says 
 my friend) never can be proper, since 
 they must be paid either for flattery or 
 for justice." In my opinion, the most 
 upright man, who has been tried on a 
 false accusation, may, when he is ac- 
 quitted, make a bow to his jury. And 
 when those, who are so much the arbiters 
 of literary merit, as in a considerable 
 
 * Let not my readers smile to think of John- 
 son's beinar a candidate for female favour ; 
 Mr. Peter 'Garrick assured me that he was 
 told by a lady that in her opinion Johnson 
 was " a very seducing man. ' Disadvantages 
 of person and manner may be forgotten, 
 where intellectual pleasure is communicated 
 to a stisceplible mind; and that Johnson was 
 capable of feeling the most delicate and dis- 
 interested attachment appears from the fol- 
 lov\iiig letter, which is published by Mrs. 
 Tiinile, with some others to the same person, 
 of which the excellence is not so apparent; 
 
 " TO MISS BOOTHBY. 
 
 "dearest madam, January, 1773. 
 
 "Though I am afraid your illness leaves you 
 bui liiile leisure for the reception of airy civi- 
 lities, yet I cannot forbear to pay you my 
 congratulations on the new year; and to de- 
 clare my wishes that your years to come may 
 be many an<l happy, 'in this wish, indeed, I 
 include myself, who have none but you on 
 whom my heart reposes; yet surely 1 wish 
 your good, even tliough your situation were 
 such as should permit you to communicate 
 no gratifications to, 
 
 " DEAREST, DEAREST MADAM, 
 
 '« Your, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 [There is still a slight mistake in the text. 
 It was not Molly Aston, but Hill Boothby, for 
 whose affections Johnson and Lord Lyttelion 
 were rival can<lidaies. See Mrs. Hiozzi's 
 "Anecdotes," p. 160. After mentioning the 
 death of Mrs. Fitzherbert (who was a daugh- 
 ter of Mr. Meyneli, of Bradley, in Derby- 
 shire), and Johnson's high admiiation of her, 
 she adds, " The friend of this lady, Miss 
 Boothby, succeeded htr in the management 
 of Mr. Fitzherbert's family, and in the esteem 
 of Dr. Johnson; though, he told me, she 
 pushed her piety to bigotry, her devotion to 
 enthusiasm; that she somewhat disqualined 
 herself for the duties of this life, by her per- 
 petual aspirations after the ntvt: such was, 
 
406 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17SI. 
 
 degree to influence the pnblick opinion, 
 review an autliour's work, placido lu- 
 mine, wlien I am afraid mankind in 
 general are better pleased with severity, 
 he may surely express a grateful sense 
 of their civility. 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Lyttelton. 
 
 ** He solaced [himself] his grief by 
 writing a long poem to her memory. 
 
 " The production rather [of a mind 
 that means well than thinks vigorously] 
 as it seems of leisure than of study, 
 rather effusions than compositions. 
 
 " His last literary [work] production, 
 
 '* [Found the way] undertook to per- 
 suade." 
 
 As the introduction to his critical exa- 
 mination of the genius and writings of 
 Young, he did Mr. Herbert Croft, then 
 a Barrister of Lincoln's Inn, now a 
 clergyman, the honour to adopt a Life of 
 Young written by that gentleman, who 
 was the friend of Dr. Young's son, and 
 wished to vindicate him from some very 
 erroneous remarks to his prejudice. Mr. 
 Croft's performance was subjected to the 
 
 however, the purity of her mind, he said, and 
 such the graces of her manner, that Lord 
 Lyttelton and he used to strive for her pre- 
 ference with an emulation that occasioned 
 hourly disgust, and ended in lasting animo- 
 sity. You may see (said he to me, when tlie 
 Poets' Lives were printed) that dear Boothby 
 is at my heart still." 
 
 Miss Hill Boothbv, whowas theonlv daugh- 
 ter of Brook Boothby, Esq. and liis wife, 
 Elizabeth Firzherbert, was somewhat older 
 than Johnson. Slie was born October 27, 
 1708, and died January 16, 1756. Six Letters, 
 addressed to her by Johnson in the year 1755, 
 are printed in Mrs. Piozzi's Collection; and 
 a Prayer composed by him on her death may 
 be found in his " Prayers and Metlitations." 
 His affection for her induced him to preserve 
 an-l bind up in a volume thirty-three of her 
 Letters, which were purchased from the widow 
 of his servant, Francis Barber, and published 
 by K. Phillips, in 1805. 
 
 But highly as he valued this lady, his attach- 
 ment to Miss Molly Aston (afterwards Mrs. 
 Brodic), appears to have been still more 
 ardent. He burned (says Mrs. Piozzi) many 
 letters in the last week [of his lifej, I am 
 told, and those written by his mother ilrew 
 from him a flood of tears, when the paper 
 they were written on was all copsumed. Mr. 
 Sa^tres saw him cast a melancholy look upon 
 iheir ashes, which he took up and examined, 
 lo see if a word was still legible.— Nobody has 
 ever mentioned what became of Miss Aston's 
 letters, thouirh he once told me liimself, they 
 should be the last papers he would destroy, 
 and added these lines wiih a very faltering 
 voice: 
 
 " Then from his closing eves thv form shall 
 
 pari, 
 And the laxi pang shall tear thee from his 
 
 heart; 
 Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er. 
 The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more." 
 Additions to Mrs. Piozzi's Collection of 
 Dr. Johnson'x Letters. M.] 
 
 revision of Dr. Johnson, as appears from 
 the following note to Mr. John Nicliols* : 
 
 " This Life of Dr. Young was written 
 by a friend of his son. What is crossed 
 with black is expunged by the authour, 
 what is crossed with red is expunged by 
 me. If you find any thing more that can 
 be well omitted, I shall not be sorry to 
 see it yet shorter." 
 
 It has always appeared (o me to have 
 a considerable share of merit, and lo 
 display a pretty successful imitation of 
 Johnson's style. When I mentioned this 
 to a very eminent literary character f, 
 he opposed me vehemently, exclaiming, 
 " No, no, it is not a good imitation of 
 Johnson ; it has all his pomp without 
 his force ; it has all the nodosities of the 
 oak without its strength." This was an 
 image so happy that one might have 
 thought he would have been satisfied 
 with it; but he was not. And setting 
 his mind again to work, he added, with 
 exquisite felicity, ** It has all the con- 
 tortions of the Sibyl, without the inspira- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. Croft very properly guards us 
 against supposing that Young \ya3 a 
 gloomy man ; and mentions, that ** his 
 parish was indebted to the good humour 
 of the authour of the * Night Thoughts ' 
 for an Assembly and a Bowling Green." 
 A letter from a noble foreigner is quoted, 
 in which he is said to have been *' very 
 pleasant in conversation." 
 
 Mr. Langton, who frequently visited 
 him, informs me, that there was an air of 
 benevolence in his manner, but that he 
 could obtain from him less information 
 than he had hoped to receive from one 
 who had lived so much in intercourse 
 with the brightest men of what has been 
 called the Augustan age of England ; and 
 that he showed a degree of eager curi- 
 osity concerning the common occurrences 
 that were then passing, which appeared 
 somewhat remarkable in a man of such 
 intellectual stores, of such an advanced 
 age, and who had retired from life with 
 declared disappointment in his expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 An instance at once of his pensive turn 
 of mind, and his cheerfulness of temper, 
 appeared in a little story which he Imn- 
 self told to Mr. Langton, when they were 
 walking in his garden; " Here (said he) 
 I had put a handsome sundial with this 
 inscription, Eheufugaccs! which (speak- 
 ing with a smile) was sadly verified, for 
 by the next morning my dial had been 
 carried oft;." 
 
 • Gentleman's Magazine, vol. iv. p. 10. 
 
 + rrhe late Mr. burke. M.] 
 
 X The lale ISIr. James Ralph told Lord 
 Macartney, that he pas«>d an evening with 
 Ur. Young at Lord Melcombe's (iheu Mr 
 
^TAT. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 491 
 
 It gives me much pleasure to observe, 
 that however Johnson may have casually 
 talked, yet when he sits, as " an ardent 
 judge zealous to his trust, giving sen- 
 tence" upon the excellent works of 
 Young, he allows them the high praise 
 to which they are justly entitled. " The 
 Universal Passion (says he) is indeed 
 a very great performance, — his distichs 
 have the weight of solid sentiment, and 
 I'.is points the sharpness of resistless 
 truth." 
 
 But I was most anxious concern- 
 ing Johnson's decision upon " Night 
 Thoughts," which I esteem as a mass of 
 the grandest and richest poetry that hu 
 man genius has ever produced ; and was 
 delighted to tind this character of that 
 work : " In his ' Night Thoughts' he has 
 exhibited a very wide display of original 
 poetry, variegated with deep reflection 
 and striking allusions : a wilderness of 
 thought, in which the fertility of fancy 
 scatters flowers of every hue and of every 
 odour. This is one of the few poems in 
 vvhich blank verse could not be changed 
 for rhyme, but with disadvantage." And 
 afterwards, " Particular lines are not to 
 be regarded ; the power is in the whole ; 
 and in the whole there is a magnificence 
 like that ascribed to Chinese plantation, 
 the magnificence of vast extent and end- 
 less diversity." 
 
 But there is in this Poem not only all 
 that Johnson so well brings in view, but 
 a power of the Pathetick beyond almost 
 any example that I have seen. He who 
 does not feel his nerves shaken, and his 
 heart pierced by many passages in this 
 extraordinary work, particularly by that 
 most affecting one which describes the 
 gradual torment suff'ered by the contem- 
 plation of an object of affectionate attach- 
 ment visibly and certainly decaying into 
 dissolution, must be of a hard and obsti- 
 nate frame. 
 
 To all the other excellences of " Night 
 Thoughts" let me add the great and pe- 
 culiar one, that they contain not only the 
 noblest sentiments of virtue, and contem- 
 plations on immortality, but the Christian 
 Sacrijice,ihe Divine Propitiation, with 
 all its interesting circumstances, and con- 
 solations to *' a wounded spirit," solemnly 
 and poetically displayed in such imagery 
 and language as cannot fail to exalt, ani- 
 mate, and sooth the truly pious. No book 
 whatever can be recommended to young 
 persons, with better hopes of seasoning 
 
 Dodtlington) at Haminersmidi. The Doctor 
 happtnuier to go out into tiie garden, Mr. 
 Doddington observed to him, on his return, 
 that it was a dreadful niuht, as in trutii it 
 was, there being a violent^stomi of lain and 
 wind. " No, sir (replied the Doctor), it ia a 
 very fine night. The Lord is abroad." 
 
 their minds with vital religion than 
 " Young's Night Thoughts." 
 
 In the Life of Swift it appears to me 
 that Johnson had a certain degree of i)re- 
 judice against that extraordinary man, of 
 which I have elsewhere had occasiont 
 speak. Mr. Thomas Sheridan imputed 
 it to a supposed apprehension in John- 
 son, that Swift had not been sufficiently 
 active in obtaining for him an Irish de- 
 gree when it was solicited*, but of this 
 there was not sufficient evidence ; and 
 let me not presume to charge Johnson 
 with injustice, because he did not think 
 so highly of the writings of this authour 
 as I have done fiom my youth upwards. 
 Yet that he had an unfavourable bias is 
 evident, were it only from that passage 
 in which he speaks of Swift's practice of 
 saving, as, " first ridiculous, and at last 
 detestable ;" and yet after some exami- 
 nation of circumstances, finds himself 
 obliged to own, that " it will perhaps 
 appear that he only liked one mode of 
 expense better than another, and saved 
 merely that he might have something to 
 give." 
 
 One observation which Johnson makes 
 in Swift's life should be often incul- 
 cated : " It may be justly supposed, that 
 there was in his conversation what ap- 
 pears so frequently in his letters, an 
 affectation of familiarity with the great, 
 an ambition of momentary equality, 
 sought and enjoyed by the neglect of 
 those ceremonies which custom has esta- 
 blished as the barriers between one order 
 of society and another. This transgres- 
 sion of regularity was by himself and his 
 admirers termed greatness of soul ; but a 
 great mind disdains to hold any thing bj' 
 courtesy, and therefore never usurps what 
 a lawful claimant may take away. He 
 that encroaches on another's dignity puts 
 himself in his power ; he is either re- 
 pelled with helpless indignity, or endured 
 by clemency and condescension." 
 
 Various Readings in the Life of 
 Swift. 
 
 " Charity may be persuaded to think 
 that it might be written by a man of a 
 peculiar [opinions] cj^arac^er, without ill 
 intention. 
 
 " He did not [disown] deny it. 
 
 " [To] by whose kindness it is not 
 unlikely that he was [indebted for] ad- 
 vanced to his benefices. 
 
 " [With] for this purpose he had re- 
 course to Mr. Harley. 
 
 " Sharpe whom he [represents] de- 
 scribes as ' the harmless tool of others' 
 hate.' 
 
 " Harley was slow because he was 
 [irresolute] doubtful. 
 
 * See f, 34, 
 
492 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 irsi. 
 
 ** When [readers were not many] we 
 were not yet a nation of readers. 
 
 " [Every man who] he that could say 
 he knew him. 
 
 " Every man of known influence has 
 so many [more] petitions [than] which 
 he [can] cannot grant, that he must 
 necessarily offend mure than he [can 
 gratify] gratifies. 
 
 ** Ecclesiastical [preferments] bene- 
 fices. 
 
 ** Swift [procnred] contrived an inter- 
 view. 
 
 ** [As a writer] in his works he has 
 given very different. specimens. 
 
 *' On all common occasions he habi- 
 tually [assumes] affects a style of [supe- 
 riority] arrogance. 
 
 " By the [omission] neglect of those 
 ceremonies. 
 
 ** That their merits filled the world 
 [and] or that there was no [room for] 
 hope of more." 
 
 I have not confined myself to the order 
 of the " Lives" in making my few re- 
 marks. Indeed, a different order is ob- 
 served in the original publication, and in 
 the collection of Johnson's Works. And 
 should it be objected, that many of my 
 various readings are inconsiderable, those 
 who make an objection will be pleased 
 to consider, that such small particulars 
 are intended for those who are nicely 
 critical in composition, to whom they 
 will be an acceptable selection. 
 
 ** S pence's Anecdotes," which are fre- 
 quently quoted and referred to in John- 
 son's ** Lives of the Poets," are in a 
 manuscript collection, made by the Re- 
 verend Mr. Joseph Spence*, containing 
 a number of particulars concerning emi- 
 nent men. To each anecdote is marked 
 the name of the person on whose autho- 
 rity it is mentioned. This valuable col- 
 lection is the property of the Duke of 
 Newcastle, who, upon the application of 
 Sir Lucas Pepys, was pleased to permit 
 it to be put into the hands of Dr. John- 
 son, who, I am sorry to think, made but 
 an awkward return. " Great assistance 
 (says he) has been given me by Mr. 
 S pence's Collection, of which I consider 
 the comnjunication as a favour worthy of 
 publick acknowledgment;" but he has 
 not owned to whom he was obliged ; so 
 that the acknowledgment is unappropri- 
 ated to his Grace. 
 
 While the world in general was tilled 
 with admiration of Johnson's ** Lives of 
 
 • [Tlie Rev. Joseph Spence. A. M. Rector 
 of Great Harwood, in Hiickiii(rnaniiiliire, anil 
 Prebendary of Durham, died at Bytleet, in 
 Siirrev, Aiufust 20, 1768. He was a Fellow of 
 New College in Oxford, and ludd the office of 
 Professor of Poetry in chat Uuiver»ity from 
 J7?« to 1738. M.J 
 
 the Poets," there were narrow circles in 
 which prejudice and resentment were 
 fostered, and from which attacks of dif- 
 ferent sorts issued against himf. By 
 some violent Whigs he. was arraigned of 
 injustice to Milton ; by some Cambridge 
 men of depreciating Gray ; and his ex- 
 pressing with a dignified freedom what 
 he really thought of George Lord Lyttel- 
 ton gave offence to some of the friends of 
 that nobleman, and particularly produced 
 a declaration of war against him from 
 Mrs. Montagu, the ingenious Essayist on 
 Shakspeare, between whom and his Lord- 
 ship a commerce of reciprocal compli- 
 ments had long been carried on. In this 
 war the smallest powers in alliance with 
 him were of course led to engage, at 
 least on the defensive, and thus I, for 
 one, was excluded from the enjoyment 
 of " A Feast of Reason," such as Mr. 
 Cumberland has described, with a keen 
 yet just and delicate pen, in his " Ob- 
 server." These minute inconveniences 
 gave not the least disturbance to John- 
 son. He nobly said, when I talked to 
 him of the feeble, though shrill outcry 
 which had been raised, " Sir, I con- 
 sidered myself as entrusted with a certain 
 portion of truth. I have given my opi- 
 nion sincerely ; let them show where 
 they think me wrong." 
 
 While my friend is thus contemplated 
 in the splendour derived from his last 
 and perhaps most admirable work, I 
 introduce him with peculiar propriety as 
 the correspondent of Warren Hastings ! 
 a man whose regard reflects dignity even 
 upon Johnson ; a man, the extent of 
 whose abilities was equal to that of his 
 power; and who, by those who are for- 
 tunate enough to know him in private 
 life, is admired for his literature and 
 taste, and beloved for the candour, njo- 
 deration, and mildness of his character. 
 Were I capable of paying a suitable 
 tribute of admiration to him, I should 
 certainly not withhold it at a moment j 
 when it is not possible that I should be 
 suspected of being an interested flatterer. 
 But how weak would be my v<»ice after 
 that of the millions whom he governed. 
 His condescending and obliging compli- 
 ance with my solicitation, 1 with humble 
 gratitude acknowledge ; and while by 
 publishing his letter to me, accompany- 
 
 t From this disreputabie class F except an 
 in;;:enioiis (hoiisrh not eatisfactory defence of 
 iianiniond, which I did not see till lately, hv 
 tlic favour of its authoiir, my aniiahie friencf, 
 the Rcverfcn<l Mr. Bevill, who piihlished it 
 wiiiiout his name. It is a juvenile perform- 
 ance, but eletiant!)' written, with clasBiral 
 entlitisiasm of KPiitiment, and yet with a Ik'- 
 coniiiifc modesty, and great respect for Dr. 
 Johnson. 
 
 ; Jaiiuarv, 1791. 
 
-^TAT. 72. 
 
 I'HE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ing the valuable communication, I do 
 eminent honour to my great friend, I 
 shall entirely disregard any invidious 
 suggestions, that as I in some degree 
 participate in the honour, I have, at the 
 same time, the gratification of my own 
 vanity in view. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSW^ELL, ESQ. 
 «' SIR, I'ark Lane, Dec. 2, 1790. 
 
 " I HAVE been fortunately spared the 
 troublesome suspense of a long search, to 
 which, in performance of my promise, 1 
 have devoted this morning, by lighting 
 upon the objects of it among the first 
 papers that I laid n)y hands on : my 
 veneration for your great and good friend. 
 Dr. Johnson, and the pride, or I hope 
 something of a better sentiment, which 
 I indulge in possessing such memorials 
 of his good will towards me, having in- 
 duced me to bind them in a parcel con- 
 taining other select papers, and labelled 
 with the titles appertaining to them. 
 They consist but of three letters, which I 
 believe were all that I ever received 
 from Dr. Johnson. Of these, one, which 
 was written in quadruplicate, nuuler the 
 different dates of its respective dispatches, 
 has already been made .publick, but not 
 from any communication of mine. This, 
 however, I have joined to the rest; and 
 have now the pleasure of sending them 
 to you for the use to which you informed 
 me it was your desire to destine them. 
 
 " My promise was pledged with the 
 condition, that if the letters were found 
 to contain any thing which should ren- 
 der them improper for the publick eye, 
 you would dispense with the perform- 
 ance of it. You wHl have the goodness, 
 I am sure, to pardon my recalling this 
 stipulation to your recollection, as I shall 
 be loath to appear negligent of that obli- 
 gation which is always implied in an 
 epistolary confidence. In the reservation 
 of that right I have read them over with 
 the most scrupulous attention, but have 
 not seen in them the slightest cause on 
 <hat ground to withhold tliem from you. 
 But, though not on that, yet on another 
 ground I own I feel a little, yet but a 
 little reluctance to part with them : I 
 mean on that of my own credit, which 
 I fear will suffer by the information con- 
 veyed by thern, that I was early in the 
 possession of such valuable instructions 
 for the beneficial employment of the in- 
 fluence of my late station, and (as it may 
 seem) have so little availed myself of 
 them. Whether I could, if it were ne- 
 cessary, defend myself against such an 
 imputation, it little concerns the, world to 
 know. I look only to the effect which 
 these relicks may produce, considered as 
 evidences of the virtues of their authour : 
 
 403 
 
 and believing that they will be found to 
 display an uncommon warmth of private 
 friendship, and a mind ever attentive to 
 the improvement and extension of useful 
 knowledge, and solicitous for the inter- 
 ests of mankind, I can cheerfully submit 
 to the little sacrifice of my own fame, to 
 contribute to the illustration of so great 
 and venerable a character. They cannot 
 be better applied, for that end, than by 
 being entrusted to your hands. Allow 
 me, with this offering, to infer from it a 
 proof of the very great esteem with which 
 I have the honour to profess myself, sir, 
 " Your most obedient 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " Warren Hastings." 
 " P. S. At some future time, and 
 when you have no further occasion for 
 these papers, I shall be obliged to you if 
 you will return ihetn." 
 
 The last of the three letters thus graci- 
 ously put into my hands, and which has 
 already appeared in publick, belongs to 
 this year; but I shall previously inseit 
 the first two in the order of their dates. 
 They altogether form a grand group in 
 my biographical picture. 
 
 " TO THE HONOURABLE Vi^ARREN HAST- 
 INGS, ESQ. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Though I have had but little personal 
 knowledge of you, I have had enough to 
 make me wish for more; and though it 
 be now a long time since I was honoured 
 by your visit, I had too much pleasure 
 from it to forget it. By those whom we 
 delight to remember we are unwilling to 
 be forgotten ; and therefore I cannot 
 omit this opportunity of reviving myself 
 in your memory by a letter which you 
 will receive from the hands of my friend 
 Mr. Chambers*; a man whose purity 
 of manners and vigour of mind are suffi- 
 cient to make every thing welcome that 
 he brings. 
 
 " That this is my only reason for 
 writing will be too apparent by the use- 
 lessness of my letter to any other pur- 
 pose. I have no questions to ask ; not 
 that I want curiosity after either the 
 ancient or present state of regions, in 
 which have been seen all the power and 
 splendour of wide extended empire ; and 
 which, as by some grant of natural supe- 
 riority, supply the rest of the world with 
 almost all that pride desires, and luxury 
 enjoys. But my knowledjge of them is 
 too scanty to furnish me with proper 
 topicks of inquiry; I can only wish for 
 information ; and hope, that a mind 
 comprehensive like yours will find lei- 
 
 » Afterwards Sir Robert Chambers, one of 
 his Majesty's Judges in India. 
 
494 
 
 sure, amidst the cares of your important 
 station, to inquire into many subjects of 
 which the European world either thinks 
 not at all, or thinks with deficient intel- 
 lis^ence and uncertain conjecture. I shall 
 hope, that he who once intended to in- 
 crease the learning of his country by the 
 introduction of the Persian language, will 
 examine nicely the traditions and histo 
 ries of the East; that he will survey the 
 wonders of its ancient edifices, and trace 
 tlie vestiges of its ruined cities ; and that, 
 at his return, we shall know the arts and 
 opinions of a race of men, from whom 
 very little has been hitherto derived. 
 
 " You, sir, have no need of being told 
 by me, how much may be added by your 
 attention and patronage to experimental 
 knowledge and natural history. There 
 are arts of manufacture practised in the 
 countries in which you preside, which 
 are yet very imperfectly known here, 
 either to artiticers or philosophers. Of 
 the natural productions, animate and in- 
 ajiimate, we yet have so little intelli- 
 gence that our books are tilled, I fear, 
 with conjectures about things which an 
 Indian peasant knows by his senses. 
 
 " Many of those things my first wish 
 i'S to see ; my second to know, by such 
 accounts as a man like you will be able 
 to give. 
 
 "As I have not skill to ask proper 
 questions, I have likewise no such access 
 to great men as can enable me to send 
 you any political information. Of the 
 agitations of an unsettled government, 
 and the struggles of a feeble ministry, 
 care is doubtless taken to give you more 
 exact accounts than I can obtain. If 
 you are inclined to interest yourself much 
 in publick transactions, it is no misfor- 
 tune to you to be distant from them. 
 
 " That literature is not totally forsaking 
 us, and that your favourite language is 
 not neglected, will appear from the 
 book*, which I should have pleased 
 myself more with sending, if I could 
 have presented it bound : but time was 
 wanting. I beg, however, sir, that you 
 will accept it from a man very desirous 
 of your regard ; and that if you think nie 
 able to gratify you by any thing more 
 important, you will employ me. 
 
 " 1 am now going to t;iUe leave, pei- 
 h;ips a very lon'4 icavi-, of inv dear Mr. 
 Chunbcrs. 'i'liat 1m- is -oiiit; lo live 
 where }i)U '4overii ni.iy jii.>tlv ailex'iale 
 the regard of parliiej; -/aiid liu' hope oi 
 seeing both him and you a'^ain, wliiili I ! 
 am not Willi. ig to niiu^le v. itii doiil.t, ; 
 must, at present, comloii as it ean, siu, 
 " Your most humhle servant, 
 " Marcli 30, 1774." " SvM. Johnson.' 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 * SIR, 
 
 '* Being Informed that by the departure 
 of a ship, there is now an opportunity of 
 writing to Bengal, I am unwilling to slip 
 out of your memory by my own negli- 
 gence, and therefore take the liberty of 
 reminding you of my existence, by send- 
 ing you a book which is not yet made 
 publick. 
 
 ** I have lately visited a region less 
 remote, and less illustrious than India, 
 which afforded some occasions for specu- 
 lation ; what has occurred to me I have 
 put into the volume t, of which I beg 
 your acceptance. 
 
 " Men in your station seldom have 
 presents totally disinterested ; my book 
 is received, let me now make my request. 
 
 *' There is, sir, somewhere within your 
 government, a young adventurer, one 
 Chauncey Lawrence, whose father is one 
 of my oldest friends. Be pleased to show 
 the young man what countenance is fit, 
 whether he wants to be restrained by 
 your authority, or encouraged by your 
 favour. His father is now President of 
 the College of Physicians, a man vener- 
 able for his knowledge, and more vener- 
 able for his virtue. 
 
 ** I wish you a prosperous government, 
 a safe return, and a long enjoyment of 
 plenty and tranquillity. I am, sir, 
 " Your most obedient, 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Dec. 20, 1774." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " SIR, Jan. 9, 17SI. 
 
 "Amidst the importance and multipli- 
 city of affairs in which your great ofhce 
 engages you, I take the liberty of recall- 
 ing your attention for a moment to lite- 
 rature, and will not prolong the interrup- 
 tion by an apology which your character 
 makes needless. 
 
 " Mr. Hoole, a gentleman long known, 
 and long esteemed in the India House> 
 after having translated Tasso, has under- 
 taken Ariosto. How well he is qualified 
 for his undertaking he has already shown. 
 He is desirous, sir, of your favour in 
 promoting his proposals, and flatters me 
 by supposing that my testimony may 
 advance his interest. 
 
 " It is a new thing for a clerk of the 
 India House to translate poets; — it is 
 new tui a (Jovernor of Bengal to patro- 
 nise learning. That ho may find his 
 iie^einiity rewaid.d, and that learning 
 may lloi,ri..li miiiir ^ our prt)tection, is 
 the \\i?ii ot, SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble sei vani, 
 " Sam. Johnxin." 
 
 + "Joiirnry to the Western Islanus of Scot» 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 495 
 
 I wrote to him in February, complain- 
 ing of leaving been troubled by a recur- 
 rence of the perplexing question of 
 Liberty and Necessity ; — and mention- 
 ing tliat I hoped soon to meet him again 
 in London. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HOPED you had got rid of all this hy- 
 pocrisy of misery. What have you to 
 do with Liberty and Necessity? Or what 
 more than to liold your tongue about it? 
 Do not doubt but I shall be most heartily 
 glad to see you here again, for I love 
 every part about you but your affectation 
 of distress. 
 
 " I have at last finished my Lives, and 
 have laid up for you a load of copy, all 
 out of order, so that it will amuse you a 
 long time to set it right. Come to me, 
 my dear Bozzy, and let us be as happy 
 as we can. We will go again to the 
 Mitre, and talk old times over. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " March 14, 1761." 
 
 On Monday, March 19, I arrived in 
 London, and on Tuesday, the 20th, met 
 him in Fleet Street, walking, or rather 
 indeed moving along; for his peculiar 
 march is thus described in a very just 
 and picturesque manner, in a short Life* 
 of him published very soon after his 
 death : — " When he walked the streets, 
 what with the constant roll of his head, 
 and the concomitant motion of his body, 
 he appeared to make his way by that 
 motion, independent of his feet." That 
 he was often much stared at while he 
 advanced in this manner may easily be 
 believed ; but it was not safe to make 
 sport of one so robust as he was. Mr. 
 Langton saw him one day, in a fit of 
 absence, by a sudden start, drive the load 
 off a porter's back, and walk forward 
 briskly, without being conscious of what 
 he had done, 'i'he porter was very 
 angry, but stood still, and eyed the huge 
 figure with much earnestness, till he was 
 satisfied that his wisest course was to be 
 quiet, and take up his burtlicn again. 
 
 Our accidental meeting in the street 
 after a long separation was a pleasing 
 surprise to us both. He stepped aside 
 with me into Falcon Court, and made 
 kind inquiries about my family, and as 
 we were in a hurry going different ways, 
 
 * Published by Ktarsley, with this well 
 chosen UiOtto : 
 
 - From his cradle 
 
 He was a Scholar, and a ripe and ?ood one: 
 And to add greater honours to his nge 
 Than man could give him, he died fearing 
 tieaveu." • Shakspeare. 
 
 I promised to call on him next day ; he 
 said he was engaged to go out in the 
 morning. " Early, sir?" said L John- 
 son. " Why, sir, a London morning does 
 not go with the sun." 
 
 I waited on him next evening, and he 
 gave me a great portion of his original 
 manuscript of his " Lives of the Poets," 
 which he had preserved for me. 
 
 I found on visiting his friend Mr. 
 Thrale, that he was now very ill, and 
 had removed, I supposed by the solicita- 
 tion of Mrs. Thrale, to a house in Gros- 
 venor Square. 1 was sorry to see him 
 sadly changed in his appearance. 
 
 He told me I might now have the 
 pleasure to see Dr. Johnson drink wine 
 again, for he had lately returned to it. 
 When 1 mentioned this to Johnson, he 
 said, •* I drink it now sometimes, but not 
 socially." The first evening that I was 
 with him at Thrale's, I observed he 
 poured a large quantity of it into a glass, 
 and swallowed it greedily. Every thing 
 about his character and manners was 
 forcible and violent; there never was 
 any moderation ; many a day did he 
 fast, many a year did he refrain from 
 wine ; but when he did eat, it was vora- 
 ciously ; when he did drink wine, it was 
 copiously. He could practise abstinence, 
 but not temperance. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale and I had a dispute whe- 
 ther Shakspeare or Milton had drawn 
 the most admirable picture of a man f. I 
 was for Shakspeare; Mrs. Thrale for 
 Milton ; and after a fair hearing, John- 
 son decided for my opinion |. 
 
 I told him of one of Mr. Burke's play- 
 ful sallies upon Dean Marlay § : "I don't 
 like the Deanery of Ferns, it sounds so 
 like a barren title." — " Dr. Heath 
 should have it ;" said L Johnson laughed, 
 
 t Shakspeare makes Hamlet thua describe 
 his fatlier; 
 
 " See what a grace was seated on his brow : 
 Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, 
 An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; 
 A station like the herald. Mercury, 
 New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
 A combination, and a form, indeed. 
 Where every God did seem to set bis seal,. 
 To give the world assurance of a man." 
 
 Milton thus portrays oui first parent, Adaai : 
 " His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
 Abs\ilute rule; and hyacinthine locks 
 Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
 Clusi'ring, but not beneath his s"ho4ilder& 
 broad." 
 
 X [It is strange that the picture drawn by 
 the unlearned Shakspeare should be full of 
 classical imases, and that by the learned Mil- 
 Ion void of "them.— Milton's description ap- 
 pears to me more picturesque. K.] 
 
 § [Dr. llichaid Mariay, afterwards Lord 
 Bishop of Waierford; a very amiable, bene- 
 volent, and ingenious man. He was chosen a 
 member of the Literary Club in 1777, and 
 • lied in Dublin, July 2, 1802, in his 7&ih year. 
 M.j 
 
496 
 
 and condescending to trifle in the same 
 mode of conceit, suggested Dr. Moss. 
 
 He said, '* Mrs. Montagu has dropped 
 me. Now, sir, there are people wliom 
 one should like very well to drop, but 
 would not wish to be dropped by." He 
 certainly was vain of the society of ladies, 
 and could make himself very agreeable 
 to them when he chose it; Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds agreed with me that he could. 
 Mr. Gibbon, with his usual sneer, con- 
 troverted it, perhaps in resentment of 
 Johnson's having talked with some dis- 
 gust of his ugliness, which one would 
 think a philosopher would not mind. 
 Dean Marlay wittily observed, ** A lady 
 may be vain when she can turn a wolf 
 dog into a lapdog." 
 
 The election for Ayrshire, my own 
 county, was this spring tried upon a peti- 
 tion, before a Committee of the House of 
 Commons. I was one of the Counsel for 
 the sitting member, and took the liberty 
 of previously stating different points to 
 Johnson, who never failed to see them 
 clearly, and to supply me with some 
 good hints. He dictated to me the fol- 
 lowing note upon the registration of 
 deeds : 
 
 " All laws are made for the conve- 
 niency of the community ; what is legally 
 done should be legally recorded, that the 
 state of things may be known, and that 
 wherever evidence is requisite, evidence 
 may be had. For this reason, the obli- 
 gation to frame and establish a legal 
 register is enforced by a legal penalty, 
 which penalty is the want of that perfec- 
 tion and plenitude of right which a regis- 
 ter would give. Thence it follows, that 
 this is not an objection merely legal ; for 
 the reason on which the law stands being 
 equitable makes it an equitable objec- 
 tion." 
 
 "This (said he) you must enlarge on 
 when speaking to the Committee. You 
 must not argue there as if you were 
 arguing in the schools ; close reasoning 
 will not fix their attention ; you must 
 say the same thing over and over again 
 in different words. If you say it but 
 once, they miss it in a moment of inat- 
 tention. It is unjust, sir, to censure 
 lawyers for multiplying words when 
 they argue ; it is often necessary for 
 them to multiply words." 
 
 His notion of the duty of a member of 
 Parliament, sitting upon an election 
 committee, was very high ; and when 
 he was told of a gentleman, upon one of 
 those committees, who read the news- 
 papers part of the time, and slept the 
 rest, while the merits of a vote were ex- 
 amined by the counsel ; and as an excuse, 
 when challenged by the chairman for 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 such behaviour, bluntly answered, *' I 
 had made up my mind upon that case;" 
 — Johnson, with an indignant contempt, 
 said, " If he was such a rogue as to make 
 up his mind upon a case without hearing 
 it, he should not have been such a fool 
 as to tell it."—" I think (said Mr. Dud- 
 ley Long, now North) the Doctor has 
 pretty plainly made him out to be both 
 rogue and fool." 
 
 Johnson's profound reverence for the 
 Hierarchy made hiitrexpect from Bishops 
 the highest degree of decorum ; he was 
 otFended even at Iheir going to taverns ,: 
 '* A bishop (said he) has nothing to do 
 at a tippling house. It is not indeed 
 immoral in him to go to a tavern ; neither 
 would it be immoral in him to whip a 
 top in Grosvenor Square: but if he did, 
 I hope the boys would fall upon him and 
 apply the whip to him. Tiiere are gra- 
 dations in conduct ; there is morality, 
 — decency, — propriety. None of these 
 should be violated by a bishop. A bishop 
 should not go to a house where he may 
 meet a young fellow leading out a 
 wench." Boswell. " But, sir, every 
 tavern does not admit women." John- 
 son. " Depend upon it, sir, any tavern 
 will admit a well dressed man and a well 
 dressed woman ; they will not perhaps 
 admit a woman whom they see every 
 night walking by their door in the street. 
 But a well dressed man may lead in a 
 well dressed woman to any tavern in 
 London. Taverns sell meat and drink, 
 and will sell them to any body who can 
 eat and can drink. You may as well 
 say that a mercer will not sell silks to a 
 woman of the town." 
 
 He also disapproved of bishops going 
 to routs, at least at their staying at them 
 longer than their presence commanded 
 respect. He mentioned a particular 
 bishop. '" Poh ! (said Mrs. Thrale) the 
 
 Bishop of is never minded at 
 
 a rout." Boswell. " When a bishop 
 places himself in a situation where he 
 has no distinct character, and is of no 
 consequence, he degrades the dignity of 
 his order." Johnson. *' Mr. Boswell, 
 madam, has said it as correctly as it 
 could be." 
 
 Nor was it only in the dignitaries of 
 the Church that Johnson required a par- 
 ticular decorum and delicacy of behavi- 
 our ; he justly considered that the clergy, 
 as persons set apart for the sacred oflrtce 
 of serving at the altar, and impressing 
 the minds of men with the awful con- 
 cerns of a future state, should be some- 
 what more serious than the generality of 
 mankind, and have a suitable composure 
 of manners. A due sense of the dignity 
 of their profession, independent of higher 
 motives, will ever prevent them from 
 
JEtxt. 72. 
 
 losing their distinction in an indiscrimi- 
 nate sociality; and did sucli as affect 
 this know how much it lessens them in 
 the eyes of those whom they think to 
 please by it, they would feel themselves 
 much mortified. 
 
 Johnson and his friend Beauclerk were 
 once together in company with several 
 clergymen, who thought they should ap- 
 pear to advantage by assuming the lax jol- 
 lity of men of the world ; which, as it may 
 be observed in similar cases, they carried 
 to noisy excess. Johnson, who they ex- 
 pected would be enter famed, sat grave 
 and silent for some time ; at last, turning 
 to Beauclerk, he said, by no means in a 
 whisper, ** This merriment of parsons is 
 mighty offensive." 
 
 Even the dress of a clergyman should 
 be in character, 'and nothing can be more 
 despicable than conceited attempts at 
 avoiding the appearance of the clerical 
 order ; attempts which are as ineffectual 
 as they are pitiful. Dr. Porteus, now 
 Bishop of London, in his excellent charge 
 when presiding over the diocess of Ches- 
 ter, justly animadverts upon this subject ; 
 and observes of a reverend fop, that he 
 ** can be but half a beau." 
 
 Addison, in " The Spectator," has 
 given us a fine portrait of a clergyman 
 who is supposed to be a member of his 
 Club; and Johnson has exhibited a mo- 
 del, in the cliaracter of Mr. Mudge*, 
 which has escaped the collectors of his 
 works, but which he owned to me, and 
 which indeed he showed to Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds at the time when it was writ- 
 ten. It bears the genuine marks of John- 
 son's best manner, and is as follows : 
 
 " The Reverend Mr. Zachariah 
 Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, and Vi- 
 car of St. Andrew's in Plymouth, a man 
 equally eminent for his virtues and abili- 
 ties, and at once beloved as a companion 
 and reverenced as a pastor. He had that 
 general curiosity to which no kind of 
 knowledge is indifferent or superfluous ; 
 and that general benevolence by which 
 no order of men is hated or despised. 
 
 " His principles both of thought and 
 action were great and comprehensive. 
 By a solicitous examination of objections, 
 and judicious comparison of opposite 
 arguments, he attained what inquiry 
 never gives but to industry and perspi- 
 cuity, a firm and unshaken settlement of 
 conviction. But his firmness was with- 
 out asperity ; for, knowing with how 
 much difficulty truth was sometimes 
 found, he did not wonder that many 
 missed it. 
 
 " The general course of his life was de- 
 termined by his profession ; he studied 
 
 * See p. 113. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 497 
 
 the sacred volumes in the original lan- 
 
 guages ; with what diligence and success 
 his Notes upon the Psalms give suffi- 
 cient evidence. He once endeavoured 
 to add the knowledge of Arabick to that 
 of Hebrew ; but, finding his thoughts too 
 much diverted from other studies, after 
 some time desisted from his purpose. 
 
 " His discharge of parochial duties 
 was exemplary. How his Sermons were 
 composed may be learned from the ex- 
 cellent volume which he has given to the 
 publick ; but how they were delivered 
 can be known only to those that heard 
 them ; for as he appeared in the pulpit, 
 words will not easily describe him. His 
 delivery, though unconstrained, was not 
 negligent, and, though forcible, was not 
 turbulent ; disdaining anxious nicety of 
 emphasis and laboured artifice of action, 
 it captivated the hearer by its natural 
 dignity, it roused the sluggish, and fixed 
 the volatile, and detained the mind upon 
 the subject without directing it to the 
 speaker. 
 
 "The grandeur and solemnity of the 
 preacher did not intrude upon his gene- 
 ral behaviour ; at the table of his friends 
 he was a companion communicative 
 and attentive, of unaffected manners, of 
 manly cheerfulness, willing to please, 
 and easy to be pleased. His acquaint- 
 ance was universally solicited, and his 
 presence obstructed no enjoyment which 
 religion did not forbid. Though studi- 
 ous he was popular ; though argumenta- 
 tive he was modest; though inflexible 
 he was candid ; and though metaphysi- 
 cal yet orthodox f." 
 
 On Friday, March 30, I dined with 
 him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with the 
 Earl of Cliarlemont, Sir Annesley Stew- 
 art, Mr. Eliot, of Port-Eliot, Mr. Burke, 
 Dean Marlay, Mr. Langton ; a most 
 agreeable day, of which 1 regret that 
 every circumstance is not preserved ; 
 but it is unreasonable to require such a 
 multiplication of felicity. 
 
 Mr. Eliot, with whom Dr. Walter 
 Harte had travelled, talked to ns of his 
 " History of Gustavus Adolphus," which 
 he said was a very good book in the 
 German translation. Johnson. " Harte 
 was excessively vain. He put copies of 
 his book in manuscript into the hands 
 of Lord Chesterfield and Lord Granville, 
 that they might revise it. Now how 
 absurd was it to suppose that two such 
 noblemen would revise so big a manu- 
 script. Poor man ! he left London the 
 day of the publication of his book, that 
 
 t " London Chronicle," May 2, 1769. This 
 respectable man is there menfioned to have 
 died on the 3d of April, that year, at CotHect, 
 tlie seal of Thomas Vtale, Esq. in his way to 
 London. ^ ^ 
 
108 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON., 
 
 1781. 
 
 1)6 might be out of the way of the great 
 praise he was to receive ; and lie was 
 ashamed to return when he found how 
 ill his book had succeeded. It was sn- 
 Jncky in coming out on the same day 
 with Robertson's * History of Scotland.' 
 His husbandry, however, is good." Bos- 
 well. " So he was fitter for that than 
 for heroick history : he did well when 
 he turned his sword into a ploughshare." 
 JMr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor 
 peculiar to his country, which the Cor- 
 nish fishermen drink. They call it Ma- 
 hoc/any j and it is made of two parts gin 
 and one part treacle, well beaten toge- 
 ther. I begged to have some of it made, 
 which was done with proper skill by 
 ^Ir. Eliot. I thought it very good liquor ; 
 and said it was a counterpart of what is 
 called Athol Porrid<je in the Highlands 
 of Scotland, which is a mixture of whisky 
 and honey. Johnson said, " that must 
 be a better liquor than the Cornish, for 
 both its component parts are better." 
 He also observed, " Mahogany must be 
 a modern name ; for it is not long since 
 the wood called mahogany was known in 
 this country." T mentioned his scale of 
 liquors : — claret for boys, — port for men, 
 — brandy for heroes. " Then (said Mr. 
 Burke) let me have claret : I love to be 
 a boy ; to have the careless gaiety of 
 boyish days." Johnson. ** I should 
 drink claret too, if it would give me 
 that; but it does not: it neither makes 
 boys men, nor men boys. You'll be 
 drowned by it, before it has any cflfect 
 upon you." 
 
 I ventured to mention a ludicrous para- 
 graph in the newspapers, that Dr. John- 
 son was learning to dance of Vestris. 
 Lord Charlemont, wishing to excite him 
 to talk, proposed in a whisper that he 
 should be asked whether it was true. 
 " Shall I ask him?" said his Lordship. 
 We were, by a great majority, clear for 
 the experiment. Upon which his Lord- 
 ship very gravely, and with a courteous 
 air, said, " Pray, sir, is it true that you 
 are taking lessons of Vestris?" This was 
 risking a good deal, and required the 
 boldness of a General of Irish Volunteers 
 to make the attempt. Johnson was at 
 first startled, and in some heat answered, 
 " How can your Lordship ask so simple 
 a question?" But immediately recover- 
 ing himself, whether from unwillinguess 
 to be deceived or to appear deceived, or 
 whether from real good humour, be kept 
 lip the joke: ** Nay, but if any body 
 were to answer the paragraph and con- 
 tradict it, I'd have a reply and would 
 say that he who contradicted it was no 
 friend either to Vestris or me. For why 
 should not Dr. Johnson add to his other 
 powers a little corporeal agility? So- 
 
 crates learnt to dance at an advanced 
 age, and Cato learirt Greek at an ad- 
 vanced age. Then it might proceied to 
 say, that this Johnson, not content with 
 dancing on the ground, might dance on 
 the rope ; and they might introduce the 
 elephant dancing on the rope. A noble- 
 man*, wrote a play, called ' Love in a 
 Hollow Tree.' He found out that it was 
 a bad one, and therefore wished to buy 
 up all the copies and burn them. The 
 Duchess of Marlborough had kept one ; 
 and when he was against her at an elec- 
 tion, she had a new edition of it printed, 
 and prefixed to it, as a frontispiece, an 
 elephant dancing on a rope ; to show that 
 his Lordship's writing comedy was as 
 awkward as an elephant dancing on a 
 rope." 
 
 On Sunday, April 1, I dined with him 
 at Mr. Thrale's, with Sir Philip Jennings 
 Clerk and Mr. Perkins t, who had the 
 superintendence of Mr. Thrale's brewery 
 with a salary of five hundred pounds a 
 year. Sir Philip had the appearance of 
 a gentleman of ancient family, well ad- 
 vanced in life. He wore his own white 
 hair in a bag of goodly size, a black vel- 
 vet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, 
 and very rich laced ruffles; which Mrs. 
 Thrale said were old fashioned, but 
 which, for that reason, I thought the 
 more respectable, more like a Tory ; yet 
 Sir Philip was then in opposition in 
 Parliament. " Ah, sir (said Johnson), 
 ancient ruffles and modern principles do 
 not agree." Sir Philip defended the 
 Opposition to the American war ably 
 and with temper, and I joined him. He 
 said the majority of the nation was 
 against the ministry. Johnson. " /, sir, 
 am against the ministry ; but it is for 
 having too little of thai of which Oppo- 
 sition thinks they have too much. Were 
 I minister, if any man wagged his finger 
 against me, he should be turned out ; for 
 that which it is in the power of Govern.- 
 ment to give at pleasure to one or to ano- 
 ther should be given to the supporters ot 
 Government. If you will not oppose at the 
 expense of losing your place, your oppo- 
 sition will not be honest, you will feel 
 no serious grievance ; and the present 
 opposition is only a contest to get what 
 others have. Sir Robert Walpole acted 
 as I would do. As to the American 
 war, the sense of the nation is with the 
 mmistry. The majority of those who 
 j can understand is with it ; the majority 
 of those who can only hear is against it ; 
 and as those who can only hear are more 
 numerous than those who can under- 
 stand, and Opposition is always loudest, 
 
 • William, the first Vi»coiint Grimston. 
 t See p. a48. 
 
yETAT. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 499 
 
 a majority of the rabble will be for 
 Opposition." 
 
 This boisterous vivacity entertained us : 
 but the truth in my opinion was, that 
 those who could understand the best were 
 against the American war, as almost 
 every man now is, when the question 
 has been coolly considered. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale gave high praise to Mr. 
 Dudley Long (now North). Johnson. 
 ** Nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. 
 Mr. Long's character is very short. It 
 is nothing. He fills a chair. He is a 
 man of genteel appearance, and that is 
 all*. I know nobody who blasts by 
 praise as you do : for whenever there is 
 exaggerated praise, every body is set 
 against a character. They are provoked 
 to attack it. Now there is Pepys f ; you 
 praised that man with such disproportion 
 that I was incited to lessen him, perhaps 
 more than he deserves. His blood is 
 upon your head. By the same principle 
 your malice defeats itself; for your cen- 
 sure is too violent. And yet (looking to 
 her with a leering smile), she is the first 
 woman in the world, could she but re- 
 strain that wicked tongue of hers ; — she 
 would be the only woman, could she but 
 command that little whirligig." 
 
 Upon the subject of exaggerated praise 
 I took the liberty to say that I thought 
 there might be very high praise given to 
 a known character which deserved it, 
 and therefore it would not be exagge- 
 rated. Thus, one might say of Mr. Ed- 
 mund Burke, he is a very wonderful 
 man. — Johnson. " No, sir, you would 
 not be safe, if another man had a mind 
 perversely to contradict. He might an- 
 swer, * Where is all the wonder? Bnrke 
 is, to be sure, a man of uncommon abili- 
 ties, with a great quantity of matter in 
 his mind, and a great fluency of language 
 in his mouth. But we are not to be 
 stunned and astonished by him.' So you 
 see, sir, even Burke would suffer, not 
 
 * Here Johnson condescended to plav upon 
 the words Long and short. But little 'did he 
 know that, owing: to Mr. Long's reserve in 
 his presence, he was talking thus of a gentle- 
 man distinguisUed amongst his acquaintance 
 for acuteness of wit; one to whom I think the 
 French expression, " II petille d^esprit,^' is 
 particularly suiteil. He has gratified me by 
 mentioning that he heard Dr. Johnson say, 
 *' Sir, if I were to lose Bosnell, it would be a 
 limb amputated." 
 
 t William VVeller Pepys, Esq. one of the 
 Masters in the High Court of Chancery, and 
 well known in polite circles. My acqnaihtancc 
 with him is not sufficient to enaoie me to 
 speak of him from my own judgment. LUit I 
 know that both at Eton and Oxford he was 
 the intimate' friend of the late Sir James 
 Macdonald, the Marcellns of Scotland, whose 
 extraordinary talents, learning, and virtues 
 will ever be remembered with admiratiou and 
 rtgrel. 
 
 from any fault of his own, but from your 
 folly." 
 
 Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman 
 who had acquired a fortune of four thou- 
 sand a year in trade, but was absolutely 
 miserable because he could not talk in 
 company ; so miserable that he was im- 
 pelled to lament his situation in the street 
 to ***** *, whom he hates, and who 
 he knows despises him. '* I am a most 
 unhappy man (said he). I am invited to 
 conversations. I go to conversations ; 
 but, alas ! I have no conversation." —   
 Johnson. " Man commonly cannot be 
 successful in different ways. This gentle- 
 man has spent, in getting four thousand 
 pounds a year, the time in which he 
 might have learned to talk ; and now 
 he cannot talk." Mr. Perkins made a 
 shrewd and droll remark : " If he had 
 got his four thousand a year as a mounte- 
 bank, he might have learnt to talk at 
 the same time that he was getting his 
 fortune." 
 
 Some other gentlemen came in. The 
 conversation concerning the person whose 
 character Dr. Johnson had treated so 
 slightingly, as he did not know his merit, 
 was resumed, Mrs. Thrale said, " You 
 think so of him, sir, because he is quiet, 
 and does not exert himself with force. 
 You'll be saying the same thing of 
 Mr. ***** there, who sits as qniet-^." 
 This was not well bred ; and Johnson 
 did not let it pass without correction. 
 " Nay, madam, what right have you to 
 talk thus? Both Mr. "***** and I 
 have reason to take it ill. You may 
 talk so of Mr. **«#*; but why do yon 
 make me do it? Have I said any thing 
 against Mr. ♦«**♦? You have set him 
 that I might shoot him ; but I have not 
 shot him." 
 
 One of the gentlemen said he had seen 
 three folio volumes of Dr. Johnson's say- 
 ings collected by me. " I must put you 
 right, sir (said I), for 1 am very exact 
 in authenticity. You could not see folio 
 volumes, for I have none : you might 
 have seen some in quarto and octavo. 
 This is an inattention which one sliould 
 guard against." Johnson. " Sir, it is a. 
 want of concern about veracity. He does 
 not know that he saw any volumes. If 
 he had seen them he could have rcmcra- 
 bered their size." 
 
 Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick 
 to-day. — I saw him again on Monday 
 evening, at which time he was not 
 thought to be in immediate danger ; but 
 early in the morning of Weilnesday, the 
 4th, he expired. Johnson was in the 
 house, and thus mentions the event : " I 
 felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, 
 and looked for the last time upon the 
 face that for fifteen years had never becii. 
 
500 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 tui»R'<l upon me but with respect and 
 benignity*." Upon that day tlieie was 
 a Call of the Literary CUib; but John- 
 son apologized for his absence by the 
 following note : 
 
 " Mr. Johnson knows that Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds and the other gentlemen will 
 excuse his incompliance with the Call, 
 when they are told that Mr. Thrale died 
 this morning." 
 
 " Wednesday." 
 
 Mr. Thrale'3 death was a very essen- 
 tial loss to Johnson, who, although he 
 did not foresee all that aftersvards hap- 
 pened, was sufficiently convinced that 
 the comforts which Mr. Thrale's family 
 afforded him would now in a great mea- 
 sure cease. He, however, continued to 
 show a kind attention to his widow and 
 children as long as it was acceptable : 
 and he took upon him, with a very ear- 
 nest concern, the oliice of one of his exe- 
 cutors, the impoitance of which seemed 
 greater than usual to him, from his cir- 
 cumstances having been always such that 
 he had scarcely any share in the real 
 business of life. His friends of the Club 
 were in hopes that Mr. Thrale might 
 have made a liberal provision for him 
 for his life, which, as Mr. Tlnale left no 
 son and a very large fortune, it would 
 have been highly to his honour to have 
 done; and, considering Dr. Johnson's 
 age, could not have been of long dura- 
 tion ; but he bequeathed him only two 
 hundred pounds, which was the legacy 
 given to each of his executors. I could 
 not but be somewhat diverted by hear- 
 ing Johnson talk in a pompous manner 
 of his new office, and particularly of the 
 concerns of the brewery, which it was at 
 last resolved should be sold. Lord Lucan 
 tells a very good story, which, if not 
 precisely exact, is certainly charactcris- 
 tical : that when the sale of Thrale's 
 brewery was going forward, Johnson ap- 
 peared bustling about, witli an inkhorn 
 and pen in his buttonhole, like an ex- 
 ciseman ; and on being asked what he 
 really considered to be the value of the 
 property which was to be disposed of, 
 answered, ** We are not here to sell a 
 parcel of boilers and vats, but the poten- 
 tiality of growing rich beyond the dreams 
 of avarice." 
 
 On Friday, April 6, he carried me to 
 dine at a club, which, at his desire, had 
 been lately formed at the Queen's Arms, 
 
   Prayers and Meditations, p. 191. 
 
 [Johnson's expr«'ssiont on ttiis occasion re- 
 mind us of Isaac Walton'seuloifv on Wliit.^ift, 
 in liis Life of Hooki-r.— " He lived - - - to be 
 piosenl at llie cxpiraiion of lier [Q. Kiiza- 
 hftii's] last breath, and to behold the closing 
 of those eyes that had long looked upon him 
 with reverence and affection." K.] 
 
 in St. Paul's Churchyard. He told Mr. 
 Hoole that he wished to have a City 
 Club, and asked him to collect one ; but, 
 said he, " Don't let them he patriots," 
 The company were to day very sensible, 
 well behaved men. I have preserved 
 only two particulars of his conversation. 
 He said he was glad Lord George Gor- 
 don had escaped, rather than that a pre- 
 cedent should be established for hanging 
 a man for constructive treason ; which, 
 in consistency with his true, manly, con- 
 stitutional Toryism, he considered would 
 be a dangerous engine of arbitrary power. 
 And upon its being mentioned that an 
 opulent and very indolent Scotch noble- 
 man, who totally resigned the manage- 
 ment of his affairs to a man of knowledge 
 and abilities, had claimed some merit by 
 saying, " The next best thing to manag- 
 ing a man's own affairs well is being 
 sensible of incapacity and not attempting 
 it, but having full confidence in one who 
 can do it :" Johnson. ** Nay, sir, this is 
 paltry. — There is a middle course. Let 
 a man give application : and depend 
 upon it he will soon get above a despi- 
 cable state of helplessness, and attain the 
 power of acting for himself." 
 
 On Saturday, April 7, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Hoole's with Governonr Bou- 
 chier and Captain Orme, both of whom 
 had been long in the East Indies ; and 
 being of good sense and observation were 
 very entertaining. Johnson defetided the 
 oriental regulation of different casts of 
 men t, which was objected to as totally 
 destructive of the hopes of rising in so- 
 ciety by personal merit. He showed that 
 there was a principle in it sufficiently 
 plausible by analogy. *' We see (said 
 he) in metals that there are different 
 species ; and so likewise in animals, 
 though one species may not differ very 
 widely from another, as in the species of 
 dogs,— the cur, the spaniel, the mastiff. 
 The Bramins are the mastiffs of man- 
 kind." 
 
 On Thursday, April 12, I dined with 
 him at a Bishop's, where were Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Berenger, and 
 some more company. He had dined the 
 day before at another Bishop's. I have 
 unfortunately recorded none of his con- 
 versation at the Bishop's where we dined 
 together : but I have preserved his inge- 
 nious defence of his dining twice abroad 
 in Passion-week ; a laxity, in which I 
 am convinced he would not have in- 
 dulged himself at the time wl.en he wrote 
 his solemn paper in " The Rambler," 
 upon that awful season. It ^appeared to 
 me that by being much more in com- 
 pany, and enjoying more luxurious liv- 
 t[Rajapont8, themilitarycast; the Bramin*, 
 pacifick and abstemious. K.] 
 
JEt\T. 72. 
 
 ing, he bad contracted a keener relish 
 for pleasure, and was consequently less 
 rigorous in his religious rites. This he 
 would not acknowledge ; but he reasoned 
 with admirable sophistry, as follows : 
 " Why, sir, a Bishop's calling company 
 together in this week is, to use the \nlgar 
 phrase, not the thing. But you must 
 consider laxity is a bad thing ; but pre- 
 ciseness is also a bad thing ; and your 
 general character may be more hurt by 
 preciseness than by dining with a Bishop 
 in Passion- week. There might be a 
 handle for reflection. It might be said, 
 * He refuses to dine with a Bishop in 
 Passion-week, but was three Sundays 
 absent from church.' " Boswell. "Very 
 true, sir. But suppose a man to be uni- 
 formly of good conduct, would it not be 
 better that he should refuse to dine with 
 a Bishop in this week, and so not en- 
 courage a bad practice by his example V 
 Johnson. *' Why, sir, you are to con- 
 sider whether you might not do more 
 harm by lessening the influence of a 
 Bishop's character by your disappro- 
 bation in refusing him than by going to 
 him." 
 
 " TO 3IRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 ** DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** Life is full of troubles. I have just lost 
 my dear friend Thrale. I hope he is 
 happy ; but I have had a great loss, I 
 am otherwise pretty well. 1 require some 
 care of myself, but that care is not inetfec- 
 tual ; and when I am out of order, I think 
 it often my own fault. 
 
 " The spring is now making quick ad- 
 vances. As it is the season in which the 
 whole world is enlivened and invigorated, 
 I hope that both you and I shall partake 
 of its benefits. My desire is to see Lich- 
 field ; but being left executor to my 
 friend, I know not whether I can be 
 spared ; but I will try ; for it is now long 
 since we saw one another, and how little 
 we can promise ourselves many more in- 
 terviews, we are taught by hourly exam- 
 ples of mortality. Let us try to live so 
 as that mortality may not be an evil. 
 Write to me soon, my dearest ; your 
 letters will give me great pleasure. 
 
 ** I am sorry that Mr. Porter has not 
 had his box; but by sending it to Mr. 
 Mathias, who very readily undertook its 
 conveyance, I did the best I could, and 
 perhaps before now he has it. 
 
 " Be so kind as to make my compli- 
 ments to my friends ; I have a great 
 value for their kindness, and hope to en- 
 joy it before summer is past. Do write 
 to me. I am, dearest love, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, April 12, 1781." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 501 
 
 On Friday, April 13, being Good-Fri- 
 day, I went to St. Clement's church with 
 him as usual. There I saw again his old 
 fellow collegian, Edwards, to whom I 
 said, " I think, sir, Dr. Johnson and you 
 meet only at Church." — " Sir (said he), 
 it is the best place we can meet in, ex- 
 cept Heaven, and I hope we shall meet 
 there too." Dr. Johnson told me that 
 there was very little communication be- 
 tween Edwards and him, after their un- 
 expected renewal of acquaintance. " But 
 (said he, smiling) he met me once, and 
 said, * I am told you have written a very 
 pretty book called The B ambler.' I 
 was unwilling that he should leave the 
 world in total darkness, and sent him a 
 
 set." 
 
 Mr. Berenger* visited him to-day, and 
 was very pleasing. We talked of an 
 evening society for conversation at a 
 house in town, of which we were all 
 members, but of which Johnson said, 
 " It will never do, sir. There is nothing 
 served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, 
 nor lemonade, nor any thing whatever ; 
 and depend upon it, sir, a man does not 
 love to go to a place from whence he 
 comes out exactly as he went in." I 
 endeavoured, for argument's sake, to 
 maintain that men of learning and talents 
 might have very good intellectual society 
 without the aid of any little gratifications 
 of the senses. Berenger joined with 
 Johnson and said, that without these any 
 meeting would be dull and insipid. He 
 would therefore have all the slight re- 
 freshments; nay, it would not be amiss 
 to have some cold meat, and a bottle of 
 wine upon a sideboard. " Sir (said John- 
 son to me, with an air of triumph), Mr. 
 Berenger knows the world. Every body 
 loves to have good things furnished to 
 them without any trouble. I told Mrs. 
 Thrale once, that as she did not choose 
 to have card tables, she should have a 
 profusion of the best sweetmeats, and she 
 would be sure to have company enough 
 come to her." I agreed with my illus- 
 trious friend upon this subject ; for it has 
 pleased God to make man a composite 
 animal, and where there is nothing lo re- 
 fresh the body, the mind will languish. 
 
 On Sunday, April 15, being Easter- 
 day, after solemn worship in St. Paul's 
 church, I found him alone : Dr. Scott, 
 of the Commons, came in. He talked of 
 its having been said that Addison wrote 
 some of his best papers in " The Spec- 
 tator," when warm with wine. Dr^ 
 Johnson did not seem willing to admj^t 
 
 * [Richard Berenger, Esq. many years Gen- 
 tleman of the Horse to his present Majesty, 
 and authour of " The History and Art of 
 Horsemanship," in two volumes 4to. 1771, 
 
502 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 this. Dr. Scott, as a confirmation of it, 
 related that Blackstone, a sober man, 
 composed his " Commentaries" with a 
 bottle of port before him ; and found his 
 jnind invigorated and supported in the 
 fatigue of his great work, by a temperate 
 use of it. 
 
 I told him that in a company where I 
 had lately been, a desire was expressed 
 to know his authority for the shocking 
 story of Addison's sending an execution 
 into Steele's house*. *' Sir (said he), 
 it is generally known ; it is known to 
 all who are acquainted with the literary 
 history of that period : it is as well known 
 as that he wrote * Cato.' " Mr. Thomas 
 Sheridan once defended Addison to me, 
 by alleging that he did it in order to 
 cover Steele's goods from other creditors, 
 who were going to seize them. 
 
 We talked of the difference between 
 the mode of education at Oxford, and 
 that in those Colleges where instruction 
 is chiefly conveyed by lectures. Johnson. 
 " Lectures were once useful; but now, 
 when all can read, and books are so 
 numerous, lectures are unnecessary. If 
 your attention fails, and you miss a part 
 of the lecture, it is lost ; you cannot go 
 back as you do upon a book." Dr. Scott 
 agreed with him. ** But yet (said I), 
 Dr. Scott, you yourself gave lectures at 
 Oxford." He smiled. " You laughed 
 then (said I) at those who came to you." 
 
 Dr. Scott left us, and soon afterwards 
 we went to dinner. Our company con- 
 sisted of Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmon- 
 lins, Mr. Levett, Mr. Allen the printer, 
 [Mr. Macbean,] and Mrs. Hall, sister of 
 the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, and 
 resembling him, as I thought, both in 
 figure and manner. Johnson produced 
 now, for the first time, some handsome 
 silver salvers, which he told me he had 
 bought fourteen years ago; so it was a 
 great day. I was not a little amused by 
 observing Allen perpetually struggling to 
 talk in the manner of Johnson, like the 
 little frog in the fable blowing himself 
 up to resemble the stately ox. 
 
 I mentioned a kind of religious Robin- 
 hood Society, which met every Sunday 
 evening at Coachmakers' Hall, for free 
 debate ; and that the subject for this 
 night was, the text which relates, with 
 other miracles which happened at our 
 Saviour's death, " And the graves were 
 opened, and many bodies of the saints 
 which slept arose, and came out of the 
 graves after his resurrection, and went 
 into the holy city, and appeared unto 
 many." Mrs. Hall said it was a very 
 curious subject, and she should like to 
 hear it discussed. Johnson (somewhat 
 
 » See tills exj)Iainecl, p. 487, 4S8. 
 
 warmly). " One would not go to such a 
 pla6e to hear it, — one would not be seen 
 in such a place — to give countenance to 
 such a meeting." I, however, resolved 
 that I would go. " But, sir (said she to 
 Johnson), I should like to hear you dis- 
 cuss it." He seemed reluctant to engage 
 in it. She talked of the resurrection of 
 the human race in genei-al, and main- 
 tained that we shall be raised with the 
 same bodies. Johnson. " Nay, madam, 
 we see that it is not to be the same 
 body ; for the Scripture uses the illus- 
 tration of grain sown, and we know that 
 the grain which grows is not the same 
 with what is sown. You cannot suppose 
 that we shall rise with a diseased body ; 
 it is enough if there be such a sameness 
 as to distinguish identity of person." She 
 seemed desirous of knowing more, but he 
 left the question in obscurity. 
 
 Of apparitions +, he observed, *' A 
 total disbelief of them is adverse to the 
 opinion of the existence of the soul 
 between death and the last day ; the 
 question simply is, whether departed 
 spirits ever have the power of making 
 themselves perceptible to us : a man who 
 thinks he has seen an apparition can only 
 be convinced himself; his authority will 
 not convince another; and his convic- 
 tion, if rational, must be founded on 
 being told something which cannot be 
 known but by supernatural means." 
 
 He mentioned a thing as not unfre- 
 quent, of which I had never heard before, 
 — being called, that is, hearing one's 
 name pronounced by the voice of a 
 known person at a great distance, far 
 beyond the possibility of being reached 
 by any sound uttered by human organs. 
 " An acquaintance, on whose veracity I 
 can depend, told me, that walking home 
 one evening to Kilmarnock, he heard 
 himself called from a wood, by the voice 
 of a brother who had gone to America ; 
 and the next packet brought accounts of 
 that brother's death." IVFacbean asserted 
 that this inexplicable calling was a thing 
 very well known. Dr. Johnson said, that 
 
 t [As this subject frequently recurs in this 
 volume, the reader may be led erroneously to 
 suppose tbat Dr. Johnson was so fond of such 
 discussions as frequently to introduce Iheni, 
 Hut the truth i:<, that the authour hiniselr 
 deliifhted in talking concerninj? ghosts, and 
 wiiat he has frequently denonunated the mys- 
 terious f and therefore took every opportunity 
 of Ifiading Johnson to converse on such sub* 
 jerts. M.] 
 
 [The authour of this work was most un- 
 doubtedly fontl of the tiiysterious, una perhaps 
 upon some occasions may have directed ific 
 conversation to these topicks, when they 
 wouhl not spontaneously have susrgtsted them- 
 selves to Jolinson's mind ; hut that he also had 
 a love for speculations of that nature, may 
 be ifathered from his writings tbroii;jhout. 
 J. B.-O] 
 
lErxr. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 503 
 
 one day at Oxford, as he was turning the 
 key of his chamber, he heard his mother 
 distinctly call — Sam. She was then at 
 Lichfield; bnt nothing ensued. This phe- 
 nomenon is, I think, as wonderful as any 
 other mysterious fact, which many peo- 
 ple are very slow to believe, or rather, 
 indeed, reject with an obstinate con- 
 tempt. 
 
 Some time after this, upon his making 
 a remark which escaped my attention, 
 Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Hall were both 
 together striving to answer him. He grew 
 angry, and called out loudly, ** Nay, 
 when you both speak at once, it is into- 
 lerable." But checking himself, and 
 softening, he said, " This one may say, 
 though you are ladies." Then he bright- 
 ened into gay humour, and addressed 
 them in the words of one of the songs in 
 ** The Beggar's Opera :" 
 
 ** But two at a time there's no mortal can 
 bear." 
 
 " What, sir (said I), are you going to 
 turn Captain Macheath?" There was 
 somettiing as pleasantly ludicrous in this 
 scene as can be imagined. The contrast 
 between Macheath, Polly, and Lucy— 
 and Dr. Samuel Johnson, blind, peevish 
 Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching 
 Mrs. Hall, was exquisite. 
 
 I stole away to Coachmakers' Hall, 
 and heard the difficult text of which we 
 had talked discussed, with great decency 
 and some intelligence, by several speak- 
 ers. There was a difference of opinion as 
 to the appearance of ghosts in modern 
 times, though the arguments for it, sup- 
 ported by Mr. Addison's authority, pre- 
 ponderated. The immediate subject of 
 debate was embarrassed by the bodies of 
 the saints having been said to rise, and 
 by the question what became of them 
 afterwards: — did they return again to 
 their graves ? or were they translated to 
 heaven 1 Only one evangelist mentions 
 the fact*, and the commentators whom 
 I have looked at do not make the pas- 
 sage clear. There is, however, no occa- 
 sion for our understanding it farther than 
 to know that it was one of the extraor- 
 dinary manifestations of divine power, 
 which accompanied the most important 
 event that ever happened. 
 
 On Friday, April 20, I spent with him 
 one of the happiest days that I remember 
 to have enjoyed in the whole course of 
 my life. Mrs. Garrick, whose grief for 
 the loss of her husband was, I believe, 
 as sincere as wounded affection and ad- 
 miration could produce, had this day, for 
 the first time since his death, a select 
 party of his friends to dine with her. 
 
 * St. Matthew, xxvii. 52, 53. 
 
 The company was, Miss Hannah More, 
 who lived with her, and whom she called 
 her Chaplain; Mrs. Boscavven+, Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Carter, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 Dr. Burney, Dr. Johnson, and myself. 
 We found ourselves very elegantly enter- 
 tained at her house in the Adelphi, where 
 I have passed many a pleasing hour with 
 him " who gladdened life." She looked , 
 well, talked of her husband with com- 
 placency, and while she cast her eyes on 
 his portrait, which hung over the chimney 
 piece, said, that " death was now the 
 most agreeable object to her." The very 
 semblance of David Garrick was cheer- 
 ing. Mr. Beauclerk, with happy pro- 
 priety, inscribed under that fine portrait 
 of him, which by Lady Diana's kindness 
 is now the property of my friend Mr. 
 Langton, the following passage from his 
 beloved Shakspeare : 
 
 - A merrier man, 
 
 Within the limit of becoming miiih, 
 I never spent an hour's talk wiihal. 
 His eje begets occasion for his wit; 
 For every object that the one doih calch. 
 The other tuins to a mirth-moving Jest; 
 Which his fail tongue CConceil's expositor) 
 Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
 That aged ears play truant at his tales. 
 And younger hearings are quite ravished; 
 So sw eet and voluble is his discourse." 
 
 We were all in fine spirits ; and I 
 whispered to Mrs. Boscawen, " I believe 
 this is as much as can be made of life." 
 In addition to a splendid entertainment, ' 
 we were regaled with Lichfield ale, which 
 had a peculiar appropriate value. Sir 
 Joshua and Dr. Burney and I drank 
 cordially of it to Dr. Johnson's health ; 
 and though he would not join us, he as 
 cordially answered, " Gentlemen, I wish 
 you all as well as you do me." 
 
 The general effect of this day dwells 
 upon my mind in fond remembrance ; 
 but I do not find much conversation 
 recorded. What 1 have preserved shall 
 be faithfully given. 
 
 One of the company mentioned Mr. 
 Thomas Hollis, the strenuous Whig, who 
 used to send over Europe presents of 
 democratical books, with their boards 
 stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. 
 Mrs. Carter said, " He was a bad man : 
 he used to talk uncharitably." Johnson. 
 " Poh! poh ! madam ; who is the worse 
 for being talked of uncharitably ? Be- 
 sides, he was a dull poor creature as ever 
 lived : and 1 believe he would not have 
 done harm to a man whom he knew to 
 be of very opposite principles to his own. 
 I remember once at the Society of Arts, 
 when an advertisement was to be drawn 
 up, he pointed me out as the man who 
 could do it best. This, you will observe, 
 
 t See p. 430. 
 
.304 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 was kindness to me. I however slipped 
 away and escaped it." 
 
 Mrs. Carter having said of the same 
 person, " I doubt he was an Atheist: 
 Johnson. " I don't know that. He might 
 perhaps have become one, if he had had 
 time to ripen (smiling). He might have 
 eaniberated into an Atheist." 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds praised" Mudge's* 
 Sermons." Johnson. " Mudge's Ser- 
 mons are good, but not practical. He 
 grasps more sense than he can hold ; he 
 takes more corn than he can make into 
 meal ; he opens a wide prospect, but it 
 is so distant, it is indistinct. I love 
 ' Blair's Sermons.' Though the dog is 
 a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and 
 every thing he should not be, I was the 
 first to praise them. Such was my can- 
 dour." (Smiling.) Mrs. Boscawen. 
 " Such his great merit, to get the bet- 
 ter of all your prejudices." Johnson. 
 " Why, madam, let us compound the 
 matter ; let us ascribe it to my candour, 
 and his merit." 
 
 In the evening we had a large com- 
 pany in the drawingroom ; several ladies, 
 the Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Percy, Mr. 
 Chamberlayne of the Treasury, &c. &c. 
 Somebody said, the life of a mere lite- 
 rary man could not be very entertaining. 
 Johnson. " But it certainly may. This 
 is a remark which has been made, and 
 repeated, without justice:' why should 
 the life of a literary man be less enter- 
 taining than the life of any other man ? 
 Are there not as interesting varieties in 
 such a life? As a literary life it may 
 be very entertaining." Boswell. " But 
 it must be belter surely, when it is diver- 
 sified with a little active variety — such as 
 his having gone to Jamaica ; — or— his 
 having gone to tiie Hebrides." Johnson 
 was not displeased at this. 
 
 Talking of a very respectable authour, 
 he told us a curious circumstance in hia 
 life, which was, that he had married a 
 printer's devil. Rkynolds. " A printer's 
 devil, sir! Why, 1 thought a printer's 
 devil was a creature with a black face 
 and in rags." Johnson. ** Yes, sir. But 
 I suppose he had her face washed, and 
 put clean clothes on her. (Then looking 
 very serious, and very earnest). And 
 she did not disgrace him ; — the woman 
 had a bottom of good sense." The word 
 bottom thus introduced was so ludicrous, 
 when contrasted with his gravity, that 
 most of us could not forbear tittering 
 and laughing; though I recollect that the 
 liishop of Killaloe kept his countenance 
 with perfect steadiness, while Miss Han- 
 nah More slyly hid her face behind a 
 lady's back who sat on the same settee 
 
 • See p. 497. 
 
 1 
 
 with her. His pride could not bear that 
 any expression of his should excite ridi- 
 cule, when he did not intend it ; he there- 
 fore resolved to assume and exercise 
 despotick power, glanced sternly around, 
 and called out in a strong tone, " Where's 
 the merriment?" Then collecting him- 
 self, and looking awful, to make us feel 
 how he could impose restraint, and as it 
 were searching his mind for a still more 
 ludicrous word, he slowly pronounced, 
 " I say the woman was fundamentall/j 
 sensible ;" as if he had said, hear thi-^ 
 now, and laugh if you dare. We all sat 
 composed as at a funeral. 
 
 He and I walked away together ; wc 
 stopped a little while by the rails of the 
 Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and 1 
 said to him with some emotion, that I 
 was now thinking of two friends we had 
 lost, who once lived in the buildings be- 
 hind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. ** Ay, 
 sir (said he tenderly), and two such 
 friends as cannot be supplied." 
 
 For some time after this day I did not 
 see him very often, and of the conversa- 
 tion which I did enjoy, I am sorry to 
 find I have preserved but little. I was 
 at this time engaged in a variety of other 
 matters, which required exertion and 
 assiduity, and necessarily occupied al- 
 most all my time. 
 
 One day, having spoken very freely of 
 those who were then in power, he said 
 to me, •* Between ourselves, sir, I do not 
 like to give opposition the satisfaction of 
 knowing how much I disapprove of the 
 ministry." And when I mentioned that 
 Mr. Burke had boasted how quiet the 
 nation was in George the Second's reign, 
 when Whigs were in power, compared 
 with the present reign, when Tories go- 
 verned; — ** Why, sir (said he), yon are 
 to consider that Tories, having more 
 reverence for government, will not op- 
 pose with the same violence as Whigs, 
 who being unrestrained by that principle, 
 will oppose by any means." 
 
 This month he lost not only Mr. 
 Thrale, but another friend, Mr. William 
 Strahan, Junior, printer, the eldest son 
 of his old and constant friend. Printer to 
 his Majesty. 
 
 " TO MRS. STRAHAN. 
 " DEAR MAUAM, 
 
 " The grief which I feel for the loss of a 
 very kind friend is sulficient to make me 
 know how much you suffer by the death 
 of an amiable son : a man of whom I 
 think it may be truly said, that no one 
 knew him who does not lament him. I 
 look upon myself as having a friend, 
 another friend, taken from me. 
 
 " Comfort, dear madam, I would givr 
 you, if I could; but I know how Ijttio 
 
y^TAT. 72. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 the forms of consolation cin avail. Let 
 me, however, counsel you not to waste 
 your health in unprofitable sorrow, but 
 go to Bath, and endeavour to prolong 
 your own life ; but when we have all 
 done all that we can, one friend must in 
 time lose the other. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " April 23, 1761." 
 
 505 
 
 and sometimes 
 
 On Tuesday, May 8, I had the plea- 
 sure of again dining with him and Mr. 
 Wilkes, at Mr. Dilly's. No negotiation 
 was now required to bring tliem toge- 
 ther ; for Jolinson was so well satisfied 
 with the former interview that he was 
 very glad to meet Wilkes again, who 
 was this day seated between Dr. Beattie 
 and Dr. Johnson (between Truth and 
 Reason, as General Paoli said, when I 
 told him of it). Wilkes. " I have been 
 thinking, Dr. Johnson, that there should 
 be a bill brought into parliament that the 
 controverted elections for Scotland should 
 be tried in that country, at their own 
 Abbey of Holy Rood House, and not 
 here ; for the consequence of trying them 
 here is, that we have an inundation of 
 Scotchmen, who come up and never go 
 back again. Now here is Boswell, who 
 is come upon the election for his own 
 county, which will not last a fortnight." 
 Johnson. " Nay, sir, I see no reason 
 why they should be tried at all; for, you 
 know, one Scotchman is as good as ano- 
 ther. Wilkes. " Pray, Boswell, how 
 much may be got in a year by an Advo- 
 cate at the Scotch bar?" Boswell. " I 
 believe, two thousand pounds." Wilkes. 
 *' How can it be possible to spend that 
 money in Scotland?" Johnson. " Why, 
 sir, the money may be spent in England ; 
 but there is a harder question. If one 
 man in Scotland gets possession of two 
 thousand pounds, what remains for all 
 the rest of the nation 1" Wilkes. '* Yon 
 know, in the last war, the immense booty 
 which Thurot carried off by the complete 
 plunder of seven Scotch isles ; he reem- 
 barked w\i\\ three and sixpence." Here 
 again Johnson and Wilkes joined in 
 extravagant sportive raillery upon the 
 supposed poverty of Scotland, which 
 Dr. Beattie and I did not think it worth 
 our while to dispute. 
 
 The subject of quotation being intro- 
 duced, Mr. Wilkes censured it as pedan- 
 try. Johnson. '* No, sir, it is a good 
 thing ; there is a community of mind in 
 it. Classical quotation is the parole of 
 literary men al I over the world." Wilkes. 
 ** Upon the continent they all quote the 
 vulgate Bible. Shakspeare is chiefly 
 quoted here ; and we quote also Pope, 
 
 Prior, Butler, Waller, 
 Cowley." 
 
 We talked of Letter writing. John- 
 son. *' It is now become so much the 
 fashion to publish letters that, in order 
 to avoid it, I put as little into mine as I 
 can." Boswell. '* Do what you will> 
 sir, you cannot avoid it. Should you 
 even write as ill as you can, your letters 
 would be published as curiosities : 
 ' Behold a miracle! instead of wit. 
 See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil 
 writ.' " 
 
 He gave us an entertaining account of 
 Bet Flint, a woman of the town, who 
 with some eccentrick talents and mu^h- 
 effrontery, forced herself upon his ac-, 
 quaintance. " Bet (said he) wrote her 
 own Life in verse*, which she brought 
 to me, wishing that I would furnish her 
 with a Preface to it (laughing). I used 
 to say of her that she was generally slut 
 and drunkard ;-^occasionaliy whore and 
 thief. She had, however, genteel lodg- 
 ings, a spinnet on which she played, and 
 a boy that walked before her chair. Poor 
 Bet was taken up on a charge of stealing 
 a counterpane, and tried at the Old Bai- 
 ley. Chief Justice , who loved a 
 
 wench, summed up favourably, and she 
 was acquitted t. After which, Bet said, 
 with a gay and satisfied air, * Now that 
 the counterpane is my own, I shall make 
 a petticoat of it.' " 
 
 Talking of oratory, Mr. Wilkes described 
 it as accompanied with all the charms 
 of poetical expression. Johnson. " No, 
 sir ; oratory is the power of beating 
 down your adversary's arguments, and 
 putting better in their place." — Wiijces. 
 
 * Johnson, whose memory was wonderfully 
 retentive, remembered the first four lines of 
 this curious production, which have beenco.m^ 
 munlcaied to me by a young lady of his ac- 
 quaintance : 
 
 " When first I drew my vital breath, 
 A little minikin I came upon earth ; 
 And then I came from a dark abode. 
 Into this gay and gaudy world." 
 
 + [The account which Johnson had received 
 on this occasion was not quite accurate. Bet 
 was tried at the Old Bailey in September, 
 1758, not by the Chief Justice here alluded to 
 (who however tried another cause on the same 
 day), but before Sir William Moreton, Re- 
 corder; and she was acquitted, not in conse- 
 ?uence of any favourable summing tip of the 
 udge, but because the prosecutrix, Mary 
 Walthow, could not prove that the goods 
 charged to have been stolen [a counterpane, 
 a silver spoon, two napkins, &c.] were her 
 property. 
 
 Bet (foes not appear to have lived at that 
 time in a very genteel style ; for she paid for 
 her ready-furnished room in Meard's Court, 
 Dean Street, Soho, from which these articles 
 were alleged to be stolen, only/ue shillings a 
 week. 
 
 Mr. James Boswell took the trouble to exa- 
 mine the Sessions Paper, to ascertain these 
 pailiculars, M.] 
 
506 
 
 ** But this does not move the passions." 
 Johnson. " He mnst be a weak man, 
 who is to be so moved." Wilkes 
 (naming a celebrated orator). *' Amidst 
 
 all the brilliancy of 's imagination, 
 
 and the exuberance of his wit, there is a 
 strange want of taste. It was observed 
 of Apelles's Venus *, that her flesh seemed 
 as if she had been nourished by roses : 
 his oratory would sometimes make one 
 suspect that he eats potatoes and drinks 
 whisky." 
 
 Mr. Wilkes observed, how tenacious 
 we are of forms in this country ; and 
 gave us an instance, the vote of the 
 House of Commons for remitting money 
 to pay the army in America, in Portu- 
 gal pieces, when, in reality, the remit- 
 tance is made not in Portugal money, 
 but in our specie. Johnson. " Is there 
 not a law, sir, against exporting the cur- 
 rent coin of the realm ?" Wilkes. " Yes, 
 sir, but might not the House of Commons, 
 in case of real evident necessity, order 
 our own current coin to be sent into our 
 own colonies?" — Here Johnson, with 
 that quickness of recollection which dis- 
 tinguished him so eminently, gave the 
 Middlesex Patriot an admirable retort 
 upon his own ground. '* Sure, sir, you 
 don't think a resolution of the House of 
 Commons equal to the laiv of the land." 
 Wilkes (at once perceiving the applica- 
 tion). " God forbid, sir."— To hear what 
 had been treated with such violence in 
 ** The False Alarm," now turned into 
 pleasant repartee, was extremely agree- 
 able. Johnson went on : — ** Locke ob- 
 serves well, that a prohibition to export 
 the current coin is im politick ; for when 
 the balance of trade happens to be ag«inst 
 a state, the current coin must be ex- 
 ported." 
 
 Mr. Beauclerk's great library was this 
 season sold in London by auction. Mr. 
 Wilkes said, he wondered to find in it 
 such a numerous collection of sermons : 
 seeming to think it strange that a gentle- 
 man of Mr. Beauclerk's character in the 
 gay world, should have chosen to have 
 many compositions of that kind. John- 
 son. ** Why, sir, you are to consider, that 
 sermons make a considerable branch of 
 English' literature ; so that a library must 
 be very imperfect if it has not a numer- 
 ous collection of sermons t: and in all 
 
   [Mr. \Vi!kP9 mistook tlie ohjpotion of Eu- 
 phranor to the Tlieneiis of Farrhasius for a 
 rtescription of the Venus of Apelies. Vide 
 Plutarch, " Bellone an pace cUiriores Atheni- 
 enses." K.I 
 
 t Mr. yvilkes probahly did not know that 
 there is in an Encflish sermon the most com- 
 preliensive and lively account of that enter- 
 tainin? facility, for uhich he himself was so 
 much adniireif. It is in Dr. Barrow's first vo- 
 lnme< and fourteenth setmon, ** Against fool- 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 collections, sir, the desire of augmenting 
 them grows stronger in proportion to the 
 advance in acquisition ; as motion is 
 accelerated by the continuance of the 
 impetus. Besides, sir (looking at Mr. 
 Wilkes with a placid but significant 
 smile), a man may collect sennons with 
 intention of making himself better by 
 them. I hope Mr. Beauclerk intended, 
 that some time or other that should be 
 the case with him." 
 
 Mr. Wilkes said to me, loud enough 
 for Dr. Johnson to hear, " Dr. Johnson 
 should make me a present of his ' Lives 
 of the Poets,' as 1 am a poor patriot, 
 who cannot afford to buy them." John- 
 son seemed to take no notice of this hint ; 
 but in a little while he called to Mr. 
 Dilly, " Pray, sir, be so good as to send 
 a set of my Lives to Mr. Wilkes, with 
 my compliments." This was accordingly 
 done; and Mr. Wilkes paid Dr. Johnson 
 a visit, was courteously received, and sat 
 with him a long time. 
 
 The company gradually dropped away. 
 Mr. Dilly himself was called down stairs 
 upon business ; I left the room for some 
 
 ish TalJiing and Jesting.'''' My old acquaint- 
 ance, the late Corbyn Morris, in his ingenious 
 " Essay on Wit, Humour, and Ridicule," calls 
 it '^ it. prof use description of Wit:" but I do 
 not see liow it could be curtailed, without 
 leaving out some good circumstance of discri- 
 mination. As it is not generally known, and 
 may perhaps dispose some to read sermons, 
 from which they mav receive real advantage, 
 while looking only tor entertainment, 1 shall 
 here subjoin it. 
 
 " But first (says the learned preacher) it 
 may be demanded, what the thing we speak 
 of is? Or what this facetiousness (or vnt, as 
 he calls it before) doth import? To which 
 questions I might reply, as Democritus did 
 to him that asked the definition of a man, 
 ' 'Tis that which we all see and know.' Any 
 one better apprehen<ls what it is by acquaint- 
 ance than I can inform him by description. 
 It is, indeed, a thing so versatile and multi- 
 form, appearing in so many shapes, so many 
 postures, so many garbs, so variously appre- 
 hended by severaTeves and ju<lgments, thai 
 it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and 
 certain notion thereof, than to make a por- 
 trait of I'roteus, or to define the figure of the 
 fleeting air. Sometimes it lieih in pnt allu- 
 sion to a known story, or in seasonable appli- 
 cation of a trivial saying, or in forging aii 
 apposite tale; sometimes it playcth in words 
 and phrases, taking advantage from the am> 
 biguity of their sense, or the affinity of their 
 sound : sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of 
 humorous expression: sometimes it lurkefh 
 under an odd similitude: sometimes it ia 
 lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, 
 in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, 
 in cunningly diverting nrcleverlv retorting an 
 objection : sometimes it is couched in a bold 
 scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty 
 hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plau- 
 sible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute 
 nonsense : sometimes a scenical represen- 
 tation of persons or things, a counterfeit 
 speech, a mimical look or cesture, passeth 
 for it: sometimes an aifecled simplicity, 
 sometimes a presumptuous bluntness giveiU 
 
/Etat. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 507 
 
 time; when I returned, I was struck with 
 observing Dr. Samuel Johnson and John 
 Wilkes, Esq. literally tUeit-tUe ; for 
 they were reclined upon their chaiis. 
 with their heads leaning almost close to 
 each other, and talking earnestly, in a 
 kind of confidential whisper, of the per- 
 sonal quarrel between George the Second 
 and the King of Prussia. Such a scene 
 of perfectly easy sociality between two 
 such opponents in the war of political 
 controversy, as that which I now beheld, 
 would have been an excellent subject for 
 a pictui-e. It presented to my mind the 
 happy days which are foretold in Scrip- 
 ture, when the lion shall lie down with 
 the kid *. 
 
 After this day there was another pretty 
 long interval, during whicii Dr. Johnson 
 and I did not meet. When I mentioned 
 it to him with regret, he was pleased to 
 say, " Then, sir, let ns live double." 
 
 About this time it was much the fashion 
 for several ladies to have evening assem- 
 blies, where the fair sex might partici- 
 pate in conversation with literary and 
 
 it bein^ : sometimes it risetli onJy from a 
 lucky hittiiicp upon what is strnnge: some- 
 times from a crafty wresting- obvious matter 
 to tlie purpose. Often it consisteth in one 
 knows not what, and springetli up one can 
 hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable 
 and inexplicable; being answerable to the 
 numberless rovin^s of fancy and windin-js of 
 language. It is, in short, a manner of speak- 
 ing out of the simple and plain way (such as 
 reason teacheth and proveth things by), wbich 
 by a pretty surprising uncouthness in conceit 
 or expression, doth affect and amuse the fancy, 
 stirring in it some wonder, and breeding some 
 delight thereto. It raiseth admiration, as 
 signifying a nimble sagacity of apprehension, 
 a special felicity of invention, a vivacity of 
 spirit, and reach of wit more than vulgar: it 
 seeming to argue a rare quickness of parts, 
 that one can fetch in remote conceits appli- 
 cable ; a notable skill, that he can dexterously 
 accommodate them to the purpose before 
 him; together with a lively briskness of hu- 
 mour, not apt to damp those s|iortful flashes 
 of imagination. (Whence in Aristotle such 
 persons are termed £7rj5f<»o», dexterous men 
 and «u(rTfo<fi04, men of facile or versatile man- 
 ners, wlio can easily turn themselves to all 
 things, or turn all tilings to themselves). It 
 also procureth delight, by gratifjing curi- 
 osity with its rareness, as semblance of diffi- 
 culty (as monsters, not for their beauty, but 
 their rarity; as juggling tricks, not for their 
 u-e, but tlieir abstruseness, are beheld with 
 pleasure): by diverting the mind from its 
 road of serious thoughts; by instilling gaiety 
 and airiness of spirit; by provokinur to such 
 dispositions of spirit in way of emulation or 
 complaisance ; and by seasoning matters 
 otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unu- 
 sual and thence grateful tang.*' 
 
 * When I mentioned this to the Bishop of 
 Killaloe, " With tiie goat,'" said his Lordship. 
 Such, however, was the engaging politeness 
 and pleasantry of Mr. Wilkes, and such the 
 social eood humour of the Bishop, that when 
 they dined together at Mr. Dilly's, where 1 
 also was, they were mutually agreeable, 
 
 ingenious men, animated by a desire to 
 please. These societies were denomi- 
 nated Blue Stocking Clubs, the origin 
 of which title being little known, it may 
 be worth while to relate it. One of the 
 most eminent members of those societies, 
 when they first commenced, was Mr. 
 Stillingfleettj whose dress was remark- 
 ably grave, and in particular it was 
 observed, that he wore blue stockings. 
 Such was the excellence of his conversa- 
 tion that his absence was felt as so great 
 a loss that it used to be said, ** We can 
 do nothing without the blue stockings ;'* 
 and thus by degrees the title was estab- 
 lished. Miss Hannah More has admira- 
 bly described a Blue Stocking Club, in 
 her " Bas Bleu," a poem in which many 
 of the persons who were most conspicu* 
 ous there are mentioned. 
 
 Johnson was prevailed with to come 
 sometimes into these circles, and did not 
 think himself too grave even for the lively 
 Miss Monckton (now Countess of Corke), 
 who used to have the finest bit of blue at 
 the house of her mother, Lady Galway. 
 Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and 
 they used to talk together with all ima- 
 ginable ease. A singular instance hap- 
 pened one evening, when she insisted 
 that some of Sterne's writings were very 
 pathetick. Johnson bluntly denied it. 
 " I am sure (said she) they have affected 
 me." — " Why (said Johnson, smiling, 
 and rolling himself about), that is, be- 
 cause, dearest, you're a dunce." When 
 she some time afterwards mentioned this 
 to him, he said with equal truth and 
 politeness, " Madam, if I had thought 
 so, I certainly should not have said it." 
 
 Another evening Johnson's kind indul- 
 gence towards me had a pretty difficult 
 trial. I had dined at the Duke of Mon- 
 trose's with a very agreeable party, and 
 his Grace, according to his usual custom, 
 had circulated the bottle very freely. 
 Lord Graham and I went together to 
 Miss Monckton's, where I certainly was 
 in extraordinary spirits, and above all 
 fear or awe. In the midst of a great 
 number of persons of the first rank, 
 amongst whom I recollect with confu- 
 sion, H noble lady of the most stately 
 decorum, I placed myself next to John- 
 son, and thinking myself now fully his 
 match talked to him in a loud and bois- 
 terous manner, desirous to let the com- 
 pany know how I could contend with 
 Ajax. I particularly remember pressing 
 him upon the value of the pleasures oV 
 the imagination, and as an illustration of 
 my argument, asking him, " What, sir, 
 supposing I were to fancy that the 
 
 t Mr. Benjamin Stillingfleet, anthour of 
 tracts relating to natural history, A;c. 
 
508 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 (naming the most charming Duchess in 
 his Majesty's dominions) were in love 
 with me, should I not be very happy?" 
 My friend with much address evaded my 
 interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as 
 possible ; but it may easily be conceived 
 how he must have felt*.' However, when 
 a few days afterwards I waited upon him 
 and made an apology, he beiiaved VKith 
 the most friendly gentleness. 
 
 While I remained in London this year, 
 Johnson and I dined together at several 
 places. I recollect a placid day at Dr. 
 Butter's, who had now removed from 
 Derby to Lower Grosvenor Street, Lon- 
 don ; but of his conversation on that and 
 other occasions during this period, I neg- 
 lected to keep any regular record, and 
 shall therefore insert here some miscel- 
 laneous articles which I find in my John- 
 sonian notes. 
 
 His disorderly habits, when *' making 
 provision for the day that was passing 
 over him," appear from the following 
 anecdote, communicated to me by Mr. 
 John Nichols : — ** In the year 1763, a 
 young bookseller, who was an apprentice 
 to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a 
 subscription to his * Shakspeare:' and 
 observing that the Doctor made no entry 
 in any book of the subscriber's name, 
 ventured diffidently to ask, whether he 
 would please to have the gentleman's 
 address, that it might be properly inserted 
 in the printed list of subscribers. — * / 
 shall print no List of Subscribers,' 
 said Johnson, with great abruptness : 
 but almost immediately recollecting him- 
 self, added, very complacently, *Sir, I 
 have two very cogent reasons for not 
 
   Next (lay I endeavoured to give what had 
 happened tiie most ingenious turn 1 could, by 
 the following; verses: 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE MIS8 MONCKTON. 
 
 Not that witli the' excellent Montroee 
 
 I had the happiness to dine; 
 Not that I late from table rose, 
 
 From Grahanrs wit, from generous wine: 
 ft was not these alone which led 
 
 On sacred manners to encroach; 
 And made me feel what most I dread, 
 
 Johnson's just frown, and self-reproach, 
 liut when I enter'd, not abash'd. 
 
 From your brii^ht eyes were shot such rays. 
 At once intoxication flash'd, 
 
 And all my frame was in a blare! 
 But not a brilliant blaze, I own ; 
 
 Of the dull smoke I'm yet ashamed; 
 I was a dreary ruin ifrown, 
 
 And not enlighten'd though inflamed. 
 Victim at once to wine and love, 
 
 I hope, Maria, you'll forgive; 
 While I invoke the powers above, 
 
 That henceforth I may wiser live. 
 
 The lady was eenerously for^ivint;, returned 
 me an ob'iffin^' answer, and J thus obtained 
 an Act of Oblivion, and took care never to 
 
 oiJco'l again. 
 
 printing any list of subscribers; — one, 
 that I have lost all the names, — the other, 
 that I have spent all the money.' " 
 
 Johnson could not brook appearing to 
 be worsted in argument, even when he 
 had taken the wrong side, to show the 
 force and dexterity of his talents. When, 
 therefore, he perceived that his opponent 
 gained ground, he had recourse to some 
 sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once 
 when I was pressing upon him with visi- 
 j ble advantage, he stopped me thus : — 
 i " My dear Boswell, let's have no more 
 of this ; you'll make nothing of it. I'd 
 rather have you whistle a Scotch tune." 
 
 Care, however, must be taken to 
 distinguish between Johnson when he 
 " talked for victory," and Johnson when 
 he had no desire but to inform and illus- 
 trate. — " One of Johnson's principal 
 talents (says an eminent friend of hist) 
 was shown in maintaining the wrong 
 side of an argument, and in a splendid 
 perversion of the truth. — If you could 
 contrive to have his fair opinion on a 
 subject, and without any bias from per- 
 sonal prejudice, or from a wish to be 
 victorious in argument, it was wisdom 
 itself, not only convincing, but over- 
 powering." 
 
 He had, however, all his life habi- 
 tuated himself to consider conversation 
 as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill ; 
 and to this, I think, we may venture to 
 ascribe that unexampled richness and 
 brilliancy which appeared in his own. 
 As a proof at once of his eagerness for 
 colloquial distinction, and his high notion 
 of this eminent frientl, he once addressed 
 
 him thus: ** , we now have been 
 
 several hours together; and you have 
 said but one thing for which I envied. 
 you." 
 
 He disliked much all speculative des- 
 ponding considerations, which tended to 
 discourage men from diligence and exer- 
 tion. He was in this like Dr. Shaw, 
 the great traveller, Avho, Mr. Daines 
 Barrington told me, he used to say, " I 
 hate a ctii bono man." Upon being 
 asked by a friend what he should think of 
 a man who was apt to say non est tanti ; 
 — " That he's a stupid fellow, sir (an- 
 swered Johnson) : What would these 
 tanti men be doing the while?" When 
 I, in a lowspiritcd fit, was talking to him 
 with indifference of the pursuits which 
 general engage us in a course of action, 
 and inquiring a reason for taking so 
 much trouble ; " Sir (said he, in an ani- 
 mated tone), it is driving on the system 
 of life." 
 
 He told me that he was glad that I had, 
 
 + [Tlie Irtte Ri^ht Hon. William Gerrard. 
 Hamilton. M.] 
 
Mr\T. 72. 
 
 by General Oglethorpe's means, become 
 acquainted with Dr. Shebbeare. Indeed 
 that gentleman, whatever objections 
 were made to him, had knowledge and 
 abilities much above the class of ordi- 
 nary writers, and deserves to be remem- 
 bered as a respectable name in literature, 
 were it only for his admirable " Letters 
 on the English Nation," under the name 
 of " Battista Angeloni, a Jesuit." 
 
 Johnson and Shebbeare* were fre- 
 quently named together, as having in 
 former reigns had no predilection for the 
 family of Hanover, The authour of the 
 celebrated " Heroick Epistle to Sir Wil- 
 liam Chambers" introduces them in one 
 line, in a list of -those " vi'ho tasted the 
 sweets of his present Majesty's reign." 
 Such was Johnson's candid relish of the 
 merit of that satire, that he allowed Dr. 
 Goldsmith, as he told me, to read it to 
 him from beginning to end, and did not 
 refuse his praise to its execution. 
 
 Goldsmith could sometimes take ad- 
 venturous liberties with him, and escape 
 unpunished. Beauclerk told me that 
 when Goldsmith talked of a project for 
 having a third Theatre in London solely 
 for the exhibition of new plays, in order 
 to deliver authors from the supposed 
 tyranny of managers, Johnson treated it 
 slightingly, upon which Goldsmith said, 
 ** Ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, 
 who can now shelter yourself behind the 
 corner of a pension ;" and Johnson bore 
 this with good humour. 
 
 Johnson praised the Earl of Carlisle's 
 Poems, which his Lordship had pub- 
 lished with his name, as not disdaining 
 to be a candidate for literary fame. My 
 friend was of opinion, that when a man 
 of rank appeared in that character, he 
 deserved to have his merit handsomely 
 allowed f. In this I think he was more 
 
 * I recollect a ludicrous paragraph in the 
 newspapers, that the King had pensioned 
 both a i/e-bear and a She-Hear. 
 
 t Men of rank and fortune, however, should 
 be pretty well assured of having' a real claim 
 to the approbation of the publick, as writers, 
 before they venture to stand forth. Dryden, 
 in his preface to " All for Love," thus ex- 
 presses himself: 
 
 " Men of pleasant conversation (at least 
 esteemed so) and endued with a trifling kind 
 of fancy, perhaps helped out by a smatterins^ 
 of Latin, are ambitious to distinguish them- 
 selves from the herd of gentlemen by their 
 poetry : 
 * Rants enim ferrne scnsus communis in ilia 
 
 Fortnna.'' 
 
 And is not this a wretched affectation, not to 
 be contented with what fortune has done for 
 them, and sit down quietly with their estates, 
 but they must call their wits in question, and 
 needlessly expose their nakedness to publick 
 view? Not considering that they are not fo 
 expect the same approbation from sober men 
 which they have tound from their flatterers 
 after the third bottle: If a little glittering in 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 509 
 
 liberal than Mr. William Whitehead, in 
 his " Elegy to Lord Villiers," in which 
 under the pretext of " superior toils, 
 demanding all their care," he discovers 
 a jealousy of the great paying their court 
 to the Muses : 
 
 • to the chosen few 
 
 Who dare excel, thy fostering aid afford; 
 Their arts, their magick powers, with honours 
 dtie 
 Exalt;— but be thyself what they record." 
 
 Johnson had called twice on the Bishop 
 of Killaloc before his Lordship set out 
 for Ireland, having missed him the first 
 time. He said, *' It would have hung 
 heavy on my heart if I had not seen him. 
 No man ever paid more attention to ano- 
 ther than he has done to me J ; and I have 
 neglected him, not wilfully, but from 
 being otherwise occupied. Always, sir, 
 set a high value on spontaneous kindness. 
 He whose inclination prompts him to 
 cultivate your friendship of his own ac- 
 cord will love you more than one whom 
 you have been at pains to attach to you." 
 
 Johnson told me, that he was once 
 much pleased to find that a carpenter, 
 who lived near him, was very ready to 
 show him some things in his business 
 which he wished to see : " It was pay- 
 ing (said he) respect to literature." 
 
 I asked him, if he was not dissatisfied 
 with having so small a share of wealth, 
 and none of those distinctions in the state 
 which are the objects of ambition. He 
 
 discourse has passed them on us for witty 
 men, where was the necessity of undeceiving 
 the world? Would a man who has an ill title 
 to an estate, but yet is in possession of it, 
 would he bring it out of his own accord to be 
 tried at Westminster? We who write, if we 
 want the talents, yet have the excuse that we 
 do it for a poor subsistence; but what can be 
 urged in their defence who, not having the 
 vocation of poverty to scribble, out of mere 
 wantonness take pains to make themselves 
 ridiculous ? Horace was certainly in the risrht 
 where he said, * That no man is satisfied with 
 his own condition.' A poet is not pleased 
 because he is not rich ; and the rich are dis- 
 contented because the poets will not admit 
 them of their number." 
 
 X This gave me very great pleasure; for 
 there had been once a pretty smart alterca- 
 tion between Dr. Barnard and him, upon a 
 question whether a man could imf/rove him- 
 self after the age of forty-five; when Johnson, 
 in a hasty huinour, expressed himself in a 
 manner not quite civil. Dr. Barnard made 
 it the subject of a copy of pleasant verses, in 
 which he supposed himself to learn different 
 perfections from different men. They con- 
 cluded with delicate irony : 
 
 "Johnson shall teach me how to place 
 
 In fairest light each borrow'd grace; 
 From him I'll learn to write: 
 
 Copy his clear familiar style. 
 
 And by the roughness of his file 
 Grow, like himself, polite." 
 I know not whether Johnson ever saw the 
 Poem, but I had occasion to find that as Dr. 
 Barnard and he knew each other belter, their 
 mutual regard increased. 
 
510 
 
 had only a pension of three hundred a 
 year. Why was he not in such circum- 
 stances as to keep his coach? Why had 
 he not some considerable office ? John- 
 son. ** Sir, I have never complained of 
 the world ; nor do I think that I have 
 reason to complain. It is rather to be 
 wondered at that I have so much. My 
 pension is more out of the usual course 
 of things than any instance that I have 
 known. Here, sir, was a man avowedly 
 no friend to Government at the time, who 
 got a pension without asking for it. I never 
 courted the great ; they sent for me ; but 
 I think they now give me up. They are 
 satisfied ; they have seen enough of me." 
 Upon my observing that I could not be- 
 lieve this, for they must certainly be 
 highly pleased by his conversation ; con- 
 scious of his own superiority, he answer- 
 ed, " No, sir ; great Lords and great 
 Ladies don't love to have their mouths 
 stopped." This was very expressive of 
 the effect which the force of his under- 
 standing and brilliancy of his fancy could 
 not but produce; and, to be sure, they 
 must have found themselves strangely 
 diminished in his company. When I 
 warmly declared how happy I was at 
 all times to hear him ; — *' Yes, sir (said 
 he); but if you were Lord Chancellor, it 
 would not be so : you would tlseu con- 
 sider your own dignity." 
 
 There was much truth and knowledge 
 of human nature in this remark. But 
 certainly one should think that, in what- 
 ever elevated state of life a man who 
 ftnew the value of the conversation of 
 Johnson might be placed, though he 
 might prudently avoid a situation in 
 which he mi^ht appear lessened by com- 
 parison ; yet he would frequently gratify 
 himself in private with the participation 
 of the rich intellectual entertainment 
 which Johnson could furnish. Strange, 
 liowever, is it, to consider how few of 
 the great sought his society ; so that if 
 one were disposed to take occasion for 
 satire on that account, very conspicuous 
 objects present themselves. His noble 
 ft-iend. Lord Elibank, well observed, that 
 if a great man procured an interview 
 with Johnson, and did not wish to see 
 him more, it showed a mere idle curi- 
 osity, and a wretched want of relish for 
 extraordinary powers of mind. Mrs. 
 Thrale justly and wittily accounted for 
 such conduct by saying, that Johnson's 
 conversation was by much too strong for 
 a person accustomed to obsequiousness 
 and flattery ; it was miistard in a youny 
 child's mouth ! 
 
 One dav, when I told him that I was 
 a zealous Tory, but not enough " accord- 
 ing to knowledge," and should be obliged 
 to him for '* a reason," he was so candid. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ^^1 
 
 and expressed himself so well, that I 
 begged of him to repeat what he had 
 said, and I wrote down as follows : 
 
 OF TORY AND WHIG. 
 
 " A wise Tory and a wise Whig, I 
 believe, will agree. Their principles are 
 the same, though their modes of thinking 
 are ditfereut. A high Tory makes go- 
 vernment unintelligible : it is lost in the 
 clouds. A violent Whig makes it im- 
 practicable : he is for allowing so much 
 liberty to every man, that there is not 
 power enough to govern any man. The 
 prejudice of the Tory is for establish- 
 ment:. the prejudice of the Whig is for 
 innovation. A Tory does not wish to 
 give moie real power to Government ; 
 but that Government should have more 
 reverence. Then they difler as to the 
 Church. The Tory is not for giving 
 more legal power to the Clergy, but 
 wishes they should have a considerable 
 influence, founded on the opinion of 
 mankind : the Whig is for limiting and 
 watching them with a narrow jealousy.'^ 
 
 " TO MR. PERKINS. 
 *' SIR, 
 
 *' HowEVKR often I have seen you, I 
 have hitherto forgotten the note, but I 
 have now sent it ; with my good wishes 
 for the prosperity of you and your part- 
 ner*, of whom, fiom our short conver- 
 sation, I could not judge otherwise than 
 favourably. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 "June 2, 1781." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 On Saturday, June 2, I set out for 
 Scotland, and had promised to pay a 
 visit, in my way, as I sometimes did, at 
 Southill, in Bedfordshire, at the hospit- 
 able mansion of Squire Dilly, the elder 
 brother of my worthy friends, the book- 
 sellers in the Poultry. Dr. Johnson 
 agreed to be of the party this year, with 
 Mr. Charles Dilly and me, and to go and 
 see Lord Bute's seat at LtUon Hoe. He 
 talked little to us in the carriage, being 
 chiefly occupied in reading Dr. Wat- 
 son's t second volume of "Chemical 
 Essays," which he liked very well, and 
 
 • Mr. Barclay, a descendant of Robert Bar- 
 clay, of Ury, ihe celebrated apoloi<ist of the 
 people c.ille<l Quakers, and remarkable fop 
 niaintainiag the principles of hu venerable 
 pro"-onitor, wiili as much of the elegance of 
 luodern manners as is consistent witli primi- 
 tive simplicity. 
 
 t Now liisihop of Llandaff, one of ihe poorest 
 Bishopricks in this kinsfdom. His Lordship 
 has written with much zeal to show the pro- 
 priety o( igttalizing the revenut s of Bishops. 
 He has inforHied us that he has burned all nis 
 Chemical papers. The friemls of our excel- 
 lent constitution, now asuailed on every side 
 by innovators and levellers, would have less 
 rcjjretted the suppression of some of his Lorcf- 
 ship's other wrilinijs. 
 
^TAT. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 611 
 
 liis own ** Prince of Abyssinia," on 
 •which he seemed to be intensely fixed : 
 having told us, that he had not looked at 
 it since it was first published. I hap- 
 pened to take it out of my pocket this 
 day, and' he seized upon it with avidity. 
 He pointed out to me the following re- 
 markable passage : *' By what means 
 (said the prince) are the Europeans thus 
 powerful; or why, since they can so 
 easily visit Asia and Africa, for trade or 
 conquest, cannot the Asiaticks and Afri- 
 cans invade their coasts, plant colonies * 
 in their ports, and give laws to their 
 natural princes? The same wind that 
 carried them back would bring us thi- 
 ther." — ** They are more powerful, sir, 
 than we (answered Imlac), because 
 they are wiser. Knowledge will always 
 predominate over ignorance, as man go- 
 verns the other animals. But why their 
 knowledge is more than ours I know not 
 what reason can be given, but the un- 
 searchable will of the^ Supreme Being." 
 He said, *' This, sir, no man can explain 
 otherwise." 
 
 We stopped at Welwin, where I 
 wished much to see, in company with 
 Johnson, the residence of the authour of 
 ** Night Thoughts," which was then pos- 
 sessed by his son, Mr. Young. Here 
 some address was requisite, for I was not 
 acquainted with Mr. Young, and had I 
 proposed to Dr. Johnson that we should 
 send to him, he would have checked my 
 wish, and perhaps been offended. I 
 therefore concerted with Mr. Dilly,that I 
 should steal away from Dr. Johnson and 
 him, and try what reception I could pro- 
 cure from Mr. Young ; if unfavourable, 
 nothing was to be said ; but if agreeable, 
 I should return and notify it to them. 1 
 hastened to Mr. Young's, found he was 
 at home, sent in word that a gentleman 
 desired to wait upon him, and was shown 
 into a parlour, where he and a young 
 lady, his daughter, were sitting. He ap- 
 peared to be a plain, civil, country gen- 
 tleman ; and when I begged pardon for 
 presuming to trouble him, but that I 
 wished much to see his place, if he 
 would give me leave; he behaved very 
 courteously, and answered, " By all 
 means, sir: we are just going to drink 
 tea; will you sit down?" I thanked 
 him, but said, that Dr. Johnson had 
 come with me from London, and I must 
 return to the inn to drink tea with him ; 
 that my name was Boswell, I had tra- 
 velled with him in the Hebrides. " Sir 
 (said he), I should think it a great ho- 
 nour to see Dr. Johnson here. 'Will you 
 allow me to send for himl" Availing 
 
 * [The PhcDiiicians and Carthae;inians did 
 plant colonies in Europe. K.] 
 
 myself of this opening, I said that ** I 
 would go myself and bring him when he 
 had drunk tea; he knew nothing of my 
 calling here." Having been thus success- 
 ful, I hastened back to the inn, and in- 
 formed Dr. Johnson that '* Mr. Young, 
 son of Dr. Young, the authour of ' Night 
 Thoughts,' whom I had just left, desired 
 to have the honour of seeing him at the 
 house where his father lived." Dr. 
 Johnson luckily made no inquiry how 
 this invitation had arisen, but agreed to 
 go, and when we entered Mr. Young's 
 parlour, he addressed him with a very 
 polite bow, ** Sir, I had a curiosity to 
 come and see this place. I had the 
 honour to know that great man, your 
 father." We went into the garden, 
 where we found a gravel walk, on each 
 side of which was a row of trees planted 
 by Dr. Young, which formed a hand- 
 some Gothic arch ; Dr. Johnson called 
 it a fine grove. I beheld it with reve- 
 rence. 
 
 We sat some time in the summer 
 house, on the outside wall of which was 
 inscribed," Ambulantes in horto audie- 
 bant vocem Dei ;" and in reference to 
 a brook by which it is situated, " Vi- 
 vendi recte qui prorogat Jioram," &c. • 
 I said to Mr. Young that I had been told 
 his father was cheerful. ** Sir (said he), 
 he was too well bred a man not to be 
 cheerful in company ; but he was gloomy 
 when alone. He never was cheerful 
 after my mother's death, and be had 
 met with many disappointments." Dr. 
 Johnson observed to me afterwards, 
 " That this was no favourable account of 
 Dr. Young; for it is not becoming in a 
 man to have so little acquiescence in the 
 ways of Providence, as to be gloomy be- 
 cause he has not obtained as much pre- 
 ferment as he expected ; nor to continue 
 gloomy for the loss of his wife. Grief 
 has its time." The last part of this 
 censure w'as theoretically made. Prac- 
 tically, we know that grief for the loss 
 of a w ife may be continued very long in 
 proportion as affection has been sincere. 
 No man knew this better than Dr. John- 
 son. 
 
 We went into the church, and looked 
 at the monument erected by Mr. Young 
 to his father. Mr. Young mentioned an 
 anecdote, that his father had received 
 several thousand pounds of subscription 
 money for his " Universal Passion," but 
 had lost it in the South Seat. Dr. John- 
 son thought this must be a mistake ; for 
 he had never seen a subscription book. 
 
 Upon the road we talked of the uneer- 
 
 + [This assertion is disproved by a compa- 
 rison of dates. The first four satires of Young 
 were published in 1725. Tiie South Sea scheme 
 j (whicn appears to.be meant) was in 1720. Mr], 
 
512 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 tainty of profit with which authours and 
 booksellers engage in the publication of 
 literary works. Johnson. *' My judgment 
 I have found is no certain rule as to the 
 sale of a book." Boswell. ** Pray, sir, 
 have you been much plagued with au- 
 thours sending you their works to revise ?'' 
 Johnson. " No, sir ; I have been thought 
 a sour surly fellow." Boswell. *' Very 
 lucky for you, sir, — in that respect." I 
 must however observe that, notwithstand- 
 ing what he now said, which he no doubt 
 imagined at the time to be the fact, there 
 was, perhaps, no man who more fre- 
 quently yielded to the solicitations even 
 of very obscure authours to read their 
 manuscripts, or more liberally assisted 
 them with advice and correction. 
 
 He found himself very happy at Squire 
 Dilly's, where there is always abundance 
 of excellent fare and hearty welcome. 
 
 On Sunday, June 3, we all went to 
 Soathill church, which is very near to 
 Mr. Dilly's house. It being the first 
 Sunday of the month, the holy sacrament 
 was administered, and I staid to partake 
 of it. When I came afterwards into Dr. 
 Johnson's room, he said, " You did right 
 to stay and receive the communion ; I 
 had not thought of it." This seemed to 
 imply that he did not choose to approach 
 the altar without a previous preparation, 
 as to which good men entertain different 
 opinions ; some holding that it is irreve- 
 rent to partake of that ordinance without 
 considerable premeditation ; others, that 
 whoever is a sincere Christian, and in a 
 proper frame of mind to discharge any 
 other ritual duty of our religion, may, 
 without scruple, discharge this most so- 
 lemn one. A middle notion I believe to 
 be the just one, which is, that communi- 
 cants need not think a long train of pre- 
 paratory forms indispensably necessary ; 
 but neither should they rashly and lightly 
 venture upon so awful and mysterious an 
 institution. Christians must judge each 
 for himself, what degree of retirement 
 and selfexamination is necessary upon 
 each occasion. 
 
 Being in a frame of mind which I 
 hope, for the felicity of human nature, 
 many experience, — in fine weather, — at 
 the country house of a friend, — consoled 
 and elevated by pious exercises, — I ex- 
 pressed myself with an unrestrained fer- 
 vour to my "Guide, Philosopher, and 
 Friend :" •' My dear sir, I would fain be 
 a good man ; and I am very good now. 
 I fear Gou, and honour the King ; I wish 
 to do no ill, and to be benevolent to all 
 mankind." - He looked at me with a be- 
 nignant indulgence ; but took occasion to 
 give me wise and salutary caution. " Do 
 not, sir, accustom yourself to trust to 
 impressions. There is a middle state of 
 
 mind between conviction and hypocrisy, 
 of which many are conscious. By trust- 
 ing to impressions a man may gradually 
 come to yield to them, and at length be 
 subject to them, so as not to be a free 
 agent, or what is the same thing in effect, 
 to suppose that he is not a free agent. A 
 man who is in that state should not be 
 suffered to live ; if he declares he cannot 
 help acting in a particular way, and is 
 irresistibly impelled, there can be no 
 confidence in him no more than in a 
 tiger. But, sir, no man believes himself 
 to be impelled irresistibly ; we know that 
 he who says he believes it lies. Favour- 
 able impressions at particular moments, 
 as to the state of our souls, may be de- 
 ceitful and dangerous. In general no man 
 can be sure of his acceptance with God ; 
 some, indeed, may have it revealed to 
 them. St. Paul, who wrought miracles, 
 may have had a miracle wrought on him- 
 self, and may have obtained supernatural 
 assurance of pardon, and mercy, and 
 beatitude; yet St. Paul, though he ex- 
 presses strong hope, also expresses fear 
 lest, having preached to others, he him- 
 self should be a castaway." 
 
 The opinion of a learned Bishop of our 
 acquaintance, as to there being merit in 
 religious faith, being mentioned ; — John- 
 son. " Why yes, sir, the most licentious 
 man, were hell open before him, would 
 not take the most beautiful strumpet to 
 his arms. We must, as the Apostle says, 
 live by faith, not by sight." 
 
 I talked to him of original sin*, in 
 consequence of the fall of man, and of 
 the atonement made by our Saviour. 
 After some conversation, which he de- 
 sired me to remember, he, at my request, 
 dictated to me as follows : 
 
 " With respect to original sin, the in- 
 quiry is not necessary ; for whatever is 
 the cause of human corruption, men arc 
 evidently and confessedly so corrupt that 
 all the laws of heaven and earth are in- 
 sufficient to restrain them from crimes. 
 
 ** Whatever difficulty there may be in 
 tbe conception of vicarious punishments, 
 it is an opinion which has had possession 
 of mankind in all ages. There is no 
 
 * Dr. Ogden, in his second sermon " On 
 the Articles of the Cliristian Faith," with ad- 
 mirable acuteness thus addresses the opposen 
 of that (loctrnie, which accounts for the con- 
 fusion, sin, and misery which we find in this 
 life: " It would he severe in God, yoii think, 
 to degrade us to such a sad state as this for 
 the olTence of our first parents: but you can 
 allow him to place us in it without anv induce- 
 ment. Are our calamities lessened for not 
 liein? ascribed to Adam? If your condition 
 be unhappy, is it not still unhappy, whatever 
 was the occasion.' with the agijVavation of 
 this reflection, that if it was as good as it was 
 at first designed, there seems to be somewhat 
 the less reason to look for its amendment." 
 
JEr\T. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 513 
 
 jiation that has not used the practice of 
 sacrifices. Whoever, therefore, denies 
 the propriety of vicarious punisliments 
 holds an opinion wliich the sentiments 
 and practice of mankind l»ave contra- 
 dicted from the beginning of the world. 
 The great sacrifice for the sins of man- 
 kind was ottered at the death of the 
 Messiah, who is called in Scripture, 
 * The Lamb of God, that taketh away 
 the sins of the world.' To judge of the 
 reasonableness of the scheme of redemp- 
 tion, it must be considered as necessary 
 to the government of the universe that 
 - God should make known his perpetual 
 and irreconcilable detestation of moral 
 evil. He might indeed punish, and punish 
 only the otfenders ; but as the end of 
 punishment is not revenge of crimes, but 
 propagation of virtue, it was more be- 
 coming the Divine clemency to find 
 another manner of proceeding, less de- 
 structive to man, and at least equally 
 powerful to promote goodness. The end 
 of punishment is to reclaim and warn. 
 That punishment will both reclaim and 
 warn which shows evidently such abhoi'- 
 rence of sin in God, as may deter us from 
 it or strike us with dread of vengeance 
 when we have committed it. This is 
 eflfected by vicarious punishment. No- 
 thing could more testify the opposition 
 between the nature of God and moral 
 evil, or more amply display his justice 
 to men and angels, to all orders and suc- 
 cessions of beings than that it was neces- 
 sary for the highest and purest nature, 
 even for Divinity itself, to pacify the 
 demands of vengeance by a painful death ; 
 of which the natural effect will be, that 
 when justice is appeased there is a pro- 
 per place for the exercise of mercy ; and 
 that such propitiation shall supply, in 
 some degree, the imperfections of our 
 obedience and the iuefficacy of our re- 
 pentance : for, obedience and repentance, 
 such as we can perform, are still neces- 
 sary. Our Saviour has told us that he 
 did not come to destroy the law but to 
 fulfil : to fulfil the typical law, by the 
 performance of what those types had 
 foreshown ; and the moral law, by pre- 
 cepts of greater purity and higher exalta- 
 tion." 
 
 [Here he said, " God bless you with 
 it." I acknowledged myself much obliged 
 to him ; but I begged that he would go 
 on as to the propitiation being the chief 
 object of our most holy faith. — He then 
 dictated this one other paragraph.] 
 
 " The peculiar doctrine of Cliristianity 
 is that of a universal sacrifice and per- 
 petual propitiation. Other prophets only 
 proclaimed the will and the threaten- 
 ings of God. Christ satisfied his jus- 
 tice." 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Palmer*, Fellow 
 of Queen's College, Cambridge, dined 
 with us. He expressed a wish that a 
 better provision were made for parish 
 clerks. Johnson. " Yes, sir, a parish 
 clerk should be a man who is able to 
 make a will or write a letter for any body 
 in the parish." 
 
 I mentioned Lord Monboddo's notion i 
 that the ancient Egyptians, with ail their 
 learning and all their arts, were not only 
 black but woolly-haired. Mr. Palmer 
 asked how did it appear upon examining 
 the mummies? Dr. Johnson approved 
 of this test. 
 
 Although upon most occasions I never 
 heard a more strenuous advocate for the 
 advantages of wealth than Dr. Johnson, 
 he this d.iy, I know not from what ca- 
 price, took the other side. " I have not 
 observed (said he) that men of very large 
 fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary 
 that makes happiness. What has the 
 Duke of Bedford 1 What has the Duke 
 of Devonshire? The only great instance 
 that I have ever known of the enjoyment 
 of wealth was that of Jamaica Dawkins, 
 who, going to visit Palmyra, and hearing 
 that the way was infested by robbers, hired 
 a troop of Turkish horse to guard him." 
 
 Dr. Gibbons, the Dissenting Minister, 
 being mentioned, he said, " I took to 
 Dr. Gibbons." And addressing himself 
 to Mr. Charles Dilly, added, " 1 shall be 
 glad to see him. Tell him if he'll call on 
 me, and dawdle over a dish of tea in an 
 afternoon, I shall take it kind." 
 
 * This unfortunate person, whose full name 
 was Thomas Fysclie Palmer, afterwards went 
 to Dundee, in Scotland, where he oflficiaied 
 as minister to a congregation of tliesect who 
 call themselves Unitarians, from a notion tiiat 
 they distinctively worship one God, because 
 tliey deny the mysterious doctrine of the Tri- 
 nity. They<lo not advert that the great body 
 of the Christian Church, in maintaining that 
 mystery, maintain also the Unity of the God- 
 hkad: the " Trinity in Unity !— three per- 
 sons and one God." The Church humbly 
 adores the Divinity as exhibited in the Holy 
 Scriptures. The Unitarian sect vainly pre- 
 sumes to comprehend and define the Al- 
 mighty. Mr. Palmer, having heated his mind 
 with political speculations, became so much 
 dissatisfied with our excellent Constitution, as 
 to compose, publish, and circulate writings, 
 which were found to be so seditious and dan- 
 gerous that, Upon being found guilty by h 
 Jury, the Court of Justiciary in Scotland sen- 
 tenced him to transportation for fourteen 
 years. A lou I clamour against this sentence 
 was made by some Members of both Houses 
 of Parliament; but both Houses approved of 
 it by a great majority j and he was conveyed 
 to the settlement for convicts in New South 
 Wales. 
 
 [Mr. T. F. Palmer was of Queen's College, 
 in Cambridge, where he took the degree of 
 Master of Arts in 1772, and that of S. T. H. in 
 1781. He died on liis return from Botany Bay, 
 in the year 1803. M ] 
 
 t Taken from Herodotus. 
 
 LL 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 514 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Smith, Vicar of 
 Southill, a very respectable man with a 
 very agreeable family, sent an invitation 
 to us to drink tea. I remarked Dr. John- 
 son's very respectful politeness. Though 
 always fond of changing the scene, he 
 said, ** We must have Mr. Dilly's leave. 
 We cannot go from your house, sir, with- 
 out your permission." We all went, and 
 were well satisfied with our visit. I how- 
 ever remember nothing particular, except 
 a nice distinction which Dr. Johnson 
 made with respect to the power of me- 
 mory, maintaining that forgetfulness was 
 a man's own fault. " To remember and 
 to recollect (said he) are different things. 
 A man has not the power to recollect 
 what is not in his mind ; but when a 
 thing is in his mind he may remember 
 it." 
 
 The remark was occasioned by my 
 leaning back on a chair, which a little 
 before I had perceived to be broken, and 
 pleading forgetfulness as an excuse. " Sir 
 (said he), its being broken was certainly 
 in your mind." 
 
 When I observed that a housebreaker 
 was in general very timorous; — John- 
 son. "No wonder, sir; he is afraid of 
 being shot getting into a house, or hanged 
 when he has got out of it." 
 
 He told us that he had in one day 
 written six sheets of a translation from 
 the French ; adding, *' I should be glad 
 to see it now. I wish that 1 had a)pies 
 of all the pamphlets written against me, 
 as it is said Pope had. Had I known 
 lliat I should make so much noise in the 
 world, I should have been at pains to 
 collect them. 1 believe there is hardly a 
 day in which there is not something about 
 me in the newspapers." 
 
 On Monday, June 4, we all went to 
 Luton Hoe, to see Lord Bute's magnifi- 
 cent seat, for which I had obtained a 
 ticket. As we entered the park I talked 
 in a high style of my old friendship with 
 Lord Mountsluart, and said, '* 1 shall 
 probably be much at this place." The 
 Sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently 
 checked me : " Don't you be too sure of 
 that." He made two or three peculiar 
 observations ; as when shown the botani- 
 cal garden, " Is not every garden a 
 botanical garden?" When told that there 
 was a shrubbery to the extent of several 
 miles : " That is making a very foolish 
 use of the ground ; a little of it is very 
 well." When it was proposed that we 
 should walk on the pleasure ground ; 
 " Don't let us fatigue ourselves. Why 
 tliould we walk there? Here's a fine 
 tree, let's gel to the top of it." liut upon 
 the whole he was very much pleased. 
 He said, "This is one of the places 1 do 
 wot regret having come to see. It is 
 
 1781. 
 
 very stately place, indeed ; in the house 
 magnificence is not sacrificed to conveni- 
 ence, nor convenience to magnificence. 
 The library is very splendid ; the dignity 
 of the rooms is very great ; and the quan- 
 tity of pictures is beyond expectation, 
 beyond hope." 
 
 It happened without any previous con- 
 cert that we visited the seat of Lord Bute 
 upon the King's birthday ; we dined and 
 drank his Majesty's health at an inn in 
 the village of Luton. 
 
 In the evening I put him in mind of 
 his promise to favour me with a copy of 
 his celebrated Letter to the Earl of Ches- 
 terfield, and he was at last pleased to 
 comply with this earnest request, by dic- 
 tating it to me from his memory ; for he 
 believed that he himself had no copy. 
 There was an animated glow in his coun- 
 tenance while he thus recalled his high- 
 minded indignation. 
 
 He laughed heartily at a ludicrous 
 action in the Court of Session, in which 
 I was counsel. The Society of Procu- 
 rators, or Attorneys, entitled to practise 
 in the inferiour Courts at Edinburgh, had 
 obtained a royal charter, in which they 
 had taken care to have their ancient de- 
 signation of Procurators changed into 
 that of Solicitors, from a notion, as they 
 supposed, that it was more genteel ; and 
 this new title they displayed by a publick 
 advertisement for a General Meeting at 
 their Hall. 
 
 It has been said that the Scottish na- 
 tion is not distinguished for humour ; 
 and, indeed, what happened on this occa- 
 sion may in some degree justify the 
 remark ; for although this society had 
 contrived to make themselves a very 
 prominent object for the ridicule of such 
 as might stoop to it, the only joke to 
 which it gave rise was the following 
 paragraph, sent to the newspaper called 
 " l^he Caledonian Mercury.'' 
 
 *' A correspondent informs us that the 
 Worshipful Society of Chaldeans, Ca- 
 dies, or liunning Stationers of this city 
 are resolved, in imitation, and encou- 
 raged by the singular success of their 
 brethren, of an equally respectable So- 
 ciety, to apply for a Charter of their 
 Privileges, particularly of the sole privi- 
 lege of j'liocuRiNG, in the most extensive 
 sense of the word, exclusive of chairmen, 
 porters, penny postmen, and other infe- 
 riour ranks ; their brethren the R— Y — l 
 S— LL — Rs, alias P— c— rs, before the 
 INFERIOUR Courts of this City, always 
 excepted. 
 
 " Shoul<l the Worshipful Society be 
 successful, they are farther resolved not 
 to be puffed up thereby, but to demean 
 themselves with more equanimity and 
 decency than their li-y-l, learned, ziu\ 
 
;Etat. 72. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 very modest brethren above mentioned 
 have (lone, upon their late dignification 
 and exaltation." 
 
 A majority of the members of the 
 Society prosecuted Mr. Robertson, the 
 pubiislier of the paper, for damages ; 
 and the first judgment of the whole Court 
 very wisely dismissed the action : Sol- 
 ventur risu tabulce, tu missus ahibis. 
 But a ne\y trial or review was granted 
 upon a petition, according to the forms 
 in Scotland. This petition I was engaged 
 to answer, and Dr. Johnson, with great 
 alacrity, furnished me this evening with 
 what follows : 
 
 " All injury is either of the person, the 
 fortune, or the fame. Now it is a certain 
 thing, it is proverbially known, that a 
 jest breaks no bones. They never have 
 gained half a crown less in the whole 
 profession since this mischievous para- 
 graph has appeared ; and, as to their 
 reputation, What is their reputation but 
 an instrument of getting money? If, 
 therefore, they have lost no money, the 
 question upon reputation may be an- 
 swered by a very old position, — De 
 minimis non curat Prcetor. 
 
 '* Whether there was, or was not, an 
 animus injuriandi, is not worth inquir- 
 ing, if no injuria can be proved. But 
 the truth is, there was no animus inju- 
 riandi. It was only an animus irri- 
 tandi * , which, happening to be exercised 
 upon a genus irritabile, produced unex- 
 pected violence of resentment. Their 
 Irritability arose only from an opinion of 
 their own importance, and their delight 
 in their new exaltation. What might 
 have been borne by a Procurator could 
 not be borne by a Solicitor. Your Lord- 
 ships well know that honor es mutant 
 mores. Titles and dignities play strongly 
 on the fancy. As a madman is apt to 
 think himself grown suddenly great, so 
 he that grows suddenly great is apt to 
 borrow a little from the madman. To 
 cooperate with their resentment would 
 be to promote their frenzy ; nor is it 
 possible to guess to what they might 
 proceed, if to the new title of Solicitor 
 should be added the elation of victory 
 and triumph. 
 
 " We consider your Lordships as the 
 protectors of our rights, and the guardians 
 of our virtues ; but believe it not included 
 in your high office, that you should flatter 
 our vices, or solace our vanity ; and, as 
 vanity only dictates this prosecution, it 
 is humbly hoped your Lordships will 
 dismiss it. 
 
 ** If every attempt, however light or 
 ludicrous, to lessen another's reputation 
 is to be punished by a judicial sentence, 
 
   Mr. Robertson altered this word to jo- 
 candi, he having found in Blackstone that to 
 iirUate is actionable. 
 
 615 
 
 what punishment can be sufficiently se- 
 vere for him who attempts to diminish 
 the reputation of the Supreme Court of 
 Justice, by reclaiming upon a cause al- 
 ready determined, without any change 
 in the state of the question? Does it not 
 imply hopes that the Judges will change 
 their opinion? Is not uncertainty and 
 inconstancy in the highest degree disre- 
 putable to a Court? Does it not suppose 
 that the former judgment was temerarious 
 or negligent? Does it not lessen the con- 
 fidence of the publick ? Will it not be 
 said, that jus est aut incognitum aut 
 vayum ? and will not the consequence be 
 drawn, misera est servitus ? Will not 
 the rules of action be obscure? Will not 
 he who knows himself wrong to-day hope 
 that the Courts of Justice will think him 
 right to-morrow? Surely, my Lords, 
 these are attempts of dangerous tendency, 
 which the Solicitors, as men versed in the 
 law, should have foreseen and avoided. 
 It was natural for an ignorant printer to 
 appeal from the Lord Ordinary ; but 
 from lawyers, the descendants of lawyers, 
 who have practised for three hundred 
 years, and liave now raised themselves 
 to a higher denomination, it might be 
 expected that they should know the reve- 
 rence due to a judicial determination ; 
 and, having been once dismissed, should 
 sit down in silence." 
 
 I am ashamed to mention that the 
 Court, by a plurality of voices, without 
 having a single additional circumstance 
 before them, reversed their own judg, . 
 ment, made a serious matter of this dull 
 and foolish joke, and adjudged Mr. Ro- 
 bertson to pay to the Society five pounds 
 (sterling money) and costs of suit. The 
 decision will seem strange to English 
 lawyers. 
 
 On Tuesday, June 5, Johnson was to 
 return to London. He was very pleasant 
 at breakfast ; I mentioned a friend of 
 mine having resolved never to marry a . 
 pretty woman. Johnson. " Sir, it is a 
 very foolish resolution to resolve not to 
 marry a pretty woman. Beauty is of 
 itself very estimable. No, sir, I would 
 prefer a pretty woman, unless there are 
 objipctions to her. A pretty woman may 
 be foolish ; a pretty woman may be 
 wicked; a pretty woman may not like 
 me. But there is no such danger in mar- 
 rying a pretty woman as is apprehended ; 
 she will not be persecuted if she does 
 not invite persecution. A pretty woman, 
 if she has a mind to be wicked, can find 
 a readier way than another ; and that is 
 all." 
 
 I accompanied him in Mr. Dilly's 
 chaise to Shefford, where talking of Lord 
 Bute's never going to Scotland, he said, 
 " As an Englishman, 1 should wish all 
 the Scotch geiitlemen should be educated 
 
516 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1781. 
 
 in England ; Scotland would become a 
 province; they wonld spend all their 
 rents in England." This is a subject of 
 much consequence and much delicacy. 
 The advantage of an English education is 
 niupiestionably very great to Scotch gen- 
 tlemen of talents and ambition ; and 
 regular visits to Scotland, and perhaps 
 other means, might be effectually used 
 to prevent them from being totally 
 estranged from their native country, any 
 more than a Cumberland or Northumber- 
 land gentleman who has been educated 
 in the South of England. I own, indeed, 
 that it is no small misfortune for Scotch 
 gentlemen, who have neither talents nor 
 ambition, to be educated in England, 
 where they may be perhaps distinguished 
 only by a nickname, lavish their fortune 
 in giving expensive entertainments to 
 those who laugh at them, and saunter 
 about as mere idle insignificant hangers- 
 on even upon the foolish great ; when, if 
 they had been judiciously brought up at 
 home, they might have been comfortable 
 and creditable members of society. 
 
 At Shefford I had another affectionate 
 parting from my revered friend, who 
 was taken up by the Bedford coach and 
 carried to the metropolis. I went with 
 Messieurs Dilly to see some friends at 
 Bedford ; dined with the officers of the 
 militia of the county, and next day pro- 
 ceeded on my journey. 
 
 ** TO BEN NET LANGTON, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** How welcome your account of your- 
 self and your invitation to your new 
 house was to me, I need not tell you, 
 who consider our friendship not only 
 as formed by choice, but as matured by 
 time. We have been now long enough 
 acquainted to have many images in com- 
 mon, and therefore to have a source of 
 conversation which neither the learning 
 nor the wit of a new companion can 
 supply. 
 
 *' My Lives are now published ; and 
 if you will tell me whither I shall send 
 them, that they may coine to you, I will 
 take care that you shall not be without 
 them. 
 
 '* You will, perhaps, be glad to hear 
 that Mrs. Thrale is disincumbered of her 
 brewhouse ; and that it seemed to the 
 purchaser so far from an evil that he was 
 content to give for it a hundred and 
 thirty-five thousand pounds. Is the na- 
 tion ruined? 
 
 *' Please to make my respectful com- 
 pliments to Lady Rothes, and keep me 
 in the memory of all the little dear 
 family, particularly Mrs. Jane. 
 *' I am, SIR, 
 " Your affectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *• Bolt Court, June 16, I78i." 
 
 Johnson's charity to the poor was uni- 
 form and extensive, both from inclina- 
 tion and principle. He not only bestowed 
 liberally out of his own purse, but, what 
 is more difficult as well as rare, would 
 beg from others when he had proper 
 objects in view. This he did judiciously 
 as well as humanely, Mr. Philip Met- 
 calfe tells me, that when he has asked 
 him for some money for persons in dis- 
 tress, and Mr. Metcalfe has offered what 
 Johnson thought too much, he insisted on 
 taking less, saying, "No, no, sir; we 
 must not pamper them." 
 
 I am indebted to Mr. Malone, one of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's executors, for the 
 following note, which was found among 
 his papers after his death, and which, 
 we may presume, his unaffected modesty 
 prevented him from communicating to 
 me with the other letters from Dr. John- 
 son with which he was pleased to furnish 
 me. However slight in itself, as it does 
 honour to that illustrious painter and 
 most amiable man, I am happy to intro- 
 duce it. 
 
 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** It was not before yesterday that I re- 
 ceived your splendid benefaction. To a 
 hand so liberal in distributing, I hope 
 nobody will envy the power of acquiring. 
 ** I am, dp:ar sir, 
 ** Your obliged 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 '* June 23, 1781." 
 
 " TO THOMAS ASTLE, ESQ. 
 *'SIR, 
 
 '* I AM ashanied that you have been forced 
 to call so often for your books, but it has 
 been by no fault on either side. They 
 have never been out of my hands, nor 
 have I ever been at home without seeing 
 you ; for to see a man so skilful in the 
 antiquities of my country is an opportu- ' 
 nity of improvement not willingly to be 
 missed. 
 
 " Your notes on Alfred * appear to me 
 very judicious and accurate, but they are 
 too few. Many things familiar to ^ou 
 are unknown to me and to most other? ; 
 and you must not think too favourably 
 of your readers; by supposing them 
 knowing you will leave them ignorant. 
 Measure of land, and value of money, it 
 is of great importance to state with care. 
 Had the Saxons any gold coin? 
 
 " I have much curiosity after the man- 
 ners and transactions of the middle ages, 
 but have wanted either diligence or op- 
 
   The Will of Kinj( Alfred, alluded to in this 
 letier, from the original Saxon, in the library 
 of Mr. Asile> lins been printed at the expense 
 of the Uiiivtrsily of O.vfurd. 
 
^TAT. 7i. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 portiinity, or both. Yon, sir, have great 
 opportunities, and I wisli you both dili- 
 gence and success. 
 
 " I am, SIR, &c. 
 "July 17, 1781." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 The following curious anecdote I insert 
 in Dr. Burney'sown words. Dr. Bnrney 
 related to Dr. Johnson the partiality 
 which his writings had excited in a friend 
 of Dr. Burney's, the late Mr. Bewley, 
 well known in Norfolk by the name of 
 the Philosopher of Massingham : who, 
 from the Ramblers and Plan of his Dic- 
 tionary, and long before the authour's 
 fame was established by the Dictionary 
 itself, or any other work, had conceived 
 such a reverence for him that he ear- 
 nestly begged Dr. Burney to give him 
 the cover of the first letter he had re- 
 ceived from hitn, as a re lick of so esti- 
 mable a writer. This was in 1755. In 
 1760, when Dr. Burney visited Dr. John- 
 son at the Temple in London, where he 
 l)ad then chambers, he happened to arrive 
 there before he was up ; and being shown 
 into the room where he was to breakfast, 
 finding himself alone, he examined the 
 contents of the apartment to try whether 
 he could undiscovered steal any thing to 
 send to his friend Bewley, as another 
 reiick of the admirable Dr. Johnson. 
 But finding nothing better to his pur- 
 pose, he cut some bristles off of his 
 hearth broom, and enclosed them in a 
 letter to his country enthusiast, who re- 
 ceived them with due reverence. The 
 Doctor was so sensible of the honour 
 done him by a man of genius and science, 
 to whom he was an utter stranger, that 
 he said to Dr. Burney, " Sir, there is no 
 man possessed of the smallest portion of 
 modesty but must be flattered with the 
 admiration of such a man. I'll give him 
 a set of my Lives if he will do me the 
 honour to accept of them." In this he 
 kept his word ; and Dr. Burney had not 
 only the pleasure of gratifying his friend 
 with a present more worthy of his ac- 
 ceptance than the segment from the 
 hearth broom, but soon after introducing 
 him to Dr. Johnson himself in Bolt 
 Court, with whom he had the satisfaction 
 of conversing a considerable time, not a 
 fortnight before his death ; which hap- 
 pened in St. Martin's Street, during his 
 visit to Dr. Burney, in the house where 
 the great Sir Isaac Newton had lived and 
 died before. 
 
 In one of his little memorandum books 
 is the following minute : 
 
 "August 9, 3 P. M. aetat. 72, in the 
 summer house at Streatham. 
 
 "After innumerable resolutions formed 
 and neglected, I have retired hither to 
 plan a life of greater diligence, in hope 
 
 517 
 
 that I may yet be useful, and be daily 
 better prepared to appear before my 
 Creator and my Judge, from whose infi- 
 nite mercy I humbly call for assistance 
 and support. 
 
 " My purpose is, 
 
 " To pass eight hours every day in 
 some serious employment. 
 
 " Having prayed, I purpose to employ 
 the next six weeks upon the Italian lan- 
 guage for my settled study." 
 
 How venerably pious does he appear 
 in these moments of solitude, and how 
 spirited are his resolutions for the im- 
 provement of his mind, even in elegant 
 literature, at a very advanced period of 
 life, and when afflicted with many com- 
 plaints. 
 
 In autumn he went to Oxford, Bir- 
 mingham, Lichfield, and Ashbourne, for 
 which very good reasons might be given 
 in the conjectural yet positive manner of 
 writers, who are proud to account for 
 every event which they relate. He him- 
 self, however, says, " The motives of my 
 journey I hardly know ; I omitted it last 
 year, and am not willing to miss it 
 again*." But some good considerations 
 arise, amongst which is the kindly recol- 
 lection of Mr. Hector, surgeon, of Bir- 
 mingham. " Hector is likewise an ojd 
 friend, the only companion of my child- 
 hood that passed through the school with 
 me. We have always loved one another ; 
 perhaps we may be made better by some 
 serious conversation, of which, however, 
 I have no distinct hope." 
 
 He says too, " At Lichfield, my native 
 place, I hope to show a good example by 
 frequent attendance on p\iblic worship." 
 
 My correspondence with him during 
 the rest of this year was, I know not 
 why, very scanty, and all on my side. 
 I wrote him one letter to introduce Mr. 
 Sinclair (now Sir John), the member 
 for Caithness, to his acquaintance ; and 
 informed him in another, that my wife 
 had again been affected with alarming 
 symptoms of illness. 
 
 In 1782 his complaints increased, and 
 the history of his life this year is little 
 more than a mournful recital of the vari- 
 ations of his illness, in the midst of 
 which, however, it will appear from his 
 letters that the powers of his mind were 
 in no degree impaired. 
 
 " TO J.iUES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I SIT down to answer your letter on 
 the same day in which I received it, and 
 am pleased that my first letter of the 
 year is to you. No man ought to be at 
 ease while he knows himself in tlie 
 
 * Prayers and Meditations, p. 2Ql, 
 
518 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 wrong; and I have not satisfied myself 
 with my long silence. The letter relating 
 to Mr. Sinclair, however, was, I believe, 
 never brought. 
 
 '* My health has been tottering this 
 last year: and I can give no very laud- 
 able account of my time. I am always 
 hoping to do better than I have ever 
 hitherto done. 
 
 " My journey to Ashbourne and Staf- 
 fordshire was not pleasant ; for what 
 enjoyment lias a sick man visiting the 
 sick 1 — Shall we ever have another frolick 
 like our journey to the Hebrides? 
 
 ** I hope that dear Mrs. Boswell will 
 surmount h^r complaints; in losing her 
 you will lose your anchor, and be tost, 
 without stability, by the waves of life*. 
 1 wish both her and you very many years, 
 and very happy. 
 
 " For some months past I have been 
 so withdrawn from the world that I can 
 send you nothing particular. All your 
 friends, however, are well, and will be 
 glad of your return to London. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Yours, most affectionately, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' January 5, 1782." 
 
 At a time when he was less able than 
 he had once been to sustain a shock, he 
 was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, 
 which event he thus communicated to 
 Dr. Lawrence. 
 
 "sir, 
 " Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was 
 last night eminently cheerful, died this 
 morning. The man who lay in the same 
 room, hearing an uncommon noise, got 
 up and tried to make him speak, but 
 without effect. He then called Mr. Hol- 
 der, the apothecary, who, though when 
 he came he thought him dead, opened a 
 vein, but could draw no blood. So has 
 ended the long life of a very useful and 
 very blameless man. I am, sir, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "January 17, 1782." 
 
 In one of his memorandum books in 
 my possession is the following entry : 
 " January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett 
 was buried in the churchyard of Bride- 
 well, between one and two in the after- 
 noon. He died on Thursday 17, about 
 aeven in the morning, by an instantane- 
 ous death. He was an old and faithful 
 friend ; I have known him from about 
 46. Commendavi. May God have mercy 
 on him. May he have mercy on me." 
 
 Such was Johnson's affectionate regard 
 
 • The truth of this has been proved by sad 
 expfTieiice. 
 [Mrs. Boswell died June 4, 1789. M.] 
 
 for Levett +, that he honoured his memory 
 with the following palhetick verses: 
 
 " Condemn'© to Hope's delusive mine, 
 
 As on we toil from day to dav, 
 By sudden blast or slow decline 
 
 Our social comforts drop away. 
 Well tried through many a varying- year. 
 
 See Levett to the erave descend; 
 Officious, innocent, "sincere, 
 
 Of every friendless name the friend. 
 Vet still he fills affection's eye, 
 
 Obscurely wise, and coarsely kind. 
 Nor, letter'd arrogance J, deny 
 
 Thy praise to merit unrefined. 
 When fainiins: Nature call'd for aid. 
 
 And hovering Death prepared the blovr, 
 H)s vigorous remedy displayed 
 
 The power of art without the show. 
 In Misery's darkest caverns known. 
 
 His ready help was ever nigh, 
 Where iiopeless Anguish poiir'd his groan. 
 
 And lonely Want retired to die§. 
 No summons mock'd by chill delav, 
 
 No petty gains disdain'd by pride; 
 The modest wants of every day 
 
 The toil of every day supplied. 
 His virtues walk'd their narrow round. 
 
 Nor made a pause, nor left a void ; 
 And sure the eternal Master found 
 
 His single talent well employ'd. 
 The busy day, the peaceful night, 
 
 Unfelt, uncounted, glided by ; 
 His frame was firm, his powers were bright. 
 
 Though now his eightieth year was nigh. 
 Then, wiih no throbs of fiery pain, 
 
 No cold gradations of decav. 
 Death bioke at once the vitaTcliain, 
 
 And freed his soul the nearest way." 
 
 In one of Johnson's registers of this 
 year, there occurs the following curious 
 passage : " Jan. 20. The Ministry is dis- 
 solved. I prayed with Francis, and gave 
 thanks j|." It has been the subJtect of 
 discussion, whether there are two distinct 
 particulars mentioned here? Or that we 
 are to understand the giviiig of thanks to 
 be in consequence of the dissolution of 
 the Ministry? In support of the last of 
 these conjectures may be urged his mean 
 opinion of that Ministry, which has fre- 
 quently appeared in the course of this 
 work ; and it is strongly contirmed by 
 what he said on the subject to Mr. 
 Seward : — " I am glad (he ministry is 
 removed. Such a bunch of imbecility 
 never disgraced a country. If they sent 
 a messenger into the City to take up a 
 printer, the messenger was taken up in- 
 stead of the printer, and committed by 
 the sitting Alderman. If they sent one 
 urmy to the relief of another, the lirst 
 
 t See an account nf him in " The Gentle- 
 man's Ma^jazine," Feb. 1785. 
 
 X In both editions of Sir John Hawkins's 
 Life of Dr. Jolinson, " letter'd ignuravce^' is 
 printed. 
 
 § Johnson repcatid this line to me thus: 
 •' And Labour steals an hour to die." 
 But he afterwards altered it to the present 
 reading. 
 
 II Prayers and Meditations, p. 20y. 
 
/Etat. 73. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 army was defeated and taken before the 
 second arrived. I will not say that what 
 they did was always wrong ; but it was 
 always done at a wrong time." 
 
 ** TO MRS. STRAHAN. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " Mrs. Williams showed me your kind 
 letter. This little habitation is now but 
 a melancholy place, clouded with the 
 gloom of disease and death. Of the four 
 inmates, one has been suddenly snatched 
 away ; two are oppressed by very afflic- 
 tive and dangerous illness ; and I tried 
 yesterday to gain some relief, by a third 
 bleeding, from a disorder which has for 
 some time distressed me, and I think 
 myself to-day much better. 
 
 " I am glad, dear madam, to hear that 
 you are so far recovered as to go to Bath. 
 Let me once more entreat you to stay till 
 your health is not only obtained, but con- 
 firmed. Your fortune is such as that no 
 moderate expense deserves your care; 
 and you have a husband who, I believe, 
 does not regard it. Stay, therefore, till 
 you are quite well. I am, for my part, 
 very much deserted; but complaint is 
 nseless. I hope God will bless you, and 
 I desire you to form the same wish for 
 me. I am, dear madam, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Feb. 4, 1782." " Sam. Johnson.'' 
 
 *' TO EDWARD MALONE, ESQ. 
 
 "sir, 
 ** I HAVE for many weeks been so much 
 out of order, that I have gone out only 
 in a coach to Mrs. Thrale's, where I can 
 use all the freedom that sickness requires. 
 Do not therefore, take it amiss that I am 
 not with you and Dr. Farmer. I hope 
 hereafter to see you often . 
 " 1 am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Feb. 27, 1782." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 TO the same. 
 *' dear sir, 
 " I HOPE I grow better, and shall soon 
 be able to enjoy the kindness of my 
 friends. I think this wild adherence to 
 Chatterton* more unaccountable than 
 the obstinate defence of Ossian. In 
 Ossian there is a national pride which 
 may be forgiven, though it cannot be 
 
 * [This note was in answer to one which 
 accompanied one of the earliest pamphlets 
 on the subject of Chatterton's forgery, enti- 
 tled " Cursory Observations on the Poems 
 attributed to Thomas Rowley," &c. Mr. Tho 
 mas VVarton's very able ♦• Inouiry" appeared 
 about three months afterwards; and Mr. Tyr- 
 whitt's admirable " Vindication of his Appen- 
 dix," in the summer of the same year, left 
 the believers in his daring imposture nothing 
 hut "the resolution to say again what had 
 been said before." Daring, however, as the 
 
 6 to 
 
 applauded. In Chatterton there is no- 
 thing but the i-esolution to say again w hat 
 has once been said. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 ♦* March 2, 1782." 
 
 These short letters show the regard 
 which Dr. Johnson entertained for Mr. 
 Malone, who the more he is known is 
 the more highly valued. It is much to 
 be regretted that Johnson was prevented 
 from sharing the elegant hospitality of 
 that gentleman's table, at which he would 
 in every respect have been fully gratified. 
 Mr. Malone, who has so ably succeeded 
 him as an editor of Shakspeare, has, in 
 his Preface, done great and just honour 
 to Johnson's memory. 
 
 " TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " I WENT away from Lichtield ill, and 
 have had a troublesoine time with my 
 breath ; for some w^eeks I have been dis- 
 ordered by a cold, of which 1 could not 
 get the violence abated till I had been 
 let blood three times. I have not, how- 
 ever, been so bad but that I could have 
 written, and am sorry that I neglected it. 
 
 " My dwelling is but melancholy ; 
 both Williams and Desmoulins, and my- 
 self are very sickly : Frank is not well, 
 and poor Levettdied in his bed the other 
 day, by a sudden stroke ; I suppose not 
 one minute passed between health and 
 death ; so uncertain are human things. 
 
 " Such is the appearance of the world 
 about me ; I hope your scenes are more 
 cheerful. But whatever befalls us, though 
 it is wise to be serious, it is useless and 
 foolish, and perhaps sinful, to be gloomy. 
 Let us, therefore, keep ourselves as easy 
 as we can ; though the loss of friends will 
 be felt, and poor Levett had been a 
 faithful adherent for thirty years. 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear love, the omis- 
 sion of writing; I hope to mend that 
 and my other faults. Let me have your 
 prayers. 
 
 *' Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, 
 and Miss Adey, and Mr. Pearson, and 
 the whole company of my friends. 
 
 " I am, MY DEAR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson," 
 *' London, March 2, 1782." 
 
 fiction was, and wild as was the adherence to 
 Chatterton, both were greatly exceeded in 
 1795 and the following year, by a still more 
 audacious imposture, and the pertinacity of 
 one of its adherents, who has immortalized his 
 name by publishing a bulky volume, of which 
 the direct and manifest object was, to prove 
 the aushenticiiy of certain papers attributed 
 to Shakspeare, after the fabricator of the 
 spurious trash had publickly acknowledged 
 the iwposiiire ! M.] 
 
520 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 '* DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " My last was but a dull letter, and I 
 know not that this will be much more 
 clieerful ; I am, however, willing to 
 write, because you are desirous to hear 
 from me. 
 
 " My disorder has now begun its ninth 
 week, for it is not yet over. I was last 
 Thursday blooded for the fourth time, 
 and have since found myself much re- 
 lieved, but I am very tender and easily 
 hurt ; so that since we parted I have 
 had but little comfort, but I hope that 
 the spring will recover me ; and that in 
 the summer I shall see Lichfield again, 
 for I will not delay my visit another 
 year to the end of autumn. 
 
 " I have, by advertising, found poor 
 jNlr. Levett's brothers in Yorkshire, who 
 will take the little he has left: it is but 
 little, yet it will be welcome, for I be- 
 lieve they are of very low condition. 
 
 "To be sick, and to see nothing but 
 sickness and death, is but a gloomy state ; 
 but 1 hope better times, even in this 
 world, will come, and whatever this 
 world may withhold or give, we shall 
 be happy in a better state. Pray for 
 me, my dear Lucy. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, 
 and Miss Adey, and my old friend, Hetty 
 Bailey, and to all the Lichfield ladies. 
 
 " I am, DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** Yours, aflFectionately, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Bolt Court, Fleet Street, 
 March 19, 1782." 
 
 On the day on which this letter was 
 written, he thus feelingly mentions his 
 respected friend and physician. Dr. Law- 
 rence : — " Poor Lawrence has almost 
 lost the sense of hearing ; and I have 
 lost the conversation of a learned, intel- 
 ligent, and communicative companion, 
 and a friend whom long familiarity has 
 much endeared. Lawrence is one of 
 the best men whom I have known. — 
 ' Nostrutn omnium miserere Deus*."' 
 
 It was Dr. Johnson's custom, when 
 he wrote to Dr. Lawrence concerning 
 his own health, to use the Latin language. 
 I have been favoured by Miss Lawrence 
 with one of these letters as a specimen : 
 
 *' T. Lavvhencio, Medico, S. 
 " Novum fr/{jus, nova tussis, nova 
 spirandi dijfficultas, novam sanguinis 
 missionem suadenf, quam tamen te 
 inconsulto nolim fieri. Ad te venire 
 vix possum, nee est cur ad me venias. 
 IJcere vel nan licere uno verbo dicen- 
 dum est; cietera mihi et Jlolderoi 
 
 * PrayefH and Meflitations, p. 207. 
 + Mr. Holder, in the Strand, Dr. Johnson's 
 apothtcary. 
 
 1782. 
 
 reliqueris. Si per te licet, imperatur 
 nuncio Holderum ad me deducere. 
 
 " Mails Calendis, 1782. 
 
 " Postqz(ii.m tu discesseris, qub me 
 vertamX?" 
 
 " TO CAPTAIN IANGTON§, IN ROCHESTER. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** It is now long since we saw one ano- 
 ther ; and whatever has been the reason, 
 neither you have written to me, nor I to 
 you. To let friendship die away by neg- 
 ligence and silence is certainly not wise. 
 It is voluntarily to throw away one of 
 the greatest comforts of this weary pil- 
 grimage, of which when it is, as it must 
 be, taken finally away, he that travels ort 
 alone will wonder how his esteem could 
 be so little. Do not forget me ; you see 
 that I do not forget you. It is pleasing 
 in the silence of solitude to think, that 
 there is one at least, however distant, of 
 whose benevolence there is little doubt, 
 and whom there is yet hope of seeing 
 again. 
 
 ** Of my life, from the time we parted, 
 the history is mournful. The spring of 
 
 t Soon after ilie above letter Dr. Lawrence 
 left London, but not before the palsy had 
 made so ffreat a progress as to render him 
 unable to~ write for himself. The following 
 are extracts from letters addressed by Dr. 
 Johnson to one of his daughters: 
 
 " You will easily believe with what glad- 
 ness I read that you had heard once again 
 that voice to which we have all so often de- 
 lighted to attend. May you often hear it. If 
 \\e had his mind and his tongue, we could 
 spare the rest. 
 
 *' I am not vigorous, but much better than 
 when dear Dr. Lawrence held my pulse the 
 last time. Be so kind as to h-t me know, 
 from one little interval to another, the state 
 of his body. I am pleased that he remembers 
 me, and hope that it never can be possible 
 for me to forget him. July 22, 1782." 
 
 " 1 am much delighted even with the small 
 advances which dear Dr. Lawrence makes 
 towards recovery. If we c<iul<l have again 
 but his mind, and his tongue in his mind, and 
 his right hand, we should not much lament 
 the rest. I should not despair of helping the 
 swelled hand by electricity, if it were fre- 
 quently and diligently supplied. 
 
 " Let me know from time to time whatevelr 
 happens; and I hope I nee<l not tell you, how 
 much I am interested in every change. Aug. 
 26, 1782." 
 
 " Though the account with which you fa- 
 voured me in your last letter could not give 
 me the pleasure that I wished, yet I was glad 
 to receive it; (or n»y affection to my dear 
 friend makes me desirous of knowing his 
 state, whatever it be. I beg, therefore", that 
 you continue to let me know, from time to 
 time, all that you observe. 
 
 " Many fits of ^eve^e illness have, for about 
 three months past, forced my kind physician 
 often upon n)y mind. I am now better; and 
 hope gratitude, as well as distress, can be a 
 motive to remembrance. Bolt Court, Fleet 
 Street, Feb. 4, 1783 " 
 
 § Mr. Langton being at this time on duty at 
 Kochesler, he is addressed by his milii-iry 
 title. 
 
^TAT. 73. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 521 
 
 last year deprived me of Thrale, a man, 
 whose eye for fifteen years had scarcely 
 been turned upon me but with respect or 
 tenderness ; for such anotiier friend, the 
 general course of human things will not 
 sutfer man to hope. I passed the sum- 
 mer at Streatham, but there was no 
 Thrale; and having idled away the sum- 
 mer with a weakly body and neglected 
 mind, I made a journey to Staffordshire 
 ©n the edge of winter. The season was 
 dreary: 1 was sickly, and found the 
 friends sickly whom I went to see. After 
 a sorrowful sojourn, I returned to a ha- 
 bitation possessed for the present by two 
 sick women, where my dear old friend 
 Mr. Levett, to whom, as he used to tell 
 me, I owe your acquaintance, died a few 
 weeks ago, suddenly in his bed ; there 
 passed not, I believe, a minute between 
 health and death. At night, as at Mrs. 
 Thrale's, I was musing in my chamber, 
 I thought with uncommon earnestness, 
 that, however I might alter my mode of 
 life, or whithersoever I might remove, I 
 would endeavour to retain Levett about 
 me ; in the morning my servant brought 
 me word that Levett was called to ano- 
 ther state, a state for which, I think, he 
 was not unprepared, for he was very 
 useful to the poor. How much soever 
 I valued him, I now wish that I had 
 valued him more*. 
 
 ** I have myself been ill more than 
 eight weeks of a disorder, (rom which, 
 at the expense of about fifty ounces of 
 blood, I hope I am now recovering. 
 
 " You, dear sir, have, I hope, a more 
 cheerful scene; you see George fond of 
 his book, and the pretty misses airy and 
 lively, with my own little Jenny equal 
 to the best : and in whatever can contri- 
 bute to your quiet or pleasure, you have 
 Lady Rothes ready to concur. May 
 whatever you enjoy of good be increased, 
 and whatever you suffer of evil be dimi- 
 nished. I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " rSAM. Johnson." 
 
 '« Bolt Court, Fleet Street, 
 March 20, 1782." 
 
 *' TO MR. HECTOR, IN BIRMINGHAM f. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HOPE I do not very grossly flatter 
 myself to imagine that you and dear 
 
 * Johnson has liere expressed a sentiment 
 similar to lliat contaiaed inone of Slienstone's 
 stanzas, to vvliich in his life of that i)oet he 
 has given high praise: 
 •* 1 prized every hour that went bv, 
 
 Beyond all that iiad pleased me" before ; 
 But now they are ^oiie and ( sig-h, 
 
 And I grieve that I prized them no more." 
 J. B.-O. 
 
 t A part of this lefter having been torn off, 
 I Uave, from the evident meaning-, supplied a 
 
 Mrs. Careless J will be glad to hear some 
 account of me. I performed the journey 
 to London with very little inconvenience, 
 and came safe to my habitation, where I 
 found nothing but ill health, and, of con- 
 sequence, very little cheerfulness. I then 
 went to visit a little way into the coun- 
 try, where I got a complaint by a cold 
 which has hung eight weeks upon me, 
 and from which I am, at the expense of 
 fifty ounces of blood, not yet free. I am 
 afraid I must once more owe my reco- 
 very to warm weather, which seems to 
 make no advances towards us. 
 
 " Such is my health, which will, I 
 hope, soon grow better. In other respects 
 I have no reason to complain. I know 
 not that I have written any thing more 
 generally commended than the Lives of 
 the Poets ; and have found the world 
 willing enough to caress me, if my health 
 had invited me to be in much company ; 
 but this season I have been almost wholly 
 employed in nursing myself. 
 
 " When summer comes I hope to see 
 you again, and will not put off my visit 
 to the end of the year. I have lived so 
 long in London that 1 did not remember 
 the difference of seasons. 
 
 " Your health, when I saw yon, was 
 much improved. You will be prudent 
 enough not to put it in danger. I hope, 
 when we meet again, we shall congratu- 
 late each other upon fair prospects of 
 longer life ; though what are the plea- 
 sures of the longest life, when placed in 
 comparison with a happy death? 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Yours most affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, March 21, 1782." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 [Without a dale, but supposed 
 " DEAR SIR, to be about this time.'i 
 " That you and dear Mrs. Careless 
 should have care or curiosity about my 
 health gives me that pleasure which 
 every man feels from finding himself 
 not forgotten. In age we feel again that 
 love of our native place and our early 
 friends which in the bustle or amuse- 
 ments of middle life were overborne and 
 suspended. You and I should now na- 
 turally cling to one another : we have 
 outlived most of those who could pretend 
 to rival us in each other's kindness. In 
 our walk through life we have dropped 
 our companions, and are now to pick up 
 such as chance may offer us, or to travel 
 on alone. You, indeed, have a sister, 
 with whom you can divide the day : I 
 have no natural friend left ; but Provi- 
 
 few words and half words at the ends and 
 beg-innin? of lines. 
 X See p. 308. 
 
522 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 <lence lias been pleased to preserve me 
 from neglect ; I have not wanted such 
 alleviations of life as friendship could 
 supply. My health has been, from my 
 twentieth year, such as has seldom 
 afforded me a single day of ease ; but it 
 is at least not worse : and I sometimes 
 make myself believe that it is better. 
 My disorders are, however, still suffici- 
 ently oppressive. 
 
 ** I think of seeing Staffordshire again 
 this autumn, and intend to find my way 
 through Birmingham, where I hope to 
 see you and dear Mrs. Careless well. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your alFectionate friend, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 I wrote to him at different dates ; re- 
 gretted that I could not come to London 
 this spring, but hoped we should meet 
 somewhere in the summer; mentioned 
 the state of my affairs, and suggested 
 hopes of some pieferment; informed 
 him, that as '* The Beauties of Johnson " 
 had been published in London, some 
 obscure scribbler had published at Edin- 
 burgh, what he called " The Deformities 
 of Johnson." 
 
 '* TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** The pleasure which we used to receive 
 from each other on Good Friday and 
 Easter Day, we must be this year content 
 to miss. Let us, however, pray for each 
 other, and hope to see one another yet 
 from time to time with mutualdelight. My 
 disorder has been a cold, which impeded 
 the organs of respiration, and kept me 
 many weeks in a state of great uneasi- 
 ness ; but by repeated phlebotomy it is 
 now relieved ; and next to the recovery 
 of Mrs. Boswell, I flatter myself, that 
 you will rejoice at mine. 
 
 ** What we shall do in the summer it 
 is yet too early to consider. You want 
 to know what you shall do now; I do 
 not think this time of bustle and confu- 
 sion * like to produce any advantage to 
 you. Every man has those to reward 
 and gratify who have contributed to his 
 advancement. To come hither with such 
 expectations at the expense of borrowed 
 money, which, I find, you know not 
 where to borrow, can hardly be consi- 
 dered prudent. I am sorry to find, what 
 your solicitations seem to imply, that 
 you have already gone the whole length 
 of your credit. I'his is to set the quiet 
 of your whole life at hazard. If you an- 
 ticipate your inheritance, yon can at last 
 iidierit nothing ; all that you receive 
 must pay for the past. You must get a 
 
 • [On llie preceiling day, the Ministry had 
 been changed. M.] 
 
 1782. 
 
 place, or pine in penury, with the empty 
 name of a great estate. Poverty, my 
 dear friend, is so great an evil, and preg- 
 nant with so much temptation and so 
 much misery, that I cannot but earnestly 
 enjoin you to avoid it. Live on what 
 you have ; live if you can on less ; do 
 not borrow either for vanity or pleasure ; 
 the vanity will end in shame, and the 
 pleasure in regret : stay therefore at 
 home, till you have saved money for 
 your journey hither. 
 
 ** * The Beauties of Johnson ' are said 
 to have got money to the collector; if 
 the ' Deformities' liave the same success, 
 I shall be still a more extensive bene- 
 factor. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, who is 1 hope reconciled to me ; 
 and to the young people, whom I never 
 have offended. 
 
 " You never told me the success of 
 your plea against the Solicitors. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, March 28, 1782." 
 
 Notwithstanding his afflicted state of 
 body and mind this year, the following 
 correspondence affords a proof not only 
 of his benevolence and conscientious 
 readiness to relieve a good man from 
 errour, but by his clothing one of the 
 sentiments in his "Rambler" in differ- 
 ent language, not inferiour to that of the 
 original, shows his extraordinary com- 
 mand of clear and forcible expression. 
 
 A clergyman at Bath wrote to him, 
 that in " The Morning Chronicle," a 
 passage in ** The Beauties of Johnson," 
 article Death, had been pointed out as 
 supposed by some readers to reconimend 
 suicide, the words being, "To die is the 
 fate of man ; but to die with lingering 
 anguish is generally his folly ;" and re- 
 spectfully suggesting to him, that such an 
 erroneous notion of any sentence in the 
 writings of an acknowledged friend of 
 religion and virtue should not pass un- 
 contradicted. 
 
 Johnson thus answered the clergy- 
 man's letter: 
 
 ' to the reverend MR. , 
 
 at bath. 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Being now in the country in a state of 
 recovery, as I hope, from a very oppres- 
 sive disorder, I caiuiot neglect the ac- 
 knowledgment of your Christian letter. - 
 The book called * The Beauties of John- 
 son ' is the production of I know not 
 whom ; 1 never saw it but by casual in- 
 spection, and considered myself as utterly 
 disengaged from its consequences. Of 
 the passage you mention, I remember 
 
^lAT. 73. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 some notice in some paper; but know- 
 ing tliat it must be misrepresented, I 
 tiiouglit of it no more, nor do I know 
 where to find it in my own books. I am 
 accustomed to think little of newspapers ; 
 but an opinion so weighty and serious as 
 yours lias determined me to do what I 
 should without your seasonable admoni- 
 tion have omitted : and I will direct my 
 thought to be shown in its true state*. 
 If I could find the passage I would direct 
 you to it. I suppose the tenour is this : 
 — * Acute diseases are the immediate and 
 inevitable strokes of Heaven ; but of 
 them the pain is short, and the conclu- 
 sion speedy ; chronical disorders, by 
 which we are suspended in tedious tor- 
 ture between life and death, are com- 
 monly the effect of our own misconduct 
 and intemperance. To die, &c.' — This, 
 sir, you see is all true and all blameless. 
 I hope, some time in the next week, to 
 have all rectified. My health has been 
 lately much shaken ; if yon favour me 
 with any answer, it will be a comfort to 
 me to know that I have your prayers. 
 " I am, &c. 
 " May 15, 1782." '* SaM. Johnson." 
 
 This letter, as might be expected, had 
 its full effect, and the clergyman acknow- 
 ledged it in grateful and pious terms +. 
 
 The following letters require no extracts 
 from mine to introduce them. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The earnestness and tenderness of your 
 letter is such that I cannot think myself 
 showing it more respect than it claims 
 by sitting down to answer it the day on 
 which 1 received it. 
 
 "This year has afflicted me with a 
 very irksome and severe disorder. My 
 respiration has been much impeded, and 
 much blood has been taken away. I am 
 now harassed by a catarrhous cough, 
 from which niy purpose is to seek relief 
 
 * What follows appeared in the Morning 
 Chronicle of May 29, 1762.— " A correspondent 
 having mentioned, in the Morning Clironicle 
 of December 12, the. last clause of the follow- 
 ing paragraph, as seeming to favour suicide; 
 we are requested to print" the wliole passage, 
 that its true meaning may appear, which is 
 uot to recommend suicide but exercise. 
 
 " Exercise cannot secure us from that disso- 
 lution to which we are decreed ; but while the 
 soul and body continue united, it can make 
 the association pleasing, and give probable 
 hopes that they shall be disjoined by an easy 
 separation. It was a principle among the 
 ancients, that acute diseases are from Heaven, 
 and chronical from ourselves ; the dart of 
 death, indeed, falls from Heaven, but we 
 poison it by our own misconduct: to die is 
 the fate of man; but to die with lingering 
 anguish is generally his folly." 
 
 + The Correspondence may be seen at length 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine, Feb. 1786. 
 
 523 
 
 by change of air ; and I am, therefore, 
 preparing to go to Oxford. 
 
 " Whether I did right in dissuading 
 you from coming to London this spring, 
 I will not determine. You have not lost 
 much by missing my company ; I have 
 scarcely been well for a single week. I 
 might have received comfort from your 
 kindness ; but you would have seen me 
 afflicted, and, perhaps, found me peevish. 
 Whatever might have been your pleasure 
 or mine, I know not how I could have 
 honestly advised you to come hither with 
 borrowed money. Do not accustom your- 
 self to consider debt only as an incon- 
 venience ; you will find it a calamity. 
 Poverty takes away so many means of 
 doing good, and produces so much ina- 
 bility to resist evil, both natural and 
 moral, that it is by all virtuous means to 
 be avoided. Consider a man whose for- 
 tune is very narrow ; whatever be Jiis 
 rank by birth, or whatever his reputa- 
 tion by intellectual excellence, what can 
 he do? or what evil can he prevent? 
 That he cannot help the needy is evi- 
 dent ; he has nothing to spare. But, 
 perhaps, his advice or admonition may 
 be useful. His poverty will destroy his 
 influence : many more can find that he 
 is poor than that he is wise ; and few 
 will reverence the understanding that is 
 of so little advantage to its owner. I say 
 nothing of the personal wretchedness of 
 a debtor, Mhich, however, has passed 
 into a proverb. Of riches it is not neces- 
 sary to write the praise. Let it, however, 
 be remembered that he who has money to 
 spare has it always in his power to bene- 
 fit others ; and of such power a good man 
 must always be desirous. 
 
 " I am pleased with your account of 
 Easterj. We shall meet, I hope, in 
 autumn, both well and both cheerful ; 
 and part each the better for the other's 
 company. 
 
 " Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well, and to the young charmers. 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, June 3, 178:i." 
 
 ** TO MR. PERKINS. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I AM much pleased that you are going 
 a very long journey, which may by pro- 
 per conduct restore your health ami pro- 
 long your life. 
 
 " Observe these rules : 
 
 ** 1. Turn all care out of your head 
 as soon as you mount the chaise. 
 
 '* 2. Do not think about frugality ; 
 
 t Which r celebrated in the Church of 
 England chapel at Edinburgh, founded by 
 Lord Chief Baron Smith, of respectable arid 
 pious memory. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 524 
 
 your health is worth more than it can 
 cost. 
 
 ** 3. Do not continue any day's jour- 
 ney to fatigue. 
 
 '* 4. Take now and then a day's rest. 
 
 "5. Get a smart sea-sickness if you can. 
 
 ** 6. Cast away all anxiety, and keep 
 your mind easy. 
 
 ** This last direction is the principal ; 
 with an unquiet mind, neither exercise, 
 nor diet, nor physick can be of much use. 
 
 " I wish you, dear sir, a prosperous 
 journey, and a happy recovery. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most affectionate 
 " humble servant, 
 "July 28, 1782." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Being uncertain whether I slibuld have 
 any call this autumn into the country, I 
 did not immediately answer your kind 
 letter. I have no call ; but if you desire 
 to meet me at Ashbourne, I believe I 
 can come hither; if you had rather come 
 to London, I can stay at Streathain : 
 take your choice. 
 
 " This year has been very heavy. From 
 the middle of January to the middle of 
 June I was battered by one disorder after 
 another! I am now very much recovered, 
 and hope still to be better. What happi- 
 ness is it that Mrs. Boswell has escaped. 
 
 *' My * Lives ' are reprinting, and I 
 have forgotten the authour of Gray's 
 character * : write immediately, and it 
 may be perhaps yet inserted. 
 
 ** Of London or Ashbourne yon have 
 your free choice; at any place I shall 
 be glad to see you. I am, dear sir, 
 ** Yours, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " Aiig-ust 24, 1782." 
 
 On the 30th of August I informed him 
 that my honoured father had died that 
 morning; a complaint under which he 
 had long laboured having suddenly come 
 to a crisis, while I was upon a visit at 
 the seat of Sir Charles Preston, from 
 whence I had hastened the day before, 
 upon receiving a letter by express. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I HAVE Struggled through this year with 
 so much infirmity of body, and such 
 strong impressions of the fragility of life, 
 that death, whenever it appears, fills me 
 with melancholy ; and I cannot hear 
 without emotion of the removal of any one 
 whom I have known into another state. 
 
 " Your father's death had eveiy cir- 
 cumstance that could enable yon to bear 
 
 • The Reverend Mr. Temple, Vicar of St. 
 Gluvias, Cornwall. 
 
 it ; it was at a mature age, and it was 
 expected ; and as his general life had 
 been pious, his thoughts had doubtless 
 for many years past been turned upon 
 eternity. That you did not find him 
 sensible must doubtless grieve you ; his 
 disposition towards you was undoubt- 
 edly that of a kind though not of a fond 
 father. Kindness, at least actual, is in 
 our power, but fondness is not ; and if by 
 negligence or imprudence yoii had ex- 
 tinguished his fondness, he could not at 
 will rekindle it. Nothing then remained 
 between you but mutual forgiveness of 
 each other's faults, and mutual desire of 
 each other's happiness. 
 
 '* I shall long to know his final dispo« 
 sition of his fortune. 
 
 " You, dear sir, have now a new sta- 
 tion, and have therefore new cares and 
 new employments. Life, as Cowley 
 seems to say, ought to resemble a well 
 ordered poem ; of which one rule gene- 
 rally received is, that the exordium 
 should be simple, and should promise 
 little. Begin your new course of life 
 with the least show and the least expense 
 possible ; you may at pleasure increase 
 both, but you cannot easily diminish 
 them. Do not think your estate your 
 own, while any man can call upon you 
 for money which you cannot pay ; there- 
 fore begin with timorous parsimony. Let 
 it be your first care not to be in any 
 man's debt. 
 
 " When the thoughts are extended to 
 a future state, the present life seems 
 hardly worthy of all those principles of 
 conduct and maxims of prudence which 
 one generation of men has transmitted 
 to another ; but upon a closer view, when 
 it is perceived how much evil is pro- 
 duced, and how much good is impeded 
 by embarrassment and distress, and how 
 little room the expedients of poverty 
 leave for the exercise of virtue, it grows 
 manifest that the boundless importance 
 of the next life enforces some attention 
 to the interest of this. 
 
 " Be kind to the old servants, and 
 secure the kindness of the agents and 
 factors ; do not disgust them by asperity, 
 or unwelcome gaiety, or apparent suspi- 
 cion. From them yon must learn the 
 real state of your attairs, the characters 
 of your tenants, and the value of your 
 lands. 
 
 ** Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos- 
 well; I think her expectations from air 
 and exercise are the best that she can 
 form. 1 hope she will live long and 
 happily. 
 
 ♦• I forgot whether I told you that 
 Ilasay has been here ; we dined cheer- 
 fully together. I entertained lately a 
 young gentleman from Corrichatachin. 
 
JEtxt. 73. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " I received your letters only this 
 morning. I am, dear sir, 
 " Yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, Sept. 7, 1782. 
 
 lu answer to my next letter, I re- 
 ceived one from him, dissuading me 
 from hastening to him as I had pro- 
 posed ; what is proper for publication is 
 the following paragraph, equally just and 
 tender : — 
 
 " One expense, however, I would not 
 have you to spare ; let nothing be omit- 
 ted that can preserve Mrs. Boswell, 
 though it should be necessary to trans- 
 plant her for a time into a softer climate. 
 She is the prop and stay of your life. — 
 How much must your children sufier by 
 losing her." 
 
 My wife was now so much convinced 
 of his sincere friendship for mc and re- 
 gard for her, that, without any suggestion 
 on my part, she wrote him a very polite 
 and grateful letter. 
 
 " I)R. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL. 
 " DEAR LADY, 
 
 ** I HAVE not often received so much 
 pleasure as from your invitation to Au- 
 chinleck. The journey thither and back 
 is, indeed, too great for the latter part of 
 the year; but if my health were fully 
 recovered, I would suffer no little heat 
 and cold, nor a wet or a rough road, to 
 keep me from you. I am, indeed, not 
 without hope of seeing Auchinleck again ; 
 but to make it a pleasant place 1 must 
 see its lady well, and brisk, and airy. 
 For my sake, therefore, among many 
 greater reasons, take care, dear madam, 
 of your health, spare no expense, and 
 want no attendance that can prpcure 
 ease, or preserve it. Be very careful to 
 keep your mind quiet ; and do not think 
 it too much to give an account of your 
 recovery to, madam, 
 
 " Yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, Sept. 27, 1782." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Having passed almost this whole year 
 in a succession of disorders, I went in 
 October to Brighthelmstone, whither I 
 came in a state of so much weakness that 
 I rested four times in walking between 
 the inn and the lodging. By physick 
 and abstinence I grew better, and am 
 now reasonably easy, though at a great 
 distance from health. 1 am afraid, how- 
 ever, that health begins after seventy, 
 and long before, to have a meaning ditte- 
 rent from that which it had at thirty. 
 But it is'culpable to murmur at the esta- 
 blished order of the creation, as it is vain 
 
 525 
 
 to oppose it ; he that lives must grow 
 old ; and he that would rather grow old 
 than die has God to thank for the infir- 
 mities of old age. 
 
 '* At your long silence I am rather 
 angry. — You do not, since now you are 
 the head of your house, think it worth 
 your while to try whether you or your 
 friend can live longer without writing, 
 nor suspect, after so many years of friend- 
 ship, that when I do not write to you I 
 forget you. Put all such useless jealousies 
 out of your head, and disdain to regulate 
 your own practice by the practice of 
 another, or by any other principle than 
 the desire of doing right. 
 
 ** Your economy, I suppose, begins 
 now to be settled ; your expenses are 
 adjusted to your revenue, and all your 
 people in their proper places. Resolve 
 not to be poor : whatever you have, 
 spend less. Poverty is a great enemy to 
 human happiness; it certainly destroys 
 liberty, ancl it makes some virtues im- 
 practicable, and others extremely diffi- 
 cult. 
 
 " Let me know the history of your 
 life, since your accession to your estate. 
 How many houses, how many cows, how. 
 much land in your own hand, and what 
 bargains you make with your tenants. 
 ****** 
 
 ** Of my ' Lives of the Poets/ they 
 have printed a new^ edition in octavo, I 
 hear, of three thousand. Did I give a 
 set to Lord Hailes? If I did not, I will 
 do it out of these. What did you make 
 of all your copy 1 
 
 *' Mrs. Thrale and the three Misses 
 are now for the winter in Argyll Street. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds has been out of 
 order, but is well again : 
 
 "And I am, dear sir, 
 " Your aflfectionate humble servant> 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 "London, Dec. 7, 1782." 
 
 ** TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 " Edinburgh, Dec. 20, 1782. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I WAS made happy by your kind letter, 
 which gave us the agreeable hopes of 
 seeing you in Scotland again. 
 
 " 1 am much flattered by the concern 
 you are pleased to take in my recovery. 
 I am better, and hope to have it in my 
 power to convince you, by my attention, 
 of how much consequence I esteem your 
 health to the world and to myself. 
 
 " I remain, sir, with grateful respect, 
 " Your obliged and 
 
 '* Obedient servant, 
 
 " Margaret Boswell." 
 
 The death of Mr. Thrale had made a 
 very material alteration with respect to 
 Johnson's reception in that family. The 
 
526 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1782. 
 
 manly authority of the husband no longer 
 curbed the lively exuberance of the lady ; 
 and as her vanity had been fully gratified, 
 by having the Colossus of Literature 
 attached to her for many years, she gra- 
 dually became less assiduous to please 
 him. Whether her attachment to him 
 was already divided by another object, I 
 am unable to ascertain ; but it is plain 
 that Johnson's penetration was alive to 
 her neglect or forced attention ; for on 
 the 6th of October this year, we find 
 him making a " parting use of the li- 
 brary" at Strcatham, and pronouncing a 
 prayer, which he composed on leaving 
 Mr. Thrale's family*. 
 
 ** Almighty God, Father of all mercy, 
 help me by thy grace that I may, with 
 humble and sincere thankfulness, remem- 
 ber the comforts and conveniences which 
 I have enjoyed at this place ; and that I 
 may resign them with holy submission, 
 equally trusting in thy protection when 
 Thou givest, and when Thou takest away. 
 Have mercy upon me, O Lord, have 
 mercy upon me. 
 
 ** To thy fatherly protection, O Lord, 
 I commend this family. Bless, guide, 
 and defend them, that they may so pass 
 through this world as finally to enjoy in 
 thy presence everlasting happiness, for 
 Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 
 
 One cannot read this prayer without 
 some emotions not very favourable to the 
 lady whose conduct occasioned it. 
 
 In one of his memorandum books I 
 find, " Sunday, went to church at Streat- 
 ham. Templo valedixi cum osciilo." 
 
 He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe often at 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's and other places, 
 and was a good deal with him at Bright- 
 helmstone this autumn, being pleased at 
 once with his excellenttable and animated 
 conversation. Mr. Metcalfe showed him 
 great respect, and sent him a note that he 
 might have the use of his carriage when- 
 ever he pleased. Johnson (3d October, 
 1782) returned this polite answer : — 
 *' Mr. Johnson is very much obliged by 
 the kind offer of the carriage, but he has 
 no desire of using Mr. Metcalfe's car- 
 riage, except when he can have the plea- 
 sure of Mr. Metcalfe's company." Mr. 
 Metcalfe could not but be highly pleased 
 that his company was thus valued by 
 Johnson, and he frequently attended him 
 in airings. They also went together to 
 Chichester, and they visited Pctworth 
 and Cowdry, the venerable seat of the 
 Lords Montacutet. *' Sir (said John- 
 son), I should like to stay here four and 
 twenty hours. We see here how our 
 ancestors lived." 
 
 * Prayers and Meditations, p. 314. 
 t rTliis venerab!e ruiUision has since been 
 tuully destroyed by fire. M ] 
 
 That his curiosity was still unabated 
 appears from two letters to Mr. John 
 Nichols, of the 10th and 2(nh of October 
 this year. In one he says, *' I have 
 looked into your * Anecdotes,' and you 
 will hardly thank a lover of literary his- 
 tory for telling you that he has been 
 much informed and gratified. I wish yoa 
 would add your own discoveries and in- 
 telligence to those of Dr. Rawlinson, and 
 undertake the Supplement to Wood. 
 Think of it." In the other, *' I wish, 
 sir, you could obtain some fuller infor- 
 mation of Jortin, Markland, and Thirlby . 
 They were three contemporaries of great 
 eminence." 
 
 •* TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 " DE4R SIR, 
 
 ** I HEARD yesterday of your late disor- 
 der, and should think ill of myself if I 
 had heard of it without alarm. I heard 
 likewise of your recovery, which 1 sin- 
 cerely wish to be complete and perma- 
 nent. Your country has been in danger 
 of losing one of its brightest ornaments, 
 and 1 of losing one of my oldest and 
 kindest friends ; but I hope you will still 
 live long, for the honour of the nation : 
 and that more enjoyment of your ele- 
 gance, your intelligence, and your bene- 
 volence is still reserved for, dear sir, 
 " Your most aff^cctionate, &c. 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' Brighthelmstone, Nov. 14, 1782." 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Wilson having dedi- 
 cated to him his " Archivological Dic- 
 tionary," that mark of respect was thus 
 acknowledged : 
 
 ** TO THE reverend MR. WII,S0N, CUTHB- 
 ROE, LANCASHIRK. 
 ** REVEREND SIR, 
 
 " That I have long omitted to return 
 you thanks for the honour conferred upon 
 me by your Dedication, I entreat you 
 with great earnestness not to consider as 
 more faulty than it is. A very importu- 
 nate and oppressive disorder has for some 
 time debarred me from the pleasures, 
 and obstructed me in the duties, of life. 
 The esteem and kindness of wise and 
 good men -is one of the last pleasures 
 which I can be content to lose ; and gni- 
 titude to those from whom this pleasure 
 is received is a duty of which I hope 
 never to be reproached with the final 
 neglect. I therefore now return yon 
 thanks for the notice which I have re- 
 ceived from you, and which I consider 
 as giving to my name not only more 
 bulk, but more weight ; not only as ex- 
 tending its superficies, but as increasing 
 its value, "iour book was evidently 
 wanted, and will, I hope, find its way 
 into the school, to which, however, I do 
 
.^TAT. 7'A. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 527 
 
 not mean to confine it ; for no man has 
 so much skill in ancient rites and prac- 
 tices as not to want it. As I suppose 
 myself to owe part of your kindness to 
 my excellent friend, Dr. Patten, he has 
 likewise a just claim to my acknowledg- 
 ment, which I hope you, sir, will trans- 
 mit. There will soon appear a new 
 edition of my * Poetical Biography ;* if 
 you will accept of a copy to keep me in 
 your mind, be pleased to let me know 
 how it may be conveniently conveyed to 
 you. This present is small, but it is 
 given with good will by, reverend sir, 
 " Your most, &c. 
 
 '* Sam. Johnson." 
 " December 31, 1782." 
 
 In 1783 he was more severely afflicted 
 than ever, as will appear in the course 
 of his correspondence ; but still the same 
 ardour for literature, the same constant 
 piety, the same kindness for his friends, 
 and the same vivacity, both in conversa- 
 Jion and writing, distinguished him. 
 
 Having given Dr. Johnson a full ac- 
 count of what I was doing at Auchinleck, 
 and particularly mentioned what I knew 
 would please him, — my having brought 
 an old man of eighty-eight from a lonely 
 cottage to a comfortable habitation within 
 my enclosures, where he had good neigh- 
 bours near to him, — I received an answer 
 in February, of which I extract what 
 follows : 
 
 " I am delighted with your account of 
 your activity at Auchinleck, and wish 
 the old gentleman, whom you have so 
 Icindly removed, may live long to pro- 
 mote your prosperity by his prayers. 
 You have now a new character and 
 new duties ; think on them and practise 
 them. 
 
 ** Make an impartial estimate of your 
 revenue, and whatever it is, live upon 
 less. Resolve never to be poor. Frugality 
 is not only the basis of quiet, but of be- 
 neficence. No man can help others that 
 wants help himself; we must have enough 
 before we have to spare. 
 
 " I am glad to find that Mrs. Boswell 
 grows well ; and hope that, to keep her 
 well, no care nor caution will be omitted. 
 May you long live happily together. 
 
 " When you come hither, pray bring 
 with you Baxter's Anacreon. I cannot 
 get that edition in London*." 
 
 On Friday, March 21, having arrived 
 in London the night before, I was glad 
 to find him at Mrs. Thrale's house, in 
 Argyll Street, appearances of friendship 
 between them being still kept up. I was 
 
 * [Dr. Johnson should seem not to have 
 sought diliirenlly for Baxter's Anacreon, for 
 there are two editions of that book, and they 
 are fiequently found in the London Sale Cata- 
 logues. AL] 
 
 shown into his room, and after the first 
 salutation, he said, " I am glad you are 
 come : I am very ill." He looked pale, 
 and was distressed with a difficulty of 
 breathing : but after the common inqui- 
 ries he assumed his usual strong animated 
 style of conversation. Seeing me now 
 for the first time as a Laird, or proprie- 
 tor of land, he began thus : " Sir, the 
 superiority of a country gentleman over 
 the people upon his estate is very agree- 
 able : and he who says he does not feel 
 it to be agreeable lies; for it must be 
 agreeable to have a casual superiority 
 over those who are by nature equal with 
 us." Boswell. " Yet, sir, we see great 
 proprietors of land who prefer living in 
 London." Johnson. " Why, sir, the 
 pleasure of living in London, the intel- 
 lectual superiority that is enjoyed there, 
 may counterbalance the other. Besides, 
 sir, a man irjay prefer the state of the 
 country gentleman upon the whole, and 
 yet there may never be a moment when 
 he is willing to make the change, to quit 
 London for it." He said, " It is better 
 to have five per cent, out of land than 
 out of money, because it is more secure ; 
 but the readiness of transfer and prompt- 
 ness of interest make many people rather 
 choose the funds. Nay, there is another 
 disadvantage belonging to land, compared 
 with money. A man is not so much 
 afraid of being a hard creditor as of being 
 a hard landlord." Boswell. " Because 
 there is a sort of kindly connection be- 
 tween a landlord and his tenants." John- 
 son. " No, sir; many landlords with us 
 never see their tenants. It is because if 
 a landlord drives away his tenants, he 
 may not get others ; whereas the de- 
 mand for money is so great, it may 
 always be lent." 
 
 He talked with regret and indignation 
 of the factious opposition to Government 
 at this time, and imputed it in a great 
 iTieasure to the Revolution. " Sir (said 
 he, in a low voice, having come nearer 
 to me, while his old prejudices seemed 
 to be fomenting in his mind), this Hano- 
 verian family is isolee here. They have 
 no friends. Now the Stuarts had friends 
 who stuck by them so late as 1745. When 
 the right of the King is not reverenced, 
 there will not be reverence for those 
 appointed by the King." 
 
 His observation that the present royal 
 family has no friends has been too much 
 justified by the very ungrateful behaviour 
 of many who were under great obliga- 
 tions to his Majesty ; at the same time 
 there are honourable exceptions ; and the 
 very next year after this conversation^ 
 and ever since, the King has had as 
 extensive and generous support as ever 
 was given to any monarch, and has had 
 
528 
 
 the satisfaction of knowing that he was 
 
 more and more endeared to his people. 
 
 He repeated to me his verses on Mr. 
 Levett, with an emotion which gave 
 them full effect ; and then he was pleased 
 to say, *' You must be as much with me 
 as you can. You have done me good. 
 You cannot think how much better I am 
 since you came in." 
 
 He sent a message to acquaint Mrs. 
 Thrale that I was arrived. I had not seen 
 her since her husband's death. She soon 
 appeared, and favoured me with an invi- 
 tation to stay to dinner, which I accepted. 
 There was no other company but herself 
 and three of her daughters, Dr. Johnson 
 and I. She too said she was very glad ] 
 was come, for she was going to IJath 
 and should have been sorry to leave Dr. 
 Johnson before I came. This seemed to 
 be attentive and kind ; and I, who had 
 not been informed of any change, ima- 
 gined all to be as well as formerly. He 
 was little inclined to talk at dinner, and 
 went to sleep after it; but when he joined 
 ns in the drawing-room he seemed re- 
 vived, and was again himself. 
 
 Talking of conversation, he said, 
 " There must, in the tirst place, be 
 knowledge, there must be materials ; — 
 in the second place, there must be a 
 command of words; — in the third place, 
 there must be imagination, to place things 
 in such views as they are not commonly 
 seen in ; — and in the fourth place, there 
 inust be presence of mind, and a resolu- 
 tion that is not to be overcome by failures ; 
 this last is an essential requisite ; for 
 want of it many people do not excel in 
 conversation. Now / want it ; I throw 
 up the game upon losing a trick." I 
 wondered to hear him talk thus of him 
 self, and said, " 1 don't know, sir, how 
 this may be ; but I am sure you beat 
 other people's cards out of their hands." 
 1 doubt whether he heard this remark. 
 While he went on talking triumphantly, 
 I was fixed in admiration, and said to 
 Mrs. Thrale, " O, for short-hand to take 
 this down!"— ** You'll carry it all in 
 your head (said she) ; a long head is as 
 good as short-hand." 
 
 It has been observed and wondered at 
 that Mr. Charles Fox never talked with 
 any freedom in the presence of ])r. John- 
 son ; though it is well known, and I my- 
 self can witness that his conversation is 
 various, fluent, and exceedingly agree- 
 able. Johnson's own experience, how- 
 ever, of that gentleman's reserve was a 
 HUflicient reason for his going on thus : 
 " Fox never talks in private company ; 
 not from any determination not to talk, 
 but because he has not the first motion. 
 A man who is used to the applause of the 
 House of Commons has no wish for that 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1783. 
 
 of a private company. A man accus- 
 tomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if 
 set down to throw for sixpence, would 
 not be at the pains to count his dice. 
 Burke's talk is the ebullition of his mind ; 
 he does not talk from a desire of distinc- 
 tion, but because his mind is full." 
 
 He thus curiously characterized one of 
 our old acquaintance : *«******♦* jg 
 a good man, sir ; but he is a vain man 
 and a liar. He, however, only tells lies 
 of vanity ; of victories, for instance, in 
 conversation, which never happened.'' 
 This alluded to a story which I had re- 
 peated from that gentleman, to entertain 
 Johnson with its wild bravado: "This 
 Johnson, sir (said he), whom you are all 
 afraid of, will shrink if you come close to 
 him in argument, and roar as loud as he. 
 He once maintained the paradox that 
 there is no beauty but in utility. * Sir 
 (said I), what say you to the peacock's 
 tail, which is one of the most beautiful 
 objects in nature, but would have as 
 much utility if its feathers were all of 
 one colour.' He felt what I thus pro- 
 duced, and had recourse to his usual 
 expedient, ridicule ; exclaiming, *A pea- 
 cock has a tail, and a fox has a tail ;' 
 and then he burst out into a laugh. — 
 ' Well, sir (said I, with a strong voice, 
 looking him full in the face), you have 
 unkennelled your fox ; pursue him if you 
 dare.' He had not a word to say, sir." 
 Johnson told me that this was fiction 
 from beginning to end*. 
 
 After musing for some time, he said, 
 ** I wonder how I should have any ene- 
 mies ; for I do harm to nobody f." Bos- 
 well. " In the first place, sir, you will 
 be pleased to recollect that you set out 
 with attacking the Scotch ; so you got a 
 vvhole nation for your enemies." John- 
 son. " Why, I own that by my definition 
 
 * Were, I to insert all the stories which have 
 been told of contests boldly maintained \viii> 
 bini, imaginary victories obtained over bira, 
 of reducing him to silence, and of niaking- 
 him own that his anta^tonist had the better of 
 him in argument, my volumes would swell to 
 an immoderate size. One instance, I And, lias 
 circulated both in conversation and in print; 
 that when he would not allow ihe Scotch 
 writers to have merit, the late Dr. Rose, of 
 Chiswick, asserted that he could mime one 
 Scotch writer wlioin Dr. Johnson iiimseif 
 would allo« to have written beiier than any 
 man of the ape ; and upon Johnson's asking 
 who it was, answered, •• Lord Bute, when he 
 sijfned the warrant for your pension." Upon 
 which, Johnson, struck with the repartee, 
 acknowledcfcd that this was true. When I 
 mentioned it to Johnson, •• Sir (said he), if 
 Rose said this, I never heard it." 
 
 t This n'flection was very natural in a man 
 of a g'ood heart, who was not conscious of any 
 ill will to mankind, though the sharp sayines 
 which were sometimes produced by his dis- 
 crimination and vivacity, whi<'h iie perhaps 
 <iid not recollect, were, I am afraid, too often 
 eraenibered with resentment. 
 
iETAT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 529 
 
 of oats I meant to vex them." Boswell. 
 ** Pray, sir, can you trace the cause of 
 your antipathy to the Scotch'?" John- 
 son. " I cannot, sir." Boswell. " Old 
 Mr. Sheridan says, it was because they 
 sold Charles the First." Johnson. 
 *' Then, sir, old Mr. Sheridan has found 
 out a very good reason." 
 
 Surely the most obstinate and sulky 
 nationality, the most determined aversion 
 to this great and good man, must be 
 cured when he is seen thus playing with 
 one of his prejudices, of which he can- 
 didly admitted that he could not tell the 
 reason. It was, however, probably owing 
 to his having had in his view the worst 
 part of the Scottish nation, the needy- 
 adventurers, many of whom he thought 
 were advanced above their merits by 
 means which he did not approve. Had 
 he in his early life been in Scotland, 
 iand seen the worthy, sensible, indepen- 
 dent gentlemen, who live rationally and 
 hospitably at home, he never could have 
 entertained such unfavourable and unjust 
 notions of his fellow-subjects. And ac- 
 cordingly we find that when he did visit 
 Scotland, in the latter period of his life, 
 he was fully sensible of all that it de- 
 served, as I have already pointed out, 
 when speaking of his " Journey to the 
 Western Islands." 
 
 Next day, Saturday, March 22, I found 
 him still at Mrs. Thrale's, but he told 
 me that he was to go to his own house in 
 the afternot>n. He was better, but I per- 
 ceived he was but an unruly patient ; for 
 Sir Lucas Pepys, who visited him while 
 I was with him said, " If you were 
 tractable, sir, I should prescribe for 
 you." 
 
 I related to him a remark which a 
 respectable friend had made to me upon 
 the then state of Government, when 
 those who had been long in opposition 
 had attained to power, as it was sup- 
 posed, against the inclination of the So- 
 vereign. " You need not be uneasy (said 
 this gentleman) about the King. He 
 laughs at them all ; he plays them one 
 against another." Johnson. '* Don't 
 think so, sir. The King is as much op- 
 pressed as a man can be. If he plays 
 them one against another, he wi7is no- 
 tching." 
 
 I had paid a visit to General Ogle- 
 thorpe in the morning, and was told by 
 him that Dr. Johnson saw company on 
 Saturday evenings, and he would meet 
 me at Johnson's that night. When J 
 mentioned this to Johnson, not doubting 
 that it would please hirq, as he had a 
 great value for Oglethorpe, the fretfulness 
 of hisdisease unexpectedly showed itself ; 
 his anger suddenly kindled, and he said, 
 with vehemence, " Did not you tell him 
 
 not to come 1 Am I to be hunted in 
 this manner?" I satisfied him that I 
 could not divine that the visit would not 
 be convenient, and that I certainly could 
 not take it upon me of my own accord 
 to forbid the General. 
 
 I found Dr. Johnson in the evening in 
 Mrs. Williams's room, at tea and coffee 
 with her and Mrs. Desmoulins, who were 
 also both ill ; it was a sad scene, and he 
 was not in a very good humour. He said 
 of a performance that had lately con^e 
 out, " Sir, if you should search all the 
 madhouses in England, you would not 
 find ten men who would write so, and 
 think it sense." 
 
 I was glad when General Oglethorpe's 
 arrival was announced, and we left the 
 ladies. Dr. Johnson attended him in the 
 parlour, and was as courteous as ever. 
 The General said, he was busy reading 
 the writers of the middle age. Johnson 
 said they were very curious. Ogle- 
 THOKPE. " The House of Commons has 
 usurped the power of the nation's money, 
 and used it tyrannically. Government 
 is now carried on by corrupt infinence 
 instead of the inherent right in the King." 
 Johnson. " Sir, the want of inherent 
 right in the King occasions all this dis- 
 turbance. What vve did at the Revolu- 
 tion was necessary : but it broke our 
 constitution*." Oglethokpe. " My fa- 
 ther did not think it necessary." 
 
 On Sunday, March 23, I breakfasted 
 with Dr. Johnson, who seemed much re- 
 lieved, having taken opium the night 
 before. He however protested against it, 
 as a remedy that should be given with 
 the utmost reluctance, and only in ex- 
 treme necessity. I mentioned how com- 
 monly it was used in Turkey, and that 
 therefore it could not be so pernicious as 
 he apprehended. He grew^ warm, and 
 said, *' Turks take opium, and Christians 
 take opium; but Russel, in his account 
 of Aleppo, tells us that it is as disgraceful 
 in Turkey to take too much opium as it 
 is with us to get drunk. Sir, it is amaz- 
 ing how things are exaggerated. A gen- 
 tleman was lately telling in a company 
 where I was present, that in France as 
 soon as a man of fashion marries, he 
 takes an opera girl into keeping ; and 
 this he mentioned as a general custom. 
 ' Pray, sir (said I), how many opera girls 
 
 * I have, in my " Journal of a Tour to the 
 Hebrides," fully expn ssed my senii meats upon 
 iliiii subject. The Revolution was necessary, 
 but uol a subject for glory ; because ii for a 
 loiijj time blasted the generous feelings of 
 Loyalty. An<l now, when by the beuia^nant 
 effect of tinie the present Royal Family are 
 established in our affections, how unwise is it 
 to revive by celebrations the memory of a 
 shock which it would surely have been better 
 that our constitution had not reouiied. 
 M M 
 
5-30 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 may there be?' He answered, 'About 
 fourscore.' * Well then, sir (said I), you 
 see there can be no more than fourscore 
 men of fashion who can do this.* '' 
 
 Mrs. Desmoulins made tea ; and she 
 and I talked before him upon a topick 
 which he had once borne patiently from 
 me when we were by ourselves, — his not 
 complaining of the world because he was 
 not called to some great office, nor had 
 attained to great wealth. He flew into a 
 violent passion, I confess with some jus- 
 tice, and commanded us to have done. 
 ** Nobody (said he) has a right to talk in 
 this manner, to bring before a man his 
 own character, and the events of his life, 
 when he does not choose it should be 
 done. I never have sought the world ; 
 tfie world was not to seek me. It is 
 rather wonderful that so much has been 
 done for me. All the complaints which 
 are made of the world are unjust. I never 
 knew a man of merit neglected: it was 
 generally by his own fault that he failed 
 of success. A man miiy hide his head in 
 a hole : he may go into the country, and 
 publish a book now and then, which no- 
 body reads, and then complain he is 
 neglected. There is no reason why any 
 person should exert himself for a man 
 who has written a good book ; he has 
 not written it for any individual. I may 
 as well make a present to the postman 
 who brings me a letter. When patronage 
 was limited, an authour expected to find 
 a Maecenas, and complained if he did not 
 find one. Why should he complain? This 
 Maecenas has others as good as he, or 
 others who have got the start of him." 
 BoswELi-. *' But surely, sir, you will 
 allow that there are men of merit at the 
 bar, who never get practice." Johnson. 
 *' Sir, you are sure that practice is got 
 from an opinion that the person employed 
 deserves it best ; so that if a man of merit 
 at the bar does not get practice, it is 
 from errour, not from injustice. He is 
 not neglected. A horse that is brought 
 to market may not be bought, though he 
 is a very good horse : but that is from 
 ii^norance, not from intention." 
 
 There was in this discourse much no- 
 velty, ingenuity, and discrimination, such 
 as is seldom to be found. Yet I cannot 
 help thinking that men of merit, who have 
 no success in life, may be forgiven for 
 lamenting, if they are not allowed to 
 complain. They may consider it as hard 
 that their merit should not have its suit- 
 able distinction. Though there is no 
 intentional injustice towards them on the 
 part of the world, their merit not having 
 been perceived, they may yet repine 
 against ybr^Mwe, ovfatc, or by whatever 
 name they choose to call the supposed 
 ni} thological power of Destiny. It has. 
 
 however, occurred to me, as a consola- 
 tory thought, that men of merit should 
 consider thus : — How much harder would 
 it be, if the same persons had both all the 
 merit and all the prosperity. Would not 
 this be a miserable distribution for the 
 poor dunces? Would men of merit ex- 
 change their intellectual superiority, and 
 the enjoyments arising from it, for ex- 
 ternal distinction and the pleasures of 
 wealth? If they would not, let them not 
 envy others, who are poor where they 
 are rich, a compensation which is made 
 to them. Let them look inwards and 
 be satisfied ; recollecting with conscious 
 pride what Virgil finely says of the 
 Corycius Senex, and which I have, in 
 another place*, with truth and sincerity 
 applied to Mr. Burke : 
 
 " Rcgtim cEquabat opes animis.^' 
 
 On the subject of the right employment 
 of wealth Johnson observed, *' A man 
 cannot make a bad use of his money, so 
 far as regards society, if he do not hoard 
 it ; for if he either spends it or lends it 
 out, society has the benefit. It is in 
 general better to spend money than to 
 give it away ; for industry is more pro- 
 moted by spending money than by giving 
 it away. A man who spends his money 
 is sure he is doing good with it : he is not 
 so sure when he gives it away. A man 
 who spends ten thousand a year will do 
 more good than a man who spends two 
 thousand and gives away eight." 
 
 In the evening I came to him again. 
 He was somewhat fretful from his illness. 
 A gentleman asked him whether he had 
 been abroad to-day. ** Don't talk so 
 childishly (said he). You may as well 
 ask if I hanged myself to-day." I men- 
 tioned politicks. Johnson. '* Sir, I'd as 
 soon have a man to break my bones as 
 talk to me of publick alfairs, internal or 
 external. I have lived to see things all 
 as bad as they can be." 
 
 Having mentioned his friend, the se- 
 cond Lord Southwell, he said, ** Lord 
 Southwell was the highest bred man 
 without insolence that I ever was in 
 company with ; the most qualified I ever 
 saw. Lord Orrery was not dignified ; 
 Lord Chesterfield was, but he was inso- 
 lent. Lord *•♦•*♦♦•• 13 a man of 
 coarse manners, but a man of abilities 
 and information. I don't say he is a man 
 I would set at the head of a nation, 
 though perhaps he may be as good as the 
 next Prime Minister that con)cs ; but he 
 is a man to be at the head of a Club ; — 
 I don't say our Club; — for there's no 
 such Club." BoswELL. " But, sir, was 
 
 • Letter to Hie People of Scotland against 
 the Attempt to diminish (he Nuinbei of liie 
 Lords of Session, 1785. 
 
.^TAT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 lie not once a factious mani'' Johnson. 
 " O yes, sir ; as factious a fellow as could 
 be found ; one who was for sinking us all 
 into the mob." Boswell. " How, then, 
 sir, did he get into favour with the King?" 
 Johnson. ** Because, sir, I suppose he 
 promised the King to do whatever the 
 King pleased." 
 
 He said, " Goldsmith's blundering 
 speech to Lord Shelburne, which has 
 been so often mentioned, and which he 
 really did make to him, was only a 
 blunder in emphasis: — ' I wonder they 
 should call your Lordship Malagrida, 
 tor Malagrida was a very good man ;' — 
 meant, I wonder they should use Mala- 
 grida as a term of reproach." 
 
 Soon after this time I had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing, by means of one of his 
 friends, a proof that his talents, as well 
 as his obliging service to authours, were 
 ready as ever. He had revised " The 
 Village," an admirable poem, by the Re- 
 verend Mr. Crabbe. Its sentiments as to 
 the false notions of rustick happiness and 
 rustick virtue were quite congenial with 
 his own ; and he had taken the trouble 
 not only to suggest slight corrections and 
 variations, but to furnish some lines, 
 when he thought he could give the wri- 
 ter's meaning better than in the words of 
 the manuscript*. 
 
 On Sunday, March 30, I found him at 
 home in the evening, and had the plea 
 sure to meet with Dr. Brocklesby, whose 
 reading, and knowledge of life, and good 
 spirits supply him with a never failing 
 source of conversation. He mentioned 
 a respectable gentleman, who became 
 extremely penurious near the close of his 
 life. Johnson said there must have been 
 
   I sliall give an instance, marking: the ori- 
 
 final by Roman, and Johnson's subslituUon in 
 lalick characters: 
 
 ♦« In fairer scenes, where peaceful pleasures 
 
 sprinaf, 
 Tityrus, the pride of Mantuan swains, might 
 
 sing ; 
 But charmed hy him, or smitten with his 
 
 views, 
 Shall modern poets court the Mantuan muse ? 
 From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, 
 Wliere Fancy leads, or Virgil led the way !" 
 
 '* On Miucio^s banks, in Ccesar^s bounteous 
 
 reign, 
 If Tityrus found the golden age again, 
 Must sleepy bards tlie Jiattcring dream pro- 
 long, 
 Mechanick echoes of the Mantuan song ? 
 From I'ruth and Nature shall we widely stray, 
 Where Virgil, not xchere Fancy, leads the 
 7cay .'" 
 
 Here we find Johnson's poetical and critical 
 powers undiminished. I must, however, o!)- 
 serve, that the aids he gave to this poem, as 
 to " The Traveller" and " Deserted Village " 
 of Goldsmith, were so small as hy no means 
 to impair the distinguished merit of the 
 authoiir. 
 
 531 
 
 a degree of madness about him. ** Not 
 at all, sir (said Dr. Brocklesby), hjs 
 judgment was entire." Unluckily, how- 
 ever, he mentioned that, although he 
 had a fortune of twenty-seven thousand 
 pounds, he denied himself many com- 
 forts, from an apprehension that he could 
 not aiFord them. " Nay, sir (cried John- 
 son), when the judgment is so disturbed 
 that a man cannot count, that is pretty 
 well." 
 
 I shall here insert a few of Johnson's 
 sayings, without the formality of dates, as 
 they have no reference to any particular 
 time or place. 
 
 " The more a man extends and varies 
 his acquaintance the better." This, how- 
 ever, was meant with a just restric- 
 tion ; for, he on another occasion said 
 to me, " Sir, a man may be so much 
 of every thing, that he is nothing of any 
 thing." 
 
 " Raising the wages of day labourers is 
 wrong ; for it does not make them live 
 better, but only makes them idler, and 
 idleness is a very bad thing for human 
 nature." 
 
 " It is a very good custom to keep a 
 journal for a man's own use ; he may 
 write upon a card a day all that is neces- 
 sary to be written, after he has had expe- 
 rience of life. At first there is a great 
 deal to be written, because there is a 
 great deal of novelty ; but when once 
 a nian has settled his opinions, there is 
 seldom much to be set down." 
 
 " There is nothing wonderful in the 
 Journal t which we see Swift kept in 
 London, for it contains slight topicks, 
 and it might soon be written." 
 
 I praised the accuracy of an account- 
 book of a lady whom I mentioned. 
 Johnson. " Keeping accounts, sir, is of 
 no use when a man is spending his own 
 money, and has nobody to whom he is to 
 
 t [Fn his Life of Swift he thus speaks of this 
 Journal : 
 
 " In the midst of his power and his poli- 
 ticks, he kept a journal of his visits, his 
 walks, his interviews with ministers, and 
 quarrels with his servant, and transmitted it 
 to Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Dingley, to whom 
 he knew that whatever befell him was interest- 
 ing, and no account could be too minute. 
 Whether these diurnal trifles were properly 
 exposed to eyes which had never received any 
 pleasure from the Denn may be reasonably 
 doubted : they have, however, some odd at- 
 tractions: the reader, finding frequent men- 
 tion of names which he has been used to 
 consider as important, goes on in hope of 
 information ; and, as there is nothing to 
 fatigue attention, if he is disappointed he can 
 hardly complain." 
 
 It may be added, that tiie reader not only 
 hopes to find, but does find, in this very enter- 
 taining Journal, much curious information 
 respecting persons and things which he will 
 in vain seek for in other books of the same 
 period. M.J 
 
532 
 
 account. Yon won't eat less beef to-day, 
 because yon have written down what it 
 cost yesterday." I mentioned another 
 lady who thought as he did, so that her 
 husband could not get her to keep an 
 account of the expense of the family, as 
 she thought it enough that she never 
 exceeded the sum allowed her. John- 
 son. " Sir, it is fit she should keep an 
 account, because her husband wishes it; 
 but I do not see its use." I maintained 
 that keeping an account has this advan- 
 tage, that it satisfies a man that his money 
 has not been lost or stolen, which he 
 might sometimes be apt to imagine, 
 were there no written state of his ex- 
 pense ; and besides, a calculation of 
 economy, so as not to exceed one's in- 
 come, cannot be made without a view of 
 the different articles in figures, that one 
 may see how to retrench in some parti- 
 culars less necessary than others. This 
 he did not attempt to answer. 
 
 Talking of an acquaintance of ours, 
 whose narratives, which abounded in 
 curious and interesting topicks, were un- 
 happily found to be very fabulous; I 
 mentioned Lord Mansfield's having said 
 to me, " Suppose we believe one half oi 
 what he tells." Johnson. "Ay; but we 
 don't know which half to believe. By 
 his lying we lose not only our reverence 
 for him, but all comfort in his conversa- 
 tion." BosWELL. " May we not take it 
 as amusing fiction?" Johnson. "Sir, 
 the misfortune is, that you will insensi- 
 bly believe as much of it as yott incline 
 to believe." 
 
 It is remarkable that, notwithstanding 
 their congeniality in politicks, he never 
 was acquainted with a late eminent noble 
 judge, whom I have heard speak of him 
 as a writer, with great respect. Johnson, 
 I know not upon what degree of investi- 
 gation, entertained no exalted opinion of 
 his Lordship's intellectual character. 
 Talking of him to me one day, he said, 
 " It is wonderful, sir, with how little 
 real superiority of mind men can make 
 an eminent figure in publick life." He 
 expressed himself to the samy purpose 
 concerning another law lord, who, it 
 seems, once took a fancy to associate 
 with the wits of London ; but with so 
 little success, that Foote said, "What 
 can he mean by coming among us? He 
 is not only dull himself, but the cause 
 of dulness in others." Trying him by 
 the test of his colloquial powers, Johnson 
 had found him very defective. He once 
 said to Sir Joshua Reynolds, ** This man 
 now has been ten years about town, and 
 has made nothing of it ; meaning as a 
 companion*." He said to me, *' 1 never 
 * Knowing as well as 1 do what preciBion 
 and elegance of oratory tiis Lordsiiip can 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 heard any thing from him in company 
 that was at all striking ; and depend upon 
 it, sir, it is when you come close to a 
 man in conversation, that you discover 
 what his real abilities are: to make a 
 speech in a publick assembly is a knack. 
 Now I honour Thurlow, sir ; Thurlow is 
 a fine feliow ; he fairly puts his mind to 
 yours." 
 
 After repeating to him some of his 
 pointed, lively sayings, I said, " It is a 
 pity, sir, you don't always remember 
 your own good things, that you may 
 have a laugh when you will." Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, it is better that I forget them, 
 that I may be reminded of them, and 
 have a laugh on their being brought to 
 my recollection." 
 
 When I recalled to him his having 
 said as we sailed up Lochlomond, "Tbat 
 if he wore any thing fine, it should be - 
 very fine ;" I observed that all his 
 thoughts were upon a great scale. John- 
 son. " Depend upon it, sir, every man 
 will have as fine a thing as he can get; 
 as large a diamond for his ring." Bos- 
 WEix. "Pardon me, sir: a man of a 
 narrow mind will not think of it, a slight 
 trinket will satisfy him : 
 ' AVc svfferre qucat majoris pondera gemmm.'' " 
 
 I told him I should send him some 
 " Essays" which I had written t, which 
 I hoped he would be so good as to read 
 and pick out the good ones. Johnson. 
 " Nay, sir, send me only the good ones ; 
 don't make me pick them." 
 
 I heard him once say, ** Though the 
 proverb * Nullum numen ahest, si sit 
 jyrudentia,' does not always prove true, 
 we may be certain of the converse of it. 
 Nullum numen adest, si sit impruden- 
 tia." 
 
 Once, when Mr. Seward was going to 
 Bath, and asked his commands, be said, 
 " Tell Dr. Harrington that I wish he 
 would publish another volume of the 
 • Nu{/(B AntiquceX:* it is a very pretty 
 bookj." Mr. Seward seconded this 
 
 display, I cannot but suspect that his unfa- 
 voiiraiile appearance in asocial oir«-lc, which 
 drew such aiiimadvertiions upon liim, must be 
 owing to a cold affectation of consequence, 
 from being reserved and stiff. If it be 80, 
 and he might be an agiceahle man if he 
 would, we cannot be sorry that he misi-es his 
 aim. 
 
 t [Under the title of '•The Hypocondriack." 
 M.] 
 
 I (t has since appeared. 
 
 ^ [A new and greatly improved edition of 
 lliiH very curious collection was pultli^^hed by 
 IMr. i'ark in 1804, in two volumes, octavo. In 
 this edition the letters are chronologically 
 arrantfC'd, and the account of the Bishops, 
 which was formerly |)rinted from a very cor- 
 rupt copy, is taken from Sir John liarrini?- 
 ton's original manuscript, which he presented 
 to Henrv. Prince of Wales, and is now in the 
 Uoval Library in the Museum. M.] 
 
El AT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 633 
 
 wisli, and recommended to Dr. Harring- 
 ton to dedicate it to Johnson, and take 
 titr his motto what Catulkis says to Cor- 
 nelius Nepos : 
 
 " namqne tu solebas, 
 
 Meas esse aliquid putare nugas." 
 
 As a small proof of his kindliness and 
 delicacy of feeling, the following circum- 
 stance may be mentioned. One evening 
 when we were in the street together, and 
 I told him I was going to sup at Mr. 
 Beauclerk's, he said, " I'll go with you." 
 After having walked part of the way, 
 eeeming to recollect something, he sud- 
 denly stopped and said, " I cannot go, — 
 but / do not love Beauclerk the less." 
 
 On the frame of his portrait Mr. Beau- 
 clerk had inscribed, 
 
 " Ingenittm ingens 
 
 Incullo latet hoc sub corpoie." 
 After Mr. Beauclerk's death, when it 
 became Mr. Langton's property, he 
 made the inscription be defaced. John- 
 son said complacently, " It was kind in 
 you to take it off;'' and then, after a 
 short pause, added, " and not unkind in 
 him to put it on." 
 
 He said, ** How few of his friends' 
 houses would a man choose to be at when 
 he is sick !" He mentioned one or two. 
 I recollect only Thrale's. 
 
 He observed, ** There is a wicked in- 
 clination in most people to suppose an 
 old man decayed in his intellects. If a 
 young or middle aged man, when leaving 
 a<:ompany, does not recollect where he 
 laid his hat, it is nothing ; but if the 
 same inattention is discovered in an old 
 man, people will shrug up their shoulders, 
 and say, * His memory is going.* " 
 
 When I once talked to him of some of 
 the sayings which every body repeats 
 but noboily knows where to find, such 
 as, Quos Deus vult perdere, prius de- 
 ment at ; he told me that he was once 
 offered ten guineas to point out from 
 whence Semel insanivimus omnes was 
 taken. He could not do it ; but many 
 years afterwards met witk it by chance 
 in Johannes Baptista Mantuanus* . 
 
 • [The words occur Cas Mr. Bindley observes 
 to me) in the First Eclogue of Mantuanus, De 
 honesto Amove, 6cc. 
 
 1<I commune malum ; semel insanivimus omnes. 
 Witli the following elucidation of the other 
 sayinar— Qko« DfwA- (it should rather be— Quewt 
 Jupiter) vult perdere, prius demenlat—yir. 
 3oswell was furnished by Mr. liichard How, 
 of Ansley, in Bedfordshire, as coraprjunicated 
 to that gentleman by his friend Mr. John 
 Pitts, late Rector of Great Brickhill, in Buck- 
 inghamshire : 
 
 " Perhaps no scrap of Latin whatever has 
 been more quoted than this. It occasionally 
 falls even from those who are scrupulous 
 (Bven to pedantry in their Latinity, and will 
 |iot admit a word into their compositions, 
 \i'hich has not the sanction of the first 
 
 I am very sorry that I did not lake a 
 note of an eloquent argument in which 
 he maintained that the situation of Prince 
 of Wales was the happiest of any per- 
 son's in the kingdom, even beyond that 
 of the Sovereign. I recollect only — the 
 enjoyment of hope, — the high superio- 
 rity of rank without the anxious cares 
 of government, — and a great degree of 
 power, both from natural influence wisely 
 used, and from the sanguine expecta- 
 tions of those who look forward to the 
 chance of future favour. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds communicated 
 to me the following particulars : 
 
 Johnson thought the poems published 
 as translations from Ossian had so little 
 merit that he said, " Sir, a man might 
 write such stuff for ever if he would 
 abandon his mind to it." 
 
 He said, " A man should pass a part 
 of his time with the laughers, by which 
 means any thing ridiculous or particular 
 about him might be presented to his 
 view, and corrected." I observed, he 
 must have been a bold laugher who would 
 have ventured to tell Dr. Johnson of any 
 of his particularities t. 
 
 age. The word demento is of no authority, 
 either as a verb active or neuter.— After a 
 long search for the purpose of deciding a bet, 
 some gentlemen of Cambridge found it among 
 the fragments of Euripides, iu what edition 1 
 do not recollect, where it is given as a trans- 
 lation of a Greek lambick: 
 
 Ov ®sog SeXfj ctiToktrM ttjii^t' a7ro<t>g£vat. 
 The above scrap was found in the handwrit- 
 ing of a suicide of fashion, Sir D. O. some 
 years aa;o, lying on the table of the room 
 where he had destroyed himself. The suicide 
 was a man of classical acquirements: he left 
 no other paper behind him." 
 
 Another of these proverbial sayings — 
 Incidil in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim, 
 1 some years ago, in a Note on a passage in 
 " The Merchant of Venice," traced to its 
 source. It occurs (with a slight variation) in 
 the " Alexandreis" of Philip Gualtier (a poet 
 of the thirteenth century), which was printed 
 at Lyons in 1558. Darius is the person ad- 
 dressed : 
 
 Quo tend is inertem. 
 
 Rex periture, fugam? nescis, heu! perdite, 
 
 nescis 
 Quem fugias : hostes incurris dum fugis hos- 
 
 tem; 
 Incidis iu Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim. 
 
 The authour of this line was first ascertained 
 by Galleottus Martins, who died in 1476; as 
 is observed in " Menagiana," vol. iii. p. 130. 
 edit. 1702.— For an account of Philip Gualtier, 
 see " Vossius de Poet. Latin." p. 254, fol 
 iq97. 
 
 A line not less frequently quoted than any 
 of the preceding, was suggested for inquiry 
 several years ago, in a Note on " The Rape 
 of Lucrece :" 
 
 Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris: — 
 But the authour of this verse has not, I be- 
 lieve, been discovered. M.] 
 
 + 1 am happy, however, to mention a pleas- 
 ing instance of his enduring with great gen- 
 
534 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S3. 
 
 Having observed the vain ostentatious 
 importance of many people in quoting 
 the authority of Dukes and Lords as 
 having been in their company, he said, 
 he went to the other extreme, and did 
 not mention his authority when he should 
 have done it, had it not been that of a 
 Duke or a Lord. 
 
 Dr. Goldsmith said once to Dr. John- 
 sou, that he wished for some additional 
 members to the Literary Club, to give 
 it an agreeable variety; for (said he), 
 there can now be nothing new among 
 us : we have travelled over one another's 
 minds. Johnson seemed a little angry, 
 and said, ** Sir, you have not travelled 
 over my mind, I promise you." Sir 
 Joshua, however, thought Goldsmith 
 right ; observing, that " when people 
 have lived a great deal together, they 
 know what each of them will say on 
 every subject. A new understanding, 
 therefore, is desirable ; because though 
 it may only furnish the same sense upon 
 a question which would have been fur- 
 nished by those with whom we are ac- 
 customed to live, yet this sense will 
 have a different colouring ; and colouring 
 is of much effect in every thing else as 
 well as in painting." 
 
 Johnson used to say, that he made it a 
 constant rule to talk as well as he could 
 both as to sentiment and expression, by 
 which means, what had been originally 
 effort became familiar and easy. The 
 consequence of this, Sir Joshua observed, 
 was, that his common conversation in all 
 companies was such as to secure him 
 universal attention, as something above 
 the usual colloquial style was expected. 
 
 Yet, though Johnson had this habit in 
 company, when another mode was ne- 
 cessary, in order to investigate truth, he 
 could descend to a language intelligible 
 to the meanest capacity. An instance 
 of this was witnessed by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, when they were present at an 
 examination of a little blackguard boy, 
 by Mr. Saunders Welch, the late West- 
 minster Justice. Welch, who imagined 
 that he was exalting himself in Dr. John- 
 son's eyes by using big words, spoke in 
 a manner that was utterly unintelligible 
 to the boy ; Dr. Johnson, perceiving it, 
 addressed himself to the boy, and changed 
 the pompous phraseology into colloquial 
 language. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who 
 
 tieness to hear one of liis most striking- parti- 
 cularities pointed out:— Miss tliinter, a niece 
 of his friend Christopher Smart, when a very 
 young (i^irl, struck hy his extraordinary mo- 
 tions, said to him, " Pray, Dr. Johnson, why 
 do vou make such stranffe gestures ?"— «« From 
 bacf habit (he replied). Do you, my dear, 
 take care to eruard against bad habits." This 
 I was tolil hy the young lady's brother at 
 Margate. 
 
 was mach amused by this procedure, 
 which seemed a kind of reversing of 
 what might have been expected from 
 the two men, took notice of it to Dr. 
 Johnson as they walked away by them- 
 selves. Johnson said, that it was conti- 
 nually the case ; and that he was always 
 obliged to translate the Justice's swell- 
 ing diction (smiling), so as that his mean- 
 ing might be understood by the vulgar, 
 from whom information was to be ob- 
 tained. 
 
 Sir Joshua once observed to him, that 
 he had talked above the capacity of 
 some people with whom they had been 
 in company together. " No matter, sir 
 (said Johnson) ; they consider it as a 
 compliment to be talked to, as if they 
 were wiser than they are. So true is 
 this, sir, that Baxter made it a rule, in 
 every sermon that he preached, to say 
 something that was above the capacity 
 of his audience*." 
 
 Johnson's dexterity in retort, when he 
 seemed to be driven to an extremity by 
 his adversary, was very remarkable. Of 
 his power in this respect, our common 
 friend, Mr. Windham, of Norfolk, has 
 been pleased to furnish me with an emi- 
 nent instance. However unfavourable to 
 Scotland, he uniformly gave liberal praise 
 to George Buchanan as a writer. In 
 a conversation concerning the literary 
 merits of the two countries, in which 
 Buchanan was introduced, a Scotchman, 
 imagining that on this ground he should 
 have an undoubted triumph over him, 
 exclaimed, *f Ah, Dr. Johnson, what 
 would you have said of Buchanan had 
 he been an Englishman?" — "Why, sir 
 (said Johnson, after a little pause), I 
 should not have said of Buchanan, had 
 he been an Englishman, what I will 
 now say of him as a Scotchman, — that 
 he was the only man of genius his coun- 
 try ever produced." 
 
 And this brings to my recollection 
 another instance of the same nature. I 
 once reminded him that when Dr. Adam 
 Smith was expatiating on the beauty of 
 Glasgow, he had cut him short by say- 
 ing, ** Pray, sir, have you ever seen 
 Brentford?" and I took the liberty to 
 add, " My dear sir, surely that was 
 shocking." — ** Why, then, sir (he re- 
 plied), YOU have never seen Brentford." 
 
 Though his usual phrase for conversa* 
 tion was talk, yet he made a distinction ; 
 for when he once told me that he dined 
 
 • The justness of this remark is confirmed 
 hy the followina: story, for which I am in 
 debted to Lord Eliot: A country Parson, who 
 was remarkahle for quoting scraps of Latin 
 in his sermons, having died, one of his parish- 
 ioners was asked how he liked his successor: 
 " He is a very good preacher (was his answer), 
 hut no lallnir." 
 
.Etat. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 535 
 
 the day before at a friend's house, with 
 " a very pretty company ;" and I asked 
 him if there was good conversation, he 
 answered, '* No, sir ; we had talk 
 enough, but no conversation; tliere 
 was nothing discussed." 
 
 Talking of tlie success of the Scotch in 
 London, he imputed it in a considerable 
 ■iegree to their spirit of nationality. 
 " You know, sir (said he), that no 
 Scotchman publishes a book, or has a 
 play brought upon the stage, but there 
 are five hundred people ready to applaud 
 him.'' 
 
 He gave much praise to his friend Dr. 
 Burney's elegant and entertaining travels, 
 and told Mr. Seward that he had them 
 in his eye when writing his " Journey to 
 the Western Islands of Scotland." 
 
 Such was his sensibility, and so much 
 was he affected by pathetick poetry, 
 that, when he was reading Dr. Beattie's 
 ** Hermit," in my presence, it brought 
 tears into his eyes *. 
 
 He disapproved much of mingling real 
 facts with fiction. On this account he 
 censured a book entitled " Love and 
 Madness." 
 
 Mr. Hoole told him he was born in 
 Moorfields, and had received part of his 
 early instruction in Grub Street. *' Sir 
 (said Johnson, smiling), you have been 
 regularly educated." Having asked who 
 was his instructor, and Mr. Hoole having 
 answered, " My uncle, sir, who was 
 tailor;" Johnson, recollecting himself, 
 &aid, *' Sir, I knew him ; we called him 
 the metaphysical tailor. He was of a 
 club in Old Street, with me and George 
 Psalmanazar, and some others : but pray 
 sir, was he a good tailor?" Mr. Hoole 
 having answered that he believed he was 
 too mathematical, and used to draw 
 squares and triangles on his shopboard, 
 so that he did not excel in the cut of a 
 coat ; — " I am sorry for it (said John- 
 son), for I would have every man to be 
 master of his own business." 
 
 In pleasant reference to himself and 
 Mr. Hoole, as brother authours, he often 
 said, " Let you and I, sir, go together 
 and eat a beefsteak in Grub Street." 
 
 Sir William Chambers, that great ar- 
 chitect f, whose works show a sublimity 
 of genius, and who is esteemed by all 
 who know him for his social, hospitable, 
 
 * [The particular passage which excited 
 this strong emotion was, as I have heard 
 from my father, the third stanza, ** ' Tis night," 
 &c. J. B.-O.] 
 
 t The Honourable Horace Walpole, late 
 Earl of Orford, thus bears testimony to this 
 gentleman's merit as a writer: " Mr. Cham- 
 bers's 'Treatise on Civil Architecture' is the 
 most sensible book, and the most exempt 
 from prejudices that ever was written on that 
 science."— Preface to " Anecdotes ofPainling 
 in England." 
 
 and generous qualities, submitted the 
 manuscript of his " Chinese Architec- 
 ture " to Dr. Johnson's perusal. John- 
 son was much pleased with it, and said, 
 " It wants no addition nor correction, 
 but a few lines of introduction ;" which 
 he furnished, and Sir William adopted j. 
 
 He said to Sir William Scott, " The 
 age is running mad after innovation ; 
 and all the business of the world is to be 
 done in a new way ; men are to be 
 hanged in a new way ; Tyburn itself is 
 not safe from the fury of innovation." 
 It having been argued that this was an 
 improvement — " No, sir (said he, eager- 
 ly), it is not an improvement: they 
 object, that the old method drew toge- 
 ther a number of spectators. Sir, exe- 
 cutions are intended to draw spectators. 
 If they do not draw spectators, they don't 
 answer their purpose. The old method 
 was most satisfactory to all parties ; the 
 publick was gratified by a procession ; 
 the criminal was supported by it. Why 
 is all this to be swept away?" I per- 
 fectly agree with Dr. Johnson upon this 
 head, and am persuaded that executions 
 now, the solemn procession being dis- 
 continued, have not nearly the effect 
 which they formerly had. Magistrates, 
 both in London and elsewhere, have, I 
 am afraid, in this had too much regard 
 to their own ease. 
 
 Of Dr. Hurd, Bishop of Worcester, 
 Johnson said to a friend, — " Hurd, sir, 
 is one of a set of men who account for 
 every thing systematically ; for instance, 
 it has been a fashion to wear scarlet 
 breeches; these men would tell you 
 that, according to causes and effects, no 
 other wear could at that time have been 
 chosen." He, however, said of hiin at 
 another time to the same gentleman, 
 " Hurd, sir, is a man whose acquaint- 
 ance is a valuable acquisition." 
 
 That learned and ingenious Prelate it 
 is well known published, at one period 
 of his life, " Moral and Political Dia- 
 
 t The introductory lines are these: " It is 
 difficult to avoid praising loo little or too 
 much. The boundless panegyricks which have 
 been lavished upon the Chii'iese learning, po- 
 licy, and arts, show with what power novelty 
 attracts regard, and how naturally esteem 
 swells into admiration. 
 
 " F am far from desiring to be numbered 
 among the exaggerators of Chinese excel- 
 lence^ 1 consider them as great, or wise, 
 only in comparison with the nations that sur- 
 round them ; ^nd have no intention to place 
 them in competition either with the ancients 
 or with the moderns of tliis part of the world; 
 yet they must be allowed to claim our notice 
 as a distinct and very singular race of men: 
 as the inhabitants of a region divided by its 
 situation from all civilized countries, who 
 have formed their own manners and invented 
 their own arts without the assistance of ex- 
 ample." 
 
530 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S3. 
 
 logues," with a wofully vvhiggish cast. 
 Afterwards his Lordship, having thought 
 better, came to see his errour, and re- 
 published the work with a more consti- 
 tutional spirit. Johnson, however, was 
 unwilling to allow him full credit for his 
 political conversion. I remember, when 
 his Lordship declined the honour of being 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, Johnson said, 
 "' I am glad he did not go to Lambeth ; 
 for, after all, I fear he is a Wliig in his 
 heart." 
 
 Johnson's attention to precision and 
 clearness in expression was very remark- 
 able. He disapproved of a parenthesis ; 
 and, I believe, in all his voluminous 
 writings not half a dozen of them will 
 be found. He never used the phrases 
 the former and the latter, having ob- 
 served, that they often occasioned obscu- 
 rity ; he therefore contrived to construct 
 his sentences so as not to have occasion 
 for them, and would even rather repeat 
 the same words in order to avoid them. 
 Nothing is more common than to mis- 
 take surnames when we hear them care- 
 lessly uttered for the first time. To 
 prevent this, he used not only to pro- 
 nounce them slowly and distinctly, but 
 to take the trouble of spelling them ; a 
 practice which I have often followed ; 
 and which I wish were general. 
 
 Such was the heat and irritability of 
 his blood, that not only did he pare his 
 nails to the quick; but scraped the joints 
 of his fingers with a penknife till they 
 seemed quite red and raw. 
 
 The heterogeneous composition of hu- 
 man nature was remarkably exemplified 
 in Johnson. His liberality in giving his 
 money to persons in distress was extra- 
 ordinary. Yet there lurked about him a 
 propensity to paltry saving. One day I 
 owned to him that " I was occasionally 
 troubled with a fit of narrowness.'' 
 •* Why, sir (said he), so am I. But I 
 do not tell it.*' He has now and then 
 borrowed a shilling of me ; and when I 
 asked him for it again, seemed to be 
 rather out of humour. A droll little cir- 
 cumstance once occurred : As if he meant 
 to reprimand my minute exactness as a 
 creditor, he thus addressed me ;— " Bos- 
 well, lend me sixpence — not to he re- 
 paid." 
 
 This great man's attention to small 
 things was very remarkable. As an in- 
 itance of it, he one day said to me, " Sir, 
 when you get silver in change for a gui- 
 nea, look carefully at it ; you may find 
 some curious piece of coin." 
 
 Though a stern truehorn Englishman, 
 and fully prejudiced against all other 
 nations, he had discernment enough to 
 see, and candour enough to censure, the 
 cold reserve too common among Eng- 
 
 lishmen towards strangers: "Sir (said 
 he), two men of any other nation who 
 are shown into a room together, at a 
 house where they are both visiters, will 
 immediately find some conversation. 
 But two Englishmen will probably go 
 each to a different window, and remain 
 in obstinate silence. Sir, we as yet do 
 not enough understand the common 
 rights of humanity." 
 
 Johnson was, at a certain period of his 
 life, a good deal with the Earl of Shel- 
 burne, now Marquis of Lansdown, as he 
 doubtless could not but have a due value 
 for that nobleman's activity of mind and 
 uncommon acquisitions of important 
 knowledge, however much he might dis- 
 approve of other parts of his Lordship's 
 character, which were widely different 
 from his own. 
 
 Morice Morgann, Esq. authour of Xhc 
 very ingenious " Essay on the Character 
 of Falstaff*," being a particular friend 
 of his Lordship, had once an opportu- 
 nity of entertaining Johnson for a day or 
 two at Wycombe, when its Lord was 
 absent, and by him I have been favoure<l 
 with two anecdotes. 
 
 One is not a little to the credit of 
 Johnson's candour. Mr. Morgann and 
 he had a dispute pretty late at night, in 
 which Johnson would not give up, though 
 he had the wrong side, and, in short, 
 both kept the field. Next morning, 
 when they met in the breakfasting room. 
 Dr. Johnson accosted Mr. Morgann thus : 
 " Sir, I have been thinking on our dis- 
 pute last night — You were in the right." 
 
 The other was as follows : Johnson, 
 for sport perhaps, or from the spirit of 
 contradiction, eagerly maintained that 
 Derrick had merit as a writer. Mr. 
 Morgann argued with him directly in 
 vain. At length he had recourse to this 
 device. *' Pray, sir (said he), whether 
 do yon reckon Derrick or Smart the 
 best poet?" Johnson at once felt him- 
 self roused ; and answered, *' Sir, there 
 is no settling the point of precedency 
 between a louse and a flea." 
 
 Once, when checking my boasting too 
 frequently of myself in company, he 
 said to me — " Boswell, you often vaunt 
 so much as to provoke ridicule. You 
 put me in mind of a man who was stand- 
 ing in the kitchen of an inn with his 
 back to the fire, and thus accosted the 
 person next him : ' Do you know, sir, 
 who I am V — ' No, sir (said the other) I 
 have not that advantage.' — ' Sir (sai<l he), 
 I am the great Twalmley, who invented 
 
 * Johnson beini; asked his opinion of this 
 Tssay, answered, " Why, sir, we HJiall li.ive 
 the man coate forth again; and as he hat 
 proved Falstaff to be no coward, he may prove 
 I ago to be a very good character." 
 
AT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR./ 
 
 
 llie New Floodgate Iron*.' " The Bi- 
 shop of Killaloe, on my repeating the 
 story to him, defended Twalmley, by 
 observing that he was entitled to the 
 epithet of great ; for Virgil in his group 
 of worthies in the Eiysian fields — 
 Hie vianus ob palriam pngnando vulncra 
 
 pasii ; &c. 
 mentions 
 Inventos aiit qui vilam (xcoluere per artes. 
 
 He was pleased to say to me one 
 morning when we were left alone in his 
 study, " Boswell, I think I am easier 
 with you than with almost any body." 
 
 He would not allow Mr. David Hume 
 any credit for his political principles, 
 though similar to his own ; saying of 
 him, *' Sir, he was a Tory by chance." 
 
 His acute observation of human life 
 made him remark, " Sir, there is nothing 
 by which a man exasperates most people 
 more than by displaying a superiour abi- 
 lity of brilliancy in conversation. They 
 seem pleased at the time ; but their envy 
 makes them curse him at their hearts." 
 
 My readers will probably be surprised 
 to hear that the great Dr. Johnson could 
 amuse himself with so slight and playful a 
 species of composition as a Charade. I 
 have recovered one which he made on 
 Dr. Barnard, now Lord Bishop of Kil- 
 laloe f; who has been pleased for many 
 years to treat me with so much intimacy 
 and social ease that I may presume to 
 call him not only my Right Reverend, 
 but my very dear Friend. I therefore 
 with peculiar pleasure give to the world 
 a just and elegant compliment thus paid 
 to his Lordship by Johnson. 
 
 CHARADE. 
 
 " J^ly JirstX shuts out thieves from your house 
 
 or your room. 
 My second\ expresses a Syrian perfume: 
 My w/iole\l is a man in whose converse is 
 
 shared 
 The strength of a Bar and the sweetness of 
 
 Naid." 
 
 Johnson asked Richard Owen Cam- 
 bridge, Esq. if he had read the Spanish 
 translation of Sallust, said to be written 
 by a Prince of Spain, with the assist- 
 ance of his tutor, who is professedly the 
 authour of a treatise annexed on the 
 Phoenician language. 
 
 Mr. Cambridge commended the work, 
 particularly as he thought the Translator 
 understood his authour better than is 
 commonly the case with translators; but 
 said he was disappointed in the purpose 
 for which he borrowed the book ; to see 
 whether a Spaniard could be better fur- 
 
 * What the great Twalmley was so proud 
 of having invented was neither more nor less 
 llian a kind of box iron for smoothing linen. 
 
 + [Afterwards translated to the see of Lime- 
 rick. M.] 
 
 I Bar. § Nard. || Barnard. 
 
 nisl^d^/viKI Jjps^iptions from moniik'« i 
 mems, corns, or other antiquities, whic^ I 
 he nr^^rore probably find on a coast so / 
 immefltfafcly opposite to Carthage, than^ 
 the Antiquaries of any other countries.-^ 
 Johnson. " I am very sorry you w-ei'e 
 not gratified in your expectations." Cam- 
 bridge. " The language would have been 
 of little use, as there is no history exist- 
 ing in that tongue to balance the partial 
 accounts which the Roman writers have 
 left us." Johnson. " No, sir. They 
 have not been partial; they have told 
 their own story, without shame or regard 
 to equitable treatment of their injured 
 enemy ; they had no compunction, no 
 feeling for a Carthaginian. Why, sir, 
 they would never have borne Virgil's 
 description of ^Eneas's treatment of 
 Dido, if she had not been a Carthagi- 
 nian." 
 
 I gratefully acknowledge this and other 
 communications from Mr. Cambridge ; 
 whom, if a beautiful villa on the banks 
 of the Thames, a few miles distant from 
 London ; a numerous and excellent li- 
 brary, which he accurately knows and 
 reads; a choice collection of pictures, 
 which he understands and relishes; an 
 easy fortune ; an amiable family ; an 
 extensive circle of friends and acquaint- 
 ance, distinguished by rank, fashion and 
 genius ; a literary fame ; various, ele- 
 gant, and still increasing colloquial talents 
 rarely to be found; and with all these 
 means of happiness, enjoying, when well 
 advanced in years, health and vigour of 
 body, serenity and animation of mind, 
 do not entitle to be n6(\ressei\ fortunate 
 senex ! I know not to whom, in any 
 age, that expression could with propriety 
 have been used. Long may he live to 
 hear and to feel it * ! 
 
 Johnson's love of little children, which 
 he discovered upon all occasions, calling 
 them " pretty dears," and giving them 
 sweetmeats, was an undoubted proof of 
 the real humanity and gentleness of his 
 disposition. 
 
 His uncommon kindness to his ser- 
 vants, and serious concern not only for 
 their comfort in this world, but their 
 happiness in the next, was another un- 
 questionable evidence of what all, who 
 were intimately acquainted with him, 
 knew to be true. 
 
 Nor would it be just under this head 
 to omit the fondness which he showed 
 for animals which he had taken under 
 his protection. I never shall forget the 
 indulgence with which he treated Hodge, 
 
 * [Mr. Cambridge enjoyed all the blessings 
 here enumerated for many years after this 
 passage was written. He died at his seat 
 near Twickenham, Sept. 17, 1602, in his eighty- 
 sixth vear. M.J 
 
538 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 his cat ; for whom he himself used to go 
 out and buy oysters, lest the servants 
 having that trouble should take a dislike 
 to the poor creature. I am, unluckily, 
 one of those who have an antipathy to a 
 cat, so that I am uneasy when in the 
 room with one ; and I own, I frequently 
 suffered a good deal from the presence 
 of this same Hodge. I recollect him 
 one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's 
 breast, apparently with much satisfaction, 
 while my friend smiling and half whis- 
 tling, rubbed down his back and pulled 
 him by the tail ; and when I observed 
 he was a fine cat, saying, ** Why, yes, 
 sir, but I have had cats whom I liked 
 better than this ;" and then, as if per- 
 ceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, 
 adding, ** but he is a very fine cat, a very 
 fine cat indeed." 
 
 This reminds me of the ludicrous ac- 
 count which he gave Mr. Langton, of the 
 despicable state of a young gentleman of 
 good family. " Sir, when I heard of 
 him last, he was rnnning about town 
 shooting cats." And then, in a sort of 
 kindly reverie, he bethought himself of 
 his own favourite cat, and said, ** But 
 Hodge shan't be shot : no, no, Hodge 
 shall not be shot." 
 
 He thought Mr. Beauclerk made a 
 shrewd and judicious remark to Mr. 
 Langton, who, after having been for the 
 first time in company with a well known 
 wit about town, was warmly admiring 
 and praising him,—** See him again," 
 said JBeauclerk. 
 
 His respect for the Hierarchy, and par- 
 ticularly the Dignitaries of the Church, 
 has been more than once exhibited in the 
 course of this work. Mr. Seward saw 
 him presented to the Archbishop of York, 
 and described his Bovj to an Arch- 
 bishop, as such a studied elaboration of 
 homage, such an extension of limb, such 
 a flexion of body, as have seldom or 
 ever been equalled. 
 
 I cannot help mentioning, with much 
 regret, that by my own negligence I lost 
 an opportunity of having the history of 
 my family from its founder, Thomas 
 Boswell, in 1504, recorded and illustrated 
 by Johnson's pen. Such was his good- 
 ness to me that when I presumed to 
 solicit him for so great a favour, he was 
 pleased to say, ** Let me have all the 
 materials you can collect, and I will do 
 it both in Latin and English ; then let it 
 be printed, and copies of it be deposited 
 in various places for security and preser- 
 vation." I can now only do the best I 
 can to make up for this loss, keeping my 
 great Master steadily in view. Family 
 histories, like the imagines majorum of 
 the ancients, excite to virtue ; and I wish 
 that they who really have blood, would 
 
 be more careful to trace and ascertain 
 its course. Some have affected to laugh 
 at the history of the house Yvery * : it 
 would be well if many others 'would 
 transmit their pedigrees to posterity, 
 with the same accuracy and generous 
 zeal with which the INobie Lord who 
 compiled that work has honoured and 
 perpetuated his ancestry. 
 
 On Thursday, April 10, I introduced 
 to him, at his house in Bolt Court, the 
 Honourable and Reverend William 
 Stuart t, son of the Earl of Bute ; a gen- 
 tleman truly worthy of being known to 
 Johnson ; being, with all the advantages 
 of high birth, learning, travel, and ele- 
 gant manners, an exemplary parish priest 
 in every respect. 
 
 After some compliments on both sides, 
 the tour which Johnson and I had made 
 to the Hebrides was mentioned. — John- 
 son. *' I got an acquisition of more ideas 
 by it than by any thing that I remember. 
 I saw quite a different system of life.'' 
 Boswell. ** You wouUl not like to make 
 the same journey again ?" Johnson. 
 ** Why no, sir ; not the same : it is a 
 tale told. Gravina, an Italian critick, 
 observes that every man desires to see 
 that of which he has read ; but no man 
 desires to read an account of what he 
 has seen : so much does description fall 
 short of reality. Description only ex- 
 cites curiosity : seeing satisfies it. Other 
 people may go and see the Hebrides." 
 Boswell. " I should wish to go and see 
 some country totally different from what 
 I have been used to ; such as Turkey, 
 where religion and every thing else are 
 different." Johnson. ** Yes,sir; there are 
 two objects of curiosity, — the Christian 
 world and the Mahometan world. All 
 the rest may be considered as barbarous.*' 
 BosWEU-. ** Pray, sir, is the 'Turkish 
 Spy ' a genuine book?" Johnson. ** No, 
 sir: Mrs. Manley, in her Life, says that 
 her father wrote the first two volumes ; 
 and in another book, * Dunton's Life 
 and Errours,' we find that the rest was 
 written by one Sault, at two guineas a • 
 sheet, under the direction of Dr. Midge- 
 ley J." 
 
 » [Written by John, Earl of Ecniont. M.] 
 
 t [At that time Vicar of Lutoii in Bedford- 
 shire, wliere he lived for some years, and fully 
 merited the character piven of him in the text ; 
 now [18061 Lord Archnishop of Armagh, aiicl 
 Primate ot Ireland.— M.] 
 
 t [" The Turkisii Spy " was pretended to 
 have been written oritrinally in Arabick ; from 
 Arabick translated into Italian, and thence 
 into En<^li8h. Tlie real authonr of the work, 
 which was in fact originally written in Italian, 
 was I. 1'. Marana, a Genoese, who died at 
 Paris in 1693. 
 
 John Dunlon in his Life says that " Mr. 
 William Bradshaw received from Dr. Midge- 
 ley forty shillings a sheet for writing pari of 
 
-E TAT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 539 
 
 BoswELL. ** This has been a very fac- 
 tions reign, owing to the too great indul- 
 gence of Government." Johnson. *' / 
 think so, sir. What at first was lenity 
 i,M ew timidity. Yet this is reasoning it 
 2)osteriori, and may not be just. Sup- 
 posing a few had at first been punished, 
 [ believe faction would have been crush- 
 ed ; but it might have been said that it 
 was a sanguinary reign. A man cannot 
 tell d priori what will be best for govern- 
 ment to do. This reign has been very 
 unfortunate. We have had an unsuc- 
 cessful war ; but that does not prove that 
 we have been ill governed. One side 
 or other must prevail in war, as one or 
 otlier must win at play. When we beat 
 Louis, we were not better governed ; 
 nor were the French better governed 
 when Louis beat us." 
 
 On Saturday, April 12, I visited him, 
 in company with Mr. Windham, of Nor- 
 folk, whom, though a Whig, he highly- 
 valued. One of the best things he ever 
 said was to this gentleman ; who before 
 he set out for Ireland as Secretary to 
 Lord Northington, when Lord Lieute- 
 nant, expressed to the Sage some mo- 
 dest and virtuous doubts, whether he 
 could bring himself to practise those arts 
 which it is supposed a person in that 
 situation has occasion to employ. " Don't 
 be afraid, sir (said Johnson, with a plea- 
 sant smile), you will soon make a very 
 pretty rascal." 
 
 He talked to-day a good deal of the won- 
 derful extent and variety of London, and 
 observed, that men of curious inquiry 
 might see in it such modes of life as very 
 few could even imagine. He in particular 
 recommended to us to explore fVappinr/ , 
 which we resolved to do*. 
 
 Mr. Lowe, the painter, who was with 
 him, was very much distressed that a 
 large picture which he had painted was 
 refused to be received into the Exhibi- 
 tion of the Royal Academy. Mrs. Thrale 
 knew Johnson's character so superficially 
 as to represent him as unwilling to do 
 small acts of benevolence ; and mentions, 
 in particular, that he would hardly take 
 the trouble to write a letter in favour of 
 his friends. The truth, however, is, that 
 he was remarkable, in an extraordinary 
 degree, for what she denies to him ; and, 
 above all, for this very sort of kindness, 
 writing letters for those to whom his soli- 
 citations might be of service. He now 
 
 the 'Turkish Spy;'" but 1 do not find that 
 he any where mentions Sault as engaged in 
 that work. M.] 
 
 * We accordingly carried our scheme into 
 execution, in October, 1792; but whether from 
 that uniformity which has in modern times, 
 in a great degree, spread through every part 
 ofthe metropolis, or from our want of suffici- 
 ent exertion, we were disappointed. 
 
 gave Mr. Lowe the following, of which 
 I was diligent enough, with his permis- 
 sion, to take copies at the next coffee- 
 house, while Mr. Windham was so good 
 as to stay by me. 
 
 ** TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Mr. Lowe considers himself as cut off 
 from all credit and all hope, by the re- 
 jection of his picture from the Exhibi- 
 tion. Upon this work he has exhausted 
 all his powers, and suspended all his 
 expectations : and, certainly, to be re- 
 fused an opportunity of taking the opi- 
 nion of the publick is in itself a very 
 great hardship. It is to be condemned 
 without a trial. 
 
 " If you could procure a revocation 
 of this incapacitating edict, you would 
 deliver an unhappy man from great 
 aflKiction. The Council has sometimes 
 reversed its own determination ; and I 
 hope that, by your interposition, this 
 luckless picture may be got admitted. 
 " I am, &c. 
 «' April 12, 1783." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " TO MR. BARRY. 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** Mr. LowE's^exclusion from the Exhi- 
 bition gives him more trouble than you 
 and the other gentlemen of the Council 
 could imagine or intend. He considers 
 disgrace and ruin as the inevitable con- 
 sequence of your determination. 
 
 " He says, that some pictures have 
 been received after rejection ; and if 
 there be any such precedent, I earnestly 
 entreat that you will use your interest in 
 his favour. Of his work I can say no- 
 thing; I pretend not to judge of paint- 
 ing ; and this picture I never saw : but I 
 conceive it extremely hard to shut out 
 any man from the possibility of success : 
 and therefore I repeat my request that 
 you will propose the reconsideration of 
 Mr. Lowe's case; and if there be any 
 among the Council with whom my name 
 can have any weight, be pleased to com- 
 municate to them the desire of, sir, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 "April 12, 1783." " SaM. JoHNSON." 
 Such intercession was too powerful to 
 be resisted ; and Mr. Lowe's perform- 
 ance was admitted at Somerset Place. 
 The subject, as I recollect, was tlie De- 
 luge, at that point of time when the water 
 was verging to the top of the last unco- 
 vered mountain. Near to the spot was 
 seen the last of the antediluvian race, 
 exclusive of those who were saved in the 
 ark of Noah. This was one of those 
 giants, then the inhabitants of the earth, 
 who had still strength to swim, and with 
 one of his hands held aloft his infant 
 
510 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S3. 
 
 child. I'pon the small remaining dry \ 
 spot appeared a famished lion, ready to i 
 spring at the child and devour it. Mr. 
 Lowe told me that Johnson said to him, 
 *' Sir, your picture is noble and proba- 
 ble." — " A compliment, indeed (said 
 Mr. Lowe), from a man who cannot lie, 
 and cannot be mistaken." 
 
 About this time he wrote to Mrs. 
 Lucy Porter, mentioning his bad health, 
 and that he intended a visit to Lichfield. 
 " It is (says he) with no great expecta- 
 tion of amendment that I make every 
 year a journey into the country ; but it 
 is pleasant to visit those whose kindness 
 has been often experienced." 
 
 On April 18 (being Good Friday), I 
 found him at breakfast, in his usual man- 
 ner, upon that day, drinking tea without 
 milk, and eating a cross bun to prevent 
 faintness ; we went to St. Clement's 
 church, as formerly. When we came 
 home from church, he placed himself on 
 one of the stone seats at his garden door, 
 and I took the other ; and thus in the 
 open air, and in a placid frame of mind, 
 he talked away very easily. Johnson. 
 " Were I a country gentleman, I should 
 not be very hospitable ; I should not have 
 crowds in my house." Bosvvell. " Sir 
 Alexander Dick tells me, that he remem- 
 bers having a thousand people in a year 
 to dine at his house ; that is, reckoning 
 each person as one, each lime that he 
 dined there." Johnson. " That, sir, is 
 about three a day." Boswell. " How 
 your statement lessens the idea." John- 
 tiON. "That, sir, is the good of counting. 
 It brings every thing to a certainty, 
 which before floated in the mind inde- 
 finitely." Boswell. " But Omne iyno- 
 tum pro magnifico est : one is sorry to 
 have this diminished." Johnson. '* Sir, 
 you should not allow yourself to be de- 
 lighted with errour." Boswell. ** Three 
 a day seem but few." Johnson. " Nay, 
 .sir, he who entertains three a day does 
 very liberally. And if there is a large 
 family, the poor entertain those three, 
 for they eat what the poor would get: 
 there must be superfluous meat ; it must 
 be given to the poor, or thrown out." 
 Boswell. " I observe in London, that 
 the poor go about and gather bones, 
 which I understand are manufacture<l." 
 Johnson. ♦* Yes, sir; they boil them, 
 and extract a grease from them for greas- 
 ing wheels and other purposes. Of the 
 best pieces they make a mock ivory, 
 which is used for hafts to knives, and 
 various other things ; the coarser pieces 
 they burn and pound, and sell the ashes." 
 Boswell. ** For what purpose, sir?" 
 Johnson. ** Why, sir, for making a fur- 
 nace for the chymists for melting iron. 
 A paste made of burned bones will stand 
 
 a stronger heat than any thing else. Con- 
 sider, sir ; if you are to melt iron, you 
 cannot line your pot with brass, because 
 it is softer than iron, and would melt 
 sooner ; nor with iron, for though malle- 
 able iron is harder than cast iron, yet it 
 would not do ; but a paste of burned 
 bones will not melt." Bosw^ell. " Do 
 you know, sir, I have discovered a manu- 
 facture to a great extent, of what you 
 only piddle at, — scraping and drying the 
 peel of oranges *. At a place in Newgate 
 Street, there is a prodigious quantity pre- 
 pared, which they sell to the distillers." 
 Johnson. ** Sir, I believe they make a 
 higher thing out of them than a spirit ; 
 they make what is called orange butter, 
 the oil of the orange inspissated, which 
 they mix perhaps with common poma- 
 tum, and make it fragrant. The oil does 
 not fly off in the drying." 
 
 Boswell. " I wish to have a good 
 walled garden." Johnson. ** I don't 
 think it vvould be worth the expense to 
 you. We compute, in England, a park 
 wall at a thousand pounds a mile ; now 
 a garden wall must cost at least as much. 
 You intend your trees should grow higher 
 than a 4eer will leap. Now let us see ; 
 — for a hundred pounds you could only 
 have forty-four square yards, which is 
 very little ; for two hundred pounds, you 
 may have eighty-four square yards, which 
 is very well. But when will you get the 
 value of two hundred pounds of walls, in 
 fruit, in your climate l No, sir, such con- 
 tention with Nature is not worth while. 
 I would plant an orchard, and have plenty 
 of such fruit as ripen well in your coun- 
 try. My friend. Dr. Madden, of Ireland, 
 said, that, * in an orchard there should 
 be enough to eai, enough to lay up, 
 enough to be stolen, and enough to rot 
 upon the ground.' Cherries are an early 
 fruit ; you may have them ; and you 
 may have the early apples and pears." 
 Boswell. *' We cannot have nonpa- 
 reils." — Johnson. ** Sir, you can no 
 more have nonpareils than you can have 
 grapes." Boswell. " We have them, 
 sir; but they are very bad." Johnson. 
 ** Nay, sir, never try to have a thing 
 merely to show that you cannot have it. 
 From ground that would let for forty 
 shilling« you may have a large orchard ; 
 and you see it costs you only forty shil- 
 lings. Nay, you may graze the ground 
 when the trees are grown up ; you can- 
 not while they are young." BoswEix. 
 " Is not a good garden a very common 
 
   It is siiKgestcil to me by an anonymous 
 Annotator on'my Work, that the reason why 
 Dr. Johnson collected the peels of squeezed 
 oianees, may he found in the 358th Letter in 
 Mrs. Piozzi'8 Colle<-tion, where it appears that 
 he recommended " dried orange-peel, finely 
 powdered," as a medicine. 
 
JEtat. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 541 
 
 thing in England, sir?" Johnson. " Not 
 80 common, sir, as you imagine. In 
 Lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard ; 
 in Staffordsiiire very little fruit." Bos- 
 V, KLL. ** Has Langton no orchard ? ' 
 Johnson. " No, sir." Boswell. ** How 
 so, sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, from 
 the general negligence of the county. He 
 has it not, because nobody else has it." 
 Boswell. *' A hothouse is a certain 
 thing ; I may have that." Johnson. " A 
 hothouse is pretty certain ; but you must 
 I'll St build it, then you must keep fires in 
 it, and you must have a gardener to take 
 care of it." Boswell. '* But if I have 
 a gardener at any rate? — " Johnson. 
 " Why, yes." Boswell. " I'd have it 
 i;ear my house ; there is no need to have 
 it in the orchard." Johnson. " Yes, I'd 
 have it near my house.— I would plant a 
 LHoat many currants; the fruit is good, 
 and they make a pretty sweetmeat." 
 
 I record this minute detail, which some 
 may think trifling, in order to show 
 clearly how this great man, whose mind 
 could grasp such large and extensive sub- 
 jects, as he has shown in his literary 
 labours, was yet well informed in the 
 common aft'airsof life, and loved to illus- 
 trate them. 
 
 Mr. Walker, the celebrated master of 
 elocution, came in, and then we went up 
 stairs into the study. I asked him if he 
 had taught many clergymen. Johnson. 
 ** I hope not." Walker. " I have taught 
 only one, and he is the best reader I ever 
 heard, not by my teaching, but by his 
 own natural talents." Johnson. " Were 
 he the best reader in the world, I would 
 not have it told that he was taught." Here 
 was one of his peculiar prejudices. Could 
 it be any disadvantage to the clergyman 
 to have it known that he was taught an 
 easy and graceful delivery? Boswell. 
 " Will you not allow, sir, that a man 
 may be taught to read well?" Johnson. 
 '' VVhy, sir^ so far as to read better than 
 he might do without being taught, ye#. 
 Formerly it was supposed that there was 
 no difference in reading, bat that one 
 read as well as another." Boswell. 
 ** It is wonderful to see old Sheridan as 
 enthusiastick about oratory as ever." 
 Walker. *' His enthusiasm as to what 
 oratory will do may be too great : but he 
 reads well." Johnson. ** He reads well, 
 but he reads low; and you know it is 
 much easier to read low than to read 
 high ; for when you read high, you are 
 much more limited, your loudest note 
 can be but one, and so the variety is less 
 in proportion to the loudness. Now some 
 people have occasion to speak to an ex- 
 tensive audience, and must speak loud to 
 be heard." Walker. " The art is to read 
 etrong, though low." 
 
 Talking of the origin of language ;— 
 
 Johnson. " It must have come by in- 
 spiration. A thousand, nay, a million of 
 children could not invent a language. 
 While the organs are pliable, there is not 
 understanding enough to form a language ; 
 by the time that there is understanding 
 enough, the organs are become stiff. We 
 know that after a certain age we cannot 
 learn to pronounce a new language. No 
 foreigner, who comes to England when 
 advanced in life, ever pronounces English 
 tolerably well; at least such instances 
 are very rare. When I maintain that 
 language must have come by inspiration, 
 I do not mean that inspiration is required 
 for rhetorick and all the beauties of lan- 
 guage ; for when once man has language, 
 we can conceive that he may gradually 
 form modifications of it. I mean only 
 that inspiration seems to me to be neces- 
 sary to give man the faculty of speech ; 
 to inform him that he may have speech; 
 which I think he could no more find out 
 without inspiration than cows or hogs 
 would think of such a faculty." Walker. 
 " Do you think, sir, that there are any 
 perfect synonimes in any language ?" 
 Johnson. " Originally there were not ; 
 but by using words negligently, or in 
 poetry, one word comes to be confounded 
 with another," 
 
 He talked of Dr. Dodd. ** A friend of 
 mine (said he) came to me and told me, 
 that a lady wished to have Dr. Dodd's 
 picture in a bracelet, and asked me for a 
 motto. I said, I could think of no better 
 than Currat Lex. I was very willing 
 to have him pardoned, that Is, to have 
 the sentence changed to transportation : 
 but, when he was once hanged, I did not 
 wish he should be made a saint." 
 
 Mrs. Burney, wife of his friend Dr. 
 Burney, came in, and he seemed to be 
 entertained with her conversation. 
 
 Garrick's funeral was talked of as ex- 
 travagantly expensive. Johnson, from his 
 dislike to exaggeration, would not allow 
 that it was distinguished by any extraor- 
 dinary pomp. " Were there not six horses 
 to each coach ?" said Mrs. Burney. John- 
 son. '* Madam, there were no more six 
 horses than six piioenixes." 
 
 Mrs. Burney wondered that some very 
 beautiful new buildings should be erected 
 in Moorfields, in so shocking a situation 
 as between Bedlam and St. Luke's Hos- 
 pital ; and said she could not live there. 
 Johnson. " Nay, madam, you see no- 
 thing there to hurt you. You no more 
 think of madness by having windows 
 that look to Bedlam than you think of 
 death by having windows that look to a 
 churchyard." Mrs. Burney. " We may 
 look to a churchyard, sir; for it is right 
 that we should be kept in mind of death." 
 Johnson. ** Nay, madam, if you go to 
 that, it is right that we should be kept in 
 
542 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 mind of madness, which is occasioned by 
 too much indulgence of imagination. I 
 think a very moral use may be made of 
 these new buildings : I would have those 
 who have heated imaginations live there, 
 and take warning." Mrs. Burney. " But, 
 sir, many of the poor people that are 
 mad have become so from disease, or 
 from distressing events. It is, therefore, 
 not their fault, but their misfortune ; and, 
 therefore, to think of them is a melan- 
 choiy consideration.'' 
 
 Time passed on in conversation till it 
 was too late for the service of the church 
 at three o'clock. I look a walk, and left 
 him alone for some time ; then returned, 
 and we had coffee and conversation again 
 by ourselves. 
 
 I stated the character of a noble friend 
 of mine, as a curious case for his opinion. 
 — '* He is the most inexplicable man to 
 me that I ever knew. Can you explain 
 him, sir? He is, I really believe, noble- 
 minded, generous, and princely. But his 
 most intimate friends may be separated 
 from him for years, without his ever 
 asking a question concerning them. He 
 will meet them with a formality, a cold- 
 ness, a stately indifference ; but when 
 they come close to him, and fairly engage 
 him in conversation, they find him as 
 easy, pleasant, and kind as they could 
 vvish. One then supposes that what is so 
 agreeable will soon be renewed ; but stay 
 away from him for half a year, and he 
 will neither call on you nor send to in- 
 quire about you." Johnson. " Why, sir, 
 I cannot ascertain his character exactly, 
 as I do not know him ; but I should not 
 like to have such a man for my friend. 
 He may love study, and wish not to be 
 interrupted by his friends ; Ami ci fares 
 temporis. He may be a frivolous man, 
 and be so much occupied with petty pui- 
 siiits that he may not want friends. Or 
 he may have a notion that there is a dig- 
 nity in appearing indifferent, while he in 
 fact may not be more indifferent at his 
 heart than another." 
 
 We went to evening prayers at St. 
 Clement's, at seven, and then parteil. 
 
 On Sunday, April 20, being Easter 
 Day, after attending solemn service at 
 St. Paul's, I came to Dr. Johnson, and 
 found Mr. Lowe, the painter, sitting with 
 him. Mr. Lowe mentioned the great 
 number of new buildings of late in Lon- 
 don, yet that Dr. Johnson had observed, 
 that the number of inhabitants was not 
 increased. Johnson. ** Why, sir, the 
 bills of mortality prove that no more 
 people die now than formerly ; so it is 
 plain no more live. The register of 
 births proves nothing, for not one tenth of 
 the people of London are born there." 
 BoswKLL.. ** I believe, sir, a great many 
 of the children born in London die early." 
 
 Johnson. *' Why, yes, sir." Boswell. 
 " But those who do live are as stout and 
 strong people as any : Dr. Price says, 
 they must be naturally strong to get 
 through." Johnson. " That is system, 
 sir. A great traveller observes, that it is 
 said there are no weak or deformed peo- 
 ple among the Indians ; but he with much 
 sagacity assigns the reason of this, which 
 is, that the hardship of their life as hun- 
 ters and tishers, does not allow weak or 
 diseased children to grow up. Now, had 
 I been an Indian, I must have died early ; 
 my eyes would not have served me to 
 get food. I indeed now could tish, give 
 me English tackle ; but had I been an 
 Indian I must have starved, or they 
 would have knocked me on the head, 
 when they saw I could do nothing." 
 Boswell. ** Perhaps they would have 
 taken care of you : we are told they are 
 fond of oratory ; you would have talked 
 to them." Johnson. " Nay, sir, I should 
 not have lived long enough to be fit to 
 talk ; I should have been dead before I 
 was ten years old. Depend upon it, sir, 
 a savage, when he is hungry, will not 
 carry about with him a looby of nine 
 years old, who cannot help himself. They 
 have no affection, sir." Boswell. ** I 
 believe natural affection, of which we 
 hear so much, is very small." Johnson. 
 "Sir, natural affection is nothing: but 
 affection from principle and established 
 duty is sometimes wonderfully strong." 
 Lowe. "A hen, sir, will feed her chickens 
 in preference to herself." Johnson. "But 
 we don't know that the hen is hungry : 
 let the hen be fairly hungry, and I'll 
 warrant she'll peck the corn herself. A 
 cock, I believe, will feed hens instead of 
 himself ; but we don't know that the cock 
 is hungry." Boswell. " And that, sir, 
 is not from affection but gallantry. But 
 some of the Indians have affection." 
 Johnson. " Sir, that they help some of 
 their children is plain ; for some of them 
 live, which they could not do without 
 being helped." 
 
 I dined with him; the company were, 
 Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins, and 
 Mr. Lowe. He seemed not to be well, 
 talked little, grew drowsy soon after din- 
 ner, and retired ; upon which I went 
 away. 
 
 Having next day gone to' Mr. Burke's 
 seat in the country, from whence I was 
 recalled by an express that a near rela- 
 tion of mine had killed his antagonist in 
 a duel, and was himself dangerously 
 wounded, I saw little of Dr. Johnson till 
 Monday, April 28, when I spent a con- 
 siderable part of the day with him, and 
 introduced the subject which then chiefly 
 occtipied my mind. Johnson. " I do not 
 see, sir, that fighting is absolutely forbid- 
 den in Scripture ; I see revenge forbidden. 
 
JErxT. 74. 
 
 but not self-defence." Boswell. ** The 
 Quakers say it is ; ' Unto him that smiteth 
 thee on one cheek, offer him also the 
 other.'" Johnson. " But stay, sir ; the 
 text is meant only to have the effect of 
 moderating passion ; it is plain that we 
 are not to take it in a literal sense. We 
 see this from the context, where there 
 areother recommendations, which I war- 
 rant you the Quaker will not take lite- 
 rally; as, for instance, * From him that 
 would borrow of thee, turn thou not 
 away.' Let a man whose credit is bad 
 come to a Quakei', and say, ' Well, sir, 
 lend me a hundred pounds ;' he'll find 
 him as unwilling as any other man. No, 
 sir, a man may shoot the man who in- 
 vades his character, as he may shoot him 
 who attempts to break into his house*. 
 So in 1745, my friend Tom Gumming 
 the Quaker said he would not fight, but 
 he would drive an ammunition cart ; and 
 we know that the Quakers have sent 
 flannel waistcoats to our soldiers, to enable 
 them to fight better." Boswell. " When 
 a man is the aggressor, and by ill usage 
 forces on a duel in which he is killed, 
 have we not little ground to hope that he 
 is gone to a state of happiness?" John- 
 son. '* Sir, we are not to judge deter- 
 minately of the state in which a man 
 leaves this life. He may in a moment 
 have repented effectually, and it is pos- 
 sible may have been accepted of God. 
 There is in ' Camden's Remains' an epi- 
 taph upon a very wicked man, who was 
 killed by a fall from his horse, in which 
 he is supposed to say. 
 
 * Between the stirrup and the eround, 
 I mercy ask'd, I mercy found t." 
 
 * I tliink it necessary to caution my readers 
 against concluding that in this or any other 
 conversation of Dr. Johnson, they have his 
 serious and deliberate opinion on the subject 
 of duelling'. In my Journal of a Tour to the 
 Hehrides, 3d edit. p. 386, it appears that he 
 made this frank confession : " Nobody at 
 times tdiks more laxly than I do;" and, ibid, 
 p. 231. "He fairly owned he could not ex- 
 plain the rationality of duelling." We may, 
 therefore, infer tha't he could hot think that 
 justifiable which seems so inconsistent with 
 the spirit of ilie Gospel. At the same time it 
 must be confessed that, from the prevalent 
 notions of honour, a gentleman who receives 
 a challenee is reduced to a dreadful alterna- 
 tive. A remarkable instance of this is fur- 
 nished by a clause in the will of the late 
 Colonel Thomas, of the Guards, written the 
 night before he fell in a duel, September 3, 
 1783: " In the first place, 1 commit my soul 
 to Almighty God, in hopes of his mercy and 
 panlon for the irreligious step F now (in com- 
 pliance with the unwarrantable customs of 
 this wicked world) put myself under the 
 necessity of taking." 
 
 t [In repeating this epitaph Johnson im- 
 proved it. The original runs thus:— 
 
 " Betwixt the stirrup and the ground, 
 Mercy I asked, mercy 1 found." M.] 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 543 
 
 Boswell. ** Is not the expression in the 
 Burial Service, ' in the sure and certain 
 hope of a blessed resurrection,' too strong 
 to be used indiscriminately, and, indeed, 
 sometimes when those over whose bodies 
 it is said have been notoriously profane?" 
 Johnson. " It is sure and certain hope, 
 sir ; not belief." 1 did not insist further ; 
 but cannot help thinking that less posi- 
 tive words would be more proper j. 
 
 Talking of a man who was grown very 
 fat, so as to be incommoded with corpu- 
 lency ; he said, " He eats too much, sir." 
 Boswell. " I don't know, sir ; you will 
 see one man fat who eats moderately,, 
 and another lean who eats a great deal." 
 Johnson. *' Nay, sir, whatever may be 
 the quantity that a man eats, it is plain 
 that if he is too fat, he has eaten more 
 than he should have done. One man may 
 have a digestion that consumes food bet- 
 ter than common ; but it is certain that 
 solidity is increased by putting something 
 to it." Boswell. " But may not solids 
 swell and be distended 1" Johnson. 
 " Yes, sir, they may be distended ; but 
 that is not fat." 
 
 We talked of the accusation against a 
 gentleman for supposed delinquencies in 
 India. Johnson. "What foundation there 
 is for accusation I know not, but they 
 will not get at him. Where bad actions 
 are committed at so great a distance, a 
 delinquent can obscure the evidence till 
 the scent becomes cold ; there is a cloud 
 between which cannot be penetrated : 
 therefore all distant power is bad. I am 
 clear that the best plan for the govern- 
 ment of India is a despotick governour ; 
 for if he be a good man, it is evidently 
 the best government ; and supposing him 
 to be a bad man, it is better to have one 
 plunderer than many. A governour, 
 whose power is checked, lets others 
 plunder that he himself may be allowed 
 to plunder ; but if despotick, he sees that 
 the more he lets others plunder, the less 
 
 I Upon this objection the Reverend Mr. 
 Ralph Churton, Fellow of Brazennose College, 
 Oxford, has favoured me with the following 
 satisfactory observation : " The passage in 
 the Burial Service does not mean the resurrec- 
 tion of the person interred, but the gener:il 
 resurrection ; it is in sure and certain hope of 
 </ie resurrection i not Aw resurrection. Where 
 the deceased is really spoken of, the expres- 
 sion is very difierent, 'as our hope is this our 
 brother doth ' [rest in Christ], a mode of speech 
 consistent with every thing but absolute cer- 
 tainty that the person departed doth not rest 
 in Christ, which no one can be assured of 
 without immediate revelation from Heaven. 
 In the first of these places also, ' eternal life ' 
 does not necessarily mean eternity of bliss, 
 but merely the eternity of the state, whether 
 in happiness or in misery, to ensue upon the 
 resurrection ; which is probably the sense of 
 ' the life everlasting,' in the Apostles' Creed. 
 See Wheatly and Bennet on the Common 
 Prayer." 
 
544 THE LIFE OF 
 
 there will be for himself, so he restrains 
 them ; and though he himself plunders, 
 the country is a gainer, compared with 
 being plundered by numbers." 
 
 I mentioned the very liberal payment 
 which had been received for reviewing ; 
 and, as evidence of this, that it had been 
 proved in a trial that Dr. Shebbeare had 
 received six guineas a sheet for that kind 
 of literary labour. Johnson. " Sir, he 
 might get six guineas for a particular 
 sheet, but not communihus sheetibus." 
 BoswELL. ** Pray, sir, by a sheet of re- 
 vievv is it meant that it shall be all of the 
 writer's own composition? or are ex- 
 tracts, made from the book reviewed, 
 deducted?" Johnson. *' No, sir, it is a 
 sheet, no matter of what." Boswell. 
 " I think that it is not reasonable." John- 
 son. " Yes, sir, it is. A man will more 
 easily write a sheet all his own than read 
 an octavo volume to get extracts." To 
 one of Johnson's wonderful fertility of 
 mind, I believe writing was really easier 
 than reading and extracting ; but with 
 ordinary men the case is very different. 
 A great deal, indeed, will depend upon 
 the care and judgment with which ex- 
 tracts are made. I can suppose the 
 operation to be tedious and difficult ; but 
 in many instances we must observe crude 
 morsels cut out of books as if at random : 
 and when a large extract is made from 
 one place, it surely may be done with 
 very little trouble. One, however, I must 
 acknowledge, might be led, from the 
 practice of reviewers, to suppose that 
 they take a pleasure in original writing ; 
 for we often (ind that, instead of giving 
 an accurate account of what has been 
 done by the authour whose work they are 
 reviewing, which is surely the proper 
 business of a literary journal, they pro- 
 duce some plausible and ingenious con- 
 ceits of their own, upon the topicks which 
 have been discussed. 
 
 Upon being told that old Mr. Sheridan, 
 indignant at the neglect of his oratorical 
 plans, had threatened to go to America ; 
 — Johnson. " I hope he will go to Ame- 
 rica." Boswell. " The Americans don't 
 want oratory." Johnson. "But we can 
 want Sheridan." 
 
 On Monday, April 29, I found him at 
 liome in the forenoon, and Mr. Seward 
 with him. Horace liaving been men- 
 tioned ;— Boswell. "There is a great 
 deal of thinking in his works. One finds 
 there almost every thing but religion." 
 Seward. " He speaks of his returning (o 
 it, in his Ode Parens Deorum cultor et 
 infrequens." Johnson. *' Sir, he was 
 not in earnest; this was merely poeti- 
 cal.'' Boswell. *' There arc, I am afraid, 
 many people who have no religion at 
 all." Seward. "And seusible people 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 too." Johnson. " Why, s\r, not sensible 
 in that respect. There must be either a 
 natural or a moral stupidity if one lives 
 in a total neglect of so very important a 
 concern." Seward. "I 'wonder that 
 there should be people without religion." 
 Johnson. " Sir, you need not wonder at 
 this, when you consider how large a pro- 
 portion of almost every man's life is 
 passed without thinking of it. I myself 
 was for some years totally regardless of 
 religion. It had dropped out of my mind. 
 It was at an early part of my life. Sick- 
 ness brought it back, and I hope I have 
 never lost it since." Bosw^ell. " My 
 dear sir, what a man must you have been 
 without religion! Why you must have 
 gone on drinking and swearing, and — " 
 Johnson (with a smile). " I drank enough 
 and swore enough, to be sure." Seward. 
 " One should think that sickness and the 
 view of death would make more men 
 religious." Johnson. " Sir, they do not 
 know how to go about it : they have not 
 the first notion. A man who has never 
 had religion before, no more grows reli- 
 gious when he is sick, than a man who 
 has never learnt figures can count when 
 he has need of calculation." 
 
 I mentioned a worthy fiiend of ours 
 whom we valued much, but observed 
 that he was too ready to introduce reli- 
 gious discourse upon all occasions. John- 
 son. " Why, yes. sir, he will introduce 
 religious discourse without seeing whether 
 it will end in instruction and improve- 
 ment, or produce some profane jest. }le 
 would introduce it in the company of 
 Wilkes, "and twenty more such." 
 
 I mentioned Dr. Johnson's excellent 
 distinction between liberty of conscience 
 and liberty of teaching, Johnson. " Con- 
 sider, sir; if you have chiUlren whom 
 you wish to educate in the principles of 
 the Church of England, and there comes 
 a Quaker who tries to pervert them to 
 his principles, you would drive away the 
 Quaker. You would not tru*t to the pre- 
 domination of right; which you believe 
 is in your opinions ; you w ill keep wrong 
 out of their heads. Now the vulgar are 
 the children of the State. If any one 
 attempts to teach them doctrines contrary 
 to what the state approves, the magistrate 
 may and ought to restrain him.'' Seward. 
 " Would you restrain private conversa- 
 tion, sir?" Johnson. " Why, sir, it is 
 ditficult to say where private conversa- 
 tion begins, and where it ends. If we 
 three should discuss even the great ques- 
 tion concerning the existence of a Su- 
 preme Being by ourselves, we shotdd not 
 be restrained ; for that would be to put 
 an end to all improvement. But if we 
 should discuss it in the presence of ten 
 boarding school giiU, and as many boys, 
 
iETAT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON, 
 
 I think the magistrate would do well to 
 put us in the stocks, to finish the debate 
 there." 
 
 Lord Hailes had sent him a present of 
 a curious little printed poem, on repair- 
 ing the University of Aberdeen, by David 
 Malloch, which he thought would please 
 Johnson, as affording clear evidence that 
 Mallet had appeared even as a literary 
 character by the name of Malloch; his 
 changing which to one of softer sound 
 had given Johnson occasion to introduce 
 him into his Dictionary under the article 
 Alias*. This piece was, I suppose, one 
 of Mallet's first essays. It is preserved in 
 his works, with several variations. John- 
 son having read aloud from the beginning 
 of it, where there were some common- 
 place assertions as to the superiority of 
 ancient times ; — " How false (said he) 
 is all this, to say that in ancient times 
 learning was not a disgrace to a Peer as 
 it is now. In ancient times a Peer was 
 as ignorant as any one else. He would 
 have been angry to have it thought he 
 could write his name. Men in ancient 
 times dared to stand forth with a degree 
 of ignorance with which nobody would 
 dare now to stand forth. I am always 
 angry when I hear ancient times praised 
 at the expense of modern times. There 
 is now a great deal more learning in the 
 world than there was formerly ; for it is 
 universally diffused. You have, perhaps, 
 no man who knows as much Greek and 
 Latin as Bentley ; no man who knows 
 as much mathematicks as Newton : but 
 you have many more men who know 
 Greek and Latin, and who know mathe- 
 maticks." 
 
 On Thursday, May 1, I visited him hi 
 the evening along with young Mr. Burke. 
 He said, " It is strange that there should 
 be so little reading in the world, and so 
 much writing. People in general do not 
 willingly read if they can have any thing 
 else to amuse them. There must be an 
 external impulse; emulation, or vanity, 
 or avarice. The progress which the un- 
 
 * [Mallocli, as Mr. Bindley observes to roe, 
 ''continued to write his name thus after he 
 came to London, His verses prefixed to the 
 second edition of Thomson's * Winter' are so 
 subscribed, and so are iiis Letters written in 
 London, and published a few years ag-o in 
 •the European Magazine;' but he soion after- 
 wards adopted the alteration to Mallet, for 
 he is so called in the list of Subscribers to 
 Savage's Miscellanies, printed in 1726; and 
 thenceforward uniformly Mallet, in all his 
 writings." M.] 
 
 [A notion has been entertained, that no such 
 exemplification of Alias is to be found in 
 Johnson's Dictionary, and that the whole story 
 was waggishly fabricated by Wilkes in the 
 North Briton. The real fact is, that it is not 
 to be found in the folio or quarto editions, 
 but was added by Johnson in his own octavo 
 Abridgment, in 1766. J. B.— O.] 
 
 545 
 
 derstanding makes through a book has 
 more pain than pleasure in it. Language 
 is scanty, and inadequate to express the 
 nice gradations and mixtures of our feel- 
 ings. No man reads a book of science 
 from pure inclination. The books that 
 we do read with pleasure are light com- 
 positions, which contain a quick succes- 
 sion of events. However, I have this 
 year read all Virgil through. I read a 
 book of the ^neid every night, so it was 
 done in twelve nights, and I had a great 
 delight in it. The Georgicks did not give 
 me so much pleasure, except the fourth 
 book. The Eclogues I have almost all 
 by heart. I do not think the story of the 
 ^neid interesting. I like the story of 
 the Odyssey much better ; and this not 
 on account of the wonderful things which 
 it contains ; for there are wonderful things 
 enough in the TEneid ; — the ships of the 
 Trojans turned to seanymphs, — the tree 
 at Polydorus's tomb dropping blood. The 
 story of the Odyssey is interesting, as a 
 great part of it is domestick. — It has been 
 said, there is pleasure in writing, parti- 
 cularly in writing verses. I allow, you 
 may have pleasure from writing, after it 
 is over, if you have written wellf ; but 
 you don't go willingly to it again. I 
 know, when I have been writing verses, 
 I have run my finger down the margin, 
 to see how many 1 had made, and how 
 few I had to make." 
 
 He seemed to be in a very placid hu- 
 mour, and although I have no note of the 
 particulars of young Mr. Burke's con- 
 versation, it is but justice to mention in 
 general, that it was such that Dr. John- 
 son said to me afterwards, ' He did very 
 well indeed; I have a mind to tell his 
 father." 
 
 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The gentleman who waits on you with 
 this is Mr. Cruikshanks, who wishes to 
 succeed his friend Dr. Hunter, as Profes- 
 sor of Anatomy in the Royal Academy. 
 His qualifications are very generally 
 known, and it adds dignity to the insti- 
 tution that such men J are candidates. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " May 2, 1783." " SaM. JoHNSON." 
 
 I have no minute of any interview with 
 Johnson till Thursday, May 15th, when I 
 find what follows : Boswell. •* I wish 
 much to be in Parliament, sir." John- 
 son. "Why, sir, unless you come resolved 
 to support any administration, you would 
 
 t [Dum pingit, fruitur arte; postquam pinx- 
 erat, fruitur fructu artis. Seneca. K.J 
 
 t Let it be remembered by those who accuse 
 Dr. Johnson of illiberality, that both were 
 Scotchmen, 
 
 NN 
 
546 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 be the worse for being in Parliament, 
 because you would be obliged to live 
 more expensively." — Boswell. " Per- 
 haps, sir, I should be the less happy for 
 being in Parliament. I never would sell 
 my vote, and I should be vexed if things 
 went wrong." Johnson. " That's cant, 
 sir. It would not vex you more in the 
 house than in the gallery: publick affairs 
 vex no man." — Eoswell. " Have not 
 they vexed yourself a little, sir? Have 
 not you been vexed by all the turbulence 
 of this reign, and by that absurd vote of 
 the House of Commons, * That the influ- 
 ence of the Crown has increased, is in- 
 creasing, and ought to be diminished V " 
 Johnson. " Sir, I have never slept an 
 hour less, nor eat an ounce less meat. I 
 would have knocked the factious' dogs 
 on the head, to be sure; but I was not 
 vexed." Boswell. " I declare, sir, upon 
 my honour, I did imagine I was vexed, 
 and took a pride in it ; but it was, per- 
 haps, cant ; for I own I neither eat less 
 nor slept less." Johnson. *' My dear 
 friend, clear your mind of cant. You 
 may tnl/i as other people do : you may 
 say to a man, ' Sir, I am your most 
 humble servant.' You are not his most 
 humble servant. You may say, * These 
 are bad times ; it is a melancholy thing 
 to be reserved to such times.' You don't 
 mind the times. You tell a man, * I am 
 sorry you had such bad weather the last 
 <lay of your journey, and were so much 
 wet.' You don't care sixpence whether 
 he is wet or dry. You may talk in this 
 manner; it is a mode of talking in so- 
 ciety : but don't think foolishly." 
 
 I talked of living in the country. John- 
 son. " Don't set up for what is called 
 hospitality : it is a waste of time and a 
 waste of money ; you are eaten up, and 
 not the more respected for your liberality. 
 If your house be like an inn, nobody 
 cares for you. A man who stays a week 
 wilh another makes him a slave for a 
 week." Boswell. '* But there are peo- 
 ple, sir, who make their houses a home 
 to their guests, and are themselves quite 
 easy," Johnson. " Then, sir, home must 
 be the same to the guests, and they need 
 not come." 
 
 Here he discovered a notion common 
 enough in persons not much acctistomed 
 to entertain company, that there must be 
 a degree of elaborate attention, otherwise 
 company willthinkthemselves neglected ; 
 and such attention is no doubt very fa- 
 tiguing. He proceeded: " 1 would not, 
 however, be a stranger in my own coun- 
 try ; I would visit my neighbours, and 
 receive their visits; but I would not be 
 in haste to return visits. If a gentleman 
 comes to see me, I tell hin> he does me 
 a great deal of honour. I do not go to 
 
 see him, perhaps, for ten weeks ; then 
 we are very complaisant to each other. 
 No, sir, you will have much more influ- 
 ence by giving or lending money where 
 it is wanted than by hospitality." 
 
 On Saturday, May 17, I saw him for 
 a short time. Having mentioned that I 
 had that morning been with old Mr. She- 
 ridan, he remembered their former inti- 
 macy with a cordial warmth, and said to 
 me, " Tell Mr. Sheridan I shall be glad 
 to see him, and shake hands with him." 
 Boswell. " It is to me very wonderful 
 that resentment should be kept up so 
 long." Johnson. *' Why, sir, it is not 
 altogether resentment that he does not 
 visit me ; it is partly falling out of the 
 habit, — partly disgust, as one has at a 
 drug that has made him sick. Besides, 
 he knows that I laugh at his oratory." 
 
 Another day I spoke of one of our 
 friends, of whom he, as well as I, had a 
 very high opinion. He expatiated in his 
 praise ; but added, " Sir, he is a cursed 
 Whig, a bottomless Whig, as they all 
 are now." 
 
 I mentioned my expectations from the 
 interest of an eminent person then in 
 power ; adding, " but I have no claim 
 but the claim of friendship; however, 
 some people will go a great way for that 
 motive." Johnson. " Sir, they will go 
 all the way from that motive." A gen- 
 tleman talked of retiring. " Never think 
 of that," said Johnson. The gentleman 
 urged, " I should then do no ill." John- 
 son. " Nor no good either. Sir, it would 
 be a civil suicide." 
 
 On Monday, May 2G, I found him at 
 tea, and the celebrated Miss Burney, the 
 authour of ** Evelina" and " Cecilia," 
 with him. I asked, if there would be 
 any speakers in Parliament, if there 
 were no places to be obtained. John- 
 son. " Yes, sir. Why do you speak 
 here? Either to instruct and entertain, 
 which is a benevolent motive ; or for 
 distinction, which is a selfish motive." 
 I mentioned " Cecilia." Johnson (with 
 an air of animated satisfaction). *' Sir, if 
 you talk of ' Cecilia,' talk on." 
 
 We talked of Mr. Barry's exhibition 
 of his pictures. Johnson. " Whatever 
 the hand may have done, (he mind has 
 done its part. There is a grasp of mind 
 there which you find nowhere else*." 
 
 I asked, whether a man naturally vir- 
 tuous, or one who has overcome wicked 
 inclinations, is the best. Johnson. " Sir, 
 to pou, the man who has overcome w icked 
 inclinations is not the best. He has more 
 merit to himself: I would rather trust 
 my money to a man who has no hands, 
 
 • In Mr. Barry's prinfe<l anal>sis, or ile. 
 Kcripilon of tliese pictnrrs. he speaks of Jolin- 
 boij's cliaracttT in (he highest ttrni:*. 
 
JEr\T. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 547 
 
 and so a physical impossibility to steal, 
 than to a man of the most honest princi- 
 ples. There is a witty satirical story of 
 Foote. He had a small bust of Garrick 
 placed upon his bureau. * You may be 
 surprised (said he) that I allow him to be 
 so near my gold ; — but you will observe, 
 he has no hands.' " 
 
 On Friday, May 29, being to set out 
 for Scotland next morning, I passed a 
 part of the day with him in more than 
 usual earnestness; as his health was in a 
 more precarious state than at any time 
 when I had parted from him. He, how- 
 ever, was quick and lively and critical as 
 usual. I mentioned one who was a very 
 learned man. Johnson. " Yes, sir, he 
 has a great deal of learning ; but it never 
 lies straight. There is never one idea by 
 the side of another; 'tis all entangled: 
 and then he drives it so awkwardly upon 
 conversation !" 
 
 I stated to him an anxious thought, by 
 which a sincere Christian might be dis- 
 turbed, even when conscious of having 
 lived a good life, so far as is consistent 
 with human infirmity ; he might fear that 
 he should afterwards fall away, and be 
 guilty of such crimes as would render all 
 his former religion vain. Could there be, 
 upon this awful subject, such a thing as 
 balancing of accounts? Suppose a man 
 who has led a good life for seven years, 
 commits an act of wickedness and in- 
 stantly dies ; will his former good life 
 have any effect in his favour? Johnson. 
 *' Sir, if a man has led a good life for 
 seven years, and then is hurried by pas- 
 sion to do what is wrong, and is suddenly 
 carried otf, depend upon it he will have 
 the reward of his seven-j'ears' good life : 
 God will not take a catch of him. Upon 
 this principle Richard Baxter believes 
 that a suicide may be saved. ' If (says 
 he) it should be objected that what I 
 maintain may encourage suicide, I an- 
 swer, I am not to tell a lie to prevent 
 * it.' " BoswKLL. " But does not the text 
 say, * As the tree falls so it must lie?' " 
 Johnson. ** Yes, sir ; as the tree falls : 
 but, — (after a little pause) — that is meant 
 as to the general state of the tree, not 
 what is the effect of a sudden blast." In 
 short, he interpreted the expression as 
 referring to condition, not. to position. 
 ^ The common notion, therefore, seems to 
 ._ be erroneous ; and Shenstone's witty le- 
 mark on Divines trying to give the tree 
 a jerk upon a deathbed, to make it lie 
 favourably, is not well founded. 
 
 I asked him what works of Richard 
 Baxter's I should read. He said, " Read 
 any of them ; they are all good." 
 
 He said, ** Get as much force of mind 
 .as yon can. Live within your income. 
 Always have something saved at the end 
 
 of the year. Let your imports be more 
 than your exports, and you'll never go 
 far wrong." 
 
 I assured him that, in the extensive 
 and various range of his acquaintance, 
 there never had been any one who had a 
 more sincere respect and affection for 
 him than I had. He said, *• I believe it, 
 sir. Were I in distress, there is no man 
 to whom I should sooner come than to 
 you. I should like to come and have a 
 cottage in your park, toddle about, live 
 mostly on milk, and be taken care of by 
 Mrs. Boswell. She and I are good friends 
 now ; are we not ?" 
 
 Talking of devotion, he said, " Though 
 it be true that ' God dwelleth not in tem- 
 ples made with hands,' yet in this state 
 of being our minds are more piously 
 affected in places appropriated to divine 
 worship than in others. Some people 
 have a particular room in their houses 
 where they say their prayers ; of which 
 I do not disapprove, as it may animate 
 their devotion." 
 
 He embraced me, and gave me his 
 blessing, as usual when I was leaving 
 him for any. length of time. I walked 
 from his door to-day with a fearful appre- 
 hension af what might happen before I 
 returned. 
 
 " to the right honourable WILLIAM 
 WINDHAM. 
 *' SIR, 
 
 ** The bringer of this letter is the father 
 of Miss Philips *, a singer, who comes to 
 try her voice on the stage at Dublin, 
 
 " Mr. Philips is one of my old friends.; 
 and as I am of opinion that neither he 
 nor his daughter will do any thing that 
 can disgrace their benefactors, I take the 
 liberty of entreating you to countenance 
 and protect them so far as may be suit- 
 able to your station t and character ; and 
 shall consider myself as obliged by any 
 favourable notice which they shall have 
 the honour of receiving from you. 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** London, May 31, 1783." 
 
 The following is another instance of his 
 active benevolence. 
 
 " to sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 " dear sir, 
 " I HAVE sent you some of my godson's j 
 performances, of which I do not pretend 
 to form any opinion. When I took the 
 liberty of mentioning him to you, I did 
 
 * Now the celebrated Mrs. Crouch, 
 t Mr. Windham was at this time in Dublin, 
 I Secretary to tlie Earl of Noithington, theu 
 Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
 I Son of Mr. Samuel Patterson. 
 
518 THE LIFE OF D 
 
 not know what I have since been told, 
 (hat Mr. Moser had admitted him among 
 1 he students of the Academy. What more 
 can be done for him, I earnestly entreat 
 you to consider ; for I am very desirous 
 that he should derive some advantage 
 from my connexion with him. If you 
 are inclined to see him, I will bring him 
 to wait on you, at any time that you shall 
 be pleased to appoint. I am, sir, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 "June 2, I7S3." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 My anxious apprehensions at parting 
 with him this year proved to be but too 
 well founded, for not long afterwards he 
 had a dreadful stroke of the palsy, of which 
 there are very full and accurate accounts 
 in letters written by himself, to show with 
 what composure of mind, and resignation 
 to the Divine Will, his steady piety en- 
 abled him to behave. 
 
 ** TO MR. EDMUND ALLEX. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** It has pleased God, this morning, to 
 deprive me of the powers of speech; 
 and as I do not know but that it may be 
 his further good pleasure to deprive me 
 soon of my senses, I request you will, on 
 the receipt of this note, come to me, and 
 act for me, as the exigencies of my case 
 may require. I am, 
 
 ** Sincerely yours, 
 " June 17, 17K3." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' TO THE REVEREND DR. JOHN TAYLOR. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** It has pleased God, by a paralytic 
 stroke in the night, to deprive me of 
 speech. 
 
 ** I am very desirous of Dr. Heber- 
 den's assistance, as I think my case is 
 not past remedy. Let me see you as soon 
 as it is possible. Bring Dr. Heberden 
 with you, if you can ; but come yourself 
 at all events. I am glad you are so well 
 when I am so dreadfully attacked. 
 
 ** I think that by a speedy application 
 of stimulants much may be done. I 
 question if a vomit, vigorous and rough, 
 would not rouse the organs of speech to 
 action. As it is too early to send, I will 
 try to recollect what I can, that can be 
 suspected to have brought on this dread- 
 ful distress. 
 
 *' I have been accustomed to bleed 
 frequently for an asthmatick complaint; 
 but have forborne for son«e time by Dr. 
 Pepys's persuasion, who perceived my 
 legs beginning to swell. I sometimes 
 alleviate a painful, or more properly an 
 oppressive constriction of my chest by 
 opiates ; and have lately taken opium 
 frequently, but the last, or two last times, 
 in smaller quantities. My largest dose is 
 three grains, and last night I took but 
 
 R. JOHNSON. 1783. 
 
 two. You will suggest these things (and 
 they are all that I can call to mind) to 
 Dr. Heberden. I am, &c. 
 " June 17, 1783." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Two days after he wrote thus to Mrs. 
 Thrale*: 
 
 ** On Monday, the I6th, I sat for my 
 picture, and walked a considerable way 
 with little inconvenience. In the after- 
 noon and evening I felt myself light and 
 easy, and began to plan schemes of life. 
 Thus I went to bed, and in a short time 
 waked and sat up, as has been long my 
 custom, when I felt a confusion and in- 
 distinctness in my head, which lasted, I 
 suppose, about half a minute. I was 
 alarmed, and prayed God that, however 
 he might afflict my body, he would spare 
 my understanding. This prayer, that I 
 might try the integrity of my faculties, I 
 made in Latin verse. The lines were 
 not very good, but I knew them not to 
 be very good : I made them easily, and 
 concluded myself to be unimpaired in my 
 faculties. 
 
 •' Soon after I perceived that I h;id 
 suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my 
 speech was taken from me. I had no 
 pain, and so little dejection in this dread- 
 ful state, that I wondered at my own 
 apathy, and considered that perhaps 
 death itself, when it should come, would 
 excite less honour than seems now to 
 attend it. 
 
 " In order to rouse the vocal organs, I 
 took two drams. Wine has been cele- 
 brated for the production of eloquence. 
 I put myself into violent motion, and I 
 think repeated it ; but all was vain. I 
 then went to bed, and strange as it may 
 seem, I think slept. When I saw light, 
 it was time to contrive what I should do. 
 Though God stopped my speech, he left 
 me my hand ; I enjoyed a mercy which 
 was not granted to my dear friend Law- 
 rence, who now perhaps overlooks me as 
 I am writing, and rejoices that I have 
 what he wanted. My first note was ne- 
 cessarily to my servant, who came in 
 talking, and could not immediately com- 
 prehend why he should read what I put 
 into his hands. 
 
 " I then wrote a card to Mr. Allen that 
 I might have a discreet friend at hand, to 
 act as occasion should require. In pen- 
 ning this note 1 had some difficulty ; my 
 hand, I knew not how nor why, made 
 wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor 
 to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden: 
 and I sent to Dr. Brocklesby, who is 
 my neighbour. My physicians are very 
 friendly, and give me great hopes ; but 
 you may imagine my situation. I have 
 
 « Vol. H. p. 268 of Mrs. Thrale's Collec- 
 tion. 
 
JETfiT. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ^4^ 
 
 so far recovered my vocal powers, as to 
 repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very 
 imperfect articulation. My memory, I 
 hope, yet remains as it was ; but such an 
 attack produces solicitude for the safety 
 of every faculty." 
 
 " TO MR. THOMAS DAVIES. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE had, indeed, a very heavy 
 blow ; but God, who yet spares my life, 
 I humbly hope will spare my understand- 
 ing, and restore my speech. As I am not 
 at all helpless I want no particular assist- 
 ance, but am strongly affected by Mrs. 
 Davies's tenderness ; and when I think 
 she can do me good, shall be very glad 
 to call upon her. I had ordered friends 
 to be shut out ; but one or two have found 
 the way in ; and if you come, you shall 
 be admitted : for I know not whom I 
 can see that will bring more amusement 
 on his tongue, or more kindness in his 
 heart. I am, &c. 
 «' June 18, 1783." " Sam, Johnson." 
 
 It gives me great pleasure to preserve 
 such a memorial of Johnson's regard for 
 Mr. Davies, to whom I was indebted for 
 my introduction to him*. — He indeed 
 loved Davies cordially, of which I shall 
 give the following little evidence. One 
 day when he had treated him with too 
 much asperity, Tom, who was not with- 
 out pride and spirit, went off in a passion ; 
 but he had hardly reached home, when 
 Frank, who had been sent after him, de- 
 livered this note : — " Come, come, dear 
 Davies, I am always sorry when we 
 quarrel ; send me word that we are 
 friends." 
 
 " TO JAMES BOS WELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your anxiety about my health is very 
 friendly, and very agreeable with your 
 general kindness. I have, indeed, had a 
 very frightful blow. On the 17th of last 
 month, about three in the morning, as 
 near as I can guess, I perceived myself 
 almost totally deprived of speech. I had 
 no pain. My organs were so obstructed 
 that I could say no, but could scarcely 
 say yes. I wrote the necessary directions, 
 for it pleased God to spare my hand, and 
 sent for Dr. Heberden and Dr. Brock- 
 lesby. Between the time in which I 
 discovered my own disorder, and that in 
 which I sent for the doctors, I had, I 
 believe, in spite of my surprise and soli- 
 citude, a little sleep, and Nature began to 
 renew its operations. They came and 
 gave the directions which the disease 
 
 * Poor Derrick, however, though he did not 
 himself introduoe me to Dr. Johnson as lie 
 promised, hid ilie merit of introducing me to 
 Davies, tlie iaiuiedidte introductor. 
 
 required, and from that time I have been 
 continually improving in articulation. I 
 can now speak, but the nerves are weak, 
 and I cannot continue discourse long ; 
 but strength, I hope, will return. The 
 physicians consider me as cured. I was 
 last Sunday at church. On Tuesday I 
 took an airing to Hampstead, and dined 
 with the Club, where Lord Palmerstoa 
 was proposed, and, against my opinion, 
 was rejected t- I designed to go next 
 week with Mr. Langton to Rochester, 
 where I purpose to stay about ten days, 
 and then try some other air. I have 
 many kind invitations. Your brother has 
 very frequently inquired after me. Most 
 of my friends have, indeed, been very 
 attentive. Thank dear Lord Hailes for 
 his present. 
 
 " I hope you found at your return 
 
 every thing gay and prosperous, and 3'our 
 
 lady, in particular, quite recovered and 
 
 confirmed. Pay her my respects. 
 
 *' I am, DEAR sir, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "London, July 3, 1783." 
 
 " TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " The account which you give of your 
 health is but melancholy. May it please 
 God to restore you. My disease afiected 
 my speech, and still continues, in some 
 degree, to obstruct ray utterance; my 
 voice is distinct enough for a while ; but 
 the organs being still weak, are quickly 
 weary : but in other respects I am, I 
 think, rather better than I have lately 
 been ; and can let you know my state 
 without the help of any other hand. 
 
 ** In the opinion of my friends, and in 
 my own, I am gradually mending. The 
 physicians consider me as cured, and I 
 had leave four days ago to wash the can- 
 tharides from my head. Last Tuesday I 
 dined at the Club. 
 
 *' I am going next week into Kent, and 
 purpose to change the air frequently this 
 summer; whether I shall wander so far 
 as Staffordshire I cannot tell. I should 
 be glad to come. Return my thanks to 
 Mrs. Cobb and Mr. Pearson, and all that 
 have shown attention to me. 
 
 " Let us, my dear, pray for one ano- 
 ther, and consider our sufferings as notices 
 mercifully given us to prepare ourselves 
 for another state. 
 
 ** I live now but in a melancholy way. 
 My old friend Mr. Levett is dead, who 
 lived with me in the house, and was use- 
 ful and companionable ; Mrs. Desmou- 
 lins is gone away; and Mrs. Williams is 
 so much decayed that she can add little 
 
 t His l.ordsliip was soon after chosen, and 
 is now a mcml>er of the Club. 
 
550 
 
 THE LIFE OF DK. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 to another's gratifications. Tlie world 
 passes away, and we are passing with it ; 
 but there is, doubtless, another world, 
 which will endure for ever. Let us all 
 tit ourselves for it. I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " London, July 5, I7S3." 
 Such was tlse general vigour of his 
 constitution that he recovered from this 
 alarming and severe attack with wonder- 
 ful quickness ; so that in July he was able 
 to make a visit to Mr. Langton at Ro- 
 chester, where he passed about a fort- 
 night, and made little excursions as easily 
 as at any time of his life. In August he 
 went as far as the neighbourhood of Salis- 
 bury, to Heale, the seat of William 
 Bowles, Esq. a gentleman whom I have 
 heard him praise for exemplary religious 
 order in his family. In his diary I find 
 a short but honourable mention of this 
 visit: — "August 28, I came to Heale 
 without fatigue. 30, I am entertained 
 quite to my mind *." 
 
 ** TO DR. BROCKLESBY. 
 " Heale, near Salisbury, \ag. 29, 178?. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Without appearing to want a just 
 sense of your kind attention, I cannot 
 omit to give an account of the day which 
 seemed to appear in some sort perilous. 
 I rose at five, and went out at six ; and 
 having reached Salisbury about nine, 
 went forward a few miles in my friend's 
 chariot. I was no more wearied with 
 the journey, though it was a high-hung, 
 
 * [In Iiis leiter to Mr-s. Tlirale, written on 
 tlie liitli of Au^usf, we find the following nie- 
 iancboly paragraph: 
 
 " I am now broken with disease, withoiit 
 the alleviation of finiiliar friendship or do- 
 niestick society: I have no middle stale be- 
 tween clamour and silence, between general 
 roiiver>alion and self-tormenting solitude. 
 Levett is dead, and poor Williams is making 
 baste to die: I know not if she will ever more 
 come out of her chamber." 
 
 Id a Kubsequent letter (August 26) he adds, 
 " Mrs, Williams fancies now and then that 
 she glows better, but her vital powers appear 
 to hf. slowly burning out. Nobody think.o, 
 however, that she will very soon be quite 
 wasted, and as she suffers I'ue to be of very 
 little use to her, I have determined to pass 
 some lime with Mr. Bowles near Salisbury, 
 and have taken a place for Thursday. 
 
 " Some benefit may be perhaps received 
 from change of air, some from change of 
 loinpany, and some from mere change of 
 place. It is not easy (o grow well in a chani- 
 in-r wheie one has long been sick, and where 
 every thing seen and every person speaking 
 revi\es and inifiresses imaees of pain. Though 
 it he true that no man can run away from 
 himself, yet he may escape from many causes 
 of u.-ele.<s uiieasines*. That l/ie iniud is itsouv 
 place is the boast of a fallen auuel (hat had 
 Teamed to lie. External locality has great 
 effects, at least upon all embodied heinirs. I 
 hope this little journey wilt afford me at least 
 kome suspense of melancholy." M.] 
 
 rough coach, than I should have been 
 forty years ago. We shall now see what 
 air will do. The country is all a plain ; 
 and the house in which I am, so far as I 
 can judge from my window, for I write 
 before I have left my chamber, is suffi- 
 ciently pleasant. 
 
 " Be so kind as to continue your atten- 
 tion to Mrs. Williams ; it is great conso- 
 lation to the well, and still greater to the 
 sick, that they find themselves not neg- 
 lected ; and I know that you will be 
 desirous of giving comfort, even where 
 you have no great hope of giving help. 
 
 ** Since I wrote the former part of the 
 letter, I find that by the course of the 
 post I cannot send it before the thirty- 
 first. I am, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 While he was here he had a letter from 
 Dr. Brocklesby, acquainting him of the 
 death of Mrs. Williams t, which aflected 
 him a good deal. Though for several 
 years her temper had not been compla- 
 cent, she had valuable qualities, and her 
 departure left a blank in his house. Upon 
 this occasion he, according to his habitual 
 course o'f piety, composed a prayer j. 
 
 I shall here insert a few particulars 
 concerning him, with which I have been 
 favoured by one of his friends. 
 
 " He had once conceived the design of 
 writing the Life of Oliver Cromwell ; 
 saying, that he thought it must be highly 
 curious to trace his extraordinary rise to 
 the supreme power from so obscure a 
 beginning. He at length laid aside his 
 scheme, on discovering that ali tliat can 
 be told of him is already in print; and 
 that it is impracticable to procure any 
 authentick information in addition to 
 what the world is already possessed 
 of§. 
 
 + [In his letter to Miss Susanna Thrale, 
 Sept. 9, 178J, he thus writes: " I'ray show 
 mamma this passage of a letter from Dr. 
 Brocklesby. • Mrs. Williams, from mere in- 
 aiiiliou, has at length paid the great debt 
 to nature about three o'clock this mornini|; 
 (Sept. 6). She died without a stinggle, re- 
 taining her faculties to the very last, and, 
 as she expressed it, havine set her house in 
 order, was prepaied to leave it at the last 
 summons of nature.'" 
 
 In his letter to Mrs. Thrale, Sept. 22, he 
 adds, *' Poor Williams has, I hope, seen the 
 end of her atfliciions. She acted with pru- 
 dence, and she bore with fortitude. She has 
 left me. 
 
 * Thou thy weary task hast done. 
 Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.* 
 Had she had good humour and prompt elocu- 
 tion, her universal cnriosity and comprehen- 
 sive knowledge would have made her the 
 delight of all that knew her. She has left her 
 little to your charity school." M.l 
 
 I Pra>ers and Medilntious, p. 226. 
 
 §(Mr^ Malone observes, "This, however, 
 was entirely a mistake, as appears from the 
 Memoirs published by Mr. Noble. Had John* 
 
JEtm: 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 551 
 
 " He had likewise projected, but at 
 what part of his life is not known, a 
 work to show how small a quantity of 
 real fiction there is in the world ; and 
 that the same images, with very little 
 variation, have served all the authours 
 who have ever written." 
 
 " His thoughts in the latter part of his 
 life were frequently employed on his de- 
 ceased friends. — He often muttered these, 
 or such like sentences : * Poor man ! and 
 tlien he died.'" 
 
 " Speaking of a certain literary friend, 
 * He is a very pompous puzzling fellow 
 (said he) ; he lent me a letter once that 
 somebody had written to him, no matter 
 what it w as about ; but he wanted to 
 have the letter back, and expressed a 
 mighty value for it ; he hoped it was to 
 be met with again, he would not lose it 
 for a thousand pounds. I laid my hand 
 upon it soon afterwards, and gave it him. 
 I believe I said, I was very glad to have 
 met with it. O, then he did not know 
 that it signified any thing. So you see, 
 when the letter was lost it was worth a 
 thousand pounds, and when it was found 
 it was not worth a farthing.' " 
 
 "The style and character of his con- 
 versation is pretty generally known ; it 
 was certainly conducted in conformity 
 with a precept of Lord Bacon, but it is 
 not clear, I apprehend, that this con- 
 formity was either perceived or intended 
 by Johnson. The precept alluded to is as 
 follows: * In all kinds of speech, either 
 pleasant, grave, severe, or ordinary, it is 
 convenient to speak leisurely, and rather 
 drawlingly than hastily : because hasty 
 speech confounds the memory, and often- 
 times, besides the unseemliness, drives a 
 man either to stammering, a nonplus, or 
 harping on that which should follow ; 
 whereas a slow speech confirmetli the 
 memory, addeth a conceit of wisdom to 
 the hearers, besides aseemliness of speech 
 and countenance*.' Dr. Johnson's me- 
 thod of conversation was certainly calcu- 
 lated to excite attention, and to amuse 
 and instruct (as it happened) without 
 
 6on been furnished with the materials which 
 the indiislry of that gentleman has procured, 
 and with others which, it is believed, are yei 
 preserveil in manuscript, he would, without 
 doubt, have produced a most valuable and 
 curious history of Cromwell's life." 
 
 [I may add that, had Johnson given us a 
 Life of Cromwell, we should not have been 
 disgfusted in nupiberless instances with — " My 
 Lord Protector " and " My Lady Protectress;" 
 and certainly the brutal riiflfiari, who presided 
 in the bloody assembly that murdered their 
 sovereign, would have been characterized by 
 very different epithets than those which are 
 applied to him in this work, where we find 
 him described as •' the bold and determined 
 Bradshaw." M.] 
 
 * [Hints for Civil ConversHtion.— Bacon's 
 yVorks, 410. vol. i. p. 571. M.j 
 
 wearying or confusing his company. He 
 was always most perfectly clear and 
 perspicuous ; and his language was so 
 accurate, and his sentences so neatly con- 
 structed, that his conversation might have 
 been all printed without any correction. 
 At the same time it was easy and natural ; 
 the accuracy of it had no appearance of 
 labour, constraint, or stiffness ; he seemed 
 more correct than others, by the force of 
 habit and the customary exercises of his 
 powerful mind." 
 
 *' He spoke often in praise of French 
 literature. * The French are excellent in 
 this (he would say), they have a book on 
 every subject.' From what he had seen of 
 them he denied them the praise of supe- 
 rior politeness, and mentioned, with very 
 visible disgust, the custom they have of 
 spitting on the floors of their apartments. 
 ' This (said the Doctor) is as gross a 
 thing as can well be done ; and one won- 
 ders how any man, or set of men, can 
 persist in so offensive a practice for a 
 whole day together; one should expect 
 that the first effort towards civilization 
 would remove it even among savages.'" 
 
 " Baxter's * Reasons of the Ciiristian 
 Religion,' he thought, contained the best 
 collection of the evidences of the divinity 
 of the Christian system." 
 
 " Chymistry was always an interesting 
 pursuit with Dr. Johnson. Whilst he was 
 in Wiltshire, he attended some experi- 
 ments that were made by a physician at 
 Salisbury, on the new kinds of air. In 
 the course of the experiments frequent 
 mention being made of Dr. Priestley, 
 Dr. Johnson knit his brows, and in a 
 stern manner inquired, * Why do we hear 
 so much of Dr. Priestley + ?' He was 
 very properly answered, * Sir, because 
 we are indebted to him for these impor- 
 tant discoveries.' On this Dr. Johnson 
 appeared well content ; and replied, 
 * Well, well, I believe we are ; and let 
 every man have the honour he has me- 
 rited.' " 
 
 " A friend was one day, about two 
 years before his death, struck with some 
 
 t I do not wonder at Johnson's displeasure 
 when the name of Dr. Priestley was men- 
 tioned; for 1 know no writer who has been 
 suffered to publish more pernicious doctrines. 
 I shall instance only three. First, Mate' 
 rinlism ; by which mind is denied to human 
 nature ; which, if believed, must deprive us of 
 every elevated principle. Secondly, Neces- 
 sity; or the doctrine that every action, whether 
 good or bad, is included in an unchangeable 
 and unavoidable system ; a notion utterly sub- 
 versive of moral government. Thirdly, that 
 we have no reason to think that the fnlnre 
 world (which, as he is pleased to inform us, 
 will be adapted to our merely improved na- 
 ture) will be niateriallv diffeient from this; 
 which, if believed, would sink wretched mor- 
 tals into despair, as they could no longer 
 hope for the *' rest that remaineth for the 
 
552 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 instance of Dr. Johnson's great candour. 
 ' Well, sir (said he), I will always say 
 that you are a very candid man.' — * Will 
 you? (replied the Doctor.) I doubt then 
 you will be very singular. But, indeed, 
 sir (continued he), 1 look upon myself to 
 be a man very much misunderstood. I 
 am not an uncandid, nor am I a severe 
 man. I sometimes say more than I mean 
 in jest ; and people are apt to believe me 
 serious : however, I am more candid than 
 I was when I was younger. As I know 
 more of mankind I expect less of them, 
 and am ready now to call a man a good 
 man upon easier terms than I was for- 
 merly.' " 
 
 On his return from Heale he wrote to 
 Dr. Burney. — " I came home on the 18th 
 of September, at noon, to a very discon- 
 solate house. You and I have lost our 
 friends ; but you have more friends at 
 home. My domestick companion is taken 
 from me. She is much missed, for her 
 acquisitions were many, and her curiosity 
 universal ; so that she partook of every 
 conversation. I am not well enough to 
 go much out ; and to sit, and eat, or fast 
 alone, is very wearisome. I always 
 mean to send my compliments to all the 
 ladies." 
 
 His fortitude and patience met with 
 
 people of God," or for that happiness which 
 IS revealed to us as somethin.^ beyond our pre- 
 sent conceptions; but would feel themselves 
 doomed to a continuation of the uneasy »tate 
 under which tliey now groan. I say nothing 
 of the peiulant "intemperance with which he 
 dares to insult the venerable establishments of 
 his country. 
 
 As a specimen of his writings, I shall quote 
 the following passage, which appears to i»e 
 equally absurd and impious, and which might 
 have been retorted upon him by the men viho 
 were prosecuted for burning his house. •* I 
 (Munot (says he), as a necessarian [meaning 
 7iecesiiilarian1, hate any man; because I con- 
 Mder him as being, in all respects, just what 
 God has made him to be; and also as doin/; 
 with respect to me, nothing but what he was 
 expressly designed and appointed to do : Gop 
 being the ouh/ cause, and men nothing niore 
 than the instirnnients in his hands to rxtcute 
 all his pleayure.^' Illustrations of Philosophi- 
 cal Necessity, p. III. 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Parr, in a late tract, 
 appears to sunpose that Dr. Johnson not only 
 endnred but almost solicited an inleiview wil/i 
 Dr. Priestley. In justice to Dr. Johnson, I 
 declaie my firm belief that he never did. My 
 illustrious friend was particularly resolute in 
 not givinif countenance to men who.«e vvril- 
 ingslie considered as pernicious to society. I 
 WAS present at Oxford when Or. Price, even 
 b« fore he had rendered himself so generally 
 obnoxious by his zeal for the French revolu- 
 tion, came into a company wheie Johnson 
 was, who in>tantly left the mom. Much more 
 would he have reprobated Dr. Priestley. 
 
 Whoever wishes to see a perfect delineation 
 of this Literary Jack of all Trades may find 
 it in an ingriiious tract, entitled, <* A small 
 Whole- Lenijth of Dr. Priestley," printed for 
 Kivtngions in St. I'aul^s Ciiurch ^ ard. 
 
 severe trials during this year. The stroke 
 of the palsy has been related circumstan- 
 tially ; but he was also afflicted with the 
 gout, and was besides troubled with a 
 complaint which not only was attended 
 with immediate inconvenience, but threat- 
 ened him with a chirurgical operation 
 from which most men would shrink. The 
 complaint was a sarcocele, which John- 
 son bore with uncommon firmness, and 
 was not at all frightened while he looked 
 forward to amputation. He was attended 
 by Mr. Pott and Mr. Cruikshank. I have 
 before me a letter of the 30th of July this 
 year, to Mr. Cruikshank, in which he 
 says, ** I am going to put myself into 
 your hands :" and another, accompany- 
 ing a set of his " Lives of the Poets," in 
 which he says, ** I beg your acceptance 
 of these volumes as an acknowledgment 
 of the great favours which you have be- 
 stowed on, sir, your most obliged and 
 most humble servant." I have in my 
 possession several more letters from him 
 to Mr. Cruikshank, and also to Dr. 
 Mudge at Plymouth, which it would be 
 improper to insert, as they are filled with 
 unpleasing technical details. I shall, 
 however, extract from his letters to Dr. 
 Mudge such passages as show either a 
 felicity of expression or the undaunted 
 state of his mind. 
 
 ** My conviction of your skill, and my 
 belief of your friendship, determine me 
 to entreat your opinion and advice." — 
 " In this state I with great earnestness 
 desire you to tell me what is to be done. 
 Excision is doubtless necessary to the 
 cure, and I know not any means of pal- 
 liation. The operation is doubtless pain- 
 ful, but is it dangerous? The pain I hope 
 to endure with decency ; but I am loath 
 to put life into much hazard." — ** By 
 representing the gout as an antagonist to 
 the palsy, you have said enough to make 
 it welcome. This is not strictly the first 
 fit, but I hope it is as good as the first; 
 for it is the second that ever confined me ; 
 and the first was ten years ago, mnchless 
 fierce and fiery than this." — " Write, dear 
 sir, what you can to inform or encourage 
 me. The operation is not delayed by any 
 fears or objections of mine." 
 
 ** TO BEN'NET LANGTON, E.SQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You may very reasonably charge mc 
 with insensibility of your kindness, and 
 that of Lady llolhes, since I have suffered 
 so much time to pass without paying any 
 acknowledgment. I now, at last, return 
 my thanks ; and why £ did it not sooner 
 I ought to tell you. I went into Wilt- 
 shire as soon as I well could, and was 
 there much employed in palliating my 
 own malady. Disease prx>diicie« much 
 
.5:tat. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 55$ 
 
 selfishness. A man in pain is looking 
 after ease ; and lets most other things go 
 as chance shall dispose of them. In the 
 mean time I have lost a companion *, to 
 wliom I have had recourse for domestick 
 amusement for thirty years, and whose 
 variety of knowledge never was ex- 
 liausted ; and now return to a habitation 
 vacant and desolate. I carry about a 
 very troublesome and dangerous com- 
 plaint, which admits no cure but by the 
 chirurgical knife. Let me have your 
 prayers. I am, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson.' 
 
 " London, Sept. 29, 1783." 
 
 Happily the complaint abated without 
 his being put to the torture of amputa- 
 tion. Eut we must surely admire the 
 manly resolution which he discovered 
 while it hung over him. 
 
 In a letter to the same gentleman he 
 writes, " The gout has within these four 
 days come upon me with a violence which 
 I never experienced before. It made me 
 helpless as an infant." — And in another, 
 having mentioned Mrs. Williams, he 
 says,—" whose death, following that of 
 Levett, has now made my house a soli- 
 tude. She left her little substance to a 
 charity school. She is, I hope, where 
 there is neither darkness, nor want, nor 
 sorrow." 
 
 I wrote to him, begging to know the 
 state of his health, and mentioned that 
 " Baxter's Anacreon, which is in the 
 library at Auchinleck, was, I find, col- 
 lated by my father in 1727, with the MS. 
 belonging to the University of Leyden, 
 and he has made a number of Notes upon 
 it. Would you advise me to publish a 
 new edition of it?" 
 
 His answer was dated September 30. 
 — '* You should not make your letters 
 such rarities when you know, or might 
 know, the uniform state of my health. It 
 is very long since I heard from you ; and 
 that I have not answered is a very insuf- 
 ficient reason for the silence of a friend. 
 — Your Anacreon is a very uncommon 
 book; neither London nor Cambridge 
 can supply a copy of that edition. Wh'e- 
 tiier it should be reprinted, you cannot do 
 better than consult Lord Hailes.— Be- 
 sides my constant and radical disease, I 
 have been for these ten days much 
 harassed with the gout ; but that has now 
 remitted. I hope Gou will yet grant me 
 a little longer life, and make me less 
 unfit to appear before him." 
 
 He this autumn received a visit from 
 the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. He gives 
 this account of it in one of his letters to 
 Mrs. Thrale [October 27] :— " Mrs. Sid- 
 dons, in her visit to me, behaved with 
 
 • Mrs. Anna Williams. 
 
 great modesty and propriety, and left 
 nothing behind her to be censured or 
 despised. Neither praise nor money, the 
 two powerful corrupters of mankind, 
 seem to have depraved her. I shall be 
 glad to see her again. Her brother Kem- 
 ble calls on me, and pleases me very 
 well. Mrs. Siddons and I talked of 
 plays; and she told me her intention of 
 exhibiting this winter the characters of 
 Constance, Catharine, and Isabella, in 
 Shakspeare." 
 
 Mr. Kemble has favoured me with the 
 following minute of what passed at this 
 visit. 
 
 " When Mrs. Siddons came into the 
 room, there happened to be no chair 
 ready for her, which he observing, said 
 with a smile, * Madam, you who so often 
 occasion a want of seats to other people 
 will the more easily excuse the want of 
 one yourself.' 
 
 ** Having placed himself by her, he 
 with great good humour entered upon a 
 consideration of the English drama; and, 
 among other inquiries, particularly asked 
 her which of Shakspeare's characters she 
 was most pleased with. Upon her an- 
 swering that she thought the character of 
 Queen Catharine in Henry the Eighth 
 the most natural : — ' I think so too, ma- 
 dam (said he) ; and whenever you per- 
 form it, I will once more hobble out to 
 the theatre myself.* Mrs. Siddons pro- 
 mised she would do herself the honour of 
 acting his favourite part for him ; but 
 many circumstances happened to prevent 
 the representation of King Henry the 
 Eighth during the Doctor's life. 
 
 '* In the course of the evening he thus 
 gave his opinion upon the merits of some 
 of the principal performers whom he 
 remembered to have seen upon the stage. 
 ' Mrs. Porter, in the vehemence of rage, 
 and Mrs. Clive, in the sprightliness of 
 humour, I have never seen equalled. 
 What Clive did best, she did better than 
 Garrick ; but could not do half so many 
 things well; she was a better romp than 
 any I ever saw in nature. — Pritchard, in 
 common life, was a vulgar idiot; she 
 would talk of her gownd ; but, when she 
 appeared upon the stage, seemed to be 
 inspired by gentility and understanding. 
 — I once talked with Colley Cibber, and 
 thought him ignorant of the principles of 
 his art. — Garrick, madam, was no de- 
 claimer ; there was not one of his own 
 scene-shifters who could not have spoken 
 To he, or not to he, better than he did ; 
 yet he was the only actor I ever saw, 
 whom I could call a master both in 
 tragedy and comedy ; though I liked 
 him best in comedy. A true conception 
 of character and natural expression of it 
 were his distinguished excellences.' Hav- 
 
554 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 ing expatiated, with his usual force and 
 eloquence, on Mr. Garrick's extraordi- 
 nary eminence as an actor, he concluded 
 with this compliment to his social talents ; 
 'And after all, madam, 1 thought him 
 less to be envied on the stage than at the 
 head of a table.'" 
 
 Johnson, indeed, had thought more 
 upon the subject of acting than might be 
 generally supposed. Talking of it one 
 day to Mr. Kemble, he said, " Are you, 
 sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe 
 yourself transformed into the very cha- 
 racter you represent?" Upon Mr.Kem- 
 ble's answering — that he had never felt 
 so strong a persuasion himself; "To be 
 sure not, sir (said Johnson) ; the thing is 
 impossible. And if Garrick really be- 
 lieved himself to be that monster, Richard 
 the Third, he deserved to be hanged every 
 time he performed it*." 
 
 ** TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** The death of poor Mr. Porter, of which 
 your maid has sent an account, must have 
 very much surprised you. The death of 
 a friend is almost always unexpected : 
 we do not love to think of it, and there- 
 fore are not prepared for its coming. He 
 was, I think, a religious man, and there- 
 fore that his end was happy. 
 
 " Death has likewise visited my mourn- 
 ful habitation. Last month died Mrs. 
 Williams, who had been to me for thirty 
 years in the place of a sister : herknow- 
 
 • My worthy friend, Mr. John Nichols, was 
 present whtn Mr. Henderson, the actor, paid 
 a visit to Dr. Johnson; and was received in 
 a very courteous manner.— See " Gentleman's 
 Masjazine," Junp, 17.01. 
 
 I found, amon^ Dr. Johnson's papers, the 
 following^ letter to him, from the celebrated 
 Mrs. Bellamy: 
 
 ** TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 " sm, 
 " The flatterin«r remembrance of fhe partiality 
 you honoured me with, some ye-ars aero, as 
 well as the humanity you are known to pos- 
 sess, has encouraeed me to solicit your patro- 
 nasre at mv Henefit. 
 
 " By a Uttiii t'hnncery suit, and a compli- 
 cated train of unfortunate events, I am re- 
 duced to the ffreatest distress; which obliges 
 nie, once more, to request the indulffence of 
 the publick. 
 
 "Give me leave to solicit the honour of 
 your company, and to assure you, if vou erant 
 my request, the gratification I shall feel, 
 from beinfir patronised by Dr. Johnson, will 
 be infinitelv siiperiour to any advantage that 
 may arise from the Benefit; as I am, with the 
 profoiindest resperl, sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient humble servant, 
 
 *' G. A. Bellamy." 
 
 " No. II, Duke Street, St. James's, 
 May n, 1783." 
 
 I am happy in recordinir these pariictilars, 
 which prove that my illustrious frieii<l lived to 
 think much more favourably of Players than 
 he appears to have done in the early part of 
 his life. ' *^ 
 
 ledge was great, and her conversation 
 pleasing. I now live in cheerless soli- 
 tude. 
 
 " My two last years have passed under 
 the pressure of successive diseases. I 
 have lately had the gout with some seve- 
 rity. But I wonderfully escaped the 
 operation which I mentioned, and ani 
 upon the whole restored to health beyond 
 my own expectation. 
 
 " As we daily see our friends die round 
 us, we that are left must cling closer, and 
 if we can do nothing more, at least pray 
 for one another ; and remember, that as 
 others die we must die too, and prepare 
 ourselves diligently for the last great trial. 
 
 " I am, MADAM, 
 
 " Yours atfectionately, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Bolt Court, Fleet Street, 
 Nov. 10, 1783." 
 
 A pleasing instance of the generous 
 attention of one of his friends has been 
 discovered by the publication of Mrs. 
 Thrale's collection of Letters. In a letter 
 to one of the Miss Thralest, he writes, 
 '* A friend, whose name I will tell when 
 your mamma has tried to guess it, sent to 
 my physician to inquire whether this long 
 train of illness had brought me into diffi- 
 culties for want of money, with an invi- 
 tation to send to him for what occasion 
 reqiiired. I shall write this night to thank 
 hirn, having no need to borrow." And 
 afterwards, in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, 
 *' Since you cannot guess, I will tell you, 
 that the generous man was Gerard Ha- 
 milton. I returned him a very thankful 
 and respectful letter j." 
 
 I applied to Mr. Hamilton, by a com- 
 mon friend, and he has been so obliging 
 as to let me have Johnson's letter to him 
 upon this occasion, to adorn my collec- 
 tion. 
 
 " TO the right honourable WILLIAM 
 GERARD HAMILTON. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Your kind inquiries after my affairs 
 and your generous offers have been com- 
 municated to me by Dr. Brocklesby. I 
 return thanks with great sincerity, having 
 lived long enough to know what gratitude 
 is due to such friendship ; and entreat 
 that my refusal may not be imputed to 
 snilenness or pride. I am, indeed, in no 
 want. Sickness is, by the generosity of 
 my physicians, of little expense to ine. 
 But if any unexpected exigence should 
 press me, you shall see, dear sir, how 
 cheerfully 1 can be obliged to so much 
 liberality. lam, sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient, 
 
 " And most humble servant, 
 " Nov. 19, 1783." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 t Vol. ii. p. 328, I Vol. ii. p. 3<2. 
 
JEtxt. 74. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 555 
 
 I find in this, as in former years, no- 
 tices of his kind attention to Mrs. Gar- 
 diner, who, though in the humble station 
 of a tallowchandler upon Snow Hill, was 
 a woman of excellent good sense, pious, 
 and charitable*. She told me, she had 
 been introduced to him by Mrs. Masters, 
 the poetess, whose volumes he revised, 
 and, it is said, illuminated here and there 
 with a ray of his own genius. Mrs. 
 Gardiner was very zealous for the sup- 
 port of the Ladies' charity school in the 
 parish of St. Sepulchre. It is confined 
 to females; and, I am told, it afforded a 
 iiint for the story of Betty Broom in 
 *' The Idler." Johnson this year, I lind, 
 obtained for it a sermon from the late 
 Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. Shipley, whom 
 he, in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, 
 characterizes as " knowing and conversi- 
 ble;" and whom all who knew his Lord- 
 ship, even those who differed from him in 
 politicks, remember with much respect. 
 
 The Earl of Carlisle having written a 
 tragedy, entitled " The Father's Re-. 
 VENGE," some of his Lordship's friends 
 applied to Mrs. Chapone, to prevail on 
 Dr. Johnson to read and give his opinion 
 of it, which he accordingly did, in a let- 
 ter to that lady. Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 having informed me that this letter was 
 in Lord Carlisle's possession, though I 
 was not fortunate enough to have the 
 honour of being known to his Lordship, 
 trusting to the general courtesy of litera- 
 ture, I wrote to him, requesting the 
 favour of a copy of it, and to be permit- 
 ted to insert it in my life of Dr. Johnson. 
 His Lordship was so good as to comply 
 with my request, and has thus enabled 
 me to enrich my work with a very fine 
 piece of writing, which displays both the 
 critical skill and politeness of my illus- 
 trious friend ; and perhaps the curiosity 
 which it will excite may induce the 
 noble and elegant Authour to gratify the 
 world by the publication f of a^ perform- 
 ance, of which Dr. Johnson has spoken 
 in such terms. 
 
 " TO MRS. CHAPONE. 
 *' MADAM, 
 
 "By sending the tragedy to me a second 
 timet, I thijik that a very honourable 
 distinction has been shown me, and I 
 did not delay the perusal, of which I am 
 now to tell the effect. 
 
 » [Fn his Will Dr. Johnson left her a book 
 " at her eleciion, to keep as a token of re- 
 menihrance." M.] 
 
 [This excellent woman died September 13, 
 1789, aged 74. A. C] 
 
 t A few copies only of tliis tragredy have been 
 printed, and given to the authoui's friends. 
 
 X Dr. Johnson, having bepn very ill when the 
 tragedy was first sent to him, had declined the 
 consideration of it. 
 
 *' The construction of the play is not 
 completely regular ; the stage is too often 
 vacant, and the scenes are not sufficiently 
 connected. This, however, would be 
 called by Dryden only a mechanical 
 defect ; w hich takes away little from the 
 power of the poem, and which is seen 
 rather than felt. 
 
 " A rigid examiner of the diction might, 
 perhaps, wish some words changed, and 
 some lines more vigorously terminated. 
 But from such petty imperfections what 
 writer was ever free 1 
 
 " The general form and force of the 
 dialogue is of more importance. It seems 
 to want that quickness of reciprocation 
 which characterizes the English drama, 
 and is not always sufficiently fervid or 
 animated. 
 
 " Of the sentiments, I remember not 
 one that I wished omitted. In the ima- 
 gery I cannot forbear to distinguish the 
 comparison of joy succeeding grief to 
 light rushing on the eye accustomed to 
 darkness. It seems to have all that can 
 be desired to make it please. It is new, 
 just, and delightful §. 
 
 " With the characters, either as con- 
 ceived or preserved, I have no fault to 
 find ; but was much inclined to congra- 
 tulate a writer, who, in defiance of pre- 
 judice and fashion, made the Archbishop 
 a good man, and scorned all thoughtless 
 applause, which a vicious churchman 
 would have brought him. 
 
 " The catastrophe is affecting. The 
 Father and Daughter both culpable, both 
 wretched, and both penitent, divide be- 
 tween them our pity and our sorrow. 
 
 ** Thus, madam, I have performed 
 what I did not willingly undertake, and 
 could not decently refuse. The noble 
 writer will be pleased to remember that 
 sincere criticism ought to raise no resent- 
 ment, because judgment is not under the 
 control of will ; but involuntary criticism, 
 as it has still less of choice, ought to be 
 more remote from possibility of offence. 
 ** I am, &c. 
 
 "Nov. 28, 1783." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 I consulted him on two questions of a 
 very different nature : one, whether the 
 unconstitutional influence exercised by 
 the Peers of Scotland in the election of 
 the representatives of the Commons, by 
 means of fictitious qualifications, ought 
 not to be resisted ;— the other. What, in 
 [)ropriety and humanity, should be done 
 
 § " I could have borne my woes ; that 
 
 stranger Joy 
 Wounds while it smiles:— The long-imprison'd 
 
 wretch. 
 Emerging from the night of his dump cell, 
 Shrinks from the sun's bright beams; and 
 
 that, which flings 
 Gladness o'er all, to him is agony," 
 
556 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783. 
 
 with old horses unable to labour. I gave 
 him some account of my life at Auchin- 
 leck ; and expressed my satisfaction that 
 the gentlemen of the county had, at 
 two publick meetings, elected me their 
 PrcBses, or Chairman. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Like all other men who have great 
 friends, you begin to feel the pangs of 
 neglected merit ; and all the comfort that 
 I can give you is, by telling you that you 
 have probably more pangs to feel, and 
 more neglect to suffer. You have, in- 
 deed, begun to complain too soon ; and 
 I hope I am the only confidant of your 
 discontent. Your friends have not yet 
 had leisure to gratify personal kindness; 
 they have hitherto been busy in strength- 
 ening their ministerial interest. If a 
 vacancy happens in Scotland, give them 
 early intelligence : and as you can serve 
 GovernmenFas powerfully as any of your 
 probable competitors, you may make in 
 some sort a warrantable claim. 
 
 ** Of the exaltations and depressions of 
 your mind you delight to talk, and I hate 
 to hear. Drive all such fancies from 
 you. 
 
 " On the day when I received your 
 letter, I think, the foregoing page was 
 written ; to which one disease or another 
 has hindered me from making any addi- 
 tions. I am now a little better. But 
 sickness and solitude press me very hea- 
 vily. I could bear sickness better if I 
 were relieved from solitude. 
 
 ** The present dreadful confusion of the 
 publick ought to make you wrap your- 
 self up in your hereditary possessions, 
 which, though less than you may wish, 
 are more than you can want; and in an 
 hour of religious retirement return thanks 
 to God, who has exempted you from any 
 strong temptation to faction, treachery, 
 plunder, and disloyalty. 
 
 " As your neighbours distinguish you 
 by such honours as they can bestow, 
 content yourself with your station, with- 
 out neglecting your profession. Your 
 estate and the Courts will find you full 
 employment, and your mind well occu- 
 pied will be quiet. 
 
 " The usurpation of the nobility, for 
 they apparently usurp all the influence 
 they gain by fraud and misrepresenta- 
 tion, I think it certainly lawful, perhaps 
 your duty, to resist. What is not their 
 own they have only by robbery. 
 
 ** Your question about the horses gives 
 me more perplexity. I know not well 
 what advice to give you. I can only 
 recommend a rule which you do not 
 want ; — give as little pain as you can. I 
 suppose that we have a right to their 
 
 service while their strength lasts ; what 
 we can do with them afterwards I can- 
 not so easily determine. But let us con- 
 sider. Nobody denies that man has a 
 right first to milk the cow, and to shear 
 the sheep, and then to kill them for his 
 table. May he not, by parity of reason, 
 first work a horse, and then kill him the 
 easiest way, that he may have the means 
 of another horse, or food for cows and 
 sheep? Man is influenced in both cases 
 by different motives of self-interest. He 
 that rejects the one must reject the other. 
 ** I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' London, Dec. 24, 1783." 
 
 ** A happy and pious Christmas ; and 
 many happy years to you, your lady, 
 and children." 
 
 The late ingenious Mr. Mickle, some 
 time before his death, wrote me a letter 
 concerning Dr. Johnson, in which he 
 mentions, '* I was upwards of twelve 
 •years acquainted with him, was fre- 
 quently in his company, always talked 
 with ease to him, and can truly say, 
 that I never received from him one 
 rough word." 
 
 In this letter he relates his having, 
 while engaged in translating the Lusiad, 
 had a dispute of considerable length with 
 Johnson, who, as usual, declaimed upon 
 the misery and corruption of a sea life, 
 and used this expression : — " It had been 
 happy for the world, sir, if your hero 
 Gama, Prince Henry of Portugal, and 
 Columbus had never been born, or that 
 their schemes had never gone farther 
 than their own imaginations." — " This 
 sentiment (says Mr. Mickle), which is 
 to be found in his * Introduction to the 
 World Displayed,' I, in my Dissertation 
 prefixed to the Lusiad, have controverted ; 
 and though authours are said to be bad 
 judges of their own works, I am not 
 ashamed to own to a friend, that that 
 dissertation is my favourite above all that 
 I ever attempted in prose. Next year, 
 when the Lusiad was published, I waited 
 on Dr. Johnson, who addressed me with 
 one of his good humoured smiles : — 
 ' Well, you have remembered our dis- 
 pute about Prince Henry, and have cited 
 me too. You have done your part very 
 well indeed : you have made the best of 
 your argument ; but I am not convinced 
 yet.' 
 
 " Before publishing the Lusiad, I sent 
 Mr. Hoole a proof of that part of the 
 introduction, in which I make mention 
 of Dr. Johnson, yourself, and other well 
 wishers to the work, begging it might be 
 shown to Dr. Johnson. This was ac- 
 cordingly done ; and in place of tin- 
 simple mention of him which 1 had made, 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 JEtkt. 74. 
 
 he dictated to Mr. Hoole the sentence as 
 it now stands. 
 
 *' Dr. Johnson told me, in 1772, that, 
 about twenty years before that time, he 
 himself had a design to translate the 
 Lusiad, of the merit of which he spoke 
 highly, but had been prevented by a 
 number of other engagements." 
 
 Mr. Mickle reminds me, in this letter, 
 of a conversation at dinner one day at 
 Mr. Hoole's with Dr. Johnson, when 
 Mr. Nicol, the King's Bookseller, and 
 I attempted to controvert the maxim, 
 ** better that ten guilty should escape 
 than one innocent person suffer ;" and 
 were answered by Dr. Johnson with 
 great power of reasoning and eloquence. 
 I am very sorry that I have no record of 
 that day : but I well recollect my illus- 
 trious friend's having ably shown that 
 unless civil institutions ensure protection 
 to the innocent, all the confidence which 
 mankind should have in them would be 
 lost. 
 
 I shall here mention what, in strict 
 chronological arrangement, should have 
 appeared in my account of last year ; 
 but may more properly be introduced 
 here, the controversy having not been 
 closed till this. The Reverend Mr. Shaw, 
 a native of one of the Hebrides, having 
 entertained doubts of the authenticity of 
 the poems ascribed to Ossian, divested 
 himself of national bigotry ; and having 
 travelled in the Highlands and Islands of 
 Scotland, and also in Ireland, in order 
 to furnish himself with materials for a 
 Gaelick Dictionary, which he afterwards 
 compiled, was so fully satislied that Dr. 
 Johnson was in the right upon the ques- 
 tion, that he candidly published a pam- 
 phlet, stating his conviction, and the 
 proofs and reasons on which it was 
 founded. A person at Edinburgh, of the 
 name of Clark, answered this pamphlet, 
 with much zeal and much abuse of its 
 authour. Johnson took Mr. Shaw under 
 his protection, and gave him his assist- 
 ance in writing a reply, which has been 
 admired by the best judges, and by many 
 been considered as conclusive. A few 
 paragraphs, which sufficiently mark their 
 great authour, shall be selected. 
 
 " My assertions are, for the most part, 
 purely negative : I deny the existence of 
 Fingal, because in a long and curious 
 peregrination through the Gaelick regions 
 I have never been able to find it. What 
 I could not see myself I suspect to be 
 equally invisible to others ; and I suspect 
 with the more reason, as among all those 
 who have seen it no man can show it. 
 
 " Mr. Clark compares the obstinacy of 
 those who disbelieve the genuineness of 
 Ossian to a blind man, who should dis- 
 pute the reality of colours, and deny that 
 
 667 
 
 the British troops are clothed in red. 
 The blind man's doubt would be rational, 
 if he did not know by experience that 
 others have a power which he himself 
 wants : but what perspicacity has Mr. 
 Clark which Nature has withheld from 
 me or the rest of mankind ? 
 
 "The true state of the parallel must be 
 this. Suppose a man, with eyes like his 
 neighbours, was told by a boasting cor- 
 poral, that the troops, indeed, wore red 
 clothes for their ordinary dress, but that 
 every soldier had likewise a suit of black 
 velvet, which he put on when the King 
 reviews them. This he thinks strange, 
 and desires to see the fine clothes, but 
 finds nobody in forty thousand men that 
 can produce either coat or waistcoat. 
 One, indeed, has left them in his chest 
 at Port Mahon ; another has always heard 
 that he ought to have velvet clothes some- 
 where ; and a third has heard somebody 
 say, that soldiers ought to wear velvet. 
 Can the inquirer be blamed if he goes 
 away believing that a soldier's red coat 
 is all that he has? 
 
 ** But the most obdurate incredulity 
 may be shamed or silenced by facts. To 
 overpower contradictions, let the soldier 
 show his velvet coat, and the Fingalist 
 the original of Ossian. 
 
 •' The difference between us and the 
 blind man is this : the blind man is un- 
 convinced, because he cannot see ; and 
 we, because, though we can see, we find 
 that nothing can be shown." 
 
 Notwithstanding the complication of 
 disorders under which Johnson now la- 
 boured, he did not resign himself to 
 despondency and discontent, but with 
 wisdom and spirit endeavoured to con- 
 sole and amuse his mind with as many 
 innocent enjoyments as he could pro- 
 cure. Sir John Hawkins has mentioned 
 the cordiality with which he insisted that 
 such of the members of the old club in 
 Ivy Lane as survived should meet again 
 and dine together, which they did, twice 
 at a tavern, and once at hi§ house : and 
 in order to ensure himself society in the 
 evening for three days in the week, he 
 instituted a club at the Essex Head, in 
 Essex Street, then kept by Samuel 
 Greaves, an old servant of Mr. Thrale's. 
 
 " TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " It is inconvenient to me to come out ; 
 I should else have waited on you with an 
 account of a little evening Club which we 
 are establishing in Essex Street in the 
 Strand, and of which you are desired to 
 be one. It will be held at the Essex 
 Head, now kept by an old servant of 
 Thrale's. The company is numerous, 
 and, as you will see by the list, miscel- 
 
558 
 
 laneous. The terms are lax, and the 
 expenses light. Mr. Barry was adopted 
 by Dr. Brocklesby, who joined with me 
 in forming the. plan. We meet thrice 
 a week, and he who misses forfeits two- 
 pence. 
 
 " If you are willing to become a mem- 
 ber, draw a line under your name. Re- 
 turn the list. We meet for the first time 
 on Monday at eight. I am, &c. 
 
 *' Dec. 4, 1783." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 It did not suit Sir Joshua to be one of 
 this Club. But when I mention only 
 Mr. Daines Barrington, Dr. Brocklesby, 
 Mr. Murphy, Mr. John Nichols, Mr. 
 Cooke, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. Paradise, Dr. 
 Horsley, Mr. Windham*, I shall suffi- 
 ciently obviate the misrepresentation of 
 it by Sir John Hawkins, as if it had been 
 a low alehonse association, by which 
 Johnson was degraded. Johnson himself, 
 like his namesake Old Ben, composed 
 the Rules of his Ciub+. 
 
 In the end of this year he was seized 
 with a spasmodick asthma of such vio- 
 lence that he was confined to the house 
 in great pain, being sometimes obliged to 
 sit all night in his chair, a recumbent 
 posture being so hurtful to his respira- 
 tion that he could not endure lying in 
 bed; and there came upon him at the 
 same time that oppressive and fatal dis- 
 ease, a dropsy. It was a very severe 
 winter, which probably aggravated iiis 
 complaints ; and the solitude in which 
 Mr. Levett and Mrs. Williams had left 
 him rendered his life very gloomy. Mrs. 
 
 * I was in Scotland when this Club was 
 founded, and during: all the winter. Johnson, 
 however, declared I should he a nienihfr, and 
 invented a word upon the occasion: " Bos- 
 well (said he) is a very clnbable man." When 
 1 came to town, I was proposed by Mr. Bar- 
 rinsfton, an<l chosen. I believe there are few 
 societies where there is better conversation 
 or more decorum. Several of ns resolved to 
 continue it after our great founder was re- 
 moved by death. Other members were added ; 
 and now, above eight years since that loss, we 
 go on hapi;ily, 
 
 t RULES. 
 *' To-day deep thoughts with me resolve to 
 
 drench 
 In mirth, which after no repenting draws." 
 Milton. 
 
 " The Club shall consist of four-and-twenlv. 
 
 *' The meetings shall be on the Monday, 
 Thursday, and Saturday of every week ; but 
 in ilie week before Easter there siiali be no 
 meeting'. 
 
 '• Every member is at liberty to introduce a 
 friend once a week, but not oftener. 
 
 "Two members shall oblige themselves to 
 attend in their turn every night from eight 
 to ten, or to procure two to attend in their 
 room. 
 
 ** Every member present at the Club shall 
 spend at least sixpence ; and every member 
 who stays away shall forreit three-pence. 
 
 "The master of ihe house shall keep an 
 account of the absent members; and deliver 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1783, 
 
 Dcsmoulins, who still lived, was herself 
 so very ill that she could contribute very 
 little to his relief. He, however, had 
 none of that unsocial shyness which we 
 commonly see in people afflicted with 
 sickness. He did not hide his head from 
 the world in solitary abstraction ; he did 
 not deny himself to the visits of his 
 friends and acquaintances; bnt at all 
 times, when he was not overcome by 
 sleep, was ready for conversation as in 
 his best days. 
 
 *' TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 ** You may perhaps think me negligent 
 that I have not written to yon again upon 
 the loss of your brother ; but condolences 
 and consolations are such common and 
 such useless things that the omission of 
 them is no great crime : and my own 
 diseases occupy my mind and engage my 
 care. My nights are miserably restless, 
 and my days, therefore, are heavy. I 
 try, however, to hold up my head as 
 high as I can. 
 
 ** I am sorry that your health is im- 
 paired ; perhaps the spring and the sum- 
 mer may, in some degree, restore it ; 
 but if not, we must snbmit to the incon- 
 veniences of time, as to the other dis- 
 pensations of Eternal Goodness. Pray 
 for me, and write to me, or let Mr. 
 Pearson write for you. I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' London, Nov. 29, 1783." 
 
 And now I am arrived at the last year 
 
 to the President of the night a list of the for- 
 feits incuri'ed. 
 
 " When any member returns after absence, 
 he shall immediately lay down his forfeit.-; 
 which, if he omits to do, the President shall 
 require. 
 
 *♦ There shall be no genernl reckoning, but 
 every man shall adjust his own expenses. 
 
 " The night of indispensable attendance 
 will come to every member once a momh. 
 Whoever shall for three months together omit 
 to attend hinl^elf, or by substitution, nor shall 
 make any apology in the fourth month, shall 
 be considered as having abdicated the Club. 
 
 " When a vacancy is to be filled, the name 
 of the candidate, and of the member recom- 
 mending him, shall stand in ihe Club room 
 three nights. On the fourth he may be chosen 
 by ballot ; six members at least liein;,' present, 
 and two-thirds o! the ballot bemg in his 
 favour; or the majority, should the numbers 
 not be <livisible by thiee. 
 
 '• The master ot the house shall give notice, 
 six days before, to each of tho^^e members 
 whose turn of necessary attendance is come. 
 
 " The notice may be in these words:— •Sir, 
 
 On the of , will be 
 
 your turn of presiding at the Essex Head. 
 Your company is therefore earnestly re- 
 quested.' 
 
 •M)ne penny shall be left by each member 
 for the waiter." 
 
 Johnson's definition of a Club in this eensr, 
 in his Dictionarv, is, " An a^scmbiv of good 
 fellows, meeting under certain cond'itions.". 
 
^TAT. 74. THE LIFE OF 
 
 of the life of Samuel Johnson, a year in 
 which, although passed in severe indis- 
 position, he nevertheless gave many 
 evidences of the continuance of those 
 wondrous powers of mind which raised 
 him so high in the intellectual world. 
 His conversation and his letters of this 
 year were in no respect inferiour to those 
 of former years. 
 
 The following is a remarkable proof of 
 his being alive to the most minute curio- 
 sities of literature. 
 
 *' TO MR. DILLY, BOOKSELLER, IN THE 
 POULTRY. 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** There is in the world a set of books 
 which used to be sold by the booksellers 
 on the bridge, and which I must entreat 
 yon to procure me. They are called 
 Burton's Books * ; the title of one is, 
 Admirable Curiosities, Rarities, and 
 Wonders in England. I believe there 
 are about five or six of them ; they seem 
 very proper to allure backward readers : 
 be so kind as to get them for me, and 
 8end me them with the best printed edi- 
 tion of * Baxter's Call to the Uncon- 
 verted.' I am, &c. 
 <* Jan. 6, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** TO MR. PERKINS. 
 '* DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I WAS very sorry not to see you when 
 you were so kind as to call on me; but 
 to disappoint friends, and if they are not 
 very good natured, to disoblige them, is 
 one of the evils of sickness. If you will 
 please to let me know which of the after- 
 noons in this week I shall be favoured 
 with another visit by you and Mrs. Per- 
 kins, and the young people, I will take 
 all the measures that I can to be pretty 
 well at that time. I am, dear sir, 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 "Jan. 21, 178J." " Sam. Johnson." 
 His attention to the Essex Head Club 
 appears from the following letter to Mr. 
 Alderman Clark, a gentleman for whom 
 he deservedly entertained a great regard. 
 
 * [The followiiig^ list comprises several of 
 these books; but probably is incomplete: 
 
 1. Historical Remarques on London 
 
 and Westminsrer 1681 
 
 2. Wars in England, Scotland, and Ire 
 
 land 1681 
 
 3. Wonderful Prodigies 1681 
 
 4. English Empire in America 168J 
 
 5. Surprising Miracles of Nature and 
 
 Art 1685 
 
 6. Hisrory of Scotland an<l Ireland . . . 1685 
 
 7. Nine Worthies of the World 1687 
 
 8. The English Hero, or Sir Francis 
 
 Drake 1687 
 
 9. Memorable Accidents, and unheard 
 
 of Transactions 1693 
 
 10. History of Oliver Cromwell ...... 169s 
 
 J I. Unparalleled Varieties l(i99 
 
 M.] 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 559 
 
 '* to RICHARD CLARK, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You will receive a requisition, accord- 
 ing to the rules of the Club, to be at the 
 house as President of the night. This 
 turn comes once a month, and the mem- 
 ber is obliged to attend, or send another 
 in his place. You were enrolled in the 
 Club by my invitation, and I ought to 
 introduce you ; but as I am hindered by 
 sickness, Mr. Hoole will very properly 
 supply my place as introductor, or yours 
 as President. I hope in milder weather 
 to be a very constant attendant. 
 " I am, SIR, &c. 
 " Jan. 27, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** You ought to be informed that the 
 forfeits began with the year, and that 
 every night of nonattendance incurs the 
 mulct of three-pence, that is, nine-pence 
 a week." 
 
 On the 8th of January I wrote to him, 
 anxiously inquiring as to his health, and 
 enclosing my ** Letter to the People of 
 Scotland, on the present State of the 
 Nation." — " I trust (said I) that you will 
 be liberal enough to make allowance for 
 my ditfering from you on two points [the 
 Middlesex Election, and the American 
 War], when my general principles of 
 government are according to your own 
 heart, and when, at a crisis of doubtful 
 event, I stand forth with honest zeal as 
 an ancient and faithful Briton. My rea- 
 son for introducing those two points was, 
 that as my opinions with regard to them 
 had been declared at the periods when 
 they were least favourable, I might have 
 the credit of a man who is not a wor- 
 shipper of ministerial power." 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I HEAR of many inquiries which year 
 kindness has disposed you to make after 
 me. I have long intended you a long 
 letter, which perhaps the imagination of 
 its length hindered me from beginning. 
 I will, therefore, content myself with a 
 shorter. 
 
 *' Having promoted the institution of a 
 new Club in the neighbourhood, at the 
 house of an old servant of Thrale's, I 
 went thither to meet the company, and 
 was seized with a spasmodick asthma, so 
 violent that with dillicidty I got to my 
 own house, in which I have been con- 
 fined eight or nihe weeks, and from 
 which 1 know not when I sliall be able 
 to go even to church. The asthma, how- 
 ever, is not the worst. A dropsy gains 
 ground upon me ; my legs and thighs are 
 very much swollen with water, which I 
 should be content if I couhl keep there, 
 but I am afraid that it will soon be 
 
5G0 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Iii;;lier. My nights are very sleepless and 
 very tedious. And yet I am extremely 
 afraid of dying. 
 
 " My physicians try to make me hope 
 that much of my malady is the effect of 
 cold, and that some degree at least of 
 recovery is to be expected from vernal 
 breezes and summer suns. If my life is 
 prolonged to autumn, I should be glad to 
 try a warmer climate ; though how to 
 travel with a diseased body, without a 
 companion to conduct me, and with very 
 little money, I do not well see. Ramsay 
 has recovered his limbs in Italy ; and 
 Fielding was sent to Lisbon, where, in- 
 deed, he died ; but he was, I believe, 
 past hope when he went. Think for me 
 what I can do. 
 
 ** I received your pamphlet, and when 
 I write again may perhaps tell you some 
 opinion about it; but you will forgive a 
 man struggling with disease his neglect of 
 disputes, politicks, and pamphlets. Let 
 me have your prayers. My compliments 
 to your lady and young ones. Ask your 
 physicians about my case : and desire 
 Sir Alexander Dick to write me his 
 opinion. I am, dear sir, &c. 
 " Feb. 11, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 
 "my dearest love, 
 " I HAVE been extremely ill of an asthma 
 and dropsy, but received, by the mercy 
 of God, sudden and unexpected relief 
 last Thursday, by the discharge of twenty 
 pints of water. Whether 1 shall continue 
 free, or shall fill again, cannot be told. 
 Pray for me. 
 
 *• Death, my dear, is very dreadful ; 
 let us think nothing worth our care but 
 how to prepare for it; what we know 
 amiss in ourselves let us make haste to 
 amend, and put our trust in the mercy of 
 God, and the intercession of our Sa- 
 viour. I am, DEAR MADAM, 
 
 "Your most humble servant, 
 " Feb. 23, 1764." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 *' to JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE just advanced so far towards 
 recovery as to read a pamphlet ; and you 
 may reasonably suppose that the first 
 pamphlet which I read was yours. I am 
 very much of your opinion, and, like you, 
 feel great indignation at the indecency 
 with which the King is every day treated. 
 Your paper contains very considerable 
 knowledge of history and of the constitu- 
 tion, very properly produced and applied. 
 It will certainly raise your character *, 
 
 * I sent it to IMr. Pitt, wiili a letter, in 
 whirli I thus expreKscd niy«elf: ** My princi- 
 ples may appear to you too monarctiical: but 
 I know ana am persuaded they are not iucoo- 
 
 though perhaps it may not make you a 
 Minister of State. 
 
 " I desire you to see Mrs. Stewart 
 once again, and tell her that in the letter- 
 case was a letter relating to me, for which 
 I will give her, if she is willing to give it 
 me, another guinea. The letter is of con- 
 sequence only to me. 
 
 " I am, DEAR SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 ** London, Feb. 27, 1784." 
 
 In consequence of Johnson's request 
 that I should ask our physicians about 
 his case, and desire Sir Alexander Dick 
 to send his opinion, I transmitted him a 
 letter from that very amiable Baronet 
 then in his eighty-first year, with his 
 faculties as entire as ever; and men- 
 tioned his expressions to me in the note 
 accompanying it, — " With my most 
 affectionate wishes for Dr. Johnson's re- 
 covery, in which his friends, his country, 
 and all mankind have so deep a stake ;'* 
 and at the same time a full opinion upon 
 his case by Dr. Gillespie, who, like 
 Dr. Cullen, had the advantage of having 
 passed through the gradations of surgery 
 and pharmacy, and by study and prac- 
 tice had attained to such skill that my 
 father settled on him two hundred pounds 
 a year for five years, and fifty pounds 
 a year during his life, as an honorarium 
 to secure his particular attendance. The 
 opinion was conveyed in a letter to me, 
 beginning, " I am sincerely sorry for the 
 bad state of health your very learned and 
 illustrious friend. Dr. Johnson, labours 
 under at present." 
 
 *' TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Presently after I had sent away my 
 last letter, I received your kind medical 
 packet. I am very much obliged both to 
 you and to your physicians for your kind 
 attention to my disease. Dr. Gillespie 
 has sent me an excellent consilium me- 
 dicum, all solid practical experimental 
 knowledge. I am at present in the opi- 
 nion of my physicians (Dr. Heberden 
 and Dr. Brocklesby), as well as my own, 
 going on very hopefully. I have just 
 begun to take vinegar of squills. The 
 
 sistent wiili the true principles of liberty. Be 
 this as it may, you, sir, are now the Prime 
 Minister, called by the Sovereij^n to maintain 
 the riff hi of the Crown, as well as those of the 
 people, a8;ain«t a violent faction. As such, 
 you aie entitled to the warmest support of 
 every pood subject in every department." 
 He answered, ** I am extremely obliged to 
 you for the sentiments you do me the honour 
 to express, and have observed with great 
 pleasure the zealous and able support given 
 to the Cause ok the Publick in the work 
 you were so good to transmit to me." 
 
^TAT. 75. 
 
 powder hurt my stomach so much that it 
 could not be continued. 
 
 " Return Sir Alexander Dick my sin- 
 cere thanks for his kind letter ; and bring 
 with you the rhubarb* which he so ten- 
 derly otters me. 
 
 " I hope dear Mrs. Boswell is now 
 quite well, and that no evil, either real 
 or imaginary, now disturbs you. 
 " I am, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 "London, March 2, 1784." 
 
 I a^so applied to three of the eminent 
 physicians who had chairs in our cele- 
 brated school of medicine at Edinburgh, 
 Doctors CuUen, Hope, and Munro, to 
 each of whom I sent the following let- 
 ter:— 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Dr. Johnson has been very ill for 
 some time ; and in a letter of anxious 
 apprehension he writes to me, * Ask your 
 physicians about my case.' 
 
 " This, you see, is not authority for a 
 regular consultation : but I have no doubt 
 of your readiness to give your advice to 
 a man so eminent, and who, in his Life 
 of Garth, has paid your profession a just 
 and elegant compliment : * I believe 
 every man has found in physicians great 
 liberality and dignity of sentiment, very 
 prompt effusions of beneficence, and will- 
 ingness to exert a lucrative art, where 
 there is no hope of lucre.' 
 
 " Dr. Johnson is aged seventy-four. 
 Last summer he had a stroke of the 
 palsy, from which he recovered almost 
 entirely. He had, before that, been 
 troubled with a catarrhous cough. This 
 winter he was seized with a spasmodick 
 asthma, by which he has been confined 
 to his house for about three months. Dr. 
 Brocklesby writes to me, that upon the 
 least admission of cold, there is such a 
 constriction upon his breast that he can- 
 not lie down in his bed, but is obliged to 
 sit up all night, and gets rest and some- 
 times sleep only by means of laudanum 
 and syrup of poppies ; and that there ai e 
 oedematous tumours in his legs and thighs. 
 Dr. Brocklesby trusts a good deal to the 
 return of mild weather. Dr. Johnson 
 says that a dropsy gains ground upon him ; 
 and he seems to think that a warmer 
 climate would do him good. I under- 
 stand he is now rather better, and is using 
 vinegar of squills. I am, with great 
 esteem, dear sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient 
 
 " Humble servant, 
 
 " March 7, 1784." *' James Boswell." 
 
 * From his garden at Prestonfield, where 
 he cultivated that plant with such success that 
 he was presented with a gohi medal by the 
 Society of London for the Encouragement of 
 Alts, Manufactures, and Commerce. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 561 
 
 All of them paid the most polite atten- 
 tion to my letter, and its venerable ob- 
 ject. Dr. Cullen's words concerning him 
 were, " It would give me the greatest 
 pleasure to be of any service to a man 
 whom the publick properly esteem, and 
 whom I esteem and respect as much as 
 I do Dr. Johnson." Dr. Hope's, " Few 
 people have a better claim on me than 
 your friend, as hardly a day passes that 
 I do not ask his opinion about this or 
 that word." Dr. Munro's, " I most sin- 
 cerely join you in sympathising with that 
 very worthy and ingenious character, 
 from whom his country has derived 
 much instruction and entertainment." 
 
 Dr. Hope corresponded with his friend 
 Dr. Brocklesby. Doctors CuUen and 
 Munro wrote their opinions and pre- 
 scriptions to me, which I afterwards 
 carried with me to London, and, so far 
 as they were encouraging, communicated 
 to Johnson. The liberality on one hand, 
 and grateful sense of it on the other, I 
 have great satisfaction in recording. 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I AM too much pleased with the atten- 
 tion which you and your dear lady f show 
 to my welfare, not to be diligent in let- 
 ting you know the progress which I make 
 towards health. The dropsy, by God's 
 blessing, has now run almost totally away 
 by natural evacuation ; and the asthma, 
 if not irritated by cold, gives me little 
 trouble. While I am writing this, I have 
 not any sensation of debility or disease. 
 But I do not yet venture out, having 
 been confined to the house from the 
 thirteenth of December, now a quarter 
 of a year. 
 
 " When it will be fit for me to travel 
 as far as Auchinleck, I am not able to 
 guess ; but such a letter as Mrs. Bos- 
 well's might draw any man, not wholly 
 motionless, a great way. Pray tell the 
 dear lady how much her civility and kind- 
 ness have touched and gratified me. 
 
 " Our parliamentary tumults have now 
 begun to subside, and the King's autho- 
 rity is in some measure reestablished. 
 Mr. Pitt will have great power; but yon 
 must remember that what he has to give 
 must, at least for some time, be given to 
 those who gave and those who preserve 
 his power. A new minister can sacrifice 
 little to esteem or friendship ; he must, 
 till he is settled, think only of extending 
 his interest. 
 
 " If you come hither through Edin- 
 burgh, send for Mrs. Stewart, and give 
 for me another guinea for the letter in the 
 
 + Who had written him a very kind letter. 
 
 o o 
 
562 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 old case, to which I shall not be satisfied 
 with my claim till she gives it me. 
 
 '* Please to bring with you Baxter's 
 Anacreon ; and if you procure heads of 
 Hector Boece, the historian, and Arthur 
 Johnston, the poet, I will put them in 
 my room ; or any other of the fathers of 
 Scottish literature. 
 
 *' I wish you an easy and happy jour- 
 ney, and hope I need not tell you that 
 you will be welcome to, dear sir, 
 " Your most affectionate 
 
 *' Humble servant, 
 *' Sam. Johnson." 
 
 «' London, March 18, 1784." 
 
 I wrote to him, March 28, from York, 
 informing him that I had a high gratifi- 
 cation in the triumph of monarchical 
 principles over aristocratical influence, 
 in that great county, in an address to the 
 King ; that I was thus far on my way to 
 him, but that news of the dissolution of 
 Parliament having arrived, I was to 
 hasten back to my own county, where I 
 had carried an Address to his Majesty by 
 a great majority, and had some intention 
 of being a candidate to represent the 
 county in Parliament. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " You could do nothing so proper as to 
 hasten back when you found the Parlia- 
 ment dissolved. With the influence which 
 your address must have gained you, it 
 may reasonably be expected that your 
 presence will be of importance, and your 
 activity of effect. 
 
 *' YoHr solicitude for me gives me that 
 pleasure which every man feels from the 
 kindness of such a friend ; and it is with 
 delight I relieve it by tolling that Dr. 
 Brocklesby's account is true, and that I 
 am, by the blessing of God, wonderfully 
 relieved. 
 
 " You are entering upon a transaction 
 which recjuires much prudence. You 
 must endeavour to oppose without exas- 
 perating; to practise temporary hostility 
 without producing enemies for life. This 
 is, perhaps, hard to be done ; yet it has 
 been done by many, and seems most 
 likely to be ctfected by opposing merely 
 upon general principles, without descend- 
 ing to personal or particular censures or 
 objections. One thing I must enjoin > ou, 
 which is seldom observed in the conduct 
 of elections ; — 1 iftust entreat you to be 
 scrupulous in the use of strong liquors, 
 One night's drunkenness may defeat the 
 labours of forty days well employed. Be 
 firm, but not clamorous ; be active, but 
 not malicious ; and you may form such 
 an interest as may not only exalt your- 
 self, but dignify your family. 
 
 " We are, as you may suppose, all 
 busy here. Mr. Fox resolutely stands for 
 Westminster, and his friends say will 
 carry the election. However that be, he 
 will certainly have a seat. Mr. Hoole 
 has just told me that the city leans to- 
 wards the King. 
 
 *' Let me hear, from time to time, 
 how you are employed, and what pro- 
 gress you make. 
 
 *' Make dear Mrs. Boswell, and all the 
 young Boswells, the sincere compliments 
 of, SIR, 
 
 " Your aff"ectionate humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 " London, March 30, 1784." 
 
 To Mr. Langton he wrote with that 
 cordiality which was suitable to the long 
 friendship which had subsisted between 
 him and that gentleman. 
 
 March 27. " Since you left me, I have 
 continued in my own opinion, and in 
 Dr. Brocklesby's, to grow better witfi 
 respect to all my formidable and dan- 
 gerous distempers ; though to a body 
 battered and shaken as mine has lately 
 been, it is to be feared that weak attacks 
 may be sometimes mischievous. I have, 
 indeed, by standing carelessly at an open 
 window got a very troublesome cough, 
 which it has been necessary to appease 
 by opium, in larger quantities than I like 
 to take, and I have not found it give way 
 so readily as I expected ; its obstinacy, 
 however, seems at last disposed to submit 
 to the remedy, and I know not whether 
 I should then liave a right to complain of 
 any morbid sensation. My asthma is, I 
 am afraid, constitutional and incurable ; 
 but it is only occasional, and, unless it be 
 excited by labour or by cold, gives me 
 no molestation, nor docs it lay very close 
 siege to life ; for Sir John Floyer, whom 
 the physical race consider as authour of 
 one of the best books npon it, panted on 
 to ninety, as was supposed ; and why 
 were we content with supposing a fact so 
 interesting, of a man so conspicuous? 
 because he corrupted, at perhaps seventy 
 or eighty, the register that he might pass 
 for younger than he was. He was not 
 much less than eighty, when to a man of 
 rank who modestly asked his age, he 
 answered, ' Go look ;' though he was 
 in general a man of civility and ele- 
 gance. 
 
 •* The ladies, I find, are at your house 
 all well, except Miss Langton, who will 
 probably soon recover her health by light 
 suppers. Let her eat at dinner as she 
 will, but not take a full stomach to bed. 
 —Pay my sincere respects to dear Miss 
 Langton in Lincolnshire ; let her know 
 that I mean not to break onr league of 
 friendship, and that I have a set of 
 
^TAT. 75. 
 
 Lives for her when I have the means of 
 sending it." 
 
 April 8. *' I am still disturbed by my 
 cough ; but what thanks have I not to 
 pay when my cough is the most painful 
 sensation that I feel? and from that I 
 expect hardly to be released, while win- 
 ter continues to gripe us with so much 
 pertinacity. The year has now advanced 
 eighteen days beyond the equinox, and 
 still there is very little remission of the 
 cold . When warm weather comes, which 
 surely must come at last, I hope it will 
 help both me and your young lady. 
 
 " The man so busy about addresses is 
 neither more nor less than our own Bos- 
 well, who had come as far as York 
 towards London, but turned back on the 
 dissolution, and is said now to stand for 
 some place. Whether to wish him suc- 
 cess his best friends hesitate. 
 
 ** Let me have your prayers for the 
 completion of my recovery: I am now 
 better than 1 ever expected to have been. 
 May God add to his mercies the grace 
 that may enable me to use them accord- 
 ing to his will. My compliments to 
 all." 
 
 April 13. *' I had this evening a note 
 from Lord Portmore*, desiring that I 
 would give you an account of my health. 
 You might have had it with less circum- 
 duction. I am, by God's blessing, I 
 believe, free from all morbid sensations, 
 except a cough, which is only trouble- 
 some. But I am still weak, and can have 
 no great hope of strength till the weather 
 shall be softer. The summer, if it be 
 kindly, will, I Jiope, enable me to sup- 
 port the winter. God, who has so won- 
 derfully restored me, can preserve me in 
 all seasons. 
 
 ** Let me inquire in my turn after the 
 state of your family, great and little. I 
 hope Lady Rothes and Miss Langton are 
 both well. That is a good basis of con 
 tent. Then how goes George on with his 
 studies 1 How does Miss Mary ? And 
 how does my own Jenny 1 I think I ow( 
 Jenny a letter, which I will take care to 
 pay. In the mean time tell her that I 
 acknowledge the debt. 
 
 ** Be pleased to make my compli- 
 ments to the ladies. If Mrs. Langton 
 comes to London, she will favour me 
 with a vis^it, for I am not well enough 
 to go out." 
 
 * To which Johnson returned this answer: 
 
 " TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EARL OF 
 PORTMORE. 
 
 " Dr. Johnson acknowledffes with !?reat re- 
 spect the honour of Lord Portmore's notice. 
 He is better than he was; and will, as his 
 Lordship directs, write to Mr. Langton. 
 " Bolt Court. Fleet Street, 
 A|)ril 13, 1784." 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 563 
 
 ** TO OZIAS HUMPHRY t, ESQ. 
 
 " Mr. Hoole has told me with what 
 benevolence you listened to a request 
 which I was almost afraid to make, of 
 leave to a young painter J to attend you 
 from time to time in your painting-room, 
 to see your operations and receive your 
 instructions. 
 
 " The young man has perhaps good 
 parts, but has been without a regular 
 education. He is my godson, and there- 
 fore I interest myself in his progress and 
 success, and shall think myself much 
 favoured if I receive from you a permis- 
 sion to send him. 
 
 " My health is, by God's blessing, 
 much restored, but I am not yet allowed 
 by my physicians to go abroad ; nor, 
 indeed, do I think myself yet able to 
 endure the weather. I am, sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 "April 5, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " The bearer is my godson, whom I take 
 
 the liberty of recommending to your 
 
 kindness ; which I hope he will deserve 
 
 by his respect to your excellence, and 
 
 his gratitude for your favours. 
 
 " 1 am, sir, 
 
 *' Your most humble servant, 
 
 " April 10, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 TO the same. 
 " sir, 
 " I am very much obliged by your civi- 
 lities to my godson, but must beg of you 
 to add to them the favour of permitting 
 him to see you paint, that he may know 
 how a picture is begun, advanced, and 
 completed. 
 
 " If he may attend you in a few of 
 your operations, I hope he will show 
 
 t The eminent painter, representative of llie 
 ancient family of Homfrey (now Humphry) in 
 the west of England ; who, as appears from 
 their arms which they have invarrably used, 
 have been (as I have seen authenticated by 
 the best authority) one of those among the 
 Knights and Esquires of honour who are re- 
 presented by Holinshed as having issued from 
 -the Tower of London on coursers apparelled 
 for the justes, accompanied by ladies of ho- 
 nour, leading every one a Knight, with a 
 chain of gold, passing through the streets of 
 London into Smithfield, on Sunday, at three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, being the first Sun- 
 day after Michaelmas, in the fourteenth year 
 of King Richard the Second. This family once 
 enjoved large possessions, but, like others, 
 have' lost them in the progress of ages. Their 
 blood, however, remains to them well ascer- 
 tained ; and they may hope, in the revolution 
 of events, to recover that rank in society for 
 which, in modern times, fortune seems to be 
 an indispensable requisite. 
 
 { Son of Mr. Samuel Faterson, eminent for 
 his knowledge of books. 
 
564 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 that the benefit has been properly con- 
 ferred, both by his proficiency and his 
 gratitude. At least I shall consider you 
 ag enlarging your kindness to, sir, 
 " Your humble servant, 
 " May 31, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 «' TO THE REVEREND DR. TAYLOR, 
 
 ASHBOURNE, DERBYSHIRE. 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** What can be the reason that I hear 
 nothing from you ? I hope nothing dis- 
 ables you from writing. What I have 
 seen and what I have felt gives me rea- 
 son to fear every thing. Do not omit 
 giving me the comfort of knowing that 
 after all my losses I have yet a friend 
 left. 
 
 " I want every comfort. My life is 
 very solitary and very cheerless. Though 
 it has pleased God wonderfully to deliver 
 me from the dropsy, I am yet very weak, 
 and have not passed the door since the 
 13th of December. I hope for some 
 help from warm weather, which will 
 surely come in time. 
 
 *• I could not have the consent of the 
 physicians to go to church yesterday ; I 
 therefore received the holy sacrament at 
 home, in the room where I communi- 
 cated with dear Mrs. Williams a little 
 before her death. O! my friend, the 
 approach of death is very dreadful. I 
 am afraid to think on that which I know 
 I cannot avoid. It is vain to look round 
 and round for that help which cannot be 
 had. Yet we hope and hope, and fancy 
 that he who has lived to-day may live 
 to-morrow. But let us learn to derive 
 our hope only from God. 
 
 ** In the mean time let us be kind to 
 
 one another. I have no friend now living 
 
 but you   and Mr. Hector that was the 
 
 friend of my youth. — Do not neglect, 
 
 ** dear sir, 
 
 ** Yours, affectionately, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 ** London, Easter Monday, 
 April 12, 1784." 
 
 [** TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 
 " MY DEAR, 
 
 " I WRITE to you now to tell you that I 
 am so far recovered that, on the 21st, I 
 went to church, to return thanks, after 
 a confinement of more than four long 
 months. 
 
 ** My recovery is such as neither my- 
 self nor the physicians at all expected, 
 and is such as that very few examples 
 have been known of the like. Join with 
 me, my dear love, in returning thanks 
 to God. 
 
 • [This friend of Johnson's youth survived 
 liim somewhat more than three years, having 
 died February 19, 176K. M.] 
 
 " Dr. Vyse has been with [me] this 
 evening: he tells me that you likewise 
 have been much disordered, but that you 
 are now better. I hope that we shall 
 sometime have a cheerful interview. In 
 the mean time let us pray for one ano- 
 ther. I am, MADAM, 
 
 ** Your humble servant, 
 
 *' Sam. Johnson."] 
 
 " London, April 26, 1784.'' 
 
 What follows is a beautiful specimen 
 of his gentleness and complacency to a 
 young lady his godchild, one of the daugh- 
 ters of his friend Mr. Langton, then I 
 think in her seventh year. "He took the 
 trouble to write it in a large round hand, 
 nearly resembling printed characters, that 
 she might have the satisfaction of reading 
 it herself. The original lies before me, 
 but shall be faithfully restored to her; 
 and I. dare say will be preserved by her 
 as a jewel as long as she lives. 
 
 " TO MISS JANE LANGTON, IN ROCHESTER, 
 KENT. 
 *' MY DEAREST MISS JENNY, 
 
 " I AM sorry that your pretty letter has 
 been so long without being answered ; 
 but, when I am not pretty well, I do not 
 always write plain enough for young 
 ladies. I am glad, my dear, to see that 
 you write so well, and hope that you 
 mind your pen, your book, and your 
 needle, for they are all necessary. Your 
 books will give you knowledge, and 
 make you respected ; and your needle 
 will find you useful employment when 
 you do not care to read. When you are 
 a little older, I hope you will be very 
 diligent in learning arithmetick ; and, 
 above all, that through your whole life 
 you will carefully say your prayers, and 
 read your Bible. I am, my de^vr, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " 3Iay 10, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 On Wednesday, May 5, I arrived in 
 London, and next morning had the plea- 
 sure to find Dr. Johnson greatly reco- 
 vered. I but just saw him ; for a coach 
 was waiting to carry him to Islington, to 
 the house of his friend the Reverend 
 Mr. Strahan, where he went sometimes 
 for the benefit of good air, which, not-' 
 withstanding his having formerly laughed 
 at the general opinion upon the* subject, 
 he now acknowledged was conducive to 
 health. 
 
 One morning afterwards, when I found 
 him alone, he communicated to me, with 
 solemn earnestness, a very remarkable 
 circumstance which had happened in the 
 course of his illness, when he was much 
 distressed by the dropsy. He had shut 
 himself up, and employed a day in parti- 
 cular exercises of religion, — fasting, hu- 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 /Etat. 75. 
 
 miliation, and prayer. On a sudden he 
 obtained extraordinary relief, for whicli 
 he looked up to Heaven with grateful 
 devotion. He made no direct inference 
 from this fact ; but from his manner of 
 telling it, I could perceive that it appeared 
 to him as something more than an inci- 
 dent in the common course of events. 
 For my own part, I have no difficulty to 
 avow that cast of thinking, which, by 
 many modern pretenders to wisdom, is 
 called superstitious. But here I think 
 even men of dry rationality may believe 
 that there was an intermediate interposi- 
 tion of divine Providence, and that " the 
 fervent prayer of this righteous man" 
 availed *. 
 
 On Sunday, May 9, I found Colonel 
 Valiancy, the celebrated Antiquary and 
 Engineer, of Ireland, with him. On 
 Monday, the 10th, I dined with him at 
 Mr. Paradise's, where was a large com- 
 pany ; Mr. Bryant, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. 
 Hawkins Browne, &c. On Thursday, 
 the 13th, I dined with him at Mr. Jod- 
 drel's with another large company ; the 
 Bishop of Exeter, Lord Monboddo f, 
 Mr. Murphy, &c. 
 
 On Saturday, May 15, I dined with 
 him at Dr. Brocklesby's, where were 
 Colonel Valiancy, Mr. Murphy, and that 
 ever cheerful companion Mr. Devaynes, 
 apothecary to his Majesty. Of these 
 
 • Upon this subject there is a very fair and 
 judicious remark in the Life of Dr. Aber- 
 nethy, in the first edition of the Biographia 
 B7-itaimica, which I should liave been {jlad to 
 see in his Life which has been written for the 
 second edition of that valuable work. *' To 
 deny the exercise of a particular providence 
 in tlie Deity's government of the world is cer- 
 tainly impious, yet nothing serves the cause 
 of the scorner more than an incautious forward 
 zeal in determining the particular instances 
 of it." 
 
 In confirmation of my sentiments, I am also 
 happy to quote that sensible and elegant 
 writer Mr. Melmoth, in Letter VI I L of his 
 collection, published under the name of Fitz- 
 osborne. " We may safely assert^ that the 
 belief of a particular Providence is founded 
 upon such probable reasons as may well justify 
 our assent. It would scarce, therefore, be 
 wise to renounce an opinion which affords so 
 firm a support to the soul in those seasons 
 wherein sue stands in most need of assistance, 
 merely because it is not possible, in questions 
 of this kind, to solve every difficulty which 
 attends them." 
 
 t I was sorry to observe Lord Monboddo 
 avoid any communication with Dr. Johnson. 
 I flattered myself that I had made them very 
 good friends (see " Journal of a Tour to 
 the Hebrides," third edition, pa^e 67), but 
 unhappily his Lordship had resumed and 
 cherishedi a violent prejudice against my 
 illustrious friend, to whom 1 must do the jus- 
 tice to sav, there was on his part not the least 
 anger, but a good humoured sportiveness. 
 Nay, though he knew of his Lordship's indis- 
 position towards him, he was even kindly; as 
 appeared from his inquiring of me after hiui, 
 by an abbreviation of his name, " Well, how- 
 does Monny ?" 
 
 5G5 
 
 days, and others on which I saw him, 1 
 have no memorials, except the general 
 recollection of his being able and ani- 
 mated in conversation, and appearing to 
 relish society as much as the youngest 
 man. I find only these three small par- 
 ticulars : — When a person was mentioned, 
 who said, " I have lived fifty-one years 
 in this world without having had ten 
 minutes of uneasiness ;" he exclaimed, 
 " The man who says so lies : he attempts 
 to impose on human credulity." The 
 Bishop of Exeter J in vain observed, that 
 men were very different. His Lord- 
 ship's manner was not impressive ; and 
 I learned afterwards that Johnson did not 
 find out that the person who talked to 
 him was a Prelate ; if he had, I doubt 
 not that he would have treated him with 
 more respect : for once talking of George 
 Psalmanazar, whom he reverenced for 
 his piety, he said, " I should as soon 
 think of contradicting a Bishop." One 
 of the company provoked him greatly by- 
 doing what he could least of all bear, 
 which was quoting something of his own 
 writing against what he then maintained. 
 " What, sir (cried the gentleman), do you 
 say to 
 
 * The busy day, the peaceful night. 
 Unfelt, uncounted, glided by § ?'" 
 
 Johnson, finding himself thus presented 
 as giving an instance of a man who had 
 lived without uneasiness, was much of- 
 fended ; for he looked upon such a quo- 
 tation as unfair. His anger burst out in 
 an unjustifiable retort, insinuating that 
 the gentleman's remark was a sally of 
 ebriety ; " Sir, there is one passion I 
 would advise you to command : when 
 you have drunk out that glass, don't 
 drink another." Here was exemplified 
 what Goldsmith said of him, with the 
 aid of a very witty image from one of 
 Gibber's Comedies : *' There is no argu- 
 ing with Johnson : for if his pistol misses 
 fire, he knocks you down with the butt 
 end of it." 
 
 Another was this : when a gentleman 
 of eminence in the literary world w^as 
 violently censured for attacking people 
 by anonymous paragraphs in newspapers, 
 he, from the spirit of contradiction as I 
 thought, took up his defence, and said, 
 *' Come, come, this is not so terrible a 
 crime; he means only to vex them a 
 little. 1 do not say that I should do it ; 
 but there is a great ditterence between 
 him and me ; what is fit for Hepheestion 
 is not fit for Alexander." — Another, when 
 I told him that a young and handsome 
 Countess had said to me, " I should think 
 that to be praised by Dr. Johnson would 
 
 1 [Dr. John Ross.] 
 
 § Verses on the death of Mr. Levett. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 566 
 
 make one a fool all one's life ;" and that 
 I answered, '* Madam, I shall make him 
 a fool to-day by repeating this to him ;" 
 he said, *' I am too old to be made a 
 fool ; but if yon say I am made a fool, I 
 shall not deny it. I am much pleased 
 with a compliment, especially from a 
 pretty woman." 
 
 On the evening of Saturday, May 15, 
 he was in fine spirits, at our Essex Head 
 Club. He told us, " I dined yesterday 
 at Mrs. Garrick's, with Mrs. Carter, 
 Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny 
 Burney. Three such women are not to 
 be found : I know not where I could 
 find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who 
 is superiour to them all." Boswell. 
 " What! had you them all to yourself, 
 sir?" Johnson. " I had them all, as 
 much as they were had ; but it might 
 have been better had there been more 
 company there." Boswell. ** Might not 
 Mrs. Montague have been a fourth?" 
 Johnson. " Sir, Mrs. Montague does not 
 make a trade of her wit : but Mrs. Mon- 
 tague is a very extraordinary woman ; 
 she has a constant stream of conversa- 
 tion, and it is always impregnated; it 
 has always meaning." Boswell. ** Mr. 
 Burke has a constant stream of conver- 
 sation." Johnson. "Yes, sir; if a man 
 were to go by chance at the same time 
 with Burke under a shed to shun a 
 shower, he would say, — * this is an extra- 
 ordinary man.' If Burke should go into 
 a stable to see his horse dressed, the 
 ostler would say — * we have had an ex- 
 traordinary man here.' " Boswell. 
 *' Foote was a man who never failed in 
 conversation. If he had gone into a 
 stable—" Johnson. ** Sir, if he had 
 gone into the stable, the ostler would 
 have said, here has been a comical fel- 
 low ; but he would not have respected 
 him." Boswell. " And, sir, the ostler 
 would have answered him, would have 
 given hirn as good as he brought, as the 
 common saying is." Johnson. ** Yes, 
 sir; and Foote would have answered the 
 ostler. — When Burke does not descend 
 to be merry, his conversation is very 
 superiour indeed. There is no proportion 
 between the powers which he shows in 
 serious talk and in jocularity. When he 
 lets himself down to that he is in the 
 kennel." I have in another place • op- 
 posed, and I hope with success. Dr. 
 Johnson's very singular and erroneous 
 notion as to Mr. Burke's pleasantry. Mr. 
 Windham now said low to me, that he 
 differed from our great friend in this 
 observation ; for that Mr. Burke was 
 often very happy in his merriment. It 
 would not have been right for cither of 
 
 • " Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides," 
 third edition, p. 20. 
 
 1784. 
 
 us to have contradicted Johnson at this 
 time, in a Society all of whom did not 
 know and value Mr. Burke as much as 
 we did. It might have occasioned some- 
 thing more rough, and at any rate would 
 probably have checked the flow of John- 
 son's good humour. He called to us with 
 a sudden air of exultation, as the thought 
 started into his mind, " O ! Gentlemen, 
 I must tell you a very great thing. The 
 Empress of Russia has ordered the ' Ram- 
 bler' to be translated into the Russian 
 language t: so I shall be read on the 
 banks of the Wolga. Horace boasts that 
 his fame would extend as far as the 
 banks of the Rhone ; now the Wolga is 
 farther from me than the Rhone was 
 from Horace." Boswell. *• You must 
 certainly be pleased with this, sir." 
 Johnson. *' I am pleased, sir, to be sure. 
 A man is pleased to find he has suc- 
 ceeded in that which he has endeavoured 
 to do." 
 
 One of the company mentioned his 
 having seen a noble person driving in his 
 carriage, and looking exceedingly welh, 
 notwithstanding his great age. Johnson. 
 '* Ah, sir ; that is nothing. Bacon ob- 
 serves, that a stout healthy old man is 
 like a tower undermined." 
 
 .On Sunday, May 16, I found him 
 alone ; he talked of Mrs. Thrale with 
 much concern, saying, " Sir, she has 
 done every thing wrong since Thrale's 
 bridle was off her neck ;" and was pro- 
 ceeding to mention some circumstance? 
 which have since been the subject of 
 publick discussion, when he was inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of Dr. Douglas, 
 now Bishop of Salisbury. 
 
 Dr. Douglas, upon this occasion, re- 
 futed a mistaken notion which is very 
 common in Scotland, that the ecclesiasti- 
 cal discipline of the Church of England, 
 though duly enforced, is insufficient to 
 preserve the morals of the clergy, inas- 
 much as all delinquents may be screened 
 by appealing to the Convocation, which 
 being never authorized by the King to 
 sit for the despatch of business, the ap- 
 peal never can be heard. Dr. Douglas 
 observed, that this was founded upori 
 ignorance ; for that the Bishops have 
 sufficient power to maintain discipline, 
 and that the sitting of the Convocation 
 was wholly immaterial in this respect, it 
 being not a Court of Judicature, but like 
 a parliainent, to make canons and regu- 
 lations as times may require. 
 
 Johnson, talking of the fear of death, 
 said, *' Some people are not afraid, be- 
 cause they look upon salvation as the 
 
 t I have since lieard that the report was not 
 well foumted ; but the elation discovered by 
 Johnson, in the belief that it was true, showeU 
 a noble ardour for literary fatue, 
 
^TAT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 567 
 
 effect of an absolute decree, and think they 
 feel in themselves the marks of sanctifica- 
 tion. Others, and those the most rational 
 in my opinion, look upon salvation as 
 conditional ; and as they never can be 
 sure that they have complied with the 
 conditions, they are afraid." 
 
 In one of his little manuscript diaries, 
 about this time, 1 find a short notice, 
 which marks his amiable disposition more 
 certainly than a thousand studied decla- 
 rations. — " Afternoon spent cheerfully 
 and elegantly, I hope without offence to 
 God or man ; though in no holy duty, 
 yet in the general exercise and cultiva- 
 tion of benevolence." 
 
 On Monday, May 17, I dined with him 
 at Mr. Dilly's, where were Colonel Val- 
 iancy, the Reverend Dr. Gibbons, and 
 Mr. Capel Lofft, who, though a most 
 zealous Whig, has a mind so full of 
 learning and knowledge, and so much 
 exercised in various departments, and 
 withal so much liberality, that the stu- 
 pendous powers of the literary Goliath, 
 though they did not frighten this little 
 David of popular spirit, could not but 
 excite his admiration. There was also 
 Mr. Braithwaite of the Post Office, that 
 amiable and friendly man, who, with 
 modest and unassuming manners, has 
 associated with many of the wits of the 
 age. Johnson was very quiescent to-day. 
 Perhaps too I was indolent. I tind no- 
 thing more of him in my notes, but that 
 when I mentioned that I had seen in the 
 King's library sixty-three editions of my 
 favourite Thomas k Kem pis,— amongst 
 which it was in eight languages, Latin, 
 German, French, Italian, Spanish, Eng- 
 lish, Arabick, and Armenian, — he said, 
 he thought it unnecessary to collect many 
 editions of a book, which were all the 
 same, except as to the paper and print ; 
 he would have the original, and ^11 the 
 translations, and all the editions which 
 had any variations in the text. He ap- 
 proved of the famous collection of edi- 
 tions of Horace by Douglas, mentioned 
 by Pope, who is said to have had a closet 
 filled with them ; and he added, " every 
 man should try to collect one book in 
 that manner, and present it to a publick 
 library." 
 
 On Tuesday, May 18, I saw him for a 
 short time in the morning. I told him 
 that the mob had called out, as the King 
 passed, " No Fox— No Fox!" which I 
 did not like. He said, " They were right, 
 sir." I said, I thought not ; for it seemed 
 to be making Mr. Fox the King's com- 
 petitor. There being no audience, so that 
 there could be no triumph in a victory, 
 he fairly agreed with me. I said it might 
 do very well, if explained thus : " Let 
 as have no Yox ;" understanding it as a 
 
 prayer to his Majesty not to appoint that 
 gentleman minister. 
 
 On Wednesday, May 19, I sat a part 
 of the evening with him, by ourselves. 
 I observed, that the death of our friends 
 might be a consolation against the fear of 
 our own dissolution, because we might 
 have more friends in the other world 
 than in this. He perhaps felt this as a 
 reflection upon his apprehension as to 
 death ; and said, with heat, '* How can 
 a man know where his departed friends 
 are, or whether they will be his friends 
 in the other world? How many friend- 
 ships have you known formed upon prin- 
 ciples of virtue? Most friendships are 
 formed by caprice or by chance, mere 
 confederacies in vice or leagues in folly." 
 
 We talked of our worthy friend Mr. 
 Langton. He said, " I know not who will 
 go to Heaven if Langton does not. Sir, 
 I could almost say. Sit anima mea cum 
 JLangtono." I mentioned a very emi- 
 nent friend as a virtuous man. Johnson. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but has not the 
 
 evangelical virtue of Langton. , 
 
 I am afraid, would not sciuple to pick 
 up a wench." 
 
 He however charged Mr. Langton with 
 what he thought want of judgment upon 
 an interesting occasion. " When I was 
 ill (said he), I desired he would tell me 
 sincerely in what he thought my life was 
 faulty. Sir, he brought me a sheet of 
 paper, on which he had written down 
 several texts of Scripture, recommending 
 Christian charity. And when I ques- 
 tioned him what occasion I had given 
 for such an animadversion, all that he 
 could say amounted to this, — that I some- 
 times contradicted people in conversa- 
 tion. Now, what harm does it do to any 
 man to be contradicted ?" Boswell. 
 " I suppose he meant the manner of 
 doing it; roughly, — and harshly." John- 
 son. *' And who is the worse for that?" 
 Boswell. " It hurts people of weaker 
 nerves." Johnson. " I know no such 
 weak-nerved people." Mr. Burke, to 
 whom I related this conference, said, 
 " It is well, if when a man comes to die 
 he has nothing heavier upon his con- 
 science than having been a little rough in 
 conversation." 
 
 Johnson, at the time when the paper 
 was presented to him, though at first 
 pleased with the attention of his friend, 
 whom he thanked in an earnest manner, 
 soon exclaimed in a loud and angry tone, 
 '* What is your drift, sir?" Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was 
 a scene for a comedy, to see a penitent 
 get into a violent passion and belabour 
 his confessor*. 
 
 * After all, I cannot but be of opinion, that 
 as Mr. Langton was seriously requested by 
 
568 
 
 I have preserved no more of his con- 
 versation at the times when I saw him 
 during the rest of this month, till Sunday, 
 the 30th of May, when I met him in the 
 evening at Mr. Hoole's, where there was 
 a large company both of ladies and gen- 
 tlemen. Sir James Johnston happened 
 to say, that he paid no regard to the 
 arguments of counsel at the bar of the 
 House of Commons, because they were 
 paid for speaking. Johnson. " Nay, sir, 
 argument is argument. You cannot help 
 paying regard to their arguments, if they 
 are good. If it were testimony, you 
 might disregard it, if you knew that it 
 were purchased. There is a beautiful 
 image in Bacon * upon this subject : 
 Testimony is like an arrow shot from a 
 long bow ; the force of it depends on the 
 strength of the hand that draws it. Argu- 
 ment is like an arrow from a crossbow, 
 which has equal force though shot by a 
 child." 
 
 He had dined that day at Mr. Hoole's, 
 and Miss Helen Maria Williams being 
 expected in the evening, Mr. Hoole put 
 into his hands her beautiful " Ode on the 
 Peace t :" Johnson read it over, and 
 when this elegant and accomplished young 
 lady i was presented to him, he took her 
 
 Dr. Johnson to mention what appeared to 
 liini erroneous in the character of his friend, 
 he was bound, as an honest man, to intimate 
 what he really thought, which he certainly did 
 in the most delicate manner; so that Johnson 
 hini.-^elf, when in a quiet frame of mind, was 
 
 g leased with it. The texts suggested are now 
 efore me, and I shall quote a few of iheni. 
 " Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit 
 the earth." Mat. v. 5. — "I therefore, the 
 prisoner of the Lord, beseech you, that ye 
 walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye 
 are called, with all lowliness and meekness, 
 with lone-suflfering, forbearing one another in 
 love." Ephes. v. 1, 2.— "And above all these 
 things put on charity, which is the bond of 
 nerfectness." Col. iii. 14.—" Charity suffereth 
 long, and is kind : charity envieth not, charity 
 ▼aunteth not itself, is not puffed up: doth not 
 behave itself unseemly, is not easily pro- 
 voked." 1 Cor. xiii. 4, 5. 
 
   [Dr. Johnson's memory deceived him. The 
 past-age referred to is not Bacon's, but Boyle's: 
 and may be found, with a slight variation, in 
 Johnson's Dictionary, under the word— Cross- 
 bow— So happily selected are the greater part 
 of the examples in that incomparable work, 
 that if the most striking passages found in it 
 were collected by one of oiu* modern book- 
 makers, under tlit title of The Beauties of 
 Johnson's Dictionary, they would form a 
 very pleasing and popular volume. M.] 
 
 t The Peace made by that very able states- 
 man, the Earl of Sheiburnc, now Marquis of 
 Lansdown, which may fairly be considered as 
 the foundation of all the prosperity of Great 
 Britain since that time. 
 
 t in the first edition of my Work, the epi- 
 thet amiable was ijiven. 1 was sorry to be 
 obliged to strike it out; but I could not in 
 justice suffer it to remain, after this young 
 lady had not only written in favour of the 
 savage. Anarchy with which France has been 
 visited, but haci (as 1 have been informed by 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 784. 
 
 by the hand in the most courteous man- 
 ner, and repeated the finest stanza of her 
 poem : this was the most delicate and 
 pleasing compliment he could pay. Her 
 respectable friend. Dr. Kippis, from 
 whom I had this anecdote, was standing 
 by, and was not a little gratified. 
 
 Miss Williams told me, that the only 
 other time she was fortunate enough to 
 be in Dr. Johnson's company, he asked 
 her to sit down by him, which she did, 
 and upon her inquiring how he was, he 
 answered, " I am very ill indeed, ma- 
 dam, I am very ill even when you are 
 near me ; what should I be were you at 
 a distance?" 
 
 He had now a great desire to go to 
 Oxford, as his first jaunt after his illness ; 
 we talked of it for some days, and I had 
 promised to accompany him. He was 
 impatient and fretful to-night, because I 
 did not at once agree to go with him on 
 Thursday. When I considered how ill 
 he had been, and what allowance should 
 be made for the influence of sickness upon 
 his temper, I resolved to indulge him, 
 though with some inconvenience to my- 
 self, as I wished to attend the musical 
 meeting in honour of Handel, in West- 
 minster Abbey, on the following Satur- 
 day. 
 
 In the midst of his own diseases and 
 pains, he was ever compassionate to the 
 distresses of others, and actively earnest 
 in procuring them aid, as appears from a 
 note to Sir Joshua Reynolds, of June, in 
 these words : ** I am ashamed to ask for 
 some relief for a poor man, to whom, I 
 hope, I have given what I can be ex- 
 pected to spare. The man importunes 
 me, and the blow goes round. I am 
 going to try another air on Thursday." 
 
 On Thursday, June 3, the Oxford post- 
 coach took us up in the morning at Bolt 
 Court. The other two passengers were 
 Mrs. Beresford and her daughter, two 
 very - agreeable ladies from America ; 
 they were going to Worcestershire, where 
 they then resided. Frank had been sent 
 by his master the day before to take 
 places for us ; and I found from the way- 
 bill that Dr. Johnson had made our names 
 be put down. Mrs. Beresford, who had 
 read it, whispered me, " Is this the great 
 Dr. Johnson?" I told her it was; so she 
 was then prepared to listen. As she soon 
 happened to mention in a voice so low 
 that Johnson did not hear it, that her 
 
 good authority), walked, without horrour, 
 over the ground at the Tuileries when it was 
 strewed with the naked bodies of the faithful 
 Swiss Guards, who were barbarously mas- 
 sacred for having bravely defended, against 
 a crew of ruffians, the Monarch whom they 
 had taken an oath to defend. From Dr. John- 
 son she could now expect not endearment 
 but repulsion. 
 
JErxr. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 559 
 
 husband had been a member of the Ame- 
 rican Congress, 1 cautioned her to beware 
 of introducing that subject, as she must 
 know how very violent Johnson was 
 against the people of that country. He 
 talked a great deal. But I am sorry I 
 have preserved little of the conversation. 
 Miss Beresford was so much charmed 
 that she said to me aside, " How he does 
 talk ! Every sentence is an essay." She 
 amused herself in the coach with knot- 
 ting ; he would scarcely allow this species 
 of employment any merit. " Next to 
 mere idleness (said he), I think knotting 
 is to be reckoned in the scale of insigni- 
 ficance ; though I once attempted to learn 
 knotting. Dempster's sister (looking to 
 me) endeavoured to teach me it ; but I 
 made no progress." 
 
 I was surprised at his talking without 
 reserve in the publick post-coach of the 
 state of his affairs : *' I have (said he) 
 about the world I think above a thou- 
 sand pounds, which I intend shall afford 
 Frank an annuity of seventy pounds a 
 year." Indeed his openness with people 
 at a first interview was remarkable. He 
 said once to Mr. Langton, " I think I 
 am like Squire Richard in 'The Journey 
 to London,' * I'm never strange in a 
 strange place.' " He was truly social. 
 He strongly censured what is much too 
 common in England among persons of 
 condition, — maintaining an absolute si- 
 lence, when unknown to each other ; as, 
 for instance, when occasionally brought 
 together in a room before the master or 
 mistress of the house has appeared. " Sir, 
 that is being so uncivilized as not to 
 understand the common rights of hu- 
 manity." 
 
 At the inn where we stopped he was 
 exceedingly dissatisfied with some roast 
 mutton which he had for dinner. The 
 ladies, I saw, wondered to see the great 
 philosopher, whose mind and wit they 
 had been admiring all the way, get into 
 ill humour from such a cause. He scolded 
 the waiter, saying, *' It is as bad as bad 
 can be : it is ill fed, ill killed, ill kept, 
 and ill dressed." 
 
 He bore the journey very well, and 
 seemed to feel himself elevated as he 
 approached Oxford, that magnificent and 
 venerable seat of Learning, Orthodoxy, 
 and Toryism. Frank came in the heavy 
 coach, in readiness to attend him ; and 
 we were received with the most polite 
 hospitality at the house of his old friend 
 Dr. Adams, Master of Pembroke College, 
 who had given us a kind invitation. Be- 
 fore we were set down, I communicated 
 to Johnson my having engaged to return 
 to London directly, for the reason I have 
 mentioned, but that I would hasten back 
 to him again. He was pleased that I had 
 
 made this journey merely to keep him 
 company. He was easy and placid with 
 Dr. Adams, Mrs. and Miss Adams, and 
 Mrs. Kennicot, widow of the learned 
 Hebrsean, who was here on a visit. He 
 soon despatched the inquiries which were 
 made about his illness and recovery, by 
 a short and distinct narrative ; and then 
 assuming a gay air, repeated from Swift, 
 
 " Nor ihink on our approaching ills, 
 And talk of spectacles and pills." 
 
 Dr. Newton, the Bishop of Bristol, 
 having been mentioned, Johnson, recol- 
 lecting the manner in which he had been 
 censured by that Prelate *, thus retali- 
 ated : — ** Tom knew he should be dead 
 before what he has said of me would 
 appear. He durst not have printed it 
 while he was alive." Dr. Adams. " I 
 believe his ' Dissertations on the Pro- 
 phecies' is his great work.'* Johnson. 
 *' Why, sir, it is Tom's great work ; but 
 how far it is great, or how much of it is 
 Tom's, are other questions. I fancy a 
 considerable part of it was borrowed." 
 Dr. Adams. " He was a very successful 
 man." Johnson. ** I don't think so, sir. 
 — He did not get very high. He was 
 late in getting what he did get ; and he 
 did not get it by the best means. I be- 
 lieve he was a gross flatterer." 
 
 I fulfilled my intention by going to 
 London, and returned to Oxford on Wed- 
 
 * Dr. Newton, in his Account of liis own 
 Life, after animadverting upon Mr. Gibbon's 
 History, says, " Dr. Johnson's   Lives of the 
 Poets ' afforded more amusement ; but can- 
 dour was much hurt and offended at the ma- 
 levolence that predominates in every part. 
 Some passages, it must be allowed, are judi- 
 cious and well written, but make not sufficient 
 compensation for so much spleen and ill hu- 
 mour. Never w as any biographer more sparing 
 of his praise, or more abundant in his cen- 
 sures. He seemingly delights more in exposing 
 blemishes than lu recommending beauties; 
 slightly passes over excellencies, enlarges 
 upon imperfections, and, not content with nis 
 own severe reflections, revives old scandal, 
 and produces large quotations from the for- 
 gotten works of former criticks. His reputa- 
 tion was so high in the republick of letters that 
 it wanted not to be raised on the ruins of 
 others. But these Essays, instead of raising 
 a higher idea than was before entertained of 
 his understanding, have certainly given the 
 world a worse opinion of his temper." — The 
 Bishop was therefore the more surprised and 
 concerned for his townsman, for " he respected 
 him not only for his genius and learning, but 
 
 valued him much for the more amiable part 
 of his character, his humanity and charity, 
 his morality and religion.^* The last sentence 
 
 we may consider as the general and perma- 
 nent opinion of Bishop Newton ; the remarks 
 which precede it niu>.t, by all who have read 
 Johnson's admirahle work, be imputed to the 
 disgust and peevishness of old age. 1 wish 
 they had not appeared, and that Dr. Johnson 
 had not been provoked by them to express 
 himself not in respectful terms, of a Prelate, 
 whose labours were certainly of consideiaMe 
 advantage both to literature and reiijfiou. 
 
570 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 nesday the 9th of June, when I was happy 
 to find myself again in the same agreeable 
 circle at Pembroke College, with the 
 comfortable prospect of making some 
 stai'. Johnson welcomed my return with 
 more than ordinary glee. 
 
 He talked with great regard of the 
 Honourable Archibald Campbell, whose 
 character he had given at the Duke of 
 Argyll's table, when we were at Inve- 
 rary * ; and this time wrote out for me, 
 in his own hand, a fuller account of that 
 learned and venerable writer, which I 
 have published in its proper place. John- 
 son made a remark this evening which 
 struck me a good deal. ** I never (said 
 he) knew a nonjuror who could reason +." 
 Surely he did not mean to deny that 
 faculty to many of their writers ; to 
 Hickes, Brett, and other eminent divines 
 of that persuasion; and did not recollect 
 that the seven Bisht)ps, so justly cele- 
 brated for their magnanimous resistance 
 of arbitrary power,\vere yet Nonjurors 
 to the new Government. The nonjuring 
 clergy of Scotland, indeed, who, except- 
 ing a few, have lately, by a sudden 
 stroke, cut oflF all tics of allegiance to the 
 house of Stuart, and resolved to pray for 
 our present lawful Sovereign by name, 
 may be thought to have confirmed this 
 remark; as it may be said, that the di- 
 vine indefeasible hereditary right which 
 they professed to believe, if ever true, 
 must be equally true still. Many of my 
 readers will be surprised when I men- 
 tion, that Johnson assured me he had 
 never in his life been in a nonjuring 
 meeting-house. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast, he pointed 
 out a passage in Savage's ** Wanderer," 
 saying " These are fine verses." — ** If 
 (said he) I had written with hostility of 
 Warburton in my Shakspeare, I should 
 have quoted this couplet; 
 
 ' Here Learning:, blinded first, and then be- 
 
 cruiled. 
 Looks dark as Ignorance, as Frenzy wild.' 
 
 •'* Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides," 
 third edit. p. 371. 
 
 + The Rev. Mr. Abutter has favoured me 
 with a note of a dialoiyue between Mr. John 
 Henderson and Dr. Johnson on this topick, as 
 related hy Mr. Henderson, and it is evidently 
 so authentick that I shall here insert it :— Hen- 
 derson. " What do you think, sir, of William 
 Law?" Johnson. " William Law, sir, wrote 
 the best pipce of Parenetick Divinity; hut 
 VVilliam Law was no reasoner." Henderson. 
 "Jeremy Collier, sir?" Johnson. "Jeremy 
 Collier foiiffht without a rival, and therefore 
 could not claim the victory." Mr. Henderson 
 mentioned Kenn and Kefilewell; but some 
 objections were made ; at last he «aid, " But, 
 sir, what do you think of Leslev ?" Johnson. 
 " Charles Lesley f had forgotten. Lesley was 
 a reasDnpr, and a rcasoner who was not to be 
 reasoned against,'^ 
 
 You see they'd have fitted him to a 7V* 
 (smiling). Dr. Adams. " But you did 
 not write against Warburton." Johnson. 
 '* No, sir, I treated him with great re- 
 spect both in my Preface and in my 
 Notes." 
 
 Mrs. Kennicot spoke of her brother, 
 the Reverend Mr. Chamberlayne, who 
 had given up great prospects in the Church 
 of England on his conversion to the Ro- 
 man Catholick faith. Johnson, who 
 warmly admired every man who acted 
 from a conscientious regard to principle, 
 erroneous or not, exclaimed fervently, 
 " God bless him." 
 
 Mrs. Kennicot, in confirmation of Dr. 
 Johnson's opinion, that the present was 
 not worse than former ages, mentioned 
 that her brother assured her, there was 
 now less infidelity on the Continent than 
 there had been ; Voltaire and Rousseau 
 were less read. I asserted, from good 
 authority, that Hume's infidelity was cer- 
 tainly less read. Johnson. ** All infidel 
 writers drop into oblivion, when personal 
 connexions and the floridness of novelty 
 are gone ; though now and then a foolish 
 fellow, who thinks he can be witty upon 
 them, may bring them again into notice.. 
 There will sometimes start up a College 
 joker, who does not consider that what 
 is a joke in a College will not do in the 
 world. To such defenders of Religion I 
 would apply a stanza of a poem which I 
 remember to have seen in some old col- 
 lection : 
 
 * Henceforth be quiet and a^ree. 
 Each kiss his empty brother; 
 
 Religion scorns a foe like thee, 
 But dreads a friend like t'other.' 
 
 The point is well, though the expression 
 is not correct ; one, and not thee, should 
 be opposed to f other %." 
 
 On the Roman Catholick religion he 
 said, ** If you join the Papists exter- 
 nally, they will not interrogate you strictly 
 as to your belief in their tenets. No rea- 
 soning Papist believes every article of 
 their faith. There is one side on which 
 a good man might be persuaded to em- 
 brace it. A good man of a timorous dis- 
 position, in great doubt of his acceptance 
 
 X I have inserted the stanza as Johnson re- 
 peated it from memory; but I have since 
 found the poem itself, in "The Foundling- 
 Hospital for Wit," printed at London, 174$). 
 It is as follows: 
 
 " Epigram, occasioned hu a Religions Dispute 
 
 at Bath. 
 
 " On Reason, Faith, and Mystery high. 
 
 Two wits harangue the table ; 
 B y believes he knosvs not why, 
 
 N swears 'tis all a f.ible. 
 
 " Peace, coxcombs, peace, and both agree ; 
 
 N , kiss thy empty brother; 
 
 Reiisrion laughs at foes like thee, 
 
 And dreads a friend like t'other,*' 
 
JEtat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 571 
 
 with God, and pretty credulous, may be 
 glad to be of a church where there are so 
 inany helps to get to Heaven. I would 
 be a Papist if I could. I have fear 
 enough ; but an obstinate rationality pre- 
 vents me. I shall never be a Papist, 
 unless on the near approach of death, of 
 which I have a very great terrour. I 
 wonder that women are not all Papists." 
 BoswELL. " They are not more afraid of 
 .death than men are." Johnson. " Be- 
 cause they are less wicked." Dr. Adams. 
 " They are more pious." Johnson. "No, 
 hang 'em, they are not more pious. A 
 wicked fellow is the most pious when he 
 takes to it. He'll beat you all at piety." 
 
 He argued in defence of some of the 
 peculiar tenets of the Church of Rome. 
 As to the giving the bread only to the 
 laity, he said, They may think that, in 
 what is merely ritual, deviations from 
 the primitive mode may be admitted on 
 the ground of convenience ; and I think 
 they are as well warranted to make this 
 alteration as we are to substitute sprink 
 ling in the room of the ancient baptism.' 
 As to the invocation of saints, he said, 
 *' Though I do not think it authorized 
 appears to me, that ' the communion of 
 saints' in the Creed means the com 
 munion with the saints in Heaven, as 
 connected with ' The holy Catholick 
 church*.'" He admitted the influence 
 of evil spirits upon our minds, and said, 
 " Nobody who believes the New Testa- 
 ment can deny it." 
 
 I brought a volume of Dr. Hurd, the 
 Bishop of Worcester's Sermons, and read 
 to the company some passages from one 
 of them, upon this text: ''Resist the 
 Devil, and he will fiy from you.*' 
 James, iv. 7. I was happy to produce so 
 judicious and elegant a supporter t of a 
 
 » Waller, in his " Divine Poesie," Canto 
 first, h;is the same thought finely expressed: 
 
 " The Church triumphant, and the Church 
 
 below. 
 In sonars of praise their present union show; 
 Their joys are full; our expectation long; 
 In life we differ, but we ioin in song; 
 Angels and we, assisted by this art. 
 May sing together, though we dwell apart." 
 
 + The Sermon thus opens:— *' That there 
 are angels and spirits good and bad ; that at 
 the head of these last there is one more con- 
 si(ierable and maliijnant than the resr, who, 
 in the form, or under the name of a serpent, 
 WHS deeply concerned in the fall of man, and 
 whose head, as the prophetick language is, the 
 Son of Man was one day to bruise i that this 
 evil spirit, though that prophecy be in pari 
 completed, has not yet received his death's 
 wound, but is still permitted, for ends un- 
 searcliable to us, and in ways which we cannot 
 particularly explain, to have a certain degree 
 of power in this world hostile to its virtue 
 and happiness, and sometimes exerted with 
 too much success; all this is so clear from 
 Scripture that no believer, unless he be fir«;t 
 
 doctrine which, I know not why, should, 
 in this world of imperfect knowledge, 
 and, therefore, of wonder and mystery 
 in a thousand instances, be contested by 
 some with an unthinking assurance and 
 flippancy. 
 
 After dinner, when one of us talked of 
 there being a great enmity between Whig 
 and Tory ; — Johnson. " Why, not so 
 much, I think, unless when they come 
 into competition with each other. There 
 is none when they are only common ac- 
 quaintance, none when they are of diffe- 
 rent sexes. A Tory will marry into a 
 Whig family, and a Whig into a Tory 
 family, without any reluctance. But in- 
 deed, in a matter of much more concern 
 than political tenets, and that is religion, 
 men and women do not concern them- 
 selves much about difference of opinion ; 
 and ladies set no value on the moral cha- 
 racter of men who pay their addresses to 
 them ; the greatest profligate will be as 
 well received as the man of the greatest 
 virtue, and this by a very good woman, 
 by a woman who says her prayers three 
 times a day." Our ladies endeavoured to 
 defend their sex from this charge ; birt 
 he roared them down! '* No, no, a lady 
 will take Jonathan Wild as readily as 
 St. Austin, if he has threepence more ; 
 and, what is worse, her parents will give 
 her to him. Women have a perpetual 
 envy of our vices ; they are less vicioi»s 
 than we, not from choice, but because 
 we restrict them ; they are the slaves of 
 order and fashion ; their virtue is of more 
 
 of all spoiled by philosophy and vain deceit, 
 can possibly enteitain a doubt of it." 
 
 Having treated of posseisions, his Lordship 
 says, " As I have no authority to affirm that 
 there are now any 8U( h, so neither may I pre- 
 sume to say with confidence, that there are 
 not any. „ . 
 
 •' But then with regard to the influence of 
 evil spirits at this day upon the souls of men, 
 I shall lake lea\e to be a great deal more 
 peremptory.— [Then, having stated the various 
 proofs, he adds] All this, I say, is so manifest 
 to every one who reads the Scriptures that, if 
 we respect their authority, the question con- 
 cerning the reality of the demoniack influence 
 upon the minds of men is clearly deter- 
 mined." . ^ ^. 
 
 Let it be remembered that these are not the 
 words of an antiquated or obscure enihnsiasr, 
 but of a learned and polite Prelate now alive ; 
 and were spoken, not to a vulgar congrega- 
 tion, but to the Honourable Society of Lin- 
 coln's Inn. His Lordship in this Sermon 
 explains the words, ** deliver us from evil," 
 in the Lord's Prayer, as signifying a request 
 to be protected from *' the evil one," that is, 
 the Devil. This is well illustrated in a short 
 but excf Hem Commentary by my late worthy 
 friend, the Reverend Dr. Lort, of whom it 
 mav truly be said, MuUis tile bonis flebilts 
 occ'idit. It is remarkable that Waller, in hi* 
 *♦ Refiections on the several Petitions in that 
 sacred form of devotion," has understood this 
 in the same sense : 
 " Guard us from all temptations of the F05»'' 
 
672 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 consequence to us than our own, so far as 
 concerns this world." 
 
 Miss Adams mentioned a gentleman of 
 licentious character, and said, " Suppose 
 I had a mind to marry that gentleman, 
 would my parents consent ?" Johnson. 
 *' Yes, they'd consent, and you'd go. 
 You'd go, though they did not consent." 
 Miss Adams. " Perhaps their opposing 
 might make me go." Johnson. ** O, very 
 well, you'd take one whom you think a 
 .bad man to have the pleasure of vexing 
 your parents. You put me in mind of 
 Dr. Barrowby, the physician, who was 
 very fond of swine's flesh. One day, when 
 he was eating it, he said, * I wish I was 
 a Jew.'—* Why so? (said somebody) ; 
 the Jews are iK)t allowed to eat your 
 favourite meat.' — * Because (said he), 1 
 should then have the gust of eating it, 
 with the pleasure of sinning.' " — Johnson 
 then proceeded in his declamation. 
 
 Miss Adams soon afterwards made an 
 observation that I do not recollect, which 
 pleased him much : he said with a good 
 humoured smile, " That there should be 
 so much excellence united with so much 
 depravity is strange." 
 
 Indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, 
 and accomplishments, and her constant 
 attention to Dr. Johnson were not lost 
 upon him. She happened to tell him that 
 a little coflfee-pot in which she had made 
 him coffee was the only thing she could 
 call her own. He turned to' her with a 
 complacent gallantry, ** Don't say so, my 
 dear; I hope you don't reckon my heart 
 as nothing." 
 
 I asked him if it was true as reported, 
 that he had said lately, " I am for the 
 King against Fox ; but I am for Fox 
 against Pitt." Johnson. " Yes, sir ; the 
 King is my master; but I do' not know 
 Pitt ; and Fox is my friend." 
 
 *' Fox (added he) is a most extraordi- 
 nary man : here is a man (describing 
 him in strong terms of objection in some 
 respects according as he apprehended, 
 but which exalted his abilities the more), 
 who has divided the Kingdom with Ca;- 
 sar; so that it was a doubt whether the 
 nation should be ruled by the sceptre of 
 George the Third or the tongue of Fox." 
 
 *' Dr. Wall, physician at Oxford, drank 
 tea with us. Johnson had in general a 
 peculiar pleasure in the company of phy- 
 sicians, which was certainly not abated 
 by the conversation of this learned, in- 
 genious, and pleasing gentleman. John- 
 son said, " It is wonderful how little good 
 Radcliffe's travelling fellowships have 
 done. I know nothing that has been im- 
 ported by them ; yet many additions to 
 our medical knowledge might be got in 
 foreign countries. Inoculation, for in- 
 Btance, has saved more lives than war 
 
 destroys : and the cures performed by 
 the Peruvian bark are innumerable. But 
 it is in vain to send our travelling physi- 
 cians to France, and Italy, and Germany, 
 for all that is known there is known 
 here : I'd send them out of Christen- 
 dom ; I'd send them among barbarous 
 nations." 
 
 On Friday, June 11, we talked at 
 breakfast of forms of prayer. Johnson. 
 " I know of no good prayers but those in 
 the ' Book of Common Prayer.'" Dr. 
 Adams (in a very earnest manner). ** I 
 wish, sir, you would compose some family 
 prayers." Johnson. " I will not compose 
 prayers for you, sii', because you can do 
 it for yourself. But I have thought of 
 getting together all the books of prayers 
 which I could, selecting those which 
 should appear to me the best, putting 
 out some, inserting others, adding some 
 prayers of my own, and prefixing a dis- 
 course on prayer." We all now gathered 
 about him, and two or three of us at a 
 time joined in pressing him to execute 
 this plan. He seemed to be a little dis- 
 pleased at the manner of our importunity, 
 and in great agitation called out, " Do 
 not talk thus of what is so awful. I know 
 not what time God will allow me in this 
 world. There are many things which I 
 wish to do." Some of us persisted, and 
 Dr. Adams said, " I never was more 
 serious about any thing in my life." 
 Johnson. ** Let me alone, let me alone; 
 I am overpowered." And then he put 
 his hands before his face, and reclined 
 for some time upon the table. 
 
 I mentioned Jeremy Tayloi-'s using, in 
 his forms of prayer, '* I am the chief of 
 sinners," and other such self-condemning 
 expressions. *' Now (said I), this can- 
 not be said with truth by every man, 
 and therefore is improper for a general 
 printed form. I myself cannot say that 
 I am the worst of men ; I will not say 
 so." Johnson. ** A man may know that 
 physically, that is, in the" real state of 
 things, he is not the worst man ; but that 
 morally he may be so. Law observes 
 that * every man knows something worse 
 of himself than he is sure of in others.' 
 You may not have committed such crimes 
 as some men have done ; but you do not 
 know against what degree of light they 
 have sinned. Besides, sir, the ' chief of 
 sinners ' is a mode of expression for * I 
 am a great sinner.' So St. Paul, speak- 
 ing of our Saviour's having died to save 
 sinners, says, ' of whom I am the chief:' 
 yet he certainly did not think himself so 
 bad as Judas Iscariot." Boswell. " But, 
 sir, Taylor means it literally, for he founds 
 a conceit upon it. When praying for the 
 conversion of sinners, and of himself in 
 particular, he says, * Lord, thou wilt not 
 
iETAT. 75. THE LIFE OF 
 
 leave thy chief work undone.' " John- 
 son. ** I do not approve of figurative 
 expressions in addressing tlie Supreme 
 Being; and I never use them. Taylor 
 gives a very good advice : * Never lie in 
 your prayers; never confess more than 
 you really believe; never promise more 
 than you mean to perform.' " I recol- 
 lected this precept in his * Golden Grove ;' 
 but his example for prayer contradicts his 
 precept. 
 
 Dr. Johnson and I went in Dr. Adams's 
 coach to dine with Mr. Nowell, Principal 
 of St. Mary Hall, at his beautiful villa at 
 Iffley, on the banks of the Isis, about two 
 miles from Oxford. While we were upon 
 the road, I had the resolution to ask 
 Johnson whether he thought that the 
 roughness of his manner had been an ad- 
 vantage or not ; and if he would not have 
 done more good if he had been more 
 gentle. I proceeded to answer myself 
 Uius : " Perhaps it has been of advan- 
 tage, as it has given weight to what you 
 said : you could not, perhaps, have talked 
 with such authority without it." John- 
 son. " No, sir ; I have done more good 
 fts I am. Obscenity and impiety have 
 always been repressed in ray company." 
 BoswELL. *' True, sir ; and that is more 
 than can be said of every Bishop. Greater 
 liberties have been taken in the presence 
 of a Bishop, though a very good man, 
 from his being milder, and therefore not 
 commanding such awe. Yet, sir, many 
 people, who might have been benefited 
 by your conversation, have been fright- 
 ened away. A worthy friend of ours has 
 told me that he has often been afraid to 
 talk to you." Johnson. ** Sir, he need 
 not have been afraid, if he had any thing 
 rational to say*. If he had not, it was 
 better he did not talk." 
 
 Dr. Nowell is celebrated for having 
 preached a sermon before the House of 
 Commons, on the 30th of January, 1772, 
 full of High Tory sentiments, for which 
 he was thanked as usual, and printed it at 
 their request ; but, in the midst of that 
 turbulence and faction which disgraced a\ 
 part of the present reign, the thanks were 
 afterwards ordered to be expunged. This 
 Btrange conduct sufficiently exposes itself; 
 and Dr. Nowell will ever have the ho- 
 nour which is due to a lofty friend of our 
 monarchical constitution. Dr. Johnson 
 said to me, " Sir, the Court will be very 
 much to blame if he is not promoted." I 
 told this to Dr. Nowell ; and asserting 
 my humbler, though not less zealous 
 exertions in the same cause, I suggested, 
 
 * [The words of Erasmus (as my learned 
 friend Dr. Kearney observes to me) rnay be 
 applied to Johnson: " Qui ingeniiim, sensum, 
 dictionemhoniinis noverant, multis non offen- 
 duntiir, qiiibus graviter erant oftendendi, qui 
 lisec ignorariiut.'' M.J 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 573 
 
 that whatever return we might receive, 
 we should still have the consolation of 
 being, like Butler's steady and generous 
 Royalist, 
 
 " True as tlie dial to the sun, 
 Although it be not shone upon.'' 
 
 We were well entertained and very 
 happy at Dr. Nowell's, where was a 
 very agreeable company ; and we drank 
 " Church and King" after dinner, with 
 true Tory cordiality. 
 
 We talked of a certain clergyman of 
 extraordinary character, who by exert- 
 ing his talents in writing on temporary 
 topicks, and displaying uncommon intre- 
 pidity, had raised himself to affluence. 
 I maintained that we ought not to be in- 
 dignant at his success ; for merit of every 
 sort was entitled to reward. Johnson. 
 " Sir, I will not allow this man to have 
 merit. No, sir ; what he has is rather 
 the contrary ; I will, indeed, allow him 
 courage, and on this account we so far 
 give him credit. We have more respect 
 for a man who robs boldly on the high- 
 way than for a fellow who jumps out of 
 a ditch, and knocks you down behind 
 your back. Courage is a quality so ne- 
 cessary for maintaining virtue that it is 
 always respected, even when it is asso- 
 ciated with vice." 
 
 I censured the coarse invectives which 
 were become fashionable in the House of 
 Commons, and said that if members of 
 parliament must attack each other per- 
 sonally in the heat of debate, it should be 
 done more genteelly. Johnson. " No, 
 sir ; that would be much worse. Abuse 
 is not so dangerous when there is no 
 vehicle of wit or delicacy, no subtle con- 
 veyance. The difference between coarse 
 and refined abuse is as the difference 
 between being bruised by a club, and 
 wounded by a poisoned arrow." — I have 
 since observed his position elegantly ex- 
 pressed by Dr. Young : 
 
 *' As the soft plume gives swiftness to the 
 
 dart, 
 Good breeding sends the satire to the heart." 
 
 On Saturday, June 12, there drank tea 
 with us, at Dr. Adams's, Mr. John Hen- 
 derson, student of Pembroke College, 
 celebrated for his wonderful acquirements 
 in alchymy, judicial astrology, and other 
 abstruse and curious learning + ; and the 
 Reverend Herbert Croft, who, I am 
 afraid, was somewhat mortified by Dr. 
 Johnson's not being highly pleased with 
 some " Family Discourses," which he 
 had printed ; they were in too familiar a 
 style to be approved of by so manly a 
 mind. I have no note of this evening's 
 conversation, except a single fragment. 
 
 t See an account of him, in a sermon by the 
 Reverend Mr. Agutter. 
 
574 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 When I mentioned Thomas Lord Lyttel- 
 ton's vision, the prediction of the time of 
 his death, and its exact fulfilment ; — 
 Johnson. " It is the most extraordinary 
 thing tiiat has happened in my day. I 
 heard it with my own ears, from his 
 uncle, Lord Westcote*. I am so glad 
 to hav€ every evidence of the spiritual 
 world that I am willing to believe it." 
 Dr. Adams. " You iiave evidence enough; 
 good evidence, which needs not such 
 support." Johnson. ** I like to have 
 more." 
 
 Mr. Henderson, with whom I had 
 sauntered in the venerable walks of Mer- 
 ton College, and found him a very learned 
 and pious man, supped with us. Dr. 
 Johnson surprised him not a little, by 
 acknowledging with a look of horrour, 
 that he was much oppressed by the fear 
 of death. The amiable Dr. Adams sug- 
 gested that God was infinitely good. 
 Johnson. " That he is intinitely good, 
 as far as the perfection of his nature will 
 allow, I certainly believe ; but it is ne- 
 cessary, for good upon the whole, that 
 individuals should be punished. As to 
 an individual, therefore, he is not infi- 
 nitely good ; and as I cannot be sure that 
 I have fulfilled the conditions on which 
 salvation is granted^ I am afraid I may 
 be one of those who shall be damned.'' 
 (Looking dismally). Dr. Adams. " What 
 do you mean by damned V Johnson (pas- 
 sionately and loudly). " Sent to hell, sir, 
 and punished everlastingly." Dr. Adams. 
 •' I don't believe that doctrine." John- 
 son. ** Hold, sir, do you believe that 
 some will be punished at all?" Dr. 
 Adams. " Being excluded from Heaven 
 will be a punishment ; yet there may be 
 no great positive suffering." Johnson. 
 •' Well, sir; but, if you admit any degree 
 of punishment, there is an end of your 
 argument for infinite goodness simply 
 considered ; for infinite goodness would 
 inflict no punishment whatever. There 
 is not infinite goodness physically con- 
 sidered : morally there is." Boswell. 
 " But may not a man attain to such a 
 degree of hope as not to be uneasy from 
 the fear of death ?" Johnson. " A man 
 may have such a degree of hope as to 
 keep him quiet. You see 1 am not quiet, 
 from the vehemence with which 1 talk ; 
 but I do not despair." Mrs. Adams. 
 " You seem, sir, to forget the merits of 
 our Redeemer." Johnson. ** Madam, I 
 do not forget the merits of my Redeemer ; 
 but my Redeemer has said thai he will 
 set some on his right hand and some on 
 his left." — He was in gloomy agitation, 
 and said, ** I'll have no more on't." — If 
 
 « [A correct account of Lord Lyltelton's 
 Munposed vision may be found in Naslic's 
 " History of Worcestershire;" — Additions 
 AND Corrections, p. 36. M.] i 
 
 what has now been stated should be urged 
 by the enemies of Christianity, as if its 
 influence on the mind were not benig- 
 nant, let it be remembered, that Johnson's 
 temperament was melancholy, of which 
 such direful apprehensions of futurity are 
 often a common effect. We shall pre- 
 sently see, that when he approached 
 nearer to his awful change, his mind be- 
 came tranquil, and he exhibited as much 
 fortitude as becomes a thinking man in 
 that situation. 
 
 From the subject of death we passed 
 to discourse of life, whether it was upon ^ 
 the whole more happy or miserable. John- ' 
 son was decidedly for the balance of mi- 
 sery f ; in confirmation of which I main- 
 
 t The Reverend Mr. Ralph Churton, Fellow 
 of Brazen Nose College, Oxford, has favoured 
 me with the following remarks on my Work, 
 which he is pleased to say, ♦' I have tiitherto 
 extolled and cordially approve." 
 
 " The chief part of what I have to observe 
 is contained in the following transcript from 
 a letter to a friend, which, with his concur- 
 rence, I copied for this purpose; and, what- 
 ever may be the merit or justness of the re- 
 marks, you may be sure that being written to 
 a most intimate friend, without any intention 
 that they ever should go further, they are the 
 genuine and undisguised sentiments of the 
 writer: 
 
 ' Jan. 6, 1792. 
 * Last week 1 was reading the second volume 
 of Boswell's Johnson, with increasin^^ esteem 
 for the worthy authour, and increasing vene- 
 ration of the wonderfid and excellent man 
 who is the subject of it. The writer throws in, 
 now and then, very properly, some serious 
 religious reflections ; but there is one remark, 
 in my mind, an obvious and just one, which I 
 think he has not made, that Johnson's 'mor- 
 bid melancholy ' and constitutional infirmities 
 were Intended by Providence, like St. Paul's 
 thorn in the flesh, to check intellectual con- 
 ceit and arrogance; which the consciousness 
 of his extraordinary talents, awake as he was 
 to the voice of praise, might otherwise have 
 generated in a very culpable degree. Ano- 
 ther observation strikes me, that in conse- 
 quence of the same natural indisposition and 
 habitual sickliness (for lie says he scarcely 
 passed one day without pain after his twen- 
 tieth year), he cousidere<l and represented 
 human life as a scene of much greater misery 
 than is generally experienced. There may be 
 persons bowed down with affliction all their 
 days; and there are those, no doubt, whose 
 iniquities rob them of rest; but neither cala- 
 mities nor crimes, I hope and believe, do so 
 much and so generally abound as to justify 
 the dark picture of life which Johnson's ima-' 
 gination designed, and his strong pencil de- 
 lineated. This 1 am sure, the colouring is far • 
 too gloomy for what I have experienced, 
 though, as far as I can remember, I have 
 had more sickness (I do not say more severe, 
 but only more in quantity) than fails to the 
 lot of most people. But then daily debility 
 and occasional sickness were far overba- 
 lan-ed by intervenient days, and, perhaps, 
 weeks, void of pain, and overflowing widi com- 
 fort. So that in short, to return to the sub- 
 ji'Ct, human life, as far as I can perceive front 
 experience or observation, is not that state 
 of constant wretchedness which Johniion al- 
 ways inslsteil it was: which misrepresenta- 
 tion (for such it surely is) his Bioerapher h;i^ 
 not corrected, ( suppose, because, unhappilv, 
 
5:tat. 75. THE LIFE OF 
 
 tained,lhat no man would choose to lead 
 over again the life which he had experi- 
 enced. Johnson acceded to that opinion 
 in the strongest terms. This is an inquiry 
 often made; and its being a subject of 
 disquisition is a proof that much misery 
 presses upon human feelings; for those 
 who are conscious of a felicity of exist- 
 ence would never hesitate to accept of a 
 repetition of it. I have met with very 
 few who would. I have heard Mr. 
 Burke make use of a very ingenious and 
 plausible argument on this subject: — 
 " Every man (said he) would lead his 
 
 he has himself a largre portiou of melancholy 
 in his constitution, and fancied the portrait a 
 faithful copy of life.' " 
 
 The learned writer then proceeds thus in 
 his letter to me :— 
 
 ** 1 have conversed with some sensible men 
 on this subject, who all seem to entertain the 
 same senlnnenis respectina: life with those 
 which are expressed op implied in the fore- 
 goiuif paragraph. It nvight be added, that as 
 the representation here spoken of appears not 
 consistent with fact and experience, so neither 
 does it seem to be countenanced by Scripture. 
 There is, perhaps, no part of the sacred vo- 
 lume which at first sight promises so much to 
 lend its sanction to these dark and despond- 
 ing notions as the book of Ecclesiastes, which 
 so often and so emphatically proclaims the 
 vanity of things sublunary. But 'the design 
 of this whole book (as it has been justly ob- 
 served) is not to put us out of conceit with 
 life, but to cure our vain expectations of a 
 complete and perfect happiness in this world ; 
 to convince us that there is no such thing to 
 be found in mere external enjoyments;— and 
 to teach us — to seek for happiness in the prac- 
 tice of virtue, in the knowledge and love of 
 God, and in the ho|:5es of a better life. For 
 this is the application of all: Let us hear, 
 Sic. xii. 13. Not only his duty but his happi- 
 ness too : For Gon, kc. ver. 14.'— See ' Sher- 
 lock on Providence,' p. 299. 
 
 " The New Testament tells us, indeed, and 
 most truly, that * sufficient unto the day is the 
 evil thereof;' and, therefore, wisely forbids 
 us to increase our burden by forebodings of 
 sorrows; but i think it nowhere says that 
 even our ordinary afflictions are inot consist- 
 ent with a very considerable degree of posi- 
 tive comfort and satisfaction. And, accord- 
 ingly, one whose sufferings as well as merits 
 were conspicuous, assures us, that in propor- 
 tion 'as the sufferings of Christ abounded in 
 them, so their consolation also abounded in 
 Christ.' 2 Cor. i, 5. It is needless to cite, as 
 indeed it would be endless even to refer to, 
 the multitude of passages in both Testaments 
 holding out, in tlie strongest language, pro- 
 mises of blessings, even in this world, to the 
 faithful servants of God. 1 will only refer to 
 St. Luke, xviii. 29, 30, and 1 Tim. iv. 8. 
 
 " Upon the whole, setting aside instances 
 of great and lasting bodily pain, of minds 
 peculiarly oppressed by melancholy, and of 
 severe temporal calamities, from which extra- 
 ordinary cases we surely should not form 
 our estimate of the general tenour and com- 
 plexion of life; excluding these horn the 
 account, I am convinced that as well the gra- 
 cious constitution of things which Providence 
 has ordained, as the declarations of Scripture 
 and the actual experience of individuals, au- 
 thorize the sincere Christian to hope that his 
 humble and constant endeavours to perform 
 
 DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 575 
 
 life over again ; for, every man is willing 
 to go on and take an addition to his life, 
 which, as he grows older, he has no reason 
 to think will be better, or even so good 
 as what has preceded." 1 imagine, Im)w- 
 ever, the truth is, that there is a deceitful 
 hope that the next part of life will be free 
 from the pains, and anxieties, and sor- 
 rows which we have already felt. We are 
 for wise purposes ** Condemn'd to Hope's 
 delusive mine," as Johnson finely says ; 
 and I may also quote the celebrated lines 
 of Dryden, equally philosophical and 
 poetical : — 
 
 his duty, chequered as the best life is with 
 many failings, will be crowned with a greater 
 degree of present peace, serenity, and com- 
 fort than he could reasonably permit himself 
 to expect, if he measured his views and 
 judged of life from the opinion of Dr. John- 
 son, often and energetically expressed in the 
 Memoirs of him, without any animadversion 
 or censure by his ingenious Biographer. If 
 he himself, upon reviewing the subject, shall 
 see the matter in this light, he will, in an 
 octavo edition, which is eagerly expected, 
 make such additional remarks or corrections 
 as he shall judge fit; lest the impressions 
 which these discouraging passages may leave- 
 on the reader's mind should in any degree 
 hinder what otherwise the whole spirit "and 
 energy of the work tend?, and, I hope, suc- 
 cessfully, to proiuote— pure morality and true 
 religion." 
 
 Though I have, in some degree, obviated 
 any reflections against my illustrious friend's 
 dark views of life, when considering, in the 
 course of this Work, his '• Rambler" and his 
 " Kasselas," I am obliged to Mr. Churton for 
 complying with my request of his permission 
 to insert his Remarks, being conscious of the 
 weight of what he judiciously suggests as to 
 the melancholy in my own constitution. His 
 more pleasing views of life, I hope, are just. 
 Valeant, quantum valere possunt. 
 
 Mr. Churton concludes his letter to me in 
 these words:—" Once, and only once, I had 
 the satisfaction of seeing your illustrious 
 friend ; and as I feel a particular regard for 
 all whom he distinguished with his esteem 
 and friendship, so I derive much pleasure 
 from reflecting that I once beheld, though 
 but transiently, near our College gate, one 
 whose works will forever delight and improve 
 the world, who was a sincere "and zealous son 
 of the Church of England, an honour to his 
 country, and an ornament to human nature." 
 
 His letter was accompanied with a pre- 
 sent from himself of his " Sermons at the 
 Bampton Lecture," and from his friend. Dr. 
 Townson, the venerable Rector of Malpas, in 
 Cheshire, of his '• Discourses on the Gospels," 
 together with the follow ing extract of a letter , 
 from that excellent person, who is now gone 
 to receive the reward of his labours: — *• Mr. 
 Boswell is not only very entertaining in hh* 
 works, but they are so replete with moral and 
 religious sentiments, without an instance, as 
 far as I know, of a contrary tendency, that I 
 cannot help having a great esteem for him ; 
 and if you think such a trifle as a copy of the 
 Discourses, ex dono aulhoris, would be ac- 
 ceptable to him, i should be happy to give 
 him this small testimony of my regard." 
 
 Such spontaneous testimonies oT approba- 
 tion from such men, without any personal 
 acquaintance with me, are truly valuable and 
 encouraging. 
 
576 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 "Wlien I consider life, 'tis all a cheat; 
 
 Yet, foolM with hope, men favour tiie de- 
 ceit; 
 
 Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay; 
 
 To-morrow's falser than the former dav ; 
 
 Lies worse; and while it s;tys we shall be 
 bless'd 
 
 With some new joys, cuts off what we pos- 
 sess'd. 
 
 Strange cozenage! none would live past 
 years again ; 
 
 Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; 
 
 And from the dregs of life think to receive 
 
 What the first sprightly running could not 
 give*." 
 
 It was observed to Dr. Johnson, that 
 it seemed strange that he, who has so 
 often delighted his company by his lively 
 and brilliant conversation, should say he 
 was miserable. Johnson. *' Alas ! it is 
 all outside ; I may be cracking my joke 
 and cursing the sun. Sun, how I hate 
 thy beains!" I knew not well what to 
 think of this declaration ; whether to hold 
 it as a genuine picture of his mind t, or 
 as the effect of his persuading himself, 
 contrary to fact, that the position which 
 he had assumed as to human unhappiness 
 was true. We may apply to him a sen- 
 tence in Mr. Greville's " Maxims, Cha- 
 racters, and Reflections j ;" a book which 
 is entitled to much more praise than it 
 has received : " Aristarchus is charming : 
 how full of knowledge, of sense, of sen- 
 timent ! You get him with difficulty to 
 your supper; and after having delighted 
 every body and himself for a few hours, 
 he is obliged to return home; — he is 
 finishing his treatise, to prove that un- 
 happiness is the portion of man." 
 
 On Sunday, June 13, our philosopher 
 was calm at breakfast. There was some 
 thing exceedingly pleasing in our leading 
 a College life, without restraint, and with 
 superior elegance, in consequence of our 
 living in the Master's House, and having 
 the company of ladies. Mrs. Kennicot 
 related, in his presence, a lively saying 
 of Dr. Johnson to Miss Hannah More, 
 who had expressed a wonder that the 
 poet who had written " Paradise Lost" 
 should write such poor Sonnets: — '* Mil- 
 ton, madam, was a genius that could cut 
 a Colossus from a rock, but could not 
 carve heads upon cherry stones." 
 
 "We talked of the casuistical question, 
 ** Whether it was allowable at any time 
 to depart from Truth ?" Johnson. " The 
 general rule is, that Truth should never 
 be violated, because it is of tlu> iilin<)>t 
 importance to the comfort of lifi;, lliat 
 we should have a full security by nuitual 
 
 * Anrengzehe, Act iv. Sc. I. 
 
 + Yet there is no donht that a man may 
 appear very gay in company who is sad at 
 heart. His merriment is like the sound of 
 drums and trumpets in a battl«% to drown the 
 groans of the wounded and dying. 
 
 J Page 139. I 
 
 faith ; and occasional inconveniences 
 should be willingly suffered, that we may 
 preserve it. There, must, however, be 
 some exceptions. If, for instance, a 
 murderer should ask you which way a 
 man is gone, you may tell him what is 
 not true, because you are under a pre- 
 vious obligation not to betray a man to 
 a murderer." Boswell. " Supposing 
 the person who wrote Junius were 
 asked whether he was the authour, 
 might he deny it?" Johnson. ** I don't 
 know what to say to this. If you were 
 sure that he wrote Junius, would you, 
 if he denied it, think as well of him after- 
 wards? Yet it may be urged, that what 
 a man has no right to ask you may refuse 
 to communicate ; and there is no other 
 effectual mode of preserving a secret and 
 an important secret, the discovery of 
 which may be very hurtful to you, but a 
 flat denial ; for if you are silent, or hesi- 
 tate, or evade, it will be held equivalent 
 to a confession. But stay, sir, here is 
 another case. Supposing the authour 
 had told me confidentially that he had 
 written Junius, and I were asked if he 
 had, I should hold myself at liberty to 
 deny it, as being under a previous pro- 
 mise, express or implied, to conceal it. 
 Now what I ought to do for the authour 
 may I not do for myself? But I deny 
 the lawfulness of telling a lie to a sick 
 man, for fear of alarming him. You 
 have no business with consequences ; you 
 are to tell the truth. Besides, yon are 
 not sure what eftect your telling him 
 that he is in danger may have. It may 
 bring his distemper to a crisis, and that 
 may cure him. Of all lying I have the 
 greatest abhorrence of this, because I be- 
 lieve it has been frequently practised on 
 myself." 
 
 I cannot help thinking that there is 
 much weight in the opinion of those who 
 have held tliat truth, as an eternal and 
 immutable principle, ought upon no ac- 
 count whatever to be violated, from sup- 
 posed previous or superior obligations, of 
 which every man bv'nvji, to judije for him- 
 self, there is L;rc'ator (iiiiim'r that we too 
 often, from partial motives, persuade 
 ourselves that they exist ; and probably 
 whatever extraordinary instances may 
 sometimes occur, where some evil may 
 be prevetited by violating this noble 
 principle, it would be found that human 
 happiness would, upon the whole, be 
 mure perfect, wore Truth universally pre- 
 serve(l. 
 
 In the notes to the " Diiiuiad," we 
 find the following verses, addressed to 
 Pope 5 : 
 
 § The aniiotator calls them " amiable 
 
Mt.vt. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 577 
 
 *' Wliile malice, Pope, denies thy page 
 
 Irs own celestial fire; 
 While criticks and while hards in rage, 
 
 Admiring, won't admire ; 
 While wayward pens thy worth assail, 
 
 And envious tongues decry; 
 These times, though many a friend hcwail. 
 
 These times bewail not I. 
 But when the world's loud praise is thine. 
 
 And spleen no more shall blame ; 
 When with thy Homer thou shall shine 
 
 In one establi>h'd fame; 
 When none shall rail, and every lay 
 
 Devote a wreath to thee ; 
 That day (for come it will) that day 
 
 Shall i lament to see." 
 
 It is surely not a little remarkable that 
 they should appear without a name. Miss 
 Seward, knowing Dr. Johnson's almost 
 universal and minute literary informa- 
 tion, signified a desire that I should ask 
 him who was the authour. He was 
 prompt with his answer: — "Why, sir, 
 they were written by one Lewis, who 
 was either under-master or an usher of 
 Westminster School, and published a 
 Miscellany, in which * Grongar Hill' first 
 came out*." Johnson praised them 
 highly, and repeated them with a noble 
 animation. In the twelfth line, instead 
 of "one establish'd fame," he repeated 
 ** one unclouded flame," which he thought 
 was the reading in former editions : but 
 I believe was a flash of his own genius. 
 It is much more poetical than the other. 
 
 On Monday, June 14, and Tuesday, 15, 
 Dr. Johnson and I dined, on one of them, 
 I forget which, with Mr. Mickle, trans- 
 lator of the " Lusiad," at Wheatiey, a 
 very pretty country place a few miles 
 from Oxford ; and on the other with Dr. 
 Wetherell, Master of University College. 
 From Dr. Wetherell's be went to visit 
 Mr. Sackville Parker, the bookseller ; 
 
   [Lewis's Verses addressed to Pope (as 
 Mr. iiindlev susgests to me) were first pub- 
 lished in a "col lection of Pieces in verse and 
 prose on occasion of *• the Dunciad," 8vo. 
 1732. They are there called an Epigram.— 
 *• Grongar Hill," fhe same gentkuian ob- 
 serves, was first printed in Savage's Miscel- 
 lanies, as an Ode (it is singular that Johnson 
 should not have recollected this), and was 
 reprivted in the same year (1726), in Lewis's 
 Miscellanv, in the form it now bears, 
 
 • In that Nliscellany (as the IJev. Mr. Blake- 
 way observes to me), " the beautiful poem, 
 
 * Away, let nought to love displeasing,' &c. 
 (reprinted in Percy's " Reliques," vol. i. b. 
 iii. No. 14) first appeared." 
 
 Lewis was authour of •' Pliilip of Macedon," 
 a tragedy, published in 1727, and dedicated 
 to Fope;"and in 1730 he published a second 
 volume of miscellaneous poems. 
 
 As Dr. Johnson settled in London not long 
 after the Verses addressed to Pope first ap- 
 pt'iired, he probably then obtained some m- 
 forinaiion concerning their authour, David 
 Lewis, whom he has described as an Usher of 
 Westminster School : vet the Dean of West- 
 minster, who has been pleased at my request 
 to make some inquiry on this subject, has not 
 found any vestige of his ever having been 
 
 and when he returned to us, gave the fol- 
 lowing account of his visit, saying, " I 
 have been to see my old friend, Sack. 
 Parker; I find he has married his maid ; 
 he has done right. She had lived with 
 him many years in great confidence, and 
 they had mingled minds; I do not think 
 he could have found any wife that would 
 have made him so happy. The woman 
 was very attentive and civil to me ; she 
 pressed me to fix a day for dining with 
 them, and to say what I liked, and she 
 would be sure to get it for me. Poor 
 Sack! He is very ill indeed f. We 
 paited as never to meet again. It has 
 quite broke me down." This pathetick 
 narrative was strangely diversified with 
 the grave and earnest defence of a man's 
 having married his maid. I could not but 
 feel it as in some degree ludicrous. 
 
 In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, 
 while we sat at Dr. Adams's, we talked 
 of a printed letter from the Reverend , 
 Herbert Croft to a young gentleman who 
 had been his pupil, in which he advised 
 him to read to the end of whatever books 
 he should begin to read. Johnson. "This 
 is surely a strange advice ; you may as 
 well resolve that whatever men you hap- 
 pen to get acquainted with, you are to 
 keep to them for life. A book may be 
 good for nothing ; or there may be only 
 one thing in it worth knowing; are we 
 to read it all through? These Voyages 
 (pointing to the three large volumes of 
 •' Voyages to the South Sea,' which were 
 just come out), who will read them 
 through ? A man had better work his 
 way before the mast than read them 
 through ; they will be eaten by rats and 
 mice before they are read through. There 
 can be little entertainment in such books ; 
 
 employed In this situation.— A late writer 
 (" Environs of London," iv. 17I), supposed 
 that the following inscription in the church- 
 yard of the churctiof Low Layton in Essex was 
 intended to commemorate this poet: — 
 
 " Sacred to the memory of David Lewis, 
 Esq. who died the 8th day of April, 1760, aged 
 77 years ; a great favourite of tht Muses, as 
 his" many excellent pieces in poetry suffici- 
 ently tes"tify. 
 
 * Inspired verse may on this marble live. 
 
 But can no honour to thy ashes give.' 
 
 Also Mary, the wife of the above named 
 
 David Lewis, fourth daughter of Newdigate 
 Owsley, Esi|. who departed this life the 10th 
 of October, 1774, aged 90 years." 
 
 But it appears to me improbable that this 
 monument was erected for the authour of the 
 Verses to Pope, and of the Tragedy already 
 mentioned; the language both of the dedica- 
 tion prefixed to that piece, and of the dedi- 
 cation addressed to the Earl of Shaftesbury, 
 and prefixed to the Miscellanies, 1730, de- 
 noting a person who moved in a lower sphere 
 than this Essex Squire seems to have done. 
 
 + [He died at Oxford in his 89th year, Dec. 
 10, 1796. M.J p p 
 
578 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1764. 
 
 one set of Savages is like another." Bos- 
 well. " I do not think the people of 
 Otaheite can be reckoned Savages." 
 Johnson. " Don't cant in defence of 
 Savages." Boswell. "They have the 
 art of navigation." Johnson. **A dog 
 or a cat can swim." Boswell. " They 
 carve very ingeniously." Johnson. *' A 
 cat can scratch, and a child with a nail 
 can scratch." I perceived this was none of 
 ihemoUia tempora fundi; so desisted. 
 
 Upon his mentioning that when he 
 came to College he wrote his first exer- 
 cise twice over, but never did so after- 
 wards. Miss Adams. " I suppose, sir, 
 you could not make them better ? ' John- 
 son. " Yes, madam, to be sure, I could 
 make them better. Thought is better 
 than no thought." Miss Adams. " Do 
 you think, sir, you could make your 
 Ramblers better?" Johnson. " Certainly 
 1 could." Boswell. " I'll lay a bet, sir, 
 you cannot." Johnson. " But I will, 
 sir, if I choose. I shall make the best of 
 them you shall pick out better." Bos- 
 well. " But you may add to them. I 
 will not allow of that." Johnson. " Nay, 
 sir, there are three ways of making them 
 better; — putting out,— adding, — or cor- 
 recting." 
 
 During our visit at Oxford, the follow- 
 ing conversation passed between him and 
 me on the subject of my trying my for- 
 tnne at the English bar. Having asked 
 whether a very extensive acquaintance in 
 London, which was very valuable and of 
 great advantage to a man at large, might 
 not be prejudicial to a lawyer, by pre- 
 venting him from giving sufficient atten- 
 tion to his business? — Johnson. *' Sir, 
 you will attend to business as business 
 lays hold of you. When not actually 
 employed, you may see your friends as 
 much as you do now. You may dine at 
 a Club every day, and sup with one of 
 the members every night ; and you may 
 be as much at publick places as one who 
 has seen them all would wish to be. But 
 you must take care to attend constantly 
 in Westminster Hall; both to mind your 
 business, as it is almost all learnt there 
 (for nobody reads now), and to show that 
 you want to have business. And you 
 must not be too often seen at publick 
 places, that competitors may not have it 
 to say, * He is always at the Playhouse 
 or at Ranelagh, and never to be found at 
 his chambers.' And, sir, there must be 
 a kind of solemnity in the manner of a 
 professional man. I have nothing parti- 
 cular to say to you on the subject. All 
 this I should say to any one ; I should 
 have said it to Lord Thurlow twenty 
 years ago.'* 
 
 The Profession may probably think 
 this representation of what is required in 
 
 a Barrister who would hope for success 
 to be much too indulgent ; but certainly 
 it is, that as 
 "The wits of Charles found easier ways to 
 fame," 
 some of the lawyers of this age, who have 
 risen high, have by no means thought it 
 absolutely necessary to submit to that 
 long and painful course of study which a 
 Plowden.a Coke, and a Hale considered 
 as requisite. My respected friend, Mr. 
 Langton, has shown me in the handwrit- 
 ing of his grandfather, a curious account 
 of a conversation which he had with Lord 
 Chief Justice Hale, in which that great 
 man tells him, ' That for two years after 
 he came to the inn of court, he studied 
 sixteen hours a day ; however (his Lord- 
 ship added), that by this intense appli- 
 cation he almost brought himself to his 
 grave, though he were of a very strong 
 constitution, and after reduced himself to 
 eight hours ; but that he would not advise 
 any body to so much; that he thought 
 six hours a day, with attention and con- 
 stancy, was sufficient; that a man must 
 use his body as he would his horse, and 
 his stomach ; not tire him at once, but 
 rise with an appetite." 
 
 On Wednesday, June 19, Dr. Johnson 
 and I returned to London ; he was not 
 well to-day, and said very little, employ- 
 ing himself chiefly in reading Euripides. 
 He expressed some displeasure at me for 
 not observing sufficiently the various ob- 
 jects upon the road. " If I had your eyes, 
 sir (said he), I should count the passen- 
 gers." It was wonderful how accurate 
 his observation of visual objects was, 
 notwithstanding his imperfect eyesight, 
 owing to a habit of attention. — That he 
 was much satisfied with the respect paid 
 to him at Dr. Adams's is thus attested 
 by himself: " I returned last night from 
 Oxford, after a fortnight's abode with 
 Dr. Adams, who treated me as well as I 
 could expect or wish ; and he that contents 
 a sick man, a man whom it is impossi- 
 ble to please, has surely done his part 
 well*." 
 
 After his return to London from this 
 excursion I saw him frequently, but have 
 few memorandums ; I shall therefore here 
 insert some particulars which I collected 
 at various times. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Astle, of Ashbourne, 
 in Derbyshire, brother to the learned and 
 ingenious Thomas Astle, Esq. was from 
 his early years known to Dr. Johnson, 
 who obligingly advised him as to his 
 studies, and recommended to him the 
 following books, of which a list, which 
 he has been pleased to communicate, lies 
 before me in Johnson's own handwrit- 
 
 • «' Letters to Mrs.Thrale,*' vol.ii. p. 378. 
 
vEtat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 579 
 
 ing:— Universal History (ancient). — 
 Rollin''s Ancient History. — Puff en- 
 dorf's Introduction to History. — Ver- 
 tofs History of Knights of Malta. — 
 Vertot's Revolution of Portugal. — 
 Vertofs Revolution of Sweden. — 
 Carte's History of England. — Present 
 State of England. — Geographical 
 Grammar. — Prideaux's Connection. — 
 Nelson^s Feasts and Fasts. — Duty of 
 Man. — Gentleman's Religion. — Cla- 
 rendon's History. — Watts's Improve- 
 ment of the Mind. — Watts's Logick. — 
 Nature Displayed. — Lowth's English 
 Grammar. — Blackwell on the Clas- 
 sicks. — Sherlock's Sermons. — Burnet's 
 lAfe of Hale. — Dupin's History of the 
 Church. — Shuckford's Connections. — 
 Law's Serious Call.— Walton's Com- 
 plete Angler. — Sandy's Travels. — 
 Sprat's History of the Royal Society. 
 — England's Gazetteer. — Goldsmith's 
 Roman History. — Some Commentaries 
 on the Bible. 
 
 It having been mentioned to Dr. John- 
 son, that a gentleman who had a son 
 whom he imagined to have an extreme 
 degree of timidity, resolved to send him 
 to a publick school that he might acquire 
 confidence; — "Sir (said Johnson), this 
 is a preposterous expedient for removing 
 his infirmity ; such a disposition should 
 be cultivated in the shade. Placing him 
 at a public school is forcing an owl upon 
 day." 
 
 Speaking of a gentleman whose house 
 was much frequented by low company ; 
 *' Rags, sir (said he), will always make 
 their appearance where they have a right 
 to do it." 
 
 Of the same gentleman's mode of living, 
 he said, ** Sir, the servants, instead of 
 doing what they are bid, stand round the 
 table in idle clusters, gaping upon the 
 guests ; and seem as unfit to attend a 
 company as to steer a man of war." 
 
 A dull country magistrate gave John- 
 son a long tedious account of his exer- 
 cising his criminal jurisdiction, the result 
 of which was his having sentenced four 
 convicts to transportation. Johnson, in 
 an agony of impatience to get rid of such 
 a companion, exclaimed, *' I heartily 
 wish, sir, that I were a fifth." 
 
 Johnson was present when a tragedy 
 ■was read, in which there occurred this 
 line : 
 
 The company having admired it much 
 ** I cannot agree with you (said John- 
 son) : it might as well be said, 
 
 " Who drives fat oxen should himself be 
 fat." 
 
 He was pleased with the kindness of 
 
 Mr. Cator, who was joined with him in 
 Mr. Thrale's important trust, and thus 
 describes him*: "There is much good 
 in his character, and much usefulness in 
 his knowledge." He found a cordial so- 
 lace at that gentleman's seat at Becken- 
 ham, in Kent, which is indeed one of the 
 f nest places at which I ever was a guest ; 
 and where 1 find more and more a hos- 
 pitable welcome. 
 
 Johnson seldom encouraged general 
 censure of any profession ; but he was 
 willing to allow a due share of merit to 
 the various departments necessary in civi- 
 lised life. In a splenetick, sarcastical, 
 or jocular frame of mind, however, he 
 would sometimes utter a pointed saying 
 of that nature. One instance has been 
 mentioned t, where he gave a sudden 
 satirical stroke to the character of an 
 attorney. The too indiscriminate admis- 
 sion to that employment, which requires 
 both abilities and integrity, has given 
 rise to injurious reflections, which are 
 totally inapplicable to many very re- 
 spectable men who exercise it with repu- 
 tation and honour. 
 
 Johnson having argued for some time 
 with a pertinacious gentleman ; his op- 
 ponent, who had talked in a very puz- 
 zling manner, happened to say, ** I don't 
 understand you, sir ;" upon which John- 
 son observed, ** Sir, I have found you an 
 argument ; but I am not obliged to find 
 you an understanding." 
 
 Talking to me of Horry Walpole (as 
 Horace late Earl of Orford was often 
 called), Johnson allowed that he got toge- 
 ther a great many curious little things, 
 and told them in an elegant manner. 
 Mr. Walpole thought Johnson a more 
 amiable character after reading his letters 
 to Mrs. Thrale ; but never was one of the 
 true admirers of that great man j. We 
 may suppose a prejudice conceived, if 
 he ever heard Johnson's account to Sir 
 George Staunton, that when he made the 
 speeches in parliament for the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine, " he always took care 
 to put Sir Robert Walpole in the wrong, 
 and to say every thing he could against 
 the electorate of Hanover." The cele- 
 brated Heroick Epistle, in which John- 
 son is satirically introduced, has been 
 ascribed both to Mr. Walpole and Mr. 
 Mason. One day, at Mr. Courtenay's, 
 when a gentleman expressed his opinion 
 that there was more energy in that poem 
 than could be expected from Mr. Wal- 
 pole ; Mr. Warton, the late Laureat, 
 observed, " It may have been written 
 
 * " Letters to Mrs. Thrale," vol. ii. p. 284. 
 
 t See p. 193. ..,,.. 
 
 I [In his posthumous Works he has spoken 
 of Johnson in the most contemptuous manner 1 
 M.] 
 
580 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 by Walpole, and biickrarn'd by Ma- 
 son *." 
 
 He disapproved of Lord Hailes for 
 having modernised the language of the 
 ever rremorable John Hailes of" Eton, in 
 an edition which his Lordship pnblislied 
 of that writer's works. " An authour's 
 language, sir (said he), is a characteristi- 
 cal part of his composition, and is also 
 characteristical of the age in which he 
 writes. Besides, sir, when the language 
 i? changed, w^e are not snre that the sense 
 is the same. No, sir : I am sorry Lord 
 Hailes has done this." 
 
 Here it may be observed, that his fre- 
 quent use of No, sir, was not always to 
 intimate contradiction ; for he would say 
 so when he was about to enforce an affir- 
 mative proposition which had not been 
 denied, as in the instance last mentioned. 
 I used to consider it as a kind of flag of 
 defiance : as if he had said, *' Any argu- 
 ment you may offer against this is not 
 jnst. No, sir, it is not." It was like 
 Falstaff' s '* I deny your Major." 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds having said that 
 i;e took the altitude of a man's taste by 
 his stories and his wit, and of his under- 
 standing by the remarks which he re- 
 peated ; being always sure that he must 
 be a weak man who quotes common 
 things with an emphasis as if they were 
 oracles ; Johnson agreed with him ; and 
 Sir Joshua having also observed, that the 
 real character of a man was found out by 
 his amusements, — Johnson added," Yes, 
 sir; no man is a hypocrite in his plea- 
 sures.' 
 
 I have mentioned Johnson's general 
 aversion to pun. He once, however, 
 endured one of mine. When we were 
 talking of a numerous company in which 
 he had distinguished himself highly, I 
 said, " Sir, you were a Cod surrounded 
 by smelts. Is not this enough for you ? at 
 a time too when you w^re not Jishing for 
 a compliment?" He laughed at this with 
 a complacent approbation. Old Mr. She- 
 ridan observed, upon my mentioning it 
 to him, " He liked your compliment so 
 •well, he was willing to take it with pun 
 sauce.'* For my own part, I think no 
 i)!noccnt species of wit or pleasantry 
 
 onld be suppressed: and that a good 
 . ;n may be admitted among the smaller 
 irxcellences of lively conversation. 
 
 Had Johnson treated at large Ve Cla- 
 ris Oratoribus, he might have given us 
 an admirable work. When the Duke of 
 Bedft>rd attacked the ministry as vehe- 
 rinently as he could for having taken upon 
 thtm to extend the time for the impor- 
 tittion of corn, Lord Chatham, in his first 
 
 */lf is now (!M)4) knoitn that the "He- 
 roic* Epistle" was written by ISIason. M.] 
 
 1784. 
 
 speech in the House of Lords, boldlj' 
 avowed himself to be an adviser of that 
 measure. " My colleagues (said he), as 
 I was confined by indisposition, did me 
 the signal honour of coming to the bed- 
 side of a sick man to ask his opinion. 
 But, had they not thus condescended, I 
 should have taken vp tny bed and walk- 
 ed, in order to have delivered that opi- 
 nion at the Council Board." Mr. Lang- 
 ton, who was present, mentioned this to 
 Johnson, who observed, " Now, sir, we 
 see that he took these words as he found 
 them ; without considering, that though 
 the expression in Scripture, take vp thy 
 bed and walk, strictly suited the instance 
 of the sick man restored to health and 
 strength, w ho would of course be supposed 
 to carry his bed with him, it could not be 
 proper in the case of a man who was lying 
 in a slate of feebleness, and who cer- 
 tainly would not add to the difficulty of 
 moving at all that of carrying his bed." 
 
 W^hen I pointed out to him in the 
 newspaper one of Mr. Grattan's ani- 
 mated and glowing speeches, in favour 
 of the freedom of Ireland, in which this 
 expression occurred (I know not if ac- 
 curately taken) : ** We will persevere 
 till there is not one link of the English 
 chain left to clank upon the rags of the 
 meanest beggar in Ireland ;'' — " Nay, sir 
 (said Johnson), don't you perceive that 
 one link cannot clank?" 
 
 Mrs. Thrale has |)ublished+, as John- 
 son's, a kind of parody or counterpart 
 of a fine poetical passage in one of Mr. 
 Burke's speeches on American Taxation. 
 It is vigorously but somewhat coarsely 
 executed ; and I am inclined to suppose, 
 is not quite correctly exhibited. 1 hope 
 he did not use the words "vile age7its" 
 for the Americans in the House of Par- 
 liament; and if he did so, in an extem- 
 pore effusion, 1 wish the lady had not 
 committed it to writing. 
 
 Mr. Burke uniformly showed Johnson 
 the greatest respect; and when Mr. 
 Townshend, now Lord Sydney, at a pe- 
 riod when he was conspicuous in opposi- 
 tion, threw out some reflection in parlia- 
 ment upon the grant of a pension to a 
 man of such political principles as John- 
 son ; Mr. Burke, though then of the 
 same party with Mr. Townshend, stood 
 warmly forth in defence of his friend, to 
 whom, he justly observed, the pension 
 was granted solely on account of his emi- 
 nent literary merit. I am well assured that 
 Mr. Townshend's attack upon Johnson 
 was the occasion of his ** hitching in a 
 rhyme;" for, that in the original copy 
 of Goldsmith's character of Mr. Burke, 
 in his ** Retaliation," another person's 
 
 t " Anecdotes," p. 43. 
 
JErxr. 75. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 name stood in the couplet where Mr. 
 'i ownshend is now introduced : 
 "Though fraught with all learning', kept 
 
 straining his throat, 
 To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him 
 a vote." 
 
 It may be worth remarking, among 
 the minutice of my collection, that John- 
 son was once drawn to serve in the mili- 
 tia, the Trained Bands of the City of 
 London, and that Mr. Rackstrowj of the 
 Museum in Fleet Street, was his Colonel. 
 It juay be believed he did not serve in 
 person ; but the idea, with all its circum- 
 stances, is certainly laughable. He upon 
 that occasion provided himself with a 
 musket, and with a sword and belt, which 
 I have seen hanging in his closet. 
 
 He was very constant to those whom 
 he once employed, if they gave him no 
 reason to be displeased. When some- 
 body talked of being imposed on in the 
 purchase of tea and sugar, and such arti- 
 cles, " That will not be the case (said he) 
 if you go to a stately shop, as I always 
 do. In such a shop it is not worth their 
 while to take a petty advantage." 
 
 An authour of most anxious and rest- 
 less vanity being mentioned, " Sir (said 
 he), there is not a young sapling upon 
 Parnassus more severely blown about by 
 every wind of criticism than that poor 
 fellow." 
 
 The difference, he observed, between 
 a well bred and an ill bred man is this : 
 " One immediately attracts your liking, 
 the other your aversion. You love the 
 one till you find reason to hate him ; you 
 hate the other till you find reason to love 
 him." 
 
 The wife of one of his acquaintance 
 had fraudulently made a purse for herself 
 out of her husband's fortune. Feeling a 
 proper compunction in her last moments, 
 she confessed how much she had secreted ; 
 but before she could tell where it was 
 placed she was seized with a convulsive 
 fit and expired. Her husband said he was 
 more hurt by her want of confidence in 
 him than by the loss of his money. " I 
 told him (said Johnson), that he should 
 console himself: for perhaps the money 
 might be found, and he was sure that his 
 wife was gone." 
 
 A foppish physician once reminded 
 Johnson of his having bfeen in company 
 with him on a former occasion. " I do 
 not remember it, sir." The physician 
 still insisted ; adding that he that day 
 wore so fine a coat that it must have 
 attracted his notice. " Sir (said John- 
 son), had you been dipped in Pactolus I 
 should not have noticed you." 
 
 He seemed to take a pleasure in speak- 
 ing in his ovvn style; for when he iiad 
 carelessly missed it, he would repeat the 
 
 581 
 
 thought translated into it. Talking of 
 the Comedy of "The Rehearsal," he 
 said, " It has not wit enough to keep it 
 sweet." This was easy ; — he therefore 
 caught himself, and pronounced a more 
 round sentence: ** It has not vitality 
 enough to preserve it from putrefac- 
 tion." 
 
 He censured a writer of entertaining 
 Travels for assuming a feigned character, 
 saying (in his sense of the word), '* He 
 carries out one lie ; we know not how 
 many he brings back." At another time, 
 talking of the same person, he observed, 
 " Sir, your assent to a man whom yon 
 have never known to falsify is a debt ; 
 but after you have known a man to 
 falsify, your assent to him then is a 
 favour." 
 
 Though he had no taste for painting, he 
 admired much the manner in which Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds treated of his art, in his 
 " Discourses to the Royal Academy." 
 He observed one day of a passage in 
 them, ** I think I might as well have 
 said this myself:" and once when Mr. 
 Langton was sitting by him, he read one 
 of them very eagerly, and expressed 
 himself thus : " Very well. Master Rey- 
 nolds ; very well, indeed. But it will 
 not be understood." 
 
 When I observed to him that Painting 
 was so far inferiour to Poetry, that the 
 story or even emblem which it com- 
 municates must be previously known, 
 and mentioned, as a natural and laugha- 
 ble instance of this, that a little Miss on 
 seeing a picture of Justice with the scales 
 had exclaimed to me, " See, there's a 
 woman selling sweetmeats ;" he said, 
 '* Painting, sir, can illustrate, but cannot 
 inform." 
 
 No man was more ready to make an 
 apology when he had censured unjustly 
 than Johnson. When a proof sheet of 
 one of his works was brought to him, he 
 found fault with the mode in which a- 
 part of it was arranged, refused to read 
 it, and in a passion desired that the com- 
 positor* might be sent to him. The 
 compositor was Mr. Manning, a decent 
 sensible man, who had composed about 
 one half of his " Dictionary," when in 
 Mr. Strahan's printing-house ; and a great 
 part of his '* Lives of the Poets," when 
 in that of Mr. Nichols; and who (in his 
 seventy-seventh year), when in Mr. Bald- 
 win's printing-house, composed a part 
 of the first edition of this work concern- 
 ing him. By producing the manuscript 
 he at once satisfied Dr. Johnson that he 
 
 » Compositor in the I'rinting-house means 
 the person who adjusts the types in the order 
 in which they are to stand lor printing; and 
 arranges what is called the/or»i, from which 
 an impression is taken. 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 582 
 
 was not to blame. — Upon which John- 
 son candidly and earnestly said to him, 
 " Mr. Compositor, I ask your pardon ; 
 Mr. Compositor, I ask your pardon, again 
 and again." 
 
 His generous humanity to the miserable 
 was almost beyond example. The follow- 
 ing instance is well attested: — Coming 
 home late one night, he found a poor 
 woman lying in the street, so much ex- 
 hausted that she could not walk ; he took 
 her upon his back and carried her to his 
 house, where he discovered that she was 
 one of those wretched females who had 
 fallen into the lowest state of vice, po- 
 verty, and disease. Instead of harshly 
 upbraiding her, he had her taken care of 
 with all tenderness for a long time, at 
 a considerable expense, till she was re- 
 stored to health, and endeavoured to put 
 her into a virtuous way of living*. 
 
 He thought Mr. Caleb Whitefoord sin- 
 gularly happy in hitting on the signature 
 of Papyrius Cursor, to his ingenious 
 and diverting cross readings of the news- 
 papers ; it being a real name of an an- 
 cient Roman, and clearly expressive of 
 the thing done in this lively conceit. 
 
 He once in his life was known to have 
 uttered what is called a hull : Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, when they were riding toge- 
 ther in Devonshire, complained that he 
 had a very bad horse, for that even when 
 going down hill he moved slowly step by 
 step. " Ay (said Johnson), and when 
 he goes up hill he stands still." 
 
 He had a great aversion to gesticula- 
 ting in company. He called once to a 
 gentleman who offended him in that 
 point, *' Don't attitudinise." And when 
 another gentleman thought he was giving 
 additional force to what he uttered, by 
 expressive movements of his hands, John- 
 son fairly seized them and held them 
 down. 
 
 An authour of considerable eminence 
 having engrossed a good share of the 
 conversation in the company of Johnson, 
 and having said nothing but what was 
 trifling and insignificant; Johnson, when 
 he was gone, observed to us, " It is won- 
 derful what a difference there sometimes 
 is between a man's powers of writing 
 and of talking. «•**•* writes with great 
 spirit, but is a poor talker ; had he held 
 his tongue, we might have supposed him 
 to have been restrained by modesty ; but 
 he has spoken a great deal to-day ; and 
 you have heard what stuff it was." 
 
 A gentleman having said that a congd 
 d'clire has not, perhaps, the force of a 
 
 • The circumstance therefore alluded to in 
 Mr. Courtenay's " Poetical Character" of him 
 ii strictly true. My informer wiis Mrs. Des- 
 nioulins who lived many years in Dr. John- 
 tton's hutine. 
 
 1784. 
 
 command, but may be considered only 
 as a strong recommendation : — *' Sir (re- 
 plied Johnson, who overheard him), it 
 is such a recommendation, as if I should 
 throw you out of a two pair of stairs 
 window and recommend to you to fall 
 softt." 
 
 Mr. Steevens, who passed many a 
 social hour with him during their long 
 acquaintance, which commenced when 
 they both lived in the Temple, has pre- 
 served a good number of particulars 
 concerning him, most of which are to be 
 found in the department of Apophthegms, 
 &c. in the Collection of ** Johnson's 
 Works." But he has been pleased to 
 favour me with the following, which are 
 original : 
 
 " One evening, previous to the trial of 
 Baretti, a consultation of his friends was 
 held at the house of Mr. Cox, the solici- 
 tor, in Southampton Buildings, Chancery 
 Lane. Among others present were Mr. 
 Burke and Dr. Johnson, who differed in 
 sentiments concerning the tendency of 
 some part of the defence the prisoner 
 was to make. When the meeting was 
 over Mr. Steevens observed, that the 
 question between him and his friend had 
 been agitated with rather too much 
 warmth. * It may be so, sir (replied 
 the Doctor), for Burke and I should 
 have been of one opinion, if we had had 
 no audience."' 
 
 ** Dr. Johnson once assumed a cha- 
 racter in which, perhaps, even Mr. Bos- 
 well never saw him. His curiosity having 
 been excited by the praises bestowed on 
 the celebrated Torre's fireworks at Mary- 
 bone Gardens, he desired Mr. Steevens 
 to accompany him thither. The evening 
 had proved showery ; and soon after the 
 few people present were assembled, pub- 
 lick notice was given that the conductors 
 to the wheels, suns, stars, &c. were so 
 thoroughly water-soaked that it was im- 
 possible any part of the exhibition should 
 be made. * This is a mere excuse (says 
 the Doctor), to save their crackers for a 
 more profitable company. Let us both 
 hold up our sticks, and threaten to break 
 those coloured lamps that surround the 
 Orchestra, and we shall soon have our 
 wishes gratified. The core of the fire- 
 works cannot be injured ; let the differ- 
 ent pieces be touched in their respective 
 centres, and they will do their offices as 
 well as ever.' — Some young men, who 
 overheard him, immediately began the 
 violence he had recommended, and an 
 
 t Tliis has heen printed in other piiblica- 
 tion«, " fall to the gtomid.** But Johnson 
 himself Rave me the true expression which he 
 had used as above; meaniuf? that the recom- 
 mendation left as little choice in the one case 
 as the other. 
 
jEtat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 583 
 
 attempt wa8 speedily made to fire some 
 of tl>e wheels which appeared to have 
 received the smallest damage ; but to 
 little purpose were they lighted, for most 
 of them completely failed. — The anthour 
 of 'The Rambler,' however, may be 
 considered, on this occasion, as the ring- 
 leader of a successful riot, though not as 
 a skilful pyrotechnist." 
 
 ** It has been supposed that Dr. John- 
 son, so far as fashion was concerned, was 
 careless of his appearance in publick. 
 But this is not altogether true, as the fol- 
 lowing slight instance may show : — Gold- 
 smith's last Comedy was to be represented 
 during some court-mourning; and Mr. 
 Steevens appointed to call on Dr. John- 
 son, and carry him to the tavern where 
 he was to dine with others of the Poet's 
 friends. The Doctor was ready dressed, 
 but in coloured clothes ; yet being told 
 that he would find every one else in black, 
 received the intelligence with a profusion 
 of thanks, hastened to change his attire, 
 all the while repeating his gratitude for 
 the information that had saved him from 
 an appearance so improper in the front 
 row of a front box. * I would not (added 
 he), for ten pounds, have seemed so re- 
 trograde to any general observance.' " 
 
 *' He would sometimes found his dis- 
 likes on very slender circumstances. — 
 Happening one day to mention Mr. Flex- 
 man, a Dissenting Minister, with some 
 compliment to his exact memory in chro- 
 nological matters ; the Doctor replied, 
 * Let me hear no more of him, sir. That 
 is the fellow who made the Index to my 
 Ramblers, and set down the name of 
 Milton thus: — Milton, Mr. John.'" 
 
 Mr. Steevens adds this testimony : ** It 
 is unfortunate, however, for Johnson, that 
 his particularities and frailties can be 
 more distinctly traced than his good and 
 amiable exertions. Could the many boun- 
 ties he studiously concealed, the many 
 acts of humanity he performed in private, 
 be displayed with equal circumstantiality, 
 his defects would be so far lost in the 
 blaze of his virtues that the latter only 
 would be regarded." 
 
 Though from my very high admiration 
 of Johnson, I have wondered that he was 
 not courted by all the great and all the 
 eminent persons of his time, it ought fairly 
 to be considered, that no man of humble 
 birth, who lived entirely by literature, in 
 short no authour by profession, ever rose 
 in this country into that personal notice 
 which he did. In the course of this work 
 a numerous variety of names has been 
 mentioned, to which many might be 
 added. I cannot omit Lord and Lady 
 Lucan, at whose house he often enjoyed 
 all that an elegant table and the best 
 
 company can contribute to happiness ; 
 he found hospitality united with extraor- 
 dinary accomplishments, and embellished 
 with charms of which no man could be 
 insensible. 
 
 On Tuesday, June 22, I dined with 
 him at the Literary Club, the last time 
 of his being in that respectable society. 
 The other members present were the 
 Bishop of St. Asaph, Lord Eliot, Lord 
 Palmerston, Dr. Fordyce, and Mr. Ma- 
 lone. He looked ill ; but had such a 
 manly fortitude that he did not trouble 
 the company with melancholy complaints. 
 They all showed evident marks of kind 
 concern about him, with which he was 
 much pleased, and he exerted himself to 
 be as entertaining as his indisposition 
 allowed him. 
 
 The anxiety of his friends, to preserve 
 so estimable a life as long as human 
 means might be supposed to have influ- 
 ence, made them plan for him a retreat 
 from the severity of a British winter, to 
 the mild climate of Italy. This scheme 
 was at last brought to a serious resolution 
 at General Paoli's, where I had often 
 talked of it. One essential matter, how- 
 ever, I understood was necessary to be 
 previously settled, which was obtaining 
 such an addition to his income as would 
 be sufficient to enable him to defray the 
 expense in a manner becoming the first 
 literary character of a great nation, and, 
 independent of all his other merits, the 
 Authour of The Dictionary of the 
 English Language. The person to whom 
 I above all others thought I should apply 
 to negotiate this business was the Lord 
 Chancellor *, because I knew that he 
 highly valued Johnson, and that Johnson 
 highly valued his Lordship ; so that it 
 was no degradation of my illustrious 
 friend to solicit for him the favour of 
 such a man. I have mentioned what 
 Johnson said of him to me when he was 
 at the bar; and after his Lordship was 
 advanced to the seals, he said of him, 
 " I would prepare myself for no man in 
 England but Lord Thurlow. When I am 
 to meet with him, I should wish to know 
 a day before." How he would have 
 prepared himself, I cannot conjecture. 
 Would he have selected certain topicks, 
 and considered them in every view, so as 
 to be in readiness to argue them at all 
 points? and what may we suppose those 
 topicks to have been 1 I once started the 
 curious inquiry to the great man who 
 was the subject of this compliment: he 
 smiled, but did not pursue it. 
 
 I first consulted with Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, who perfectly coincided in opinion 
 with me ; and I therefore, though per- 
 
 * Edward Lord Thurlow [who died Septem- 
 ber li, 1806. M.] 
 
584 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 sonally very little known to his Lordship, 
 wrote to him*, stating the case, and re- 
 questing his good offices for Dr. Johnson. 
 I mentioned that I was obliged to set out 
 for Scotland early in the following week, 
 so that if his Lordship should have any 
 commands for me as to this pious nego- 
 tiation, he would be pleased to send 
 them before that time ; otherwise Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds would give all attention 
 to it. 
 
 This application was made not only 
 without any suggestion on the part of 
 Johnson himself, but was utterly un- 
 known to him, nor had he the smallest 
 suspicion of it. Any insinuations, there- 
 fore, which since his death have been 
 thrown out, as if he had stooped to ask 
 what was superfluous, are without any 
 foundation. But, had he asked it, it would 
 not have been superfluous; for though 
 the money he had saved proved to be 
 more than his friends imagined, or than 
 I believe he himself, in his carelessness 
 concerning worldly matters, knew it to 
 be, had he travelled upon the Continent, 
 au augmentation of his income would 
 by no means have been unnecessary. 
 
 On Wednesday, June 23, I visited him 
 in the morning, after having been pre- 
 sent at the shocking sight of fifteen men 
 executed before Newgate. I said to him, 
 I was sure that human life was not ma- 
 chinery, that is to say, a chain of fatality 
 planned and directed by the Supreme 
 Being, as it had in it so much wickedness 
 and misery, so many instances of both, 
 as that by which my mind was now 
 clouded. 
 
 Were it machinery, it would be better 
 than it is in these respects, though less 
 noble, as not being a system of moral 
 government. He agreed with me now, 
 as he always did, upon the great question 
 of the liberty of the human will, which 
 has been in all ages perplexed with so 
 much sophistry ; *' But, sir, as to the 
 doctrine of Necessity, no man believes 
 it. If a man should give me arguments 
 that I do not see, though I could not an- 
 swer them, should I believe that I do not 
 see?" It will be observed, that Johnson 
 at all times made the just distinction be- 
 tween doctrines contrary to reason, and 
 doctrines above reason. 
 
 Talking of the religious discipline pro- 
 per for unhappy convicts, he said, '* Sir, 
 one of our regular clergy will proba- 
 bly not impress their minds sufficiently : 
 they should be attended by a Methodist 
 
 * Itisslrangre that SirJolin Hawkins should 
 have related that the application was made 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, when he could so 
 easily have been informed of the trulh by in- 
 quiring of Sir Joshua. Sir John's carelessness 
 lo ascertain farts is very remarkable. 
 
 preacher t ; or a Popish priest." Let me 
 however observe, in justice to the Reve- 
 rend Mr. Vilette, who has been Ordinary 
 of Newgate for no less than eighteen 
 years, in the course of which he has 
 attended many hundreds of wretched 
 criminals, that his earnest and humane 
 exhortations have been very eflfectual. 
 His extraordinary diligence i« highly 
 praise- worthy, and merits a distinguished 
 reward %. 
 
 On Thursday, June 24, I dined with 
 him at Mr. Diilly's, where were the 
 Rev. Mr. (novf Dr.) Knox, master of 
 Tunbridge school, Mr. Smith, Vicar of 
 Southill, Dr. Beattie, Mr. Pinkerton, 
 authour of various literary performances, 
 and the Rev. Dr. Mayo. At my desire 
 old Mr. Sheridan was invited, as I was 
 earnest to have Johnson and him brought 
 together again by chance, that a recon- 
 ciliation might be effected. Mr. Sheridan 
 happened to come early, and having 
 learned that Dr. Johnson was to be there, 
 went away ; so I found, with sincere re- 
 gret, that my friendly intentions were 
 hopeless. I recollect nothing that passed 
 this day, except Johnson's quickness, 
 who, when Dr. Beattie observed, as 
 something remarkable which had hap- 
 pened to him, that he had chanced to see 
 both No. 1, and No. 1000, of the hack- 
 ney-coaches, the first and the last: " Why, 
 sir (said Johnson), there is an equal chance 
 for one's seeing those two numbers as 
 any other two." He was clearly right ; 
 yet the seeing of the two extremes, each 
 of which is in some degree more conspi- 
 cuous than the rest, could not but strike 
 one in a stronger manner than the sight 
 of any other two numbers. — Though I 
 have neglected to preserve his conversa- 
 tion, it was perhaps at this interview that 
 Dr. Knox formed the notion of it which 
 he has exhibited in his " Winter Even- 
 ings." 
 
 On Friday, June 25, I dined with him 
 at General Paoli's, where, he says in one 
 of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, " I love to 
 dine." There was a variety of dishes 
 much to his taste, of all which he seemed 
 to me to eat so much that I was afraid 
 he might be hurt by.it; and I whispered 
 to the General m^- fear, and begged he 
 might not press him. " Alasl (said the 
 General) see how very ill he looks; he 
 can live but a very short time. Would 
 you refuse any slight gratifications to a 
 
 t A friend of mine happened to be passing 
 by a field congregation in the environs of 
 London, when a nlethodist preacher quoted 
 this passage with triumph. 
 
 I I trust that (he City or London, now happily 
 in unison with the Court, will have the justice 
 Hnd generosity to obtain preferment for this 
 Reverend Genlleniaii, now a worthy old Rtr- 
 vant of llial majrniticent Corporation, 
 
A:tat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 585 
 
 
 man under sentence of death? There is 
 a humane custom in Italy, by which per- 
 sons in that melancholy situation are in- 
 (liilged with having whatever they like 
 best to eat and drijik, even with expen- 
 sive delicacies." 
 
 I showed him some verses on Lichfield 
 by Miss Seward, which I had that day 
 received from her, and had the pleasure 
 to liear him approve of them. He con- 
 firmed to me the truth of a high compli- 
 ment which 1 had been told he had paid 
 to that lady, when she mentioned to him 
 "The Colombiade," an epick poem, by 
 Madame du Boccage: — *' Madam, there 
 is not any thing equal to your descrip- 
 tion of the sea round the North Pole, 
 in your Ode on the Death of Captain 
 Cook." 
 
 On Sunday, June 27, I found him 
 rather better. I mentioned to him a 
 young man who was going to Jamaica 
 with his wife and children, in expecta- 
 tion of being provided for by two of her 
 brothers settled in that island, one a cler- 
 gyman, and the other a physician. John- 
 son. " It is a wild scheme, sir, unless he 
 has a positive and deliberate invitation. 
 There was a poor girl, who used to come 
 about me, who hud a cousin in Barba- 
 does, that, in a letter to her, expressed a 
 wish she should come out to that Island, 
 and expatiated on the comforts and hap- 
 piness of her situation. The poor girl 
 went out : her cousin was much sur- 
 prised, and asked her how she could 
 think of coming. ' Because (said she) 
 you invited me.' — ' Not I,' answered the 
 cousin. The letter was then produced. 
 * I see, it is true (said she), that I did 
 invite you : but I did not think you wouid 
 come.' They lodged her in an outhouse, 
 where she passed her time miserably ; 
 and as soon as she had an opportunity 
 she returned to England. Always tell 
 this, when you hear of people going 
 abroad to relations, upon a notion of 
 being well received. In the case which 
 you mention, it is probable the clergy- 
 man spends all he gets, and the physician 
 does not know how much he is to get." 
 
 We this day dined at Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds's, with General Paoli, Lord Eliot 
 (formerly Mr. Eliot, of Port Eliot), Dr. 
 Beattie, and some other company. Talk- 
 ing of Lord Cliesierfield ; — Johnson. 
 *' His manner was exquisitely elegant, 
 and he had more knowledge than 1 ex- 
 pected." BoswELL. '• Did you find, sir, 
 his conversation to be of a superiour 
 style?" Johnson. " Sir, in the conver- 
 sation which I had with him I had the 
 best right to superiority, for it was upon 
 philology and literature." Lord Eliot, 
 who had travelled at the same time with 
 Mr? Stanhope, Lord Chesterfield's natu- 
 
 ral son, justly observed, that it was strang« 
 that a man who showed he had so much 
 affection for his son as Lord Chesterfield 
 did, by writing so many long and anxi- 
 ous letters to him, almost all of them 
 when he was Secretary of State, which 
 certainly was a proof of great goodness of 
 disposition, should endeavour to make his 
 son a rascal. His Lordship told us, tiiat 
 Foote had intended to bring on the stage 
 a father who had thus tutored his son, 
 and to show the son an honest man to 
 every one else, but practising his father's 
 maxims upon him, and cheating him.' 
 Johnson. *• I am much pleased with this 
 design ; but 1 think there was no occa- 
 sion to make the son honest at all. No ; 
 he should be a consummate rogue: the 
 contrast between honesty and knavery 
 would be the stronger. It should be con- - 
 trived so that the father should be the 
 only sufferer by the son's villany, and 
 thus there would be poetical justice." 
 
 He put Lord Eliot in mind of Dr. 
 Walter Harte. " I know (said he) Harte 
 was your Lordship's tutor, and he was 
 also tutor to the Peterborough family. 
 Pray, my Lord, do you recollect any 
 particulars that he told you of Lord 
 Peterborough ? He is a favourite of 
 mine, and is not enough known ; his 
 character has been only ventilated in 
 party pamphlets." Lord Eliot said, if 
 Dr. Johnson would be so good as to ask 
 him any questions, he would tell what he 
 could recollect. Accordingly some things 
 wei'e mentioned. " But (said his Lord- 
 ship) the best account of Lord Peterbo- 
 rough that I have happened to meet 
 with, is in ' Captain Carleton's Memoirs.' 
 Carleton was descended of an ancestor 
 who had distinguished himself at the siege 
 of Derry. He was an oiricer ; and, what 
 was rare at that time, had some know- 
 ledge of engineering." Johnson said, he 
 had never heard of the book. Lord Eliot 
 had it at Port Eliot ; but, after a good 
 deal of inquiry, procured a copy in Lon- 
 don, and sent it to Johnson, who told Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds that he was going to 
 bed when it came, but was so much 
 pleased with it that he sat up till he had 
 read it through, and found in it such an 
 air of truth that he could not doubt of its 
 authenticity ; adding, with a smile (in 
 allusion to Lord Eliot's having recently 
 been raised to the peerage), " I did not 
 think a young Lord could have men- 
 tioned to me a book in the English his- 
 tory that was not known to me." 
 
 An addition to our company came after 
 we went up to the drawingroom ; Dr. 
 Johnson seemed to rise in spirits as 
 his audience increased. He said, " He 
 wished Lord Orford's pictures and Sir 
 Ashton Lever's Museum might be pur- 
 
586 
 
 chased by the pnblick, because both the 
 money, and the pictures, and the curiosi- 
 ties would remain in the country ; where- 
 as if they were sold into another kingdom, 
 the nation would indeed get some money, 
 but would lose the pictures and curiosities, 
 which it would be desirable we should 
 have, for improvement in taste and natu- 
 ral history. The only question was, as 
 the nation was much in want of money, 
 whether it would not be better to take a 
 large price from a foreign State?" 
 
 He entered upon a curious discussion 
 of the difference between intuition and 
 sagacity ; one being immediate in its 
 effect, the other requiring a circuitous 
 process ; one he observed was the eye 
 of the mind, the other the nose of the 
 mind. 
 
 A young gentleman present took up 
 the argument against him, and main- 
 tained that no man ever thinks of the 
 nose of the mind, not adverting that 
 though that figurative sense seems strange 
 to us, as very unusual, it is truly not more 
 forced than Hamlet's •* In my mind's 
 eye, Horatio." He persisted much too 
 long, and appeared to Johnson as putting 
 himself forward as his antagonist with too 
 much presumption : upon which he called 
 to him in a loud tone, *' What is it you 
 are contending for, if you he contend- 
 ing?" — And afterwards imagining that 
 the gentleman retorted upon him with a 
 kind of smart drollery, he said, " Mr. 
 *****, it does not become you to talk 
 so to me. Besides, ridicule is not your 
 talent ; you have there neither intuition 
 nor sagacity." — The gentleman protested 
 that he had intended no improper free- 
 dom, but had the greatest respect for 
 Dr. Johnson. After a short pause, during 
 which we were somewhat uneasy. -— 
 Johnson. " Give me your hand, sir. 
 You were too tedious, and I was too 
 short." Mr. •****. '* Sir, I am ho- 
 noured by your attention in any way." 
 Johnson. '* Come, sir, let's have no more 
 of it. We offended one another by our 
 contention ; let us not offend the com- 
 pany by our compliments." 
 
 He now said, " He wished much to go 
 to Italy, and that he dreaded passing the 
 winter in England." I said nothing, but 
 enjoyed a secret satisfaction in thiiiking 
 that I had taken the most effectual mea- 
 sures to make such a scheme practicable. 
 
 On Monday, June 28, I had the honour 
 to receive from the Lord Chancellor the 
 following letter: 
 
 " TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " SIR, 
 
 ** I SHOULD liave answered your letter 
 immediately ; if (being much engaged 
 when I received it) I had not put it in 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 my pocket, and forgot to open it till this 
 morning. 
 
 •* I am much obliged to you for the 
 suggestion ; and I will adopt and press it 
 as far as I can. The best argument, I am 
 sure, and I hope it is not likely to fail, is 
 Dr. Johnson's merit. — But it will be ne- 
 cessary, if I should be so unfortunate as 
 to miss seeing you, to converse with Sir 
 Joshua on the sum it will be proper to 
 ask, — in short, upon the means of setting 
 i him out. It would be a reflection on us 
 ! all, if such a man should perish for want 
 of the means to take care of his health. 
 " Yours, &c. 
 
 " Thurlow." 
 
 This letter gave me a very high satis- 
 faction ; I next day went and showed it 
 to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was ex- 
 ceedingly pleased with it. He thought 
 that I should now communicate the ne- 
 gotiation to Dr. Johnson, who might 
 afterwards complain if the attention with 
 which he had been honoured should be 
 loo long concealed from him. I intended 
 to set out for Scotland next morning; 
 but Sir Joshua cordially insisted that I 
 should stay another day, that Johnson 
 and I might dine with him, that we three 
 might talk of his Italian Tour, and, as 
 Sir Joshua expressed himself, " have it 
 all out." I hastened to Johnson, and was 
 told by him that he was rather better to- 
 day. BoswEix. " I am very anxious 
 about you, sir, and particularly that you 
 should go to Italy for the winter, which 
 I believe is your own wish." Johnson. 
 " It is, sir." BoswELL. " You have no 
 objection, I presume, but the money it 
 would require." Johnson. '* Why, no, 
 sir." — Upon which I gave him a parti- 
 cular account of what had been done, 
 and read to him the Lord Chancellor's 
 letter. — He listened with much attention ; 
 then warmly said, "This is taking pro- 
 digious pains about a man." — " O, sir 
 (said I, with most sincere aflection),your 
 friends would do every thing for you." 
 He paused, — grew more and more agi- 
 tated — till tears started into his eyes, and 
 he exclaimed with ferventeniotion, " God 
 bless you all." I was so affected that I 
 also shed tears. — After a short silence, he 
 renewed and extended his grateful bene- 
 diction, " Gou bless you all, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake." We both remained for 
 some time unable to speak. — He rose 
 suddenly and quitted the room, quite 
 melted in tenderness. He stayed but a 
 short time, till he had recovered his firm- 
 ness ; soon after he returned I left him, 
 having first engaged him to dine at Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds's next day. — I never 
 was again under that roof which I had so 
 long reverenced. 
 
JEtm. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 On Wednesday, June 30, the friendly 
 confidential dinner with Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds took place, no other company being 
 present. Had I known that this was the 
 last time that I should enjoy in this world 
 the conversation of a friend whom I so 
 much respected, and from whom I de- 
 rived so much instruction and entertain- 
 ment, I should have been deeply affected. 
 When I now look back to it, I am vexed 
 that a single word should have been for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Both Sir Joshua and I were so sanguine 
 in our expectations that we expatiated 
 with confidence on the liberal provision 
 which we were sure would be made for 
 him, conjecturing whether munificence 
 would be displayed in one large donation, 
 or in an ample increase of his pension. 
 He himself catched so much of our en- 
 thusiasm as to allow himself to suppose 
 it not impossible that our hopes might in 
 one way or other be realized. He said 
 that he would rather have his pension 
 doubled than a grant of a thousand pounds ; 
 ** For (said he) though probably I may 
 not live to receive as much as a thousand 
 pounds, a man would have the conscious- 
 ness that he should pass the remainder of 
 his life in splendour, how long soever it 
 might be." Considering what a moderate 
 proportion an income of six hundred 
 pounds a year bears to innumerable for- 
 tunes in this country, it is worthy of 
 remark, that a man so truly great should 
 think it splendour. 
 
 As an instance of extraordinary libe- 
 rality of friendship, he told us, that Dr. 
 Brocklesby had upon this occasion oflFered 
 him a hundred a year for his life. A 
 grateful tear started into his eye, as he 
 spoke this in a faltering tone. 
 
 Sir Joshua and I endeavoured to flatter 
 his imagination with agreeable prospects 
 of happiness in Italy. " Nay (said he), 
 I must not expect much of that : when a 
 man goes to Italy merely to feel how 
 he breathes the air, he can enjoy very 
 little." 
 
 Our conversation turned upon living 
 in the country, which Johnson, vvhose 
 melancholy mind required the dissipation 
 of quick successive variety, had habitu- 
 ated himself to consider as a kind of 
 mental imprisonment. " Yet, sir (said 
 I), there are many people who are con- 
 tent to live in the country.'' Johnson. 
 ** Sir, it is in the intellectual world as in 
 the physical world : we are told by natu- 
 ral philosophers that a body is at rest in 
 the place that is fit for it : they who are 
 content to live in the country are Jit for 
 the country." 
 
 Talking of various enjoyments, I ar- 
 gut d that a refinement of taste was a 
 disadvantage, as they who have attained 
 
 68r 
 
 to it must be seldomer pleased than those 
 who have no nice discrimination, and are 
 therefore satisfied with every thing that 
 comes in their way. Johnson. " Nay, 
 sir; that is a paltry notion. Endeavour 
 to be as perfect as you can in every 
 respect." 
 
 1 accompanied him in Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds's coach to the entry of Bolt Court. 
 He asked me whether I would not go 
 with him to his house; I decHned it, 
 from an apprehension that my spirits 
 would sink. We bade adieu to each other 
 atfectionately in the carriage. When he 
 had got down upon the foot pavement, he 
 called out, " Fare you well ;" and, with- 
 out looking back, sprung away with a 
 kind of pathetick briskness, if I may use 
 that expression, which seemed to indicate 
 a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and im- 
 pressed me with a foreboding of our long, 
 long separation. 
 
 I remained one day more in town, to 
 have the chance of talking over my ne- 
 gotiation with the Lord Chancellor ; but 
 the multiplicity of his Lordship's impor- 
 tant engagements did not allow of it; so 
 I left the management of the business in 
 the hands of Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 Soon after this time Dr. Johnson had 
 the mortification of being informed by 
 Mrs. Thrale, that " what she supposed he 
 never believed * " was true ; namely, 
 that she was actually going to marry 
 Signor Piozzi, an Italian musick master. 
 He endeavoured to prevent it ; but in 
 vain. If she would publish the whole of 
 the correspondence that passed between 
 Dr. Johnson and her on the subject, we 
 should have a full view of his real senti- 
 ments. As it is, our judgment must be 
 biased by that characteristick specimen 
 which Sir John Hawkins has given us : 
 " Poor Thrale, I thought that either her 
 virtue or her vice would have restrained 
 her from such a marriage. She is now 
 become a subject for her enemies to exult 
 over ; and for her friends, if she has any 
 left, to forget or pity +." 
 
 It must be admitted that Johnson de- 
 rived a considerable portion of happiness 
 from the comforts and elegances which 
 he enjoyed in Mr. Thrale's family; but 
 Mrs. Thrale assures us he was indebted 
 for these to her husband alone, who 
 certainly respected him sincerely. Her 
 words are, " Veneration for his virtue, 
 reverence for his talents, delight in his 
 conversation, and habitual endurance of 
 a yoke my husband first put upon me, 
 and of which he contentedly bore his 
 share for sixteen or seventeen pears, 
 
 * " Letters to Mrs. Thrale," Vol. If. page 
 375. 
 
 t Dr. Johnson's Letter to Sir John Hawkins, 
 " Life," p. 570. 
 
588 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S-I. 
 
 tnade me go on so long with Mr. John- 
 ^^on ; but the perjJetual confinement J 
 will own to have been terrifying in the 
 first years of our friendship, and irk- 
 some in the last ; nor could I pretend 
 to support it without help, when my 
 coadjutor was no more * ." Alas ! how 
 different is this from the declarations 
 wliich I have heard Mrs. Thrale make 
 in his lifetime, without a single murmur 
 against any peculiarities or against any 
 one circumstance which attended their 
 intimacy. 
 
 As a sincere friend of the great man 
 whose Life I am writing, I think it ne- 
 cessary to guard my readers against the 
 mistaken notion of Dr. Johnson's charac- 
 ter, which this lady's " Anecdotes" of 
 him suggest; for, from the very nature 
 and form of her book, " it lends decep- 
 tion lighter wings to fly." 
 
 *' Let it be remembered (says an emi- 
 nent critick t), that she has comprised in 
 a small volume all that she could recol- 
 lect of Dr. Johnson in twenty years, 
 during which period, doubtless, some se- 
 vere things were said by him ; and they 
 who read the book in two hours natu- 
 rally enough suppose that his whole con- 
 versation was of this complexion. But 
 the fact is, I have been often in his com- 
 pany, and never once heard him say a 
 severe thing to any one ; and many others 
 can attest the same. When he did say a 
 severe thing, it was generally extorted by 
 ignorance pretending to knowledge, or 
 by extreme vanity or affectation. 
 
 *' Two instances of inaccuracy (adds 
 he) are peculiarly worthy of notice : 
 
 " It is said j, * That natural rough- 
 ness of his manner so often mentioned 
 would, notwithstanding the regularity 
 of his notions, burst through them all 
 from time to time; and he once bade 
 a very celebrated lady, who praised 
 him with too much zeal perhaps, or 
 perhaps too strong an emphasis (which 
 always offended him), consider what 
 her flattery was worth before she 
 choked him with it.' 
 
 *' Now let the genuine anecdote be 
 contrasted with this. — The person thus 
 represented as being harshly treated, 
 though a very celebrated lady, was then 
 just come to London from an obscure 
 situation in the country. At Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's one evening she met Dr. 
 Johnson. She very soon began to pay 
 her court to him in the most fulsome 
 strain. * Spare me, I beseech you, dear 
 madam,' was his reply. Slie still laid it 
 on. * Pray, madam, let us have no more 
 
 • " Anecdotes," p. 2&3. 
 t Who h;is been pleased to furnUli me with 
 t)iti remarks. 
 
 J " Anecdotes," p, 183. 
 
 of this;' he rejoined. Not paying any 
 attention to these warnings, she continued 
 still her eulogy. At length, provoked by 
 this indelicate and vain obtrusion of com- 
 pliment, he exclaimed, ' Dearest lady, 
 consider with yourself what your flattery 
 is worth before you bestow it so freely.* 
 
 *' How different does this story appear, 
 when accompanied with all these circum- 
 stances which really belong to it, but 
 which Mrs. Thrale either did not know 
 or has suppressed. 
 
 " She says, in another place *, * One 
 gentleman, however, tvho dined at a 
 nobleman's house in his company and 
 that of Mr. Thrale, to whom I was 
 obliged for the anecdote, ivas willing 
 to enter the lists in defence of King 
 William's character ; and having op- 
 posed and contradicted Johnson two or 
 three times, petulantly enough, the 
 master of the house began to feel un- 
 easy, and expect disagreeable conse- 
 quences; to avoid which he said, loud 
 enough for the Doctor to hear, — Our 
 friend here has no meaning now in all 
 this, except just to relate at club to- 
 morrow how he teased Johnson at diii- 
 ner to-day ; this is all to do himself 
 honour. — No, upon my word (replied 
 the other J, I see no honour in it, what- 
 ever you may do. — Well, sir (returned 
 Mr. Johnson, sternly), if you do not 
 see the honour, 1 am sure I feel the 
 disgrace.' 
 
 *' This is all sophisticated. Mr. Thrale 
 was not in the company, though he might 
 have related the story to Mrs. Thrale. A 
 friend, from whom 1 had the story, was 
 present ; and it was not at the house of 
 a nobleman. On the observation being 
 made by the master of the house on a 
 gentleman's contradicting Johnson, that 
 he had talked for the honour, i&c- the 
 gentleman muttered in a low voice, ' I 
 see no honour in it;' and Dr. Johnson 
 said nothing : so all the rest (though bien 
 trouvee) is mere garnish." 
 
 I have had occasion several times in 
 the course of this work, to point out the 
 incorrectness of Mrs. Thrale, as to parti- 
 culars which consisted with my own 
 knowledge. But indeed she has, in flip- 
 pant terms enough, expressed her dis- 
 approbation of that anxious desire of 
 authenticity which prompts a person who 
 is to record conversations to write them 
 down at the moment i. Unquestionably, 
 if they are to be recorded at all, the 
 sooner it is done the better. This lady 
 herself 8ays+, " To recollect, however, 
 and to repeat the sayings of Dr. John- 
 son is almost all that can be done by 
 the writers of his Life ; as his life, at 
 
 * " Anecdotes, p. 242. t Ibid. p. 44. 
 
 t Ibid. p. 23. 
 
JEr\T. 75. 
 
 least since my acquaintance with him, 
 consisted in little else than talking, 
 when he was not employed in some 
 serious piece of work." She boasts of 
 her having kept a commonplace book ; 
 and we find she noted, at one time or 
 other, in a very lively manner, speci- 
 mens of the conversation of Dr Johnson 
 and of those who talked with him ; but 
 had she done it recently, they probably 
 would have been less erroneous ; and we 
 shonid have been relieved from those dis- 
 agreeable doubts of their authenticity with 
 which we must now peruse them. 
 
 She says of him *, '* He was the most 
 charitable of mortals, without being 
 what we call an active friend. Admir- 
 able at giving counsel; no man saw 
 his tvay so clearly; but he would not 
 stir a finger for the assistance of those 
 to whotn he was willing enough to give 
 advice." And again on the same page, 
 " //" you wanted a slight favour, you 
 must apply to people of other disposi- 
 tions ; for not a step would Johnson 
 move to obtain a man a vote in a 
 society, to repay a compliment which 
 might be useful or pleasing, to write a 
 letter of request, S<c. or to obtain a 
 hundred pounds a year more for a 
 friend who perhaps had already two 
 or three. No force could urge him to 
 diligence, no importunity could con- 
 quer his resolution to stand still." 
 
 It is amazing that one who had such 
 opportunities of knowing Dr. Johnson 
 should appear so little acquainted with 
 his real character. I am sorry this lady 
 does not advert that she herself contra- 
 dicts the assertion of his being obstinately 
 defective in the petites morales, in the 
 little endearing charities of social life, 
 in conferring smaller favours ; for she 
 says +, " Dr. Johnson was liberal enough 
 in granting literary assistance toothers, 
 1 think ; and innumerable are the Pre- 
 faces, Sermons, Lectures, and Dedica- 
 tions, which he used to make for people 
 who begged of him." I am certain that 
 a more active friend has rarely been 
 found in any age. This work, which I 
 fondly hope will rescue his memory from 
 obloquy, contains a thousand instances of 
 his benevolent exertions in almost every 
 way that can be conceived ; and particu- 
 larly in employing his pen with a gener- 
 ous readiness for those to whom its aid 
 could be useful. Indeed his obliging acti- 
 vity in doing little offices of kindness, 
 both by letters and personal application, 
 was one of the most remarkable features 
 in his character ; and for the truth of this 
 I can appeal to a number of his respect- 
 able friends : Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 539 
 
 ; Langton, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Burke, 
 1 Mr. Windham, Mr. Malone, the Bishop 
 j of Dromore, Sir William Scott, Sir Ro- 
 I bert Chambers. — And can Mrs. Thrale 
 I forget the advertisements which he wrote 
 } for her husband at the time of his elec- 
 I tion contest ; the epitaphs on him and 
 i her mother ; the plajful and even trifling 
 I verses for the amusement of her and her 
 I daughters ; his corresponding with her 
 children, and entering into their minute 
 concerns, which shows him in the most 
 amiable light? 
 
 She relates* that Mr. Ch — Im — ley 
 unexpectedly rode up to Mr. Thrale's 
 carriage, in which Mr. Thrale and she 
 and Dr. Johnson were travelling; that 
 he paid them all his proper compliments, 
 but observing that Dr. Johnson, who was 
 reading, did not see him, " tapt him 
 gently on the shoulder. * 'Tis Mr. 
 Ch — Im — ley ;' says my husband. ' Well, 
 sir —and what if it is Mr. Ch— Im — ley? 
 says the other, sternly, just lifting his 
 eyes a moment from his book, and re- 
 turning to it again with renewed avi- 
 dity.' " This surely conveys a notion of 
 Johnson as if he had been grossly rude to 
 Mr. Cholmondeley t, a gentleman whom 
 he always loved and esteemed. If, there- 
 fore, there was an absolute necessity for 
 mentioning the story at all, it might have 
 been thought that her tenderness for Dr. 
 Johnson's character would have disposed 
 her to state any thing that could soften it. 
 Why then is there a total silence as to 
 what Mr. Cholmondeley told her?— that 
 Johnson, who had known him from his 
 earliest years, having been made sensible 
 of what had doubtless a strange appear- 
 ance, took occasion, when he afterwards 
 met him, to make a very courteous and 
 kind apology. There is another little cir- 
 cumstance which I cannot but remark. 
 Her book was published in 1785 ; she had 
 then in her possession a letter from Dr. 
 Johnson, dated in 1777 J, which begins 
 thus : " Cholmondeley's story shocks me, 
 if it be true, which I can hardly think, 
 for I am utterly unconscious of it : I am 
 very sorry, and very much ashamed." 
 Why then publish the anecdote ? Or if 
 she did, why not add the circumstances, 
 with which she was well acquainted? 
 
 In his social intercourse she thus de- 
 scribes him§: "Ever musing till he 
 was called out to converse, and con- 
 versing till the fatigue of his friends, 
 or the promptitude of his own tempet 
 
 ' Anecdotes," p. 51. 
 
 + lliid. p. 193. 
 
 * ** Anecdotes," p. 258. 
 
 + Georpre James Cholmontlelev, Esq. eranfj- 
 son of George, third Earl of Cliolmondeley, 
 and one of the Commissioners of Excise; a 
 gentleman lespecced for his abilities and ele- 
 gance of manners. 
 
 I " Letters to Mrs. Thrale," Vol. II. p. 12. 
 
 § " Anecdotes," p. 23. 
 
590 
 
 to take offence, 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1784. 
 
 consigned him hack It is witli concern that I find myself 
 
 again to silent meditation." Yet, in 
 the same book*, she tells us, ** He ivas, 
 however, seldom inclined to be silent 
 when any tnoral or literary question 
 was started ; and it was on such occa- 
 sions that, like the Sage in ' Rasselas,' 
 he spoke, and attention watched his 
 lips J he reasoned, and conviction closed 
 his periods." — His conversation, indeed, 
 was 60 far from cvar fatiguing his friends, 
 that they legretted when it was inter- 
 rupted or ceased, and could exclaim in 
 Milton's language, 
 " With thee conversing', I forgot all time." 
 
 I certainly, then, do not claim too 
 much in behalf of my illustrious friend 
 in saying, that however smart and enter- 
 taining Sirs. Thrale's ** Anecdotes" are, 
 they must not be held as good evidence 
 against him ; for wherever an instance of 
 harshness and severity is told, I beg 
 leave to doubt its perfect authenticity ; 
 for though there may have been some 
 foundation for it, yet, like that of his 
 reproof to the " very celebrated lady," it 
 may be so exhibited in the narration as 
 to be very unlike the real fact. 
 
 The evident tendency of the following 
 anecdote t is to represent Dr. Johnson as 
 extremely deficient in affection, tender- 
 ness, or even common civility. '* When 
 J one day lamented the loss of a first 
 cousin killed in America, — * Prithee, 
 my dear (said he), have done with 
 canting ; hovj would the world be the 
 worse for it, I may ask, if all your re- 
 lations were at once spitted like larks, 
 and roasted for Presto's supper?— 
 (Presto was the dog that lay under the 
 table while we talked)." — 1 suspect this 
 too of exaggeration and distortion. I 
 allow that he made her an angry speech ; 
 but let the circumstances fairly appear, as 
 told by Mr. Baretti, who was present : 
 
 '* Mrs. Thrale, while supping very 
 heartily upon larks, laid down her knife 
 and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, * O, 
 my dear Johnson, do you know what has 
 happened ? The last letters from abroad 
 have brought us an account that our poor 
 cousin's head was taken oft" by a cannon- 
 ball.' Johnson, who was shocked both 
 at the fact and her light unfeeling manner 
 of mentioning it, replied, *' Madam, it 
 would give you very littlp ponce rn if all 
 your relations were spitted like those 
 larks, and drest for Pre8to*8 supper j." 
 
 • " Anecdotes," p. 30a. t Ibid. p. 63. 
 
 t Upon mentioning this to my friend Mr. 
 Wilke*, he, with his usual rearlincss, plea- 
 santly matched it with the following senti- 
 mental anecdote. He was invited hy a younir 
 man of fashion at Paris, to Hup with him and 
 a lady who had been for some time his mis- 
 tress, but with whom he was going to pait. 
 
 obliged to animadvert on the inaccuracies 
 of Mrs. Piozzi's " Anecdotes," and per- 
 haps I may be thought to have dwelt too 
 long upon her little collection. But as 
 from Johnson's long residence under Mr. 
 Thrale's roof, and his intimacy with her, 
 the account which she has given of him 
 may have made an unfavourable and un- 
 just impression, my duty, as a faithful 
 biographer, has obliged me reluctantly to 
 perform this unpleasing task. 
 
 Having left the pious negotiation, as 
 I called it, in the best hands, I shall here 
 insert what relates to it. Johnson wrote 
 to Sir Joshua Reynolds on July 6, as fol- 
 lows : *' I am going, I hope, in a few 
 days, to try the air of Derbyshire, but 
 hope to see you before I go. Let me, 
 however, mention to you what I have 
 much at heart. — If the Chancellor should 
 continue his attention to Mr. Boswell's 
 request, and confer with you on the means 
 of relieving my languid state, I am very 
 desirous to avoid the appearance of ask- 
 ing money upon false pretences. I desire 
 you to represent to his Lordship, what, 
 as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive 
 to be reasonable, — That, if I grow much 
 worse, I shall be afraid to leave my phy- 
 sicians, to suffer the inconveniences of 
 travel, and pine in the solitude of a foreign 
 country ; — That, if I grow much better, 
 of which indeed there is now little ap- 
 pearance, I shall not wish to leave my 
 friends and my domestick comforts ; for 
 I do not travel for pleasure or curiosity ; 
 yet if I should recover, curiosity would 
 revive. — In my present state, I am de- 
 sirous to make a struggle for a little longer 
 life, and hope to obtain some help from a 
 softer climate. Do for me what you can." 
 He wrote to me, July 20 : " I wish your 
 affairs could have permitted a longer and 
 continued exertion of your zeal and kind- 
 ness. They that have your kindness may 
 want your ardour. In the mean time I 
 am very feeble and very dejected." 
 
 By a letter from Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 I was informed that the Lord Chancellor 
 had called on him, and acquainted him 
 that the application had not been success- 
 ful ; but that his Lordship, after speaking 
 highly in praise of Johnson, as a man 
 
 He said to Mr. Wilkes that he really felt very 
 much for lier, she was in such distress; and 
 -that he meanLlo make her a present of two 
 hundred loui|P|rirs. Mr. Wilkes observed the 
 behaviatMUtuvTiUlemoiselle, who sighed indeed 
 very nitco»»^y, and assumed every pathetick 
 air of grief ; but eat no less than ihree French 
 pigeons, whith are as large as F.nglish part- 
 ridges, besides other things. Mr. Wilkes 
 whispered (he gentleman, " We often say in 
 F.ngland, Excessive sorrow is exceeding art/, 
 but I never heard Excessive sorrow is exceed- 
 ing hungry. Perhaps one huadred will do." 
 The gentleman took the liint. 
 
JEtat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 591 
 
 who was an honour to his country, de- 
 sired Sir Joshua to let him know tliat, 
 on granting a mortgage of his pension, 
 he should draw on his Lordship to the 
 amount of five or six hundred pounds ; 
 and that his Lordship explained the mean- 
 ing of the mortgage to be that he wished 
 the business to be conducted in such a 
 manner that Dr. Johnson should appear 
 to be under the least possible obligation. 
 Sir Joshua mentioned that he had by the 
 same post communicated all this to Dr. 
 Johnson. 
 
 How Johnson was affected upon the 
 occasion will appear from what he wrote 
 to Sir Joshua Reynolds : 
 
 Ashbourne, Sept. 9. " Many words I 
 hope are not necessary between yon and 
 me, to convince you what gratitude is 
 excited in my heart by the Chancellor's 
 liberality, and your kind offices. 
 ****** 
 
 " I have enclosed a letter to the Chan- 
 cellor, which, when you have read it, 
 you will be pleased to seal with a head, 
 or any other general seal, and convey it 
 to him : had I sent it directly to him, I 
 should have seemed to overlook the fa- 
 vour of your intervention." 
 
 ** TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR*. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " After a long and not inattentive ob- 
 servation of mankind, the generosity of 
 your Lordship's offer raises in me not less 
 wonder than gratitude. Bounty so libe- 
 rally bestowed I should gladly receive, if 
 my condition made it necessary ; for, to 
 such a mind, who would not be proud to 
 own his obligations '{ But it has pleased 
 God to restore me to so great a measure 
 of healtii that if I should now appropriate 
 so much of a fortune destined to do good, 
 I could not escape from myself the charge 
 of advancing a false claim. My journey 
 to the continent, though I once thought it 
 necessary, was never much encouraged 
 by my physicians ; and I was very de- 
 sirous that your Lordship should be told 
 of it by Sir Joshua Reynolds, as an event 
 very uncertain ; for if I grew much bet- 
 ter, I should not be willing, if much 
 worse, not able, to migrate. — Your Lord- 
 ship was first solicited without my know- 
 ledge ; but, when I was told that you 
 were pleased to honour me with your 
 patronage, I did not expect to hear of a 
 
 * Sir Jorihua Reynolds, on account of the 
 excellence both of the sendnieni and expres- 
 sion of this letter, took a copy of it, which he 
 showed lo some of his friends ; one of whom, 
 who admired it, being allowed to peruse it 
 leisurely at home, a copy was made, and found 
 its way into the newspapers and magazines. 
 It was transcribed with some inaccuracies. 1 
 print it from the original draft in Johnson's 
 own handwriting. 
 
 refusal ; yet, as I have had no long time 
 to brood hope, and have not rioted in 
 imaginary opulence, this cold reception 
 has been scarce a- disappointment ; and, 
 from your Lordship's kindness, I have 
 received a benefit which only men like 
 you are able to bestow. I shall now live 
 mihi carior, with a higher opinion of 
 my own merit. I am, my lord, 
 
 '* Your Lordship's most obliged, 
 *' Most grateful, and 
 
 " Most humble servant, 
 
 " Sept. 1784." ** Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Upon this unexpected failure I abstain 
 from presuming to make any remarks, or 
 to offer any conjectures. 
 
 Having, after repeated reasonings, 
 brought Dr. Johnson to agree to my re- 
 moving to London, and even to furnish 
 me with arguments in favour of what he 
 had opposed ; I wrote to him requesting 
 he would write them for me ; he was so 
 good as to comply, and I shall extract 
 that part of his letter to me of June II, 
 as a proof how well he could exhibit a 
 cautious yet encouraging view of it : 
 
 ** I remember, and entreat you to re- 
 member, that virtus est vitiuin fugere; 
 the first approach to riches is security 
 from poverty. The condition upon which 
 you have my consent to settle in London 
 is, that your expense never exceeds your 
 annual income. Fixing this basis of 
 security, you cannot be hurt, and you 
 may be very much advanced. The loss 
 of your Scot,tish business, which is all 
 that you can lose, is not to be reckoned 
 as any equivalent to the hopes and possi- 
 bilities that open here upon you. If yoo 
 succeed, the question of prudence is at an 
 end ; every body will think that done 
 right which ends happily ; and though 
 your expectations, of which I would not 
 advise you to talk too much, should not 
 be totally answered, you can hardly fail 
 to get friends who will do for you all that 
 your present situation allows you to hope ; 
 and if, after a few years, you should re- 
 turn to Scotland, you will return with a 
 iTiind supplied by various conversation, 
 and many opportunities of inquiry, with 
 much knowledge, and materials for re- 
 flection and instruction." 
 
 Let us now contemplate Johnson, thirty 
 years after the death of his wife, still 
 retaining for Iter all the tenderness of 
 atfection. 
 
 " to the reverend MR. BAGSHAW, AT 
 BROMLEY t. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " Perhaps you may remember that in 
 the year 1753 you committed to the 
 
 + See p. 239. 
 
592 
 
 ground my dear wife. I now entreat 
 your permission to lay a stone upon her; 
 and liave sent the inscription, that, if you 
 find it proper, you may signify your 
 allowance. 
 
 " You will do me a great favour by 
 showing the place where she lies, that 
 the stone may protect her remains. 
 
 " Mr. Ryland will wait on you for the 
 inscription*, and procure it to be en- 
 graved. You will easily believe that I 
 shrink from thia mournful office. When 
 it is done, if I have strength remaining, 
 I will visit Bromley once again, and pay 
 yon part of the respect to which you have 
 a right from, reverend sir, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 "July 12, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 On the same day he wrote to Mr. 
 Langton : " I cannot but think that in 
 my languid and anxious state, I have 
 ?ome reason to complain that I receive 
 from you neither inquiry nor consolation. 
 You know how much I value your friend- 
 ship, and with what confidence I expect 
 your kindness, if I wanted any act of 
 tenderness that you could perform ; at 
 least, if you do not know it, I think your 
 ignorance is your own fault. Yet how 
 long is it that I have lived almost in yotir 
 neighbourhood without the least notice. 
 — I do not, however, consider this neglect 
 as particularly shown to me ; I hear two 
 of your most valuable friends make the 
 same complaint. But why are all thus 
 overlooked? You are not .oppressed by 
 sickness, you are not distracted by busi- 
 ness ; if you are sick, you are sick of 
 leisure: — And allow yourself to be told 
 that no disease is more to be dreaded or 
 avoided. Rather to do nothing than to 
 do good is the lowest state of a degraded 
 mind. Boileau says to his pupil, 
 
 ' Que les vers ne soient pas voire etcrnel 
 
 emptoi, 
 Cullivez vos amis,'' 
 
 That voluntary debility, which modern 
 language is content to term indolence, 
 will, if it is not counteracted by resolu- 
 tion, render in time the strongest faculties 
 lifeless, and turn the flame to the smoke 
 of virtue. — I do not expect nor desire to 
 see you, because I am much pleased to 
 find that your mother stays so long with 
 you, and I should think you neither ele- 
 gant nor grateful if you did not study her 
 gratification. You will pay my respects 
 to both the ladies, and to all the young 
 people.— I am going northward 'for a 
 while, to try what help the country can 
 give me ; but, if you will write, the fetter 
 will come after me." 
 Next day he set out on a jaunt to 
 
 • Printed in his Works. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 Staffordshire and Derbyshire, flattering 
 himself that he might be in some degree 
 relieved. 
 
 During his absence from London he 
 kept up a correspondence with several of 
 his friends, from which I shall select 
 what appears to me proper for publica- 
 tion, without attending nicely to chrono- 
 logical order. 
 
 To Dr. Brock Icsby he writes, Ash- 
 bourne, July 20. " The kind attention 
 which you have so long shown to my 
 health and happiness, makes it as much 
 a debt of gratitude as a call of interest, to 
 give you an account of what befalls me 
 when accident recovers t me from your 
 immediate care. — The journey of the first 
 day was performed with very little sense 
 of fatigue ; the second day brought me to 
 Lichfield, without much lassitude ; but I 
 am afraid that I could not have bore such 
 violent agitation for many days together. 
 Tell Dr. Heberden that in the coach I 
 read ' Ciceronianus,' which I concluded 
 as I entered Lichfield. My affection and 
 understanding went along with Erasmus, 
 except that once or twice he somewhat 
 unskilfully entangles Cicero's civil or 
 moral with his rhetorical character. — I 
 staid five days at Lichfield, but, being 
 unable to walk, had no great pleasure, 
 and yesterday (19th) I came hither, where 
 I am to try what air and attention can 
 perform. — Of any improvement in my 
 health I cannot yet please myself with 
 the perception. ***** ♦. — The asthma 
 has no abatement.— Opiates stop the fit 
 so that I can sit and sometimes lie easy, 
 but they do not now procure me the 
 power of motion ; and 1 am afraid that 
 my general strength of body does not 
 increase. The weather indeed is not 
 benign ; but how low is he sunk whose 
 strength depends upon the weather!— 1 
 am now looking into Floyer, who lived 
 with his asthma to almost his ninetieth 
 year. His book by want of order is ob- 
 scure : and his asthma, I think, not of 
 the same kind with mine. Something 
 however I may perhaps learn. — My appe- 
 tite still continues keen enough ; and what 
 I consider as a symptom of radical health, 
 I have a voracious delight in raw sum- 
 mer fruit, of which I was less eager a 
 few years ago.— You will be pleased to 
 communicate this account to Dr. Heber- 
 den, and if any thing is to be done, let 
 me have your joint opinion. — Now — 
 ahife curce ;— let me inquire after the 
 Club*." 
 
 July .31. ♦' Not recollecting that Dr. 
 Heberden might be at Windsor, I thought 
 
 + [Tliis is probably an rrrour eirher of rhe 
 traiiHcript or the press. Ucmoves secnis to be 
 • he word intended. M.] 
 
 I At die Essex Head, Essex Street. 
 
^TAT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 593 
 
 your letter long in coming. But, you 
 know, nocitura petuntur, the letter 
 which I so much desired tells me that 
 I have lost one of my best and ten- 
 derest friends*. My comfort is, that he 
 appeared to live like a man that had al- 
 ways before his eyes the fragility of our 
 present existence, and was therefore, I 
 hope, not unprepared to meet his Judge. 
 — Your attention, dear sir, and that of 
 Dr. Heberden, to my health, is extremely 
 kind. I am loath to think that I grow 
 worse ; and cannot fairly prove, even to 
 my own partiality, that I grow much 
 better." 
 
 August 5. " I return you thanks, dear 
 sir, for your unwearied attention, both 
 medicinal and friendly, and hope to 
 prove the effect of your care by living 
 to acknowledge it." 
 
 August 12. *' Pray be so kind as to 
 have me in your thoughts, and mention 
 my case to others as you have opportu- 
 nity. I seem to myself neither to gain 
 nor lose strength. I have lately tried 
 milk, but have yet found no advantage, 
 and am afraid of it merely as a liquid. 
 My appetite is still good, which I know 
 is dear Dr. Heberden's criterion of the 
 vis vitcB. — As we cannot now see each 
 other, do not omit to write, for you can- 
 not think with what warmth of expecta- 
 tion I reckon the hours of a post-day." 
 
 August 14. " I have hitherto sent you 
 only melancholy letters ; you will be glad 
 to hear some better account. Yesterday 
 the asthma remitted, perceptibly remit- 
 ted, and I moved with more ease than I 
 have enjoyed for many weeks. May 
 God continue his mercy. — This account 
 I would not delay, because I am not a 
 lover of complaints or complainers, and 
 yet I have since we parted uttered no- 
 thing till now but terrour and sorrow. — 
 Write to me, dear sir.'* 
 
 August 16. " Better, I hope, and bet- 
 ter. My respiration gets more and more 
 ease and liberty. I went to church yes- 
 terday, after a very liberal dinner, witlu 
 out any inconvenience; it is indeed no 
 long walk, but I never walked it without 
 difficulty, since I came, before. ****** 
 the intention was only to overpower the 
 seeming vis inertice of the pectoral and 
 pulmonary muscles. — I am favoured with 
 a degree of ease that very much delights 
 me, and do not despair of another race 
 upon the stairs of the Academy. — If I 
 were, however, of a humour to see or to 
 show the state of my body, on the dark 
 side, I might say, 
 * Quid te exempta jnvat spinis de pliiribus 
 una P 
 
 The nights are still sleepless, and the 
 * Mr. Allen, the printer. 
 
 water rises, though it does not rise verj' 
 fast. Let us, however, rejoice in all the 
 good that we have. The remission of 
 one disease will enable nature to combat 
 the rest. — The squills I have not neg- 
 lected ; for I have taken more than a 
 hundred drops a day, and one day took 
 two hundred and fifty, which, according 
 to the popular equivalent of a drop to a 
 grain, is more than half an ounce. — I 
 thank you, dear sir, for your attention in 
 ordering the medicines ; your attention 
 to me has never failed. If the virtue of 
 medicines could be enforced by the bene- 
 volence of the prescriber, how soon should 
 I be welli" 
 
 August 19. " The relaxation of the 
 asthma still continues, yet I do not trust 
 it wholly to itself, but soothe it now and 
 then with an opiate. I not only perform 
 the perpetual act of respiration with less 
 labour, but I can walk with fewer inter- 
 vals of rest, and with greater freedom of 
 motion. — I never thought well of Dr. 
 James's compounded medicines ; his in- 
 gredients appear to me sometimes ineffi- 
 cacious and trifling, and sometimes hete- 
 rogeneous and destructive of each other. 
 This prescription exhibits a composition 
 of about three hundred and thirty grains, 
 in which there are four grains of emetick 
 tartar, and six drops [of] thebaick tinc- 
 ture. He that writes thus surely writes 
 for show. The basis of his medicine is 
 the gum ammoniacum, which dear Dr. 
 Lawrence used to give, but of which I 
 never saw any eflfect. We will, if you 
 please, let this medicine alone. The 
 squills have every suffrage, and in the 
 squills we will rest for the present." 
 
 August 21. "The kindness which you 
 show, by having me in your thoughts 
 upon all occasions, will, I hope, always 
 till my heart with gratitude. Be pleased 
 to return my thanks to Sir George Baker 
 for the consideration which he has Jbe- 
 stowed upon me. — Is this the Balloon 
 that has been so long expected, this bal- 
 loon to which I subscribed, but without 
 payment? It is pity that philosophers 
 have been disappointed, and shame that 
 they have been cheated ; but I know not 
 well how to prevent either. Of this 
 experiment I have read nothing; where 
 was it exhibited? and who was the man 
 that ran away with so much money?— 
 Continue, dear sir, to write often, and 
 more at a time; for none of your pre- 
 scriptions operate to their proper uses 
 more certainly than your letters operate 
 as cordials." 
 
 August 26. ** I suffered you to escape 
 last post without a letter, but you are not 
 to expect such indulgence very often ; for 
 I write not so much because 1 have any 
 thing to say, as because I hope for an 
 
 QQ 
 
594 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 answer; and the vacancy of my life here 
 makes a letter of great value. — I have 
 here little company and little amuse- 
 ment, and thus abandoned to the con- 
 templation of my own miseries I am 
 something gloomy and depressed ; this 
 too I resist as I can, and find opium, I 
 think, useful, but I seldom take more 
 than one grain. — Is not this strange wea- 
 ther? Winter absorbed the spring, and 
 now autumn is come before we have had 
 summer. But let not our kindness for 
 each other imitate the inconstancy of the 
 seasons." 
 
 Sept. 2. ** Mr. Windham has been 
 here to see me ; he came, I think, forty 
 miles out of his way, and staid about a 
 day and a half ; perhaps I make the time 
 shorter than it was. Such conversation 
 I shall not have again till I come back 
 to the regions of literature ; and there 
 Windham is, inter Stellas* Luna mi- 
 nores.'* He then mentions the effects of 
 certain medicines, as taken ; that " Na- 
 ture is recovering its original powers, 
 and the functions returning to their pro- 
 per state. — God continue his mercies, 
 and grant me to use them rightly." 
 
 Sept. 9. ** Do you know the Duke 
 and Duchess of Devonshire? And have 
 you ever seen Chatsworth? I was at 
 Chatsworth on Monday : I had seen it 
 before, but never when its owners were 
 at home: I was very kindly received, 
 and honestly pressed to stay ; but I told 
 ihem that a sick man is not a fit inmate 
 of a great house. But I hope to go again 
 some time." 
 
 Sept. 11. ** I think nothnig grows 
 worse, but all rather bettor, except sleep, 
 and that of late has been at its old pranks. 
 L ist evening I felt what I had not known 
 fur a long time, an inclination to walk for 
 amusement ; I took a short walk, and 
 came back again neither breathless nor 
 fatigued. — This has been a gloomy, frigid, 
 ungenial summer, but of late it seems to 
 mend : I hear t-he heat sometin)es men- 
 tioned, but I do not feel it ; 
 
 ' Prcettrea minimus gelido jam in corpore 
 nangnis 
 
 Fobre caUt sola.'' 
 
 I hope, however, with good help, to find 
 means of supporting a winter at home, 
 and to hear and tell at the Club what is 
 doing, and what ought to be doing in the 
 world. I have no company here, and 
 shall naturally come home hungry for 
 conversation.— To wish yon, dear sir, 
 more leiwiie would not be kind ; but 
 what leisure you have you must bestow 
 upon me." 
 
 • It is remarkable that so srood a Latin 
 st-liolar as Johnson should have been so inat- 
 tentive to the metre, as by mistake to havt 
 wnutn ilellai iiiotead of ignes. 
 
 Sept. 16. ** I have now let you alone 
 for a long time, having indeed little to 
 say. You charge me somewhat unjustly 
 with luxury. At Chatsworth, you should 
 remember, that I have eaten but once ; 
 and the Doctor, with whom I live, fol- 
 lows a milk diet. I grow no fatter, 
 though my stomach, if it be not disturbed 
 by physick, never fails me. — I now grow 
 weary of solitude, and think of removing 
 next week to Lichfield, a place of more 
 society, but otherwise of less conveni- 
 ence. When I am settled, I shall write 
 again. — Of the hot weather that you men- 
 tioned, we have [not] had in Derbyshire 
 very much, and for myself I seldom feel 
 heat, and suppose that my frigidity rs 
 the effect of my distemper ; a supposition 
 which naturally leads me to hope that a 
 hotter climate may be useful. But I 
 hope to stand another English winter." 
 
 Lichfield, Sept. 29. ** On one day I 
 had three letters about the air balloon : 
 yours was far the best, and has enabled 
 me to impart to my friends in the coun- 
 try an idea of this species of amirsement. 
 In amusement, mere amusement, I ain 
 afraid it must end, for I do not find that 
 its course can be directed so as that i-t 
 should serve, any purposes of communi- 
 cation : and it can give no new intelli- 
 gence of the state of the air at different 
 heights till they have ascended above the 
 height of mountains, which thoy seem 
 never likely to do, I came hither on the 
 27th. How long I shall stay I have not 
 determined. My dropsy is gone and my 
 asthma m«ch remitted, birt P have felt 
 myself a little declining these two days, 
 or at least to-day ; but such vicissitudes 
 must be expected. One day may be 
 worse than another ; but this last month 
 is far better than the former : if the next 
 should be as much better than this, I 
 shall run about tlve town- on my own 
 legs." 
 
 October 6. " The fate of the balloon I 
 do not much lament: to make new bal«- 
 loons is to repeat the jest again. We now 
 know a method of mounting into the air,, 
 and, I think, are not likely to know more. 
 The vehicles can serve no use till we can 
 guide them ; and they can gratify no cu- 
 riosity till we mount with them to greater 
 heights than we can reach without; till 
 we rise above the tops of the highest 
 mountains, which we have yet not done. 
 We know the state of the air in all its 
 regions, to the top of Tenerilfe, and 
 thereft)re learn nothing from t-liose who 
 navigate a balloon below the clouds. The 
 first experiment, however was bold,, and 
 deserved applause and reward. But since 
 it has been perforn>ed, and its event is 
 known, I had rather now find a medicine 
 that can ease an asthma." 
 
JEr.vr, 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 595 
 
 October 25. " You write to me with 
 a zeal that animates, and a tenderness 
 that melts me. 1 am not afraid either of 
 a journey to London, or a residence in 
 it. I came down with little fatigue, and 
 am now not wealier. In the smoky 
 atmosphere I was delivered from the 
 dropsy, which I consider as the original 
 and radical disease. The town is my 
 element*; there are my friends, there 
 are my books, to which I have not yet 
 bid farewell, and there are my amuse- 
 ments. Sir Joshua told me long ago, 
 that my vocation was to publick life, 
 and I hope still to keep my station, till 
 God shall bid me Go in peace." 
 
 To Mr. Hoole. Ashbourne, Aug. 7. 
 '* Since I was here, I have two little 
 letters from you, and have not had the 
 gratitude to write. But every man is 
 most free with his best friends, because 
 he does not suppose that they can suspect 
 him of intentional incivility. — One rea- 
 son for my omission is that, being in a 
 place to which you are wholly a stranger, 
 I have no topicks of correspondence. If 
 you had any knowledge of Ashbourne, I 
 could tell you of two Ashbourne men, 
 who, being last week condemned at 
 Derby to be hanged for a robbery, went 
 and hanged themselves in their cell. But 
 this, however it may supply us with talk, 
 is nothing to you. — Your kindness,- I 
 know, would make you glad to hear 
 some good of me, but I have not much 
 good to tell ; if I grow not worse, it is 
 all that I can say. — I hope Mrs. Hoole 
 receives more help from her migration. 
 Make her my compliments, and write 
 again to, dear sir, your affectionate ser- 
 vant." 
 
 Aug. 13. " I thank you for your affec- 
 tionate letter. I hope we shall both be 
 the better for each other's friendship, 
 and I hope we shall not very quickly be 
 parted.— Tell Mr. Nichols that I shall 
 be glad of his correspondence, when his 
 business allows him a little remission ; 
 though to wish him less business, that I 
 may have more pleasure, would be too 
 selfish. — ^To pay for seats at the balloon 
 is not very necessary, because in. less 
 
 » His love of Lon<lon contiaually appears. 
 Ill a letter trotn him to Mrs. Smart, wife of 
 his triend the poet, vvhiili is publishjed in a 
 well written life of bim, prefixefl to an edi- 
 tion of his poems, in I79t, there isihe follow- 
 ing sentei>ce : *^ To one that has passed so 
 m.tny years in the pleiisiires and opulence of 
 London, there-are few places that can. give 
 much delight." 
 
 Once, upon readin? that line in the curious 
 epitaph quoted in '^T4ie Spectator,'* 
 ♦• Born in New England, did in London die:' 
 he Iaii<?hed and said, " I. do .not wonder at 
 this. . ft would have been strange, if, born in 
 London, jje had died in >'ew iiiigland." 
 
 than a minute they who gaze at a mile's 
 distance will see all thaf can be seen. 
 About the wings I am of your mind ; 
 they cannot at all assist it, nor I think 
 regulate its motion. — I am now grown 
 somewhat easier in my body, but my 
 mind is sometimes depressed. — About 
 the Club I am in no great pain. The 
 forfeitures go on, and the house, I hear, 
 is improved for our future meetings. I 
 hope we shall meet often and sit long." 
 
 Sept. 4. '* Your letter was, indeed, 
 long in coming, but it was very welcome. 
 Our acquaintance has now subsisted long, 
 and our recollection of each other in- 
 volves a great space, and many little 
 occurrences which melt the thoughts to 
 tenderness. — Write to me, therefore, as 
 frequently as you can.— 1 hear from Dr. 
 Brocklesby and Mr. Ryland, that the 
 Club is not crowded. I hope we shall 
 enliven it when winter brings us toge- 
 ther." 
 
 To Dr. Burnev. AugtTst 2. " The 
 weather you know, has not been balmy ; 
 I ara now reduced to think, and at last 
 conteat to talk, of the weather. Pride 
 must have a fallf. — I have lost dear 
 Mr. Allen ; and wherever I turn, the 
 dead or the dying meet my notice, and 
 force my attention upon misery and mor- 
 tality. Mrs. Burney's escape froin so 
 much danger, and her ease after so nvufch 
 pain, throws, however, some radiance of 
 hope upon the gloomy prospect. May 
 her recovery be perfect,, and her conti- 
 nuance long. — 1 struggle hard for life. I 
 take physick and take air; my friend's 
 chariot is always ready. VVe have run 
 this morning twenty-four miles, and couid 
 rim forty-eight more. But who can run 
 the race with death/" 
 
 Sept. 4. [Concerning a private trans- 
 action, in which his opinion was asked, 
 and after giving it, he makes the follow- 
 ing reflections, which are applicable on 
 other occasions]. . " Nothing deserves 
 more compassion than wrong conduct 
 with good meaning; than loss or obloquy 
 suffered by one, who, as he is conscious 
 only of good intentions, wonders why lie 
 loses that kindness which he wishes to 
 
 + There was no information for which Dr, 
 Johnson was less grateful than for liiat which 
 concerned the weatlier. It was in allusion to 
 bis impatience wiih those who were reduced 
 to ket^p couversaiion alive by observations on 
 the weather, that he applied the old proverb 
 to himself. If any one of Ins intimate ac- 
 quaintance told him it was hot or cold, wtt 
 or dry, windy or calm, he would stop iheiu 
 by saying, "Foh! poh! you are telling us that 
 of which none but men in a nnne or a dun- 
 geon can be ignorant. Let us bear with |.a- 
 tience, or enjoy in quiet, elementary changes, , 
 whether for the belter or the worse, as they 
 are never secrets." B, 
 
596 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 preserve ; and not knowing his own fault, 
 if, as may sometimes happen, nobody 
 will tell him, goes on to offend by his 
 endeavours to please. — I am delighted by 
 finding that our opinions are the same. — 
 You will do me a real kindness by con- 
 tinuing to write. A post-day has now 
 been long a day of recreation." 
 
 Nov. 1. "Our correspondence paused 
 for want of topicks. I had said what I 
 had to say on the matter proposed to my 
 consideration ; and nothing remained but 
 to tell yon, that I waked or slept; that I 
 was more or less sick. I drew my thoughts 
 in upon myself, and supposed yours em- 
 ployed upon your book. — That your book 
 has been delayed I am glad, since you 
 have gained an opportunity of being more 
 exact. — Of the caution necessary in ad- 
 justing narratives there is no end. Some 
 tell what they do not know, that they 
 may not seem ignorant, and others from 
 mere indifference about truth. All truth 
 is not, indeed,of equal importance; but, 
 if little violations are allowed, every vio- 
 lation will in time be thought little ; and 
 a writer should keep himself vigilantly 
 on his guard against the first temptations 
 to negligence or supineness. — I had 
 ceased to write, because respecting my- 
 self could say little good. I cannot boast 
 of advancement, and in case of convales- 
 cence it may be said, with few excep- 
 tions, nonprogredi, est regredi. T hope 
 I may be excepted. — My great difficulty 
 was with my sweet Fanny*, who, by 
 lier artifice of inserting her letter in 
 yours, had given me a precept of fru- 
 gality which I was not at liberty to neg- 
 lect ; and I know not who were in town 
 under whose cover I could send my 
 letter. I rejoice to hear that you are 
 so well, and have a delight particularly 
 sympathetick in the recover^' of Mrs. 
 Burney." 
 
 To Mr. Langton. Aug. 25. "The 
 kindness of your last letter, and my 
 omission to answer it, begins to give 
 you, even in my opinion, a right to re- 
 criminate, and to charge me with forget- 
 fulness for the absent. 1 will, therefore, 
 delay no longer to give an account of 
 myself, and wish I could relate what 
 would please either myself or my friend. 
 — On July 13, 1 left London, partly in 
 hope of help from new air and change 
 of place, and partly excited by the sick 
 man's impatience of the present. I got 
 to Lichfield in a stage vehicle, with very 
 little fatigue, in two days, and had the 
 consolation t to find, that since my last 
 
   The celebrated Miss Fanny Burney. 
 
 + ( Probably some word has been here omitted 
 before consolation, perhaps sad, or miserable ; 
 or the word consolation has b«en pritited by 
 
 visit my three old acquaintance are all 
 dead. — July 20, I went to Ashbourne, 
 where I have been till now ; the house 
 in which we live is repairing. I live in 
 too much solitude, and am often deeply 
 dejected : I wish we were nearer, and 
 rejoice in your removal to London. A 
 friend, at once cheerful and serious, is a 
 great acquisition. Let us not neglect on<e 
 another for the little time which Provi- 
 dence allows us to hope. — Of my health 
 I cannot tell you, what my wishes per- 
 suaded me to expect, that it is much 
 improved by the season or by remedies. 
 I am sleepless ; my legs grow weary 
 with a very few steps, and the water 
 breaks its boundaries in some degree. 
 The asthma, however, has remitted ; my 
 breath is still much obstructed, but is 
 more free than it was. Nights of watch- 
 fulness produce torpid days ; I read very 
 little, though I am alone; for I am 
 tempted to supply in the day what I lost 
 in bed. This is my history ; like all 
 other histories, a narrative of misery. 
 Yet am I so much better than in the 
 beginning of the year that I ought to be 
 ashamed of complaining. I now sit and 
 write with very little sensibility of pain 
 or weakness ; but when 1 rise, I shall 
 find my legs betraying me. Of the money 
 which you mentioned I have no imme- 
 diate need ; keep it, however, for me, 
 unless some exigence requires it. Your 
 papers I will show you certainly, when 
 you would see them; but I am a little 
 angry at you for not keeping minutes of 
 your own acceptum et expensum, and 
 think a little time might be spared from 
 Aristophanes, for the res familiares. 
 Forgive me, for I mean well. I hope, 
 dear sir, tliat you and Lady Rothes, and 
 all the young people, too many to enu- 
 merate, are well and happy. God bless 
 you all." 
 
 To Mr. Wixdham. August. " The 
 tenderness with which you have been 
 pleased to treat me, through my long ill- 
 ness, neither health nor sickness can, I 
 hope, make me forget; and you are not 
 to suppose, that after we parted you were 
 no longer in my mind. But what can a 
 sick man say, but that he is sick? His 
 thoughts are necessarily concentred in 
 himself: he neither receives nor can give 
 delight; his inquiries are after allevia- 
 tions of puin, and his efforts are to catch 
 some momentary comfort. — Though I am 
 now in the neighbourhood of the Peak, 
 you must expect no account of its won- 
 ders, of its hills, its waters, its caverns, 
 
 mistake, instead of mortification: — but the 
 original letter not being now [\19&] in Mr, 
 Laington's hands, the enour (if it be one) 
 cannot be corrected. M.J 
 
vEtat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 or its mines; but I will tell you, dear 
 sir, what I hope you will not hear with 
 less satisfaction, that, for about a week 
 past, my asthma has been less afflic- 
 tive." 
 
 Lichfield, October 2. " I believe you 
 had been long enough acquainted with the 
 phcenomena of sickness, not to be sur- 
 prised that a sick man wishes to be 
 where he is not, and where it appears to 
 every body but himself that he might 
 easily be, without having the resolution 
 to remove. I thought Ashbourne a soli- 
 tary place, but did not come hither till 
 last Monday. — I have here more com- 
 pany, but my health has for this last 
 week not advanced ; and in the languor 
 ofdisease how little can be done! Whither 
 or when I shall make my next remove, I 
 cannot tell ; but I entreat you, dear sir, 
 to let me know from time to time where 
 you may be found, for your residence is 
 a very powerful attractive to, sir, your 
 most humble servant." 
 
 " TO MR. PERKINS. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** I CANNOT but flatter myself that your 
 kindness for me will make you glad to 
 know where I am, and in what state. 
 
 " I have been struggling very hard with 
 my diseases. My breath has been very 
 much obstructed, and the water has at- 
 tempted to encroach upon me again. I 
 passed the first part of the summer at 
 Oxford, afterwards I went to Lichfield, 
 thence to Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, and 
 a week ago I returned to Lichfield. 
 
 *' My breath is now much easier, and 
 the water is in a great measure run away, 
 so that I hope to see you again before 
 winter. 
 
 " Please make my compliments to Mrs. 
 Perkins, and to Mr. and Mrs. Barclay. 
 
 '* I am, DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Lichfield, Oct. 4, 1784." 
 
 *' TO THE RIGHT HON. W^IIXIAM GERARD 
 HA3tILT0N. 
 *• DEAR SIR, 
 
 ** Considering what reason you gave 
 me in the spring to conclude that you 
 took part in whatever good or evil might 
 befall me, I ought not to have omitted so 
 long the account which I am now about 
 to give you. — My diseases are an asthma 
 and a dropsy, and what is less curable, 
 seventy-five. Of the dropsy, in the be- 
 ginning of the summer or in the spring, 
 I recovered to a degree which struck 
 with wonder both me and my physi- 
 cians : the asthma now is likewise, for 
 a time, very much relieved. 1 went 
 to Oxford, where the asthma was very 
 
 S9T 
 
 tyrannical, and the dropsy began again 
 to threaten me ; but seasonable physick 
 stopped the inundation : I then returned 
 to London, and in July took a resolution 
 to visit Staffordshire and Derbyshire, 
 where I am yet struggling with my dis- 
 ease. The dropsy made another attack, 
 and was not easily ejected, but at last 
 gave way. The asthma suddenly remit- 
 ted in bed, on the 13th of August, and, 
 though now very oppressive, is, I think, 
 still something gentler than it was before 
 the remission. My limbs are miserably 
 debilitated, and my nights are sleepless 
 and tedious. — When you read this, dear 
 sir, you are not sorry that I wrote no, 
 sooner. I will not prolong my com- 
 plaints. I hope still to see you hi a 
 happier hour, to talk over what we have 
 often talked, and perhaps to find new 
 topicks of merriment, or new incitementa 
 to curiosity. 
 
 " I am, DEAR sir, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 " Lichfield, Oct. 20, 1784." 
 
 '' TO JOHN PARADISE, ESQ. * 
 *' DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Though in all my summer's excursion 
 I have given you no account of myself, 
 I hope you think better of me than t<i 
 imagine it possible for me to forget you, 
 whose kindness to me has been too great 
 and too constant not to have made its 
 impression on a harder breast than mine. 
 — Silence is not very culpable when nor 
 thing pleasing is suppressed. It would 
 have alleviated none of your complaints 
 to have read my vicissitudes of evil. I 
 have struggled hard with very formidable 
 and obstinate maladies ; and though I 
 cannot talk of health, think all praise due 
 to my Creator and Preserver for the con- 
 tinuance of my life. The dropsy has 
 made two attacks, and has given way to 
 medicine ; the asthma is very oppressive, 
 but that has likewise once remitted. I 
 am very weak and very sleepless; but it 
 is time to conclude the tale of misery. — 
 I hope, dear sir, that you grow better, 
 for you have likewise your share of hu- 
 man evil, and that your lady and the 
 young charmers are well. 
 
 ** I am, DEAR SIR, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 " Lichfield, Oct. 27, 1784." 
 
 * Son of the late Peter Paradise, Esq. his 
 Britannick Majesty's Consul at Saloiiica, in 
 Maceilonia, byliis lady, a native of that conn- 
 II y. He studied at Oxford, and has been 
 honoured by that University with the degree 
 of LL. D. He is distinguished not only by his 
 learning: and talents, but by an amiable dis- 
 position, gentleness of manners, and a very 
 {general acquaintance with well informed and 
 accomplished persons of almost all nations. 
 
 [Mr. Paradise died December 12, 1793. M. 
 
"598 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 '* TO MR. GEORGE MCHOL*. 
 
 1784. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' Since we parted I have been much 
 oppressed by my asthma, but it has lately 
 been less laborious. When I sit I am 
 almost at ease, and I can walk, though 
 yet very little, with less difficulty for this 
 week past than before. I hope I shall 
 again enjoy my friends, and that you and 
 I shall have a little more literary con- 
 versation. — Where I now am, every- 
 thing is very liberally provided for me 
 but conversation. My friend is sick 
 himself, and the reciprocation of com- 
 plaints and groans afford not much of 
 either pleasure or instruction. What we 
 have not at home this town does not 
 supply, and I shall be glad of a little im- 
 ported intelligence, and hope that yon 
 will bestow, now and then, a little time 
 on the relief and entertainment of, sir, 
 ** Yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 *' A>hhourne, Aug. 19, 1784." 
 
 " TO MR. CRUIKSHANK. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Do not suppose that I forget you ; I 
 hope I shall never be accused of forget- 
 ting my benefactors. I had, till lately, 
 nothing to write but complaints upon 
 complaints, of miseries upon miseries ; 
 but within this fortnight I have received 
 great relief. — Have your Lectures any 
 vacation ? If you are released from the 
 necessity of daily study, you may find 
 time for a letter to me. — [In this letter 
 lie states the particulars of his case.] — In 
 return for this account of my health let 
 me have a good account of yours, and of 
 your prosperity in all your undertakings. 
 *' I am, DEAR sir, yours, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 ** Ashbourne, Sept. 4, 1784." 
 
 To Mr. Thomas Davies. August 14. 
 *' The tenderness with which you always 
 treat me makes me culpable in my own 
 eyes for having omitted to write in so 
 long a separation ; I had, indeed, nothing 
 to say that you could wish to hear. All 
 has been hitherto misery accumulated 
 upon misery, disease corroborating dis- 
 ease, till yesterday my asthma was per- 
 ceptibly and unexpectedly mitigated. I 
 am much comforted with this short relief, 
 and am willing to flatter myself that it 
 may continue and improve. I have at 
 present such a degree of ease as not only 
 may admit the comforts but the duties of 
 life. Make my compliments to Mrs. 
 Davies. — Poor dear Allen! he was a 
 good man." 
 
 To Sir Joshua Reynolds. Ashbourne; 
 
 * Bookseller to his Majesty. 
 
 July 21. ** The tenderness with which I 
 am treated by my friends makes it rea- 
 sonable to suppose that they arc desirous 
 to know the state of my health, and a 
 desire so benevolent ought to be gratified. 
 — I came to Lichfield in two days with- 
 out anj' painful fatigue, and on Monday 
 came hither, where I purpose to stay and 
 try what air and regularity will effect. I 
 cannot yet persuade myself that I have 
 made much progress in recovery. My 
 sleep is little, my breath is very much 
 encumbered, and my legs are very weak. 
 The water has increased a little, but has 
 again run off. The most distressing symp- 
 tom is want of sleep." 
 
 August 19. " Having had, since our 
 separation, little to say that could please 
 you or myself by saying, I have not been 
 lavish of useless letters ; but I flatter my- 
 self that you will partake of the pleasure 
 with which I can now tell you that about 
 a week ago I felt suddenly a sensible re- 
 mission of my asthma, and consequently 
 a greater lightness of action and motion. 
 Of this grateful alleviation I know not 
 the cause, nor dare depend upon its con- 
 tinuance ; but while it lasts I endeavour 
 to enjoy it, and am desirous of commu- 
 nicating, while it lasts, my pleasure to 
 my friends. — Hitherto, dear sir, I had 
 written before the post, which stays in 
 this town but a little while, brought me 
 your letter. Mr. Davies seems to have re- 
 presented my little tendency to recovery 
 in terras too splendid. I am still restless, 
 still weak, still watery, but the asthma 
 is less oppressive. — Poor Ramsay* ! On 
 which side soever I turn, mortality pre- 
 sents its formidable frown. I left three 
 old friends at Lichfield when I was last 
 there, and now found them all dead. I 
 no sooner lost sight of dear Allen than I 
 am told that I shall see him no more. 
 That we must all die we always knew ; I 
 wish I had sooner remembered it. Do 
 not think me intrusive or importunate, if 
 I now call, dear sir, on you to remember 
 it." 
 
 Sept. 2. ** I am glad that a little favour 
 from the court has intercepted your furi- 
 ous purposes. I could not in any case 
 have approved such publick violence of 
 resentment, and should have considered 
 any who encouraged it as rather seeking 
 sport for themselves than honour for you. 
 Resentment gratifies him who intended 
 an injury, and pains him unjustly who 
 did not intend it. But all this is now 
 superfluous. — I still continue by God's 
 mercy to mend. My breath is easier, 
 my nights are quieter, and my legs are 
 
 • Allan Ramsav, Esq. painter to his Ma- 
 jesty, who died Ainfiisi 10, 1764, in the 7lst 
 ?ear of his age, niucii regretted by his 
 riends. 
 
^tAt. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSOV. 
 
 50d 
 
 less in bulk, and stronger in use. I have, 
 however, yet a gi-eat deal to overcome, 
 before I can yet attain even an old man's 
 healtli. — Write, do write to me now and 
 then ; we are now old acquaintance, and 
 perhaps few people have lived so much 
 and so long together with less cause of 
 complaint on either side. The retro- 
 spection of this is very pleasant, and I 
 hope we shall never think on each other 
 with less kindness." 
 
 Sept. 9. " I could not answer your let- 
 ter before this day, because I went on 
 the sixth to Chatsworth, and did not 
 come back till the post was gone. — Many 
 words, I hope, are not necessary between 
 you and me, to convince you what grati- 
 tude is excited in my heart by the Chan- 
 cellor's liberality and your kind offices. 
 I did not indeed expect that what was 
 asked by the Chancellor would have been 
 refused, but since it has, we will not tell 
 that any thing has been asked. — I have 
 enclosed a letter to the Chancellor, which, 
 when you have read it, you will be 
 pleased to seal with a head, or other ge- 
 neral seal, and convey it to him : had I 
 sent it directly to him, I should have 
 seemed to overlook the favour of your 
 intervention. — My last letter told you of 
 my advance in health, which, I think, in 
 the whole still continues. Of the hydro- 
 pick tumour there is now very little 
 appearance ; the asthma is much less 
 troublesome, and seems to remit some- 
 thing day after day. I do not despair of 
 supporting an English winter. — At Chats- 
 worth I met young Mr. Burke, who led 
 me very commodiously into conversation 
 with the Duke and Duchess. We had a 
 very good morning. The dinner was 
 publick." 
 
 Sept. 18. " I flattered myself that this 
 week would have given me a letter from 
 you, but none has come. Write to me 
 now and then, but direct your next to 
 Lichfield. — I think, and I hope am sure, 
 that I still grow better: I have some- 
 times good nights ; but am still in my 
 legs weak, but so much mended that I go 
 to Lichfield, in hope of being able to 
 pay my visits, on foot, for there are no 
 coaches. I have three letters this day, 
 all about the balloon ; I could have been 
 content with one. Do not write about 
 the balloon, whatever else yon may think 
 proper to say." 
 
 October 2. " I am always proud of 
 your approbation, and therefore was 
 much pleased that you liked my letter. 
 When you copied it, you invaded the 
 Chancellor's right rather than mine. — 
 The refusal I did not expect, but I had 
 never thought much about it, for I doubted 
 whether the Chancellor had so much ten- 
 derness for me as to ask. He, being 
 
 keeper of the King's conscience, ought 
 not to be supposed capable of an impro- 
 per petition. — All is not gold that glitters, 
 as we have often been told ; and the 
 adage is verified in your place and my 
 favour; but if what happens does not 
 make us richer, we must bid it welcome 
 if it makes us wiser. — I do not at pre- 
 sent grow better, nor much worse ; my 
 hopes, however, are somewhat abated, 
 and a very great loss is the loss of hope, 
 but I struggle on as I can." 
 
 To Mr. John Nichols. Lichfield, 
 Oct. 20. ** When you were here, you 
 were pleased, as I am told, to think my 
 absence an inconvenience. I should cer- 
 tainly have been very glad to give so 
 skilful a lover of antiquities any infor-, 
 mation about my native place, of which, 
 however, I know not much, and have 
 reason to believe that not much is known. 
 Though I have not given you any amuse- 
 ment, I have received amusemeiit from 
 you. At Ashbourne, where I had very 
 little company, I had the luck to liorrow 
 * Mr. Bowyer's Life ;' a book so full of 
 contemporary history, that a literary man 
 must find some of his old friends. I 
 thought that I could, now and then have 
 told you some hints worth your notice ; 
 and perhaps we may talk a life over. I 
 hope we shall be much together; you 
 must now be to me what you were be- 
 fore, and what dear Mr. Alien was be- 
 sides. He was taken unexpectedly away, 
 but I think he was a very good man. — I 
 have made little progress in recovery. — 
 I am very weak and very sleepless : but 
 I live on and hope." 
 
 This various mass of correspondence, 
 which I have thus brought together, is 
 valuable, both as an addition to the store 
 which the publick already has of John- 
 son's writings, and as exhibiting a ge- 
 nuine and noble specimen of vigour and 
 vivacity of mind, which neither age nor 
 sickness could impair or diminish. 
 
 It may be observed, that his writings 
 in every way, whether for the publick or 
 privately to his friends, was by fits and 
 starts ; for we see frequently, that many 
 letters are written on the same day. 
 When he had once overcome his aver- 
 sion to begin, he was, I suppose, desiroun 
 to go on, in order to relieve his mind 
 from the uneasy reflection of delaying 
 what he ought to do. 
 
 While in the country, notwithstanding 
 the accumulation of illness which he en- 
 dured, his mind did not lose its powers. 
 He translated an Ode of Horace, which 
 is printed in his works, and composed 
 several prayers. I shall insert one of 
 them, which is so wise and energetick, 
 
600 
 
 so philosophical and so pious, that I 
 doubt not of its affording consolation to 
 many a sincere Christian when in a state 
 of mind to which I believe the best are 
 sometimes liable*. 
 
 And here I am enabled fnlly to refute 
 a very unjust reflection, by Sir John 
 Hawkins, both against Dr. Johnson and 
 his faithful servant Mr. Francis Barber ; 
 as if both of them had been guilty of 
 culpable neglect towards a person of the 
 name of Heely, whom Sir John chooses 
 to call a relation of Dr. Johnson's. The 
 fact is, that Mr. Heely was not his rela- 
 tion ; he had indeed been married to one 
 of his cousins, but she had died without 
 having children, and he had married 
 another woman ; so that even the slight 
 connexion which there once had been by 
 alliance was dissolved. Dr. Johnson, 
 who had shown very great liberality to 
 this man while his first wife was alive, 
 as has appeared in a former part of this 
 work t, was humane and charitable enough 
 to continue his bounty to him occasion- 
 ally ; but surely there was no strong call 
 of duty upon him or upon his legatee to 
 do more. The following letter, obligingly 
 communicated to me by Mr. Andrew 
 Strahan, will confirm what I have 
 stated : 
 
 •* to mr. heely, no. 5, in pye street, 
 westminster, 
 "sir, 
 ** As necessity obliges you to call so soon 
 again upon me, you should at least have 
 told the smallest sum that will supply 
 your present want : you cannot suppose 
 that I have much to spare. Two guineas 
 is as much as you ought to be behind 
 with your creditor. — If you wait on Mr. 
 Strahan, in New Street, Fetter Lane, or 
 in his absence, on Mr. Andrew Strahan, 
 siiow this, by which they are entreated 
 
 * Against inqnisilive and perplexing 
 thoughts. " O Lord, my Maker and Pro- 
 IfClnr, who hast graciously sent me into this 
 world to work out my salvation, enable me to 
 drive from me all such unquiet and perplex- 
 ing thoughts as may mislead or hinder me in 
 the practice of those duties which Thou hast 
 required. When I behold the works of tli^r 
 hands, and consider the course of thy provi- 
 dence, give me grace always to remember 
 that lay thougiits are not my thoughts, nor 
 thy ways my ways. And while it shall please 
 thee to continue me in this world, where much 
 is to be done and little to be known, teach 
 me by thy Holy Spirit to withdraw my mind 
 from nnproJltable and dangerous inquiries, 
 from dimr.ulties vainly curious, and doubts 
 Impossible to be solved. Let me rejoice in the 
 lieht which Thou hast imparted, let me serve 
 Tnee with active zeal and humble confidence, 
 and wait with patient expeciiitiou for the 
 time in which the soul which Thou receivest 
 •hall be satisfied with knowledtre. Grant this, 
 O Lord, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 
 t Page 163. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 to advance you two guineas, and to keep 
 this as a voucher. I am, sir, 
 
 *' Your humble servant, 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson.*' 
 "Ashbourne, Aug. 12, 1781." 
 
 Indeed it is very necessary to keep in 
 mind that Sir John Hawkins has unac- 
 countably viewed Johnson's character 
 and conduct, in almost every particular, 
 with an unhappy prejudice!. 
 
 We now behold Johnson for the last 
 time in his native city, for which he ever 
 retained a warm affection, and vyhich by 
 a sudden apostrophe, under the word 
 Lich, he introduces with reverence into 
 his immortal Work, The English Dic- 
 tionary : ** Salve, magna parens § .'" 
 While here, he felt a revival of all the 
 tenderness of filial affection, an instance 
 of which appeared in his ordering the 
 
 X \ shall add one instance only to those 
 which I have thought it incumbent on me to 
 point out. Talking of Mr. Garrick's having 
 signified his willingness to let Johnson have 
 the loan of anv of his books to assist him in 
 his edition of Shakspeare ; Sir John says 
 (page 444), " Mr. Garrick knew not what 
 risque he ran by this offer. Johnson had so 
 strange a forgetfulness of obligations of this 
 sort that few who lent him books ever saw 
 them again." This surely conveys a most un- 
 favourable insinuation, and has been so under- 
 stood. Sir John mentions the single case of a 
 curious edition of Politian, which he tells us 
 appeared to belong to Pembroke College, 
 which, probably, had been considered by 
 Johnson as his own for upwards of fifty years. 
 Would it not be fairer to consider this as an 
 inadvertence, and draw no general inference ? 
 The truth is, that Johnson was so attentive 
 that, in one of his manuscripts in my posses- 
 sion, he has marked in two columns, hooks 
 borrowed and books lent. 
 
 In Sir John Hawkins's compilation there 
 are, however, some passages concerning John- 
 son which have unquestionable merit. One of 
 them I shall transcribe, injustice to a writer 
 whom 1 have Jiad too much occasion to cen- 
 sure, and show my fairness as the biographer 
 of my illustrious friend: «* There wa« wanting 
 in his conduct and behaviour that dignity 
 which results from a regular and orderly 
 course of action, and by ah irresistible power 
 commands esteem. He could not be said to 
 be a staid man, nor so to have adjusted in his 
 mind the balance of reason and passion, as to 
 give occasion to say what may be observed of 
 some men, that ail they do is just, fit, and 
 right." Yet a judicious friend well suggests, 
 •' It might, however, have been added^ that 
 such men are often merely just, and rigidly 
 correct, while their hearts are cold and un- 
 feeling ; and that Johnson's virtues were of a 
 much higher tone than those of the staid, or- 
 derly man. here described." 
 
 § The following circumstance, mutually to 
 the honour of Johnson and the corporation of 
 his native city, has been communicated to me 
 by the Reverend Dr. Vyse, from the Town 
 Clerk: *• Mr. Simpson has now before him a 
 reooni of the respect and veneration which 
 the Corporation of Lichfield, in the year 1767, 
 had for the merits and learning of Dr. John- 
 son. His father built the corner house in the 
 Market Place, the two fronts of which, towards 
 Market and Broad Market Street, stood upon 
 
.ITAT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 601 
 
 grave stone and inscription over Eliza- 
 beth Blaney* to be substantially and 
 carefully renewed. 
 
 To Mr. Henry White, a young clergy- 
 man, with whom he now formed an in- 
 timacy, so as to talk to him with great 
 freedom, he mentioned that he could not 
 in general accuse himself of having been 
 an undutiful son. " Once indeed (said 
 he), I was disobedient ; I refused to 
 attend my father to Uttoxeter Market. 
 Pride was the source of that refusal, and 
 the remembrance of it was painful. A 
 few years ago I desired to atone for this 
 fault : I went to Uttoxeter in very bad 
 weather, and stood for a considerable 
 time bareheaded in the rain, on the spot 
 where my father's stall used to stand. In 
 contrition I stood, and I hope the penance 
 was expiatory." 
 
 " I told him (says Miss Seward), in 
 one of my latest visits to him, of a won- 
 derful learned pig, which I had seen at 
 Nottingham ; and which did all that we 
 have observed exhibited by dogs and 
 horses. The subject amused him. 'Then 
 (said he) the pigs are a race unjustly 
 calumniated. Pig has, it seems, not 
 been wanting to man, but man to pig. 
 We do not allow tim,e for his education ; 
 we kill him at a year old.' Mr. Henry 
 White, who was present, observed, that 
 if this instance had happened in or before 
 Pope's time, he would not have been 
 justified in instancing the swine as the 
 lowest degree of groveling instinct. Dr. 
 Johnson seemed pleased with the obser- 
 vation, while the person who made it 
 proceeded to remark, that great torture 
 must have been employed, ere the iudo- 
 cility of the animal could have been sub- 
 dued. — * Certainly (said the Doctor) ; but 
 (turning to me), how old is your pig V 
 I told him three years old. * Then (said 
 he), the pig has no cause to complain ; 
 he would have been killed the first year 
 if he had not been educated, and pro- 
 tracted existence is a good recompense for 
 very considerable degrees of torture.' " 
 
 As Johnson had now very faint hopes 
 of recovery, and Mrs. Thrale was no 
 longer devoted to him, it might have 
 been supposed that he would naturally 
 
 waste land of the Corporation, under a forty 
 years' lease, which was then expired. On the 
 IStli of August, 1707, at a common hall of the 
 bailiffs and citizens, it was ordered (and that 
 without any solicitation), that a lease should 
 be granted to Samuel Johnson, Doctor of Laws, 
 of the encroachments at his house, for the term 
 of ninety-nine years, at the old rent, which 
 was five shillings. Of which, as Town Clerk, 
 Mr. Simpson had the honour and plpasure of 
 informing him, and that he was desired to 
 accept it without paying any fine on the occa- 
 sion, which lease was afterwards granted, and 
 ihe Doctor died possessed of this property." 
 * See p. 5. 
 
 have chosen to remain in the comfortable 
 house of his beloved wife's daughter, and 
 end his life where he began it. But there 
 was in him an animated and lofty spirit t, 
 and however complicated diseases might 
 depress ordinary mortals, all who saw 
 him beheld and acknowledged the invic- 
 turn animum Cat onisX. Such was his 
 intellectual ardour even at this time that 
 he said to one friend, " Sir, I look upon 
 every day to be lost, in which I do not 
 make a new acquaintance ;" and to ano- 
 ther, when talking of his illness, ** I will 
 be conquered ; I will not capitulate." 
 And such was his love of London, so high 
 a relish had he of its magnificent extent 
 and variety of intellectual entertainment, 
 that he languished when absent from it, 
 his mind having become quite luxurious 
 from the long habit of enjoying the me- 
 tropolis ; and, therefore, although at Lich- 
 field, surrounded with friends who loved 
 and revered him, and for whom he had 
 a very sincere affection, he still found 
 that such conversation as London affords 
 could be found no where else. These 
 feelings, joined, probably, to some flatter- 
 ing hopes of aid from the eminent physi- 
 cians and surgeons in London, who kindly 
 and generously attended him without ac- 
 cepting fees, made him resolve to return 
 to the capital. 
 
 From Lichfield he came to Birming- 
 ham, where he passed a few days with 
 his worthy old schoolfellow, Mr. Hector, 
 who thus writes to me : " He was very 
 solicitous with me to recollect some of 
 our most early transactions, and transmit 
 them to him, for I perceived nothing 
 gave him greater pleasure than calling to 
 mind those days of our innocence. I 
 complied with his request, and he only 
 received them a few days before his 
 death. I have transcribed, for your in- 
 spection, exactly the minutes I wrote to 
 him." This paper having been found in 
 his repositories after his death. Sir John 
 Hawkins has inserted it entire, and I 
 have made occasional use of it and other 
 communications from Mr. Hector j, in 
 
 t Mr. Burke suggested to me as applicable 
 to Johnson what Cic-ero, in his " Caio Major," 
 says of Appius : ** Intenluin enini animum, 
 tanquam arcnm, habebat, nee lavgutsceut sue- 
 cnmbebat seiiectnt i ;" repeating, at the same 
 time, the following nohle words in the same 
 passage : " Jla enim senrctus honesia est, it 
 se ipsa defendit, si jus sunm retiuet, si nemiui 
 emancipata est, si usque ad extte7num vil<B 
 spiritnm vindicet jus suum." 
 
 I [Alrocem animum Catonis, are Horace'^ 
 wonts, and it may be doubted whether utrox 
 is used by any other original writer in the 
 same sense. Stubborn is perhaps the most 
 correct translation of this epithet, M.] 
 
 § It is a most agreeable circumstance at- 
 tending the publication of this Work that Mr. 
 Hector has survived his illustrious schoolfellow 
 so many years ; that he still retains his health 
 
602 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 1784. 
 
 the course of this Work. I have both 
 visited and corresponded with him since 
 Dr. Johnson's death, and by my inquiries 
 concerning a great variety of particulars 
 have obtained additional information. I 
 followed the same mode with the Reve- 
 rend Dr. Taylor, in whose presence I 
 wrote down a good deal of what he could 
 tell ; and he, at my request, signed his 
 name, to give it authenticity. It is very 
 rare to find any person who is able to 
 give a distinct account of the life even of 
 one whom he has known intimately, 
 •without questions being put to them. My 
 friend Dr. Kippis has told me that on 
 this account it is a practice with him to 
 draw out a biographical catechism. 
 
 Johnson then proceeded to Oxford, 
 where he was again kindly received by 
 Dr. Adams*, who was pleased to give 
 me the following account in one of his 
 letters (Feb. 17th, 1785) : ** His last visit 
 
 and spirits; and has gf ratified me with tbe fol- 
 lowing: acknowledgment; " I thank you, most 
 sincerely thank you, for the preat and Ion? 
 continued entertainment your Life of Dr. 
 Johnson has afforded me, and others of my 
 particular friends." Mr. Hector, hesides set- 
 tinff me right as to the verses on a sprig of 
 Myrtle (see n. 21, note), has favoured me 
 with two Eniflish odes, written hy Dr. John- 
 son at an early period of his life, which will 
 appear in my edition of his Poems. 
 
 [This early and worthy friend of Johnson 
 died at Birmmarhani, September 2, 1794. M.] 
 
 * [This amiable and excellent man survived 
 Dr. Johnson about four years, having; died in 
 January, 1789, at Gloucester, where a Monu- 
 ment is erected to his memory, with the fol- 
 lowing inscription :— 
 
 Snored to the Memory of 
 
 William Adams, D.D. 
 
 Master of Pembroke College, Oxford, 
 
 Prebendary of this Cathedral, and 
 
 Archdeacon of Landaff. 
 
 Inerenious, Learned, Eloquent, 
 
 He ahly defended the Trnrh of Christianity : 
 
 Pious, Henevolent, and Charitable, 
 
 He successfully inculcated its sacred Precepts. 
 
 Pure, and undeviating in his own Conduct, 
 
 He was tender and compassionate to the 
 
 Failinjfs of others. 
 
 Ever anxious for the welfare and happiness 
 
 of Mankind, 
 
 He was on all occasions forward to encourage 
 
 Works ofpublirk Utility, and extensive 
 
 Beneticenre. 
 
 In the Government of the College over which 
 
 ,,. he presided, 
 
 His vigilant Attention was uniformly exerted 
 
 To promote the important Objects of the 
 
 Institution; 
 
 Whilst the mild Dignity of his Deportment, 
 
 Hh gentleness of Disposition, and urbanity of 
 
 Manners, 
 
 Inspired Esteem, Gratitude, and Affection. 
 
 Full of Days, and matured in Virtue, 
 
 He died Jan. 13th, 1769, aged 63. 
 
 A very iust character of Dr. Adams may also 
 
 be found in "The Gentleman's Magazine" 
 
 for 1789, Vol. LIX. p. 2U. His only dauijhier 
 
 i«ee p. 572) was married in July, 178fi, to 
 J, Hyatt, of Painswick in Gloucestershire, 
 Eiq. M.] 
 
 was, I believe, to my house, which he 
 left, after a stay of four or five days. We 
 had much serious talk together, for which 
 I ought to be the better as long as I live. 
 You will remember some discourse which 
 we had in the summer upon the subject 
 of prayer, and the difficulty of this sort of 
 composition. He reminded me of this, 
 and of my having wished him to try his 
 hand, and to give us a specimen of the 
 style and manner that he approved. He 
 added that he was now in a right frame 
 of mind, and as he could not possibly 
 employ his time better, he would in 
 earnest set about it. But I find, upon 
 inquiry, that no papers of this sort were 
 left behind him, except a few short eja- 
 culatory forms suitable to his present 
 situation." 
 
 Dr. Adams had not then received ac- 
 curate information on this subject ; for it 
 has since appeared that various prayers 
 had been composed by him at different 
 periods, which, intermingled with pious 
 resolutions, and some short notes of his 
 life, were entitled by him " Prayers and 
 Meditations," and have, in pursuance of 
 his earnest requisition, in the hopes of 
 doing good, been published, with a judi- 
 cious w'cll written Preface, by the Reve- 
 rend Mr. Strahan, to whom he delivered 
 them. This admirable collection, to which 
 I have frequently referred in the course 
 of this Work, evinces, beyond all his 
 compositions for the publick, and all the 
 eulogies of his friends and admirers, the 
 sincere virtue and piety of Johnson. It 
 proves with unquestionable authenticity, 
 that amidst all his constitutional infirmi- 
 ties, his earnestness to conform his prac- 
 tice to the precepts of Christianity was 
 unceasing, and that he habitually endea- 
 voured to refer every transaction of his 
 life to the will of the Supreme Being. 
 
 He arrived in London on the 16th of 
 November, and next day sent to Dr. 
 Burney the following note, which I insert 
 as the last token of his remembrance of 
 that ingenious and amiable man, and as 
 another of the many proofs of the tender- 
 ness and benignity of his heart : 
 ** Mr. Johnson, who came home last 
 night, sends bis respects to dear Dr. Bur- 
 ney, and all the dear Barneys, little and 
 great." 
 
 ** TO MR. HECTOR, IN BIRMINGHAM. 
 ** DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I DID not reach Oxford until Friday 
 morning, and then I sent Francis to see 
 the balloon fly, but could not go myself. 
 I staid at Oxford till Tuesday, and then 
 came in the common vehicle easily to. 
 London. I am as I was, and having seen 
 Dr. Brocklesby, am to ply the squills; 
 but, w hatever be their efficacy, this world 
 
^taT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 603 
 
 must soon pass away. Let us think seri- 
 ously on our duty. — I send my kindest 
 respects to dear Mrs. Careless: let me 
 have the prayers of both. We have all 
 lived long, and must soon part. God 
 have mercy on us, for the sake of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 
 ** I am, &c. 
 
 ** Sam. Johnson." 
 ''London, Nov. 17, 1764." 
 
 His correspondence with me after his 
 letter on the subject of my settling in 
 London shall now, so far as is proper, be 
 produced in one series. 
 
 July 26, he wrote to me from Ash- 
 bourne : " On the 14th I came to Lich 
 field, and found every body glad enough 
 to see me. On the 20th, I came hither, 
 and found a house half built, of very un- 
 comfortable appearance ; but my own 
 room has not been altered. That a man 
 worn with diseases, in his seventy-second 
 or third year, should condemn part of his 
 remaining life to pass among ruins and 
 rubbish, and that no inconsiderable part, 
 appears to me very strange. — I know that 
 your kindness makes you impatient to 
 know the state of my health, in which I 
 cannot boast of much improvement. I 
 came through the journey without much 
 inconvenience, but when I attempt self- 
 motion I find my legs weak, and my 
 breath very short ; this day I have been 
 much disordered. I have no company ; 
 the Doctor* is busy in his fields, and 
 goes to bed at nine, and his whole system 
 is so different from mine that we seem 
 formed for different elements: I have, 
 therefore, all my amusement to seek 
 within myself." 
 
 Having written to him in bad spirits, a 
 letter filled with dejection and fretfulness, 
 and at the same time expressing anxious 
 apprehensions concerning him on account 
 of a dream which had disturbed me ; his 
 answer was chiefly in terms of reproach, 
 for a supposed charge of ** affecting dis- 
 content, and indulging the vanity of com- 
 plaint." It, however, proceeded, ** Write 
 to me often, and write like a man. I 
 consider your fidelity and tenderness as a 
 great part of the comforts which are yet 
 left me, and sincerely wish we could be 
 nearer to each other. — *♦****»♦, 
 My dear friend, life is very short and 
 very uncertain ; let us spend it as well as 
 we can. My worthy neighbour, Allen, is 
 dead. Love me as well as you can. Pay 
 my respects to dear Mrs. Boswell. No- 
 thing ailed me at that time ; let your 
 superstition at last have an end." 
 
 Feeling very soon that the manner in 
 which he had written might hurt me, he 
 two days afterwards, July 28, wrote to 
 * TlieRev. Dr. Taylor. 
 
 me again, giving me an account of his 
 sufferings ; after which, he thus pro- 
 ceeds : •• Before this letter, you will have 
 had one which I hope you will not take 
 amiss ; for it contains only truth, and that 
 truth kindly intended. ♦***♦»*. 
 Spartam quam nactus es orna; make 
 the most and best of your lot, and com- 
 pare yourself not with the few that are 
 above yon, but with the multitudes which 
 are below you. »♦«♦♦•. Go 
 steadily forwards with lawful business or 
 honest diversions. * Be (as Temple says 
 of the Dutchmen) well when you are not 
 ill, and pleased when you are not 
 angry.' — »*♦♦»«. This may 
 seem but an ill return for your tender- 
 ness ; but 1 mean it well, for 1 love you 
 with great ardour and sincerity. Pay 
 my respects to dear Mrs. Boswell, and 
 teach the young ones to love me." 
 
 I unfortunately was so much indis- 
 posed during a considerable part of the 
 year that it was not, or at least I thought 
 it was not, in my power to write to my 
 illustrious friend as formerly, or without 
 expressing such complaints as offended 
 him. Having conjured him not to do me 
 the injustice of charging me with affecta- 
 tion, I was with much regret long silent. 
 His last letter to me then came, and 
 affected me very tenderly. 
 
 ** TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I HAVE this summer sometimes amend- 
 ed, and sometimes relapsed, but, upon 
 the whole, have lost ground very much. 
 My legs are extremely weak, and my 
 breath very short, and the water is now 
 increasing upon me. In this uncomfort- 
 able state your letters used to relieve ; 
 what is the reason that I have them no 
 longer? Are you sick, or are you sullen? 
 Whatever be the reason, if it be less than 
 necessity, drive it away ; and of the short 
 life that we have, make the best use for 
 yourself and for your friends. •♦*»♦•. 
 I am sometimes afraid that your omis- 
 sion to write has some real cause, and 
 shall be glad to know that you are not 
 sick, and that nothing ill has befallen 
 dear Mrs. BosweU, or any of your 
 family. I am, sir, your, &c. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 « Lichfield, Nov. 5, 1784.»» 
 Yet it was not a little painful to me to 
 find that in a paragraph of this letter, 
 which I have omitted, he still persevered 
 in arraigning me as before, which was 
 strange in him who had so much experi- 
 ence of what I suffered. I, however, 
 wrote to him two as kind letters as I 
 could ; the last of w hich came too late to 
 be read by him, for his illness increased 
 
604 
 
 more rapidly upon him than I had appre- 
 hended ; but I had the consolation of 
 being informed that he spoke of me on 
 bis deathbed with affection, and I look 
 forward with humble hope of renewing 
 our friendship in a better world. 
 
 1 now relieve the readers of this Work 
 from any farther personal notice of its 
 authour ; who, if he should be thought to 
 have obtruded himself too much upon 
 their attention, requests them to consider 
 the peculiar plan of his biographical un- 
 dertaking. 
 
 Soon after Johnson's return to the me- 
 tropolis, both the asthma and the dropsy 
 became more violent and distressful. He 
 had for some time kept a journal in 
 Latin of the state of his illness, and the 
 remedies which he used, under the title 
 of jEgri Ephemeris, which he began on 
 the 6th of July, but continued it no longer 
 than the 8th of November; finding, I 
 suppose, that it was a mournful and un- 
 availing register. It is in my posses- 
 sion ; and is written with great care and 
 accuracy. 
 
 Still his love of literature * did not fail. 
 
 * It is truly wonderful to consider the ex- 
 tent and constancy of Johnson's literary 
 ardour, notwithstaadinff the melancholy which 
 clouded and imbittered his existence. Besides 
 the numerous and various works which he 
 execuled, he had, at different times, formed 
 schemes of a g^reat many more, of which the 
 following catalotfue was given by him to Mr. 
 Lan^ton, and by that gentleman presented to 
 his jWajesty : 
 
 " Divinity. 
 
 " A small book of precepts and directions 
 for piety: the hint taken from the directions 
 in Morton's Exercise. 
 
 " Philosophy, History, and Literature 
 in general. 
 
 " Historv of Criticism, as it relates to judg- 
 ing of authours, from Aristotle to the present 
 age. An account of the rise and improvements 
 of that art; of the diflTereat opinions of au- 
 thours, ancient and modern. 
 
 *• Translation of the History of Herodian. 
 
 " New edition of Fairfax's Translation of 
 Tasso, with notes, glossary, &c. 
 
 " Chaucer, a new edition of him, from ma- 
 nuscripts and old editions, with various read- 
 ings, conjectures, remarks on his language, 
 and the changes it had undergone from the 
 earliest times to his a|>e, and from his to the 
 present; with notes explanatory of customs, 
 fic. and references to Boccace, and other au- 
 thours from whom he has borrowed, with an 
 account of the liberties he has taken in telling 
 the stories ; his life, and an exact etymologi- 
 cal glossary. 
 
 " Aristotle's Rhetorick, a translation of it 
 into ii:nglii>h. 
 
 '* A collection of Letters, translated from 
 the modern writers, with some account of the 
 several authours. 
 
 " Oldham's I'oems, with notes, historical 
 an<i critical. 
 
 " Roscommon's Poems, with notes. 
 
 " Lives of the Philosophers, written with a 
 polite air, in such a manner as may divert as 
 well as instruct. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 1781* 
 
 A very few days before his death he 
 transmitted to his friend, Mr. John 
 
 " History of the Heathen Mythology, with 
 an explication of the fables, both allegorical 
 and historical; with references to the poets. 
 
 " History of the State of Venice, in a com- 
 pendious manner. 
 
 " Geographical Dictionary, from the French. 
 
 " Hierocles upon Pythagoras, translated into 
 English, perhaps with notes. This is done by 
 Morris. 
 
 " A book of Letters, upon all kinds of sub- 
 jects. 
 
 " Claudian, a new edition of his works, cmn 
 notis variofum, in the manner of Burman. 
 
 *• Tully's Tusciilan Questions, a translation 
 of them. 
 
 " Tully's De Natura Deorum, a translation 
 of those books. 
 
 " Benzo's New History of the New World, 
 to be translated. 
 
 " Machiavel's History of Florence, to be 
 translated. 
 
 " History of the Revival of Learning in Eu- 
 rope, containing an account of whatever con- 
 tributed to the restoration of literature; such 
 as controversies, printing, the destruction of 
 the Greek empire, the encouragement of great 
 men, with the lives of the most eminent pa- 
 trons, and most eminent early professors of 
 all kinds of learning in different countries. 
 
 " A Body of Clirohology, in verse, with his- 
 torical notes. 
 
 "A Table of the Spectators, Tatlers, and 
 Guardians, distinguished by figures into six 
 degrees of value, with notes, giving the rea- 
 sons of preference or degradation. 
 
 ** A Collection of Letters from English au- 
 thours, with a preface giving some account of 
 the writers; with reasons for selection, and 
 criticism upon styles i remarks on each letter, 
 if needful. 
 
 " A Collection of Proverbs from various 
 languaares. Jan. 6,-53. 
 
 " A Dictionary to the Common Prayer, in 
 imitation of Calniet's Dictionary of the Bible. 
 March,- 52. 
 
 " A Collection of Stories and Examples, like 
 those of Valerius Maximus. Jan. 10,-53. 
 
 " From jlllian, a volume of select Stories, 
 perhaps from other*. Jan. 26,-53. 
 
 "Collection of Travels, Voyages, Adven- 
 tures, and Descriptions of Countries. 
 
 " Dictionary of Ancient History and My- 
 thology. 
 
 «* Treatise on the Study of Polite Literature, 
 containing the history of learning, directions 
 for editions, commentaries. Sec. 
 
 " Maxims, Characters, and Sentiments, after 
 the manner of Bruyere, collected out of an- 
 cient authours, particularly the Greek with 
 Apophthegms. 
 
 " Classical Miscellanies, Select Translations 
 from ancient Greek and Latin authours. 
 
 " Lives of Illustrious Persons, as well of the 
 active as the learned, in imitation of Plu- 
 tarch. 
 
 " Judgment of the learned upon English 
 authours. 
 
 " Poetical Dictionary of the English tongue. 
 
 " Considerations upon the present Slate of 
 London. 
 
 "Collection of Epigrams, with notes and 
 observations. 
 
 " Observations on the English language, 
 relating to words, phrases, and modes of 
 speech. 
 
 " Minutiae Literariae, miscellaneous refiec* 
 tions, criticisms, emendations, notes. 
 
 <' History of the Constitution. 
 
JEt\t.73. the life of DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Nichols, a list of the aiithours of the Uni- 
 versal History, mentioning their several 
 shares in thai work. It has, according to 
 
 " Comparison of Philosophical and Christian 
 Morality, by sentences collected from the 
 moralists and fathers. 
 
   Plutarch's Lives, in English, with notes. 
 
 " Poetry and Works of iMAOfNATiON. 
 " Hymn to Ignorance. 
 ** The Palace of Sloth,— a vision. 
 " Coluthus, to he translated. 
 •' Prejudice,— a poetical essay. 
 " The Palace of Nonsense, — a vision." 
 
 Johnson's extraordinary facility of compo- 
 sition, when he shooli off his constitutional 
 indolence, and resolutely sat down to write, 
 Is admirably described by Mr. Courlenay, in 
 his ** Poetical Review," which I have several 
 tiroes quoted : 
 " While througli life's maze he sent a piercing 
 
 view. 
 His mind expansive to the object grew. 
 With various stores of erudition frausht, 
 The lively image, the deep-searching thought, 
 Slept in repose ; — but when the iiionienl 
 
 press'd, 
 The bright ideas stood at once confess'd; 
 Instant his genius sped its vigorous rays, 
 And o'er the letter'd world diffused a blare: 
 As womb'd with fire the cloud electrick flies. 
 And cahuly o'er the' horizon seems to rise: 
 Touch'd by the pointed steel tlie lightning 
 
 flows. 
 And all the' expanse with rich eflFulgence 
 
 glows." 
 We shall in vain endeavour to know with 
 exact precision every production of Johnson's 
 pen. He owned to me, that he had written 
 about forty sermons; but as I undeistood that 
 he had given or sold them to different per- 
 sons, who were to preach them as their own, 
 he did not consider himself at liberty to ac- 
 knowledge them. Would those who were thus 
 aided by him, who are still alive, and the 
 friends of those who are dead, fairly inform 
 the world, it would be obligingly gratifying a 
 reasonable curiosity, to which there should, I 
 think, now be no objection. Two volumes of 
 them, published since his death, are suffi- 
 ciently ascertained ; see p. 379.— I have before 
 jne, in his handwriting, a fragment of twenty 
 quarto leaves, of a translation into English of 
 Sallust, De Bella Catilinario. When it was 
 done I had no notion ; but it seems to have no 
 very superior merit to mark it as his. Besides 
 the publications heretofore mentioned, I am 
 satisfied, from internal evidence, to admit 
 also as genuine the following, which, notwith- 
 standing all my chronological care, escaped 
 me jn the course of this work : 
 
 " Considerations on the Case of Dr. Trapp's 
 Sermons," (fcj published in 1739, in the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine. It is a very ingenious 
 defence of the right of abridging an authour's 
 work, without being held as infringing his 
 property. This is one of the nicest questions 
 m the Law of Literature ; and I cannot help 
 thinking, that the indulgence of abridging is 
 often exceedingly injurious to auibours and 
 booksellers, and should in very few cases be 
 permitted. At any rate, to prevent difficidt 
 and uncertain discussion, and give an abso- 
 lute security to authours in the properly of 
 their labours, no abridgment whatever should 
 be permitted, till after the expiration of such 
 a number of years as the Legislature may be 
 pleased to fix. .^ , 
 
 But, though it has been confidently ascribed 
 to him, I cannot allow that he wrote a Dedi- 
 
 605 
 
 his direction, been deposited in the Bri- 
 tish Museum, and is printed in the Gen- 
 tleman's Magazine for December, 1794 ♦. 
 
 cation to both Houses of Parliament of a book 
 entitled "The Evangelical History Harmo- 
 nized." He was no croaker; no declainur 
 against the times. He would not have written, 
 '* That we are fallen upon an age in which 
 corruption is not barely universal, is univer- 
 sally confessed." Nor, '♦ Rapine preys on the 
 publick without opposition, and perjurv be- 
 trays it without inquiry." Nor would he. to 
 excite a speedy reforma'tion, have conjured up 
 such phantoms of terrour as these : " A few 
 years longer, and perhaps all endeavours will 
 be in vain. We may be swallowed by an 
 earthquake: we may be delivered to our ene- 
 mies.'' This is not Johnsonian. 
 
 There are, indeed, in this Dedication seve- 
 ral sentences constructed upon the model of 
 those of Johnson. But the imitation of the 
 form, without the spirit of his style, lias been 
 so general that this of itself is iiot sufficient 
 evidence. Even our newspaper writers aspire 
 to it. In an account of the funeral of Edwin, 
 the comedian, in "The Diary" of Nov. 9, 
 1790, tliat son of drollery is thus described: 
 " A man who had so often cheered the sullen- 
 ness of vacancy, and suspended the approaches 
 of sorrow." And in " The Dublin Evening 
 Post," August 16, 1791, there is the following 
 paragraph: "It is a singular circumstance, 
 that "in a city like this, containing 200,000 
 people, there are three months in the year 
 during which no place of publick amusement 
 is open. Long vacation is here a vacation 
 from pleasure, as well as business; nor is 
 there any mode of passing the listless even- 
 ings of declining summer, but in the riots of a 
 tavern or the stupidity of a coffee-house." 
 
 1 have not thought it necessary to specify 
 every copy of verses written by Johnson, it 
 being my intention to publish an authentick 
 edition of all his Poetry, with notes. 
 
 * [As the letter accompanying this list 
 (which fully supports the observation in the 
 text) was w'ritten but a week before Dr. John- 
 son's death, the reader may not be displeased 
 to find it here preserved: 
 
 « TO MR. NICHOLS, 
 
 " The late learned Mr. Swinton, having one 
 day remarked that one man, meaning, I sup- 
 pose, no man but himself, could assign all tire 
 parts of the Ancient Universal History to their 
 proper authours, at the request of Sir Robert 
 Chambers or of myself, gave the account 
 which I now transmit to you in his own 
 hand ; being willing that of so great a work 
 the history should be known, and that each 
 writer should receive his due proportion of 
 praise from posterity. 
 
 " I recommend to you to preserve this scrap 
 
 of literary intelligence in Mr. Swinton's own 
 
 hand, or to deposit it in the Museum, that the 
 
 veracity of this account may never be doubled, 
 
 "I am, SIR, 
 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 
 " Dec. 6, 1784." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 Mr. S n. 
 
 The History of the Carthaginians 
 
 Numidians. 
 
 Mauritanians. 
 
 Gietulians. 
 
 , Garamanthes. 
 
 , Melauo Goitulians. 
 
 , Nigrilae. 
 
 , Cyrenaica. 
 
 . Marmarica. 
 
 . the Regio Syrtica. 
 
€06 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Daring his sleepless nights he amused 
 himself by translating into Latin verse, 
 from the Greek, many of the epigrams in 
 the Anthologia. These translations, with 
 some other poems by him in Latin, he 
 gave to his friend Mr. Langton, who, 
 having added a few notes, sold them to 
 the booksellers for a small sum to be 
 given to some of Johnson's relations, 
 which was accordingly done; and they 
 are printed in the collection of his works. 
 
 A very erroneous notion has circulated 
 as to Johnson's deficiency in the know- 
 ledge of the Greek language, partly owing 
 to the modesty with which, from know- 
 ing how much there was to be learned, 
 he used to mention his own comparative 
 acquisitions. When Mr. Cumberland * 
 talked to him of the Greek fragments 
 which are so well illustrated in ** The 
 Observer," and of the Greek dramatists 
 in general, he candidly acknowledged his 
 insufficiency in that particular branch of 
 Greek literature. Yet it may be said, 
 that though not a great, he was a good 
 Greek scliolar. Dr. Charles Burney, the 
 younger, who is universally acknow- 
 ledged by the best judges to be one of 
 tiie few men of this age who are very 
 eminent for their skill in that noble lan- 
 guage, has assured me, that Johnson 
 could give a Greek word for almost every 
 English one ; and that although not snffi- 
 cieritly conversant in the niceties of the 
 language, he upon some occasions dis- 
 covered, even in these, a considerable 
 degree of critical acumen. Mr. Dalzel, 
 Professor of Greek at Edinburgh, whose 
 skill in it is unquestionable, mentioned 
 to me, in very liber;il terms, the impres- 
 sion which was made upon him by John- 
 son, in a conversation which they had in 
 London concerning that language. As 
 Johnson, therefore, was undoubtedly one 
 of the first Latin scholars ia modern 
 
 Tlje History of the Turks, Tartars, and Mo- 
 guls. 
 
 Chinese. 
 
 Dissertation on the Peopling: of America. 
 
 Independency of the 
 
 Arabs. 
 
 The Cosmogony, and a small part of the His- 
 tory immrdiatelv following: by Mr. Sale. 
 
 To tlie biriliof Abraham ; chiefly by Mr. Sliel- 
 vock. 
 
 I>Mtorv of the Jews, Gauls, and Spaniards; 
 by Mr. Psalmanazar. 
 
 X«'noplion'H Retreat; by the same. 
 
 History of the Persians, and the Con.stantiuo- 
 politan Empire; by Dr. Campbell. 
 
 History of the Romans; by Mr. Dower.] 
 
 • Mr. CnmlK,'rIand assureB nie, that lie was 
 always treated with ereat cooitt'sv by Dr. 
 Jolins'M), wlio. in his •' Letters to iMr«. Tlirale," 
 Vol. II. p. 6S, tbiis speaks of that learned, in- 
 jfenious, and arcompli>hed penlleman: *• The 
 want of company is an inronvenieace, but 
 JMr. Cumberland is a milliuii." 
 
 1784; 
 
 times, let us not deny to his fame some 
 additional splendour from Greek. 
 
 I shall now fulfil my promise of exhi- 
 biting specimens of various sorts of imi- 
 tation of Johnson's style. 
 
 In the ** Transactions of the Royal 
 Irish Academy, 1787," there is an " Es- 
 say on the Style of Dr. Samuel John- 
 son," by the Reverend Robert Burrowes, 
 whose respect for the great object of his 
 criticism t is thus evinced in the con- 
 cluding paragraph : '* I have singled him 
 out from the whole body of English 
 writers, because his universally acknow- 
 ledged beauties would be most apt to 
 induce imitation ; and I have treated 
 rather on his faults than his perfections, 
 because an essay might comprise all the 
 observations I could make upon his faults-, 
 while volumes would not be sufficient for 
 a treatise on his perfections." 
 
 Mr. Burrowes has analysed the com- 
 position of Johnson, and pointed out its 
 peculiarities with much aeuteness ; and 
 I vvould recommend a careful perusal of 
 his Essay to those who, being captivated 
 by the union of perspicuity and splen- 
 dour which the writings of Johnson con^- 
 tain, without having a sufficient portion 
 of his vigour of m-ind, may be in danger 
 of becoming bad copyists of his manner. 
 I, however, cannot but observe, and I 
 observe it to his credit, that this learned 
 gentleman has himself caught no mean 
 degree of the expansion and harmony 
 which, independent of all other circum- 
 stances, characterize the sentences of 
 Johnson. Thus, in the Preface to the 
 volume in which the Essay appears, we 
 find, ** If it be said that in societies o*" 
 this sort too much attention is frequently 
 bestowed on subjects barren and specu- 
 lative, it may be answered, that no one 
 science is so little connected with the rest 
 as not to afford many principles whose 
 use may extend considerably beyond the 
 science to which they primarily belong ; 
 and that no proposition is so purely theo- 
 retical as to be totally incapable of being 
 applied to practical purposes. There ig 
 no apparent connection between duration 
 and the cycloidal arch, Uie properties o/ 
 which, duly attended to, have furnished 
 us with otir best regulated methods of 
 measuring time : and he who has made 
 himself master of the nature and affeo- 
 tions of the logarithmick curve is not 
 aware that he has advanced considerably 
 
 t We mnst smile at a little inaccuracy of 
 metaphor iinlie Preface to the. Tninsaciions, 
 v*hi( h is written by Mr. Burrowes. The critick 
 of the style »f 3n\\uson having:, wilha just zeal 
 for literature, observed that the whole nation 
 are called na to exert thewselve«, afterwards 
 says: "They are caUed on by every /te uhiqii 
 can have a laudable influence uiKthe heart of 
 man." 
 
/Er.vT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 6or 
 
 towards ascertaining the proportionable j thrown together in a vagne and desultory 
 density of the air at its various distances manner, not even adhering to alphabeti- 
 
 fronn the surface of the earth. 
 
 The ludicrous imitators of Johnson's 
 style are innumerable. Their general 
 method is to accumulate hard words, 
 without considering that, although he was 
 fond of introducing them occasionally, 
 there is not a single sentence in all his 
 writings where they are crowded toge- 
 ther, a^s in the first verse of the following 
 imaginary Ode by him to Mrs. Thrale*, 
 which appeared in the newspapers : — 
 " Cervisial coctor''s viduate dame, 
 Opin'i.t thou his gigantick fame, 
 
 Procumbing at ihat shrine ; 
 S\\a\\, cateruited by thy charms, 
 A captive in thy ambient arms. 
 Perennially, be thine 1" 
 
 This and a thousand other such attempts 
 are totally unlike the original, which the 
 writers imagined they were turning into 
 ridicule. There is not similarity enough 
 for burlesque. Or even for caricature. 
 
 Mr. Colman, in his ** Prose on several 
 Occasions," has "A Letter from Lexi- 
 phanes ; containing Proposals for a Glos- 
 sary or Vocabulary of the Vulgar 
 Tongue : intended as a Supplement to a 
 large Dictionary." It is evidently meant 
 as a sportive sally of ridicule on Johnson, 
 whose style is thus imitated, without 
 being grossly overcharged. *' It is easy 
 to foresee that the idle and illiterate will 
 complain that I have increased their la- 
 bours by endeavouring to diminish them ; 
 and that I have explained what is more 
 easy by what is more dilficult— i(/«o^Mm 
 -per ignotius. I expect, on the other 
 hand, the liberal acknowledgments of the 
 learned. He who is buried in scholastick 
 retirement, secluded from the assemblies 
 of the gay, and remote from the circles 
 of the polite, will at once comprehend 
 the definitions, and be grateful for such a 
 seasonable and necessary elucidation of 
 his mother-tongue." — Annexed to this 
 letter is a short specimen of the work, 
 
   Johnson's wishing to unite himself with 
 this rich widow was riiuch talked of, but I be- 
 lieve without foundation. The report, how- 
 ever, gave occasion to a poem, not without 
 characteristiciil merit, entitled, " Ode to Mrs. 
 Thrale, by Samuel Johnson, LL. D. on their 
 supposed approaching Nuptials;" priuted for 
 Mr. Faulder, in BondStreet.— i shall quote as 
 a specimen the first thrte stanzas: 
 " If e'er my fingers touch'd the lyre. 
 
 In satire fierce, in pieasure gay ; 
 Shall not my Thralia's smiles inspire? 
 
 ShiJll Sam refuse the sportive lay 1 
 My dearest Lady! view your slave. 
 
 Behold him as your very Scrub ; 
 Eager to write as auihour grave. 
 
 Or govern well the brewing tub. 
 To rich felicity thus^ raised, 
 
 Mv bosom glows with amorous fire; 
 porter no longer shall be praised, 
 'Tis I MYSELF am Thrule's Entire.^* 
 
 cal concatenation f. 
 
 The serious imitators of Johnson's style, 
 whether intentionally or by the imper- 
 ceptible effect of its strength and anima- 
 tion, are, as I have had already occasion 
 to observe, so many that I might intro- 
 duce quotations from a numerous body of 
 writers in our language, since he appeared 
 in the literary world. I shall point out 
 the following : — 
 
 WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D. D. 
 
 " In other parts of the globe, man, in 
 his rudest state, appears as Lord of the 
 creation, giving law to various tribes of 
 animals which he has tamed and reduced 
 to subjection. The Tartar follows his 
 prey on the horse which he has reared^ 
 or tends his numerous herds which furnish 
 him both with food and clothing ; the 
 Arab has rendered the camel docile, and 
 avails himself of its persevering strength ; 
 the Laplander has formed the reindeer to 
 be subservient to his will ; and even the 
 people of Kamtschatka have trained their 
 dogs to labour. This command over th.e 
 inferiour creatures is one of the noblest 
 prerogatives of man, and among the 
 greatest efforts of his wisdom and power* 
 Without this his dominion is incomplete.. 
 He is a monarch who has- no subjects; a. 
 master without servants ; and must per- 
 form every operation by the strength of. 
 his own arm J." 
 
 EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. 
 
 ** Of all our passions and appetites the 
 love of power is of the most imperious 
 and unsociable nature, since the pride of 
 one nviti requires the submission of the 
 multitude. In the tumult of civil discord   
 the laws of Society lose their force, and 
 their place is seldom supplied by those of 
 humanity. The ardour of contention, the 
 pride of victory, the despair of success,, 
 the memory of past injuries, and the 
 fear of future dangers, all contribute to 
 inflame the mind, and to silence the voice 
 of pity§." 
 
 + " Higledy piggledy, — Conglomeration and 
 confusion. 
 
 " Hodge-podge,- k culinary mixture of 4ie- 
 terogeneous ingredients: applied inetaphuii- 
 cally to all discotdant combinations. 
 
 " Tit for Ta/,— Adeqnalt retalLition. 
 
 ♦' Shilly S/*«%,— Hesitation and irresola- 
 tion. 
 
 " Fee.' fa.' f urn. '—G'if^nntkk intonations. 
 
 " Rigmarole, — Discount, incoherent and 
 rhapsodical, 
 
 " Criiicum-crancum,— 'Lines of irregularity 
 and involution. 
 
 '< Ding doHf,— Tintiuabulary chimes, used 
 metaphorically to signify despatch aud vthe- 
 nience." 
 
 t" History of America," vol.i. 4lo, p. 332. 
 
 § " Decline and Fall of the Uomau Liu- 
 pire," vol. i.,chap. iv. 
 
G08 
 
 THE LIFE OF Dll. JOHNSON. 
 
 17S4. 
 
 MISS BURxNEY. 
 
 ** My family, mistaking ambition for 
 honour and rank for dignity, have long 
 planned a splendid connection for me, to 
 which, though my invariable repugnance 
 ha? stopped any advances, their wishes 
 and their views immovably adhere. I 
 am but too certain they will now listen 
 to no other. I dread, therefore, to make 
 a trial where I despair of success ; I 
 know not how to risk a prayer with those 
 who may silence me by a command*." 
 
 REVEREND MR. NARESf. 
 
 ** In an enlightened and improving 
 age much, perhaps, is not to be appre- 
 hended from the inroads of mere caprice ; 
 at such a period it will generally be per- 
 ceived that needless irregularity is the 
 worst of all deformities, and that nothing 
 is so truly elegant in language as the sim- 
 plicity of unviolated analogy. — Rules 
 will, therefore, be observed, so far as 
 they are known and acknowledged : but, 
 at the same time, the desire of improve- 
 ment having been once excited will not 
 remain inactive; and its ettbrts, unless 
 assisted by knowledge, as much as they 
 are prompted by zeal, will not unfre- 
 quently be found pernicious; so that the 
 very persons whose intention it is to per- 
 fect the instrument of reason, will deprave 
 and disorder it unknowingly. At such a 
 time, then, it becomes peculiarly neces- 
 sary that the analogy of language should 
 be fully examined and understood ; that 
 its rules should be carefully laid down ; 
 and that it should be clearly known how 
 much it contains, which, being already 
 right, should be defended from change 
 and violation ; how much it has that de- 
 mands amendment ; and how much that, 
 for fear of greater inconveniences, must, 
 perhaps, be left unaltered, though Irre- 
 gular." 
 
 A distinguished authour in *' The Mir- 
 ror J," a periodical paper, published at 
 Edinburgh, has imitated Johnson very 
 closely. Thus, in No. 16. — " The effects 
 of the return of spring have been fre- 
 (jueutly remarked as well in relation to 
 
 * ** Cecilia," Book vii. chap. i. 
 
 t The paiisage wliioh I quote is taken from 
 that Kcntleman'8 " Elements of Orthoepy; 
 containing- a distinct View of the whole Ana- 
 logy of the BriGTlish Lan^uas^e, so far as relates 
 to Pronunciation, Accent, and QnanlHi/,** 
 London, 1784. I heg leave to o.Ter my pahi- 
 ciilar acknoMledKnients to the authour of a 
 work of unt'omnion merit and f^reat utility. I 
 know no book which contains, in the same 
 compass, more learning', polite literature, 
 sound sense, accuracy of arrangement, and 
 perspicuity of expression. 
 
 t 1 hat collection was presented to Dr. John- 
 son, I helieve, by its authours; and I heard 
 him speak very well of it. 
 
 the human mind as to the animal and 
 vegetable world. The reviving power of 
 this season has been traced from the fields 
 to the herds that inhabit them, and from 
 the lower classes of beings up to man. 
 Gladness and joy are described as pre- 
 vailing through universal Nature, ani- 
 mating the low of the cattle, the carol of 
 the birds, and the pipe of the shepherd." 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Knox, master of 
 Tunbridge school, appears to have the 
 imitari aveo of Johnson's style perpe- 
 tually in his mind ; and to his assiduous, 
 though not servile study of it, we may 
 partly ascribe the extensive popularity of 
 his writings §. 
 
 In his " Essays, Moral and Literary," 
 No. 3, we find the following passage: — 
 " The polish of external grace may in- 
 deed be deferred till the^ approach of 
 manhood. When solidity is obtained by 
 pursuing the modes prescribed by our 
 forefathers, then may the file be used. 
 The firm substance will bear attrition, 
 and the lustre then acquired will be 
 durable." 
 
 There is, however, one in No. 11, 
 which is blown up into such tumidity as 
 to be truly ludicrous. The writer means 
 to tell us that Members of Parliament, 
 who have run in debt by extravagance, 
 will sell their votes to avoid an arrest \\, 
 which he thus expresses : — " They who 
 build houses and collect costly pictures 
 and furnitures, with the money of an 
 
 § It were to be wished that he had imitated 
 that great man in every respect, and had not 
 followed the example of Dr. Adam Smith, in 
 ungraciously attacking his venerable Alma 
 Mater, Oxford. It must, however, be ob- 
 served, that he is much less to blame than 
 Smith : he only objects to certain particulars; 
 Smith to the whole institution ; though in- 
 debted for much of his learning to an exhibi- 
 tion which he enjoyed, for many years, at 
 Baiiol College. Ne'ither of them, however, 
 will do any hurt to the noblest university in 
 the world. While I animadvert on what ap- 
 pears to me exceptionable in some qT the 
 works of Dr. Knox, i cannot refuse d ue praise 
 to others of his productions; particularly his 
 sermons, an<l to the spirit with which he 
 maintains, against presumptuous hereticks, 
 the consolatory doctrmes peculiar to the Chris- 
 tian Revelatio"n. This he has done in a man- 
 ner equally8trcnuou$ and conciliating. Neither 
 ought I to omit mentioning a remarkable in- 
 stance of his candour: notwithstanding the 
 wide difiVrence of our opinions, upon the ith- 
 nortant subject of University education, in a 
 letter to me concerning this Work, he thug 
 expresses himself: " 1 thank you for the very 
 grtut entertainment jour Life of Johnson 
 gives me. It is a most valuable work. Yours 
 IS a new species of biography. Happy for 
 Johnson that he had so able a recorder of hit 
 wit and wisdom." 
 
 II Dr. Knox, in his " Moral and Literary" 
 ab:tlraction, niay be excused for not knowiug 
 the political regulations of his country, No 
 senator can be in the hands of a bailiff. 
 
IEtat. 75. 
 
 honest artisan or mechanick, will be very 
 glad of emancipation from the hands of 
 a bailiff by a sale of their senatorial suf- 
 frage." 
 
 Bnt I think the most perfect imitation 
 of Johnson is a professed one, entitled 
 *' A Criticism on Gray's Elegy in a 
 Country Churchyard," said to be written 
 by Mr. Young, Professor of Greek, at 
 Glasgow, and of which let him have the 
 credit, nnless a better title can be shown. 
 It has not only the particularities of 
 Johnson's style, but that very species of 
 literary discussion and illustration for 
 which he was eminent. Having already 
 quoted so much from others, I shall refer 
 the curious to this performance, with an 
 assurance of much entertainment. 
 
 Yet, whatever merit there may be in 
 any imitations of Johnson's style, every 
 good judge must see that they are obvi- 
 ously different from the original ; for all 
 of them are either deficient in its force, 
 or overloaded with its peculiarities ; and 
 the powerful sentiment to which it is 
 suited is not to be found. 
 
 Johnson's affection for his departed re- 
 lations seemed to grow warmer as he 
 approached nearer to the time when he 
 might hope to see them again. It pro- 
 bably appeared to him that he should 
 upbraid himself with unkind inattention, 
 were he to leave the world without hav- 
 ing paid a tribute of respect to their 
 memory. 
 
 '•' TO MR. GREEX, APOTHECARY, AT 
 
 LICHFIELD*. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 *' I HAVE enclosed the Epitaph for my 
 Father, Mother, and Brother, to be all 
 engraved on the large size, and laid in 
 the middle aisle in St. Michael's church, 
 which I request the clergy man and church- 
 wardens to permit. 
 [ " The lirst care must be to find the 
 ' exact place of interment, that the stone 
 may protect the bodies. Then let the 
 stone be deep, massy, and hard ; and do 
 not let the difference of ten pounds, or 
 more, defeat our purpose. 
 
 " I have enclosed ten pounds, and 
 Mrs. Porter will pay you ten more, 
 which I gave her for the same purpose. 
 What more is wanted shall be sent ; and 
 I beg that all possible haste may be made, 
 for 1 wish to have it done while I am yet 
 alive. Let me know, dear sir, that you 
 receive this. 
 
 " I am, SIR, 
 " Your most humble servant, 
 " Sam. Johnsok." 
 " December 2, 1784." 
 
 * See p. 310. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. C09 
 
 TO MRS. LUCV PORTER, IN LICHFIELD t. 
 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " I AM very ill, and desire your prayers. 
 I have sent Mr. Green the Epitaph, and 
 a power to call on you for ten pounds. 
 
 '* I laid this summer a stone over Tetty, 
 in the chapel of Bromley, in Kent. The 
 inscription is in Latin, of which this is 
 the English. [Here a translation.] 
 
 " That this is done I thought it fit that 
 you should know. What care will be 
 taken of us, who can tell? May God 
 pardon and bless us, for Jesus Christ's 
 sake. I am, &c. 
 
 " Dec. 2, 1781." " Sam. Johnson." 
 
 My readers are now, at last, to behold 
 Samuel Johnson preparing himself for 
 that doom, from which the most exalted 
 powers afford no exemption to man. 
 Death had always been to him an object 
 of terrour ; so that, though by no means 
 happy, he still clung to life with an eager- 
 ness at which many have wondered. At 
 any time when he was ill, he was verv 
 much pleased to be told that he looked 
 better. An ingenious member of the 
 Eumelian CluhX informs me, that upon 
 one occasion, when he said to him that 
 he saw health returning to his cheek, 
 Johnson seized him by the hand and ex- 
 claimed, " Sir, you are one of the kindest 
 friends I ever had." 
 
 His own statement of his views of fu- 
 turity will appear truly rational ; and 
 may, perhaps, impress the unthinking 
 with seriousness. 
 
 " You know § (says he), I never thought 
 confidence with respect to futurity any 
 part of the character of a brave, a wise, 
 or a good man. Bravery has no place 
 where it can avail nothing ; wisdom im- 
 presses strongly the consciousness of those 
 faults, of which it is, perhaps, itself an 
 aggravation ; and goodness, always wish- 
 ing to be better, and imputing every de- 
 ficience to criminal negligence, and every 
 fault to voluntary corruption, never dares 
 to suppose the condition of forgiveness 
 fulfilled, nor what is wanting in the crime 
 supplied by penitence. 
 
 " This is the state of the best ; but what 
 
 t [This lady, whose name so freqiienlly oc- 
 curs in the course of this work, survivecf Dr. 
 Johnson jiist thirteen months. Slie died at 
 Lichfield in her seventy-first year, January M, 
 1786, and bequeathed the principal part of lier 
 foruine to the Rev. Mr. Pearson, of Lichfield. 
 M.] 
 
 X A Clul) in London, founded by the learned 
 and ingenious physician, Dr. Ash, in honour 
 of whose name it was called Eumelian, from 
 the Greek EvixsKiotg : though it was warmly 
 contended, and even put to a vote, that it 
 should have the more obvious appellation of 
 Fraxinean, from the Latin. 
 
 § Mrs. Thrale'» Collection, March 10, 1784. 
 Vol.ii. p. 3. 
 
 RR 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 GIO 
 
 must be llie condition of him whose heart 
 will notsnfter him to rank himself among 
 the best or among the good? Such must 
 be his dread of the approaching trial as 
 will leave him little attention to the opi- 
 nion of those whom he is leaving for 
 ever ; and the serenity that is not felt, it 
 can be no virtue to feign." 
 
 His great fear of death, and the strange 
 dark manner in which Sir John Haw- 
 kins imparts the uneasiness which he 
 expressed on account of offences with 
 which he charged himself, may give oc- 
 casion to injurious suspicions, as if there 
 had been something of more than ordi- 
 nary criminality weighing upon his con- 
 science. On that account, therefore, as 
 well as from the regard to truth which he 
 inculcated *, I am to mention (with all 
 possible respect and delicacy, however), 
 that his conduct, after he came to Lon- 
 don, and had associated with Savage and 
 others, was not so strictly virtuous, in 
 one respect, as when he was a younger 
 man. It was well known, that his amor- 
 ous inclinations were uncommonly strong 
 and impetuous. He owned to many of 
 his friends, that he used to take women 
 of the town to taverns, and hear them 
 relate their history. — In short, it must 
 not be concealed, that, like many other 
 good and pious men, among whom we 
 may place the apostle Paul upon his 
 own authority, Johnson was not free 
 from propensities which were ever 
 " warring against the law of his mind," 
 — and that in his combats with them he 
 was sometimes overcome. 
 
 Here let the profane and licentious 
 pause ; let them not thoughtlessly say 
 that Johnson was a hypocrite, or that 
 his principles were not firm, because his 
 practice was not uniformly conformable 
 to what he professed. 
 
 Let the question be considered inde- 
 pendent of moral and religious associa- 
 tions ; and no man will deny that thou- 
 sands, in many instances, act against 
 conviction. Is a prodigal, for example, 
 a hypocrite, when he owns he is satis- 
 tied that his extravagance will bring him 
 to ruin and misery? We are sure he 
 believes it; but immediate inclination, 
 strengthened by indulgence, prevails over 
 that belief in influencing his conduct. 
 Why then shall credit be refused to the 
 sincerity of those who acknowledge their 
 persuasion of moral and religious duty, 
 yet sometimes fail of living as it requires? 
 I heard Dr. Johnson once observe, 
 '* There is something noble in publishing 
 truth, though it condemns one's selff." 
 
 * Sec what he saiil to Mr. Malone, p. 18, 19. 
 
 t Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3(1 edit, 
 p. >'09. On the same subject, in his Letter to 
 Mrs. Thrale, dated Nor. '29, 1783, he niakcB 
 
 173<^|| 
 
 And one who said in his presence " h~ 
 had no notion of people being in earnest 
 in their good professions, whose practice 
 was not suitable to them," was thus re- 
 primanded by him : — " Sir, are you so 
 grossly ignorant of human nature as not 
 to know that a man may be very sincere 
 in good principles, without having good 
 practice* ?" 
 
 But let no man encourage or soothe 
 himself in ** presumptuous sin," from 
 knowing that Johnson was sometimes 
 hurried into indulgences which he thought 
 criminal. I have exhibited this circum- 
 stance as a shade in so great a character, 
 both from my sacred love of truth, and 
 to show that he was not so weakly scru- 
 pulous as he has been represented by 
 those who imagine that the sins, of which 
 a deep sense was upon his mind, were 
 merely such little venial trifles as pour* 
 ing milk into his tea on Good Friday. 
 His understanding will be defended by 
 my statement, if his consistency of con- 
 duct be in some degree impaired. But 
 what wise man would, for momentary 
 gratifications, deliberately subject him- 
 self to sutler such uneasiness as we find 
 was experienced by Johnson in review- 
 ing his conduct as compared with his 
 notion of the ethicks of the gospel? Let 
 the following passages be kept in remem- 
 brance : ** O God, giver and preserver of 
 all life, by whose power I was created, 
 and by whose providence I am sustained, 
 look down upon me with tenderness and 
 mercy ; grant that I may not have been 
 created to be finally destroyed ; that 
 I may not be preserved to add wicked- 
 ness to wickedness +." — " O Lord, 
 let me not sink into total depravity ; 
 look down upon me, and rescue me at 
 last from the captivity of sinj." — " Al- 
 mighty and most merciful Father, who 
 hast continued my life from year to year, 
 grant that by longer life I may become 
 less desirous of sinful pleasures, and more 
 careful of eternal happiness^." — " Let 
 not my years be multiplied to increase 
 my guilt; but as my age advances, let 
 me become more pure in my thoughts, 
 more regular in my desires, and more 
 obedient to thy laws)!."— " Forgive, O 
 merciful Lord, whatever I have done con- 
 trary to thy laws. Give me such a sense 
 
 the following Just observation: " Life, to he 
 worthy of a rational being, must be always in 
 proy;rt:iision; we must always purpose to do 
 more or better than in time past. The mind 
 \i eniareed and elevated by mere purposes, 
 tliouRh ihey end *?-they began, by airy con- 
 templation. We comftare and judge, ihou$h 
 we do not practi.-te." 
 
   Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3d edit, 
 p. 374. 
 
 + Prayers and IVIeditations, p. 47. 
 
 X Ibid. p. C8. § Ibid. p. 81. 
 
 II ibid. p. 120. 
 
^TAT. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 Oil 
 
 of my wickedness as may produce true 
 contrition and effectual repentance ; so 
 that wlien I shall be called into another 
 state, I may be received among the sin- 
 ners to whom sorrow and reformation 
 have obtained pardon, for Jesus Christ's 
 sake. Amen*." 
 
 Such was the distress of mind, such 
 the penitence of Johnson, in his hours of 
 privacy, and in his devout approaches to 
 his Maker. His sincerity, therefore, 
 must appear to every candid mind un- 
 questionable. 
 
 It is of essential consequence to keep 
 in view, that there was in this excellent 
 man's conduct no false principle of com^ 
 mutation, no diliherate indulgence in 
 sin, in consideration of a counterbalance 
 of duty. His offending and his repenting 
 were distinct and separatef: and when 
 we consider his almost unexampled at- 
 tention to truth, his inflexible integrity, 
 liis constant piety, who will dare to 
 ** cast a stone at him ?" Besides, let it 
 never be forgotten, that he cannot be 
 charged with any offence indicating bad- 
 ness of heart, any thing dishonest, base, 
 or malignant ; but that, on the contrary, 
 lie was charitable in an extraordinary 
 degree : so that even in one of his own 
 rigid judgments of himself (Easter Eve, 
 1781), while he says " I have corrected 
 no external habits ;" he is obliged to 
 own, " I hope that since my last com- 
 munion I have advanced, by pious re- 
 flections, in my submission to God and 
 my benevolence to man j." 
 
 I am conscious that this is the most 
 difficult and dangerous part of my bio- 
 graphical work, and I cannot but be very 
 anxious concerning it. I trust that I 
 have got through it, preserving at once 
 my regard to truth,— to my friend, — and 
 to the interests of virtue and religion. 
 Nor can I apprehend that more harm can 
 ensue from the knowledge of the irregu- 
 larities of Johnson, guarded as I have 
 stated it, than from knowing that Addi- 
 son and Parnell were intemperate in the 
 nse of wine ; which he himself, in his 
 Lives of those celebrated writers and 
 pious men, has not forborne to record. 
 
 It is not my intention to give a very 
 minute detail of the particulars of John- 
 son's remaining days, of whom it wa,s 
 now evident, that the crisis was fast ap- 
 proaching when he must " die like men, 
 and fall like one of the princes." Yet 
 
   Prayers and Meditations, p. iso. 
 
 t Dr. Johnson related, witli very earnest 
 approhation, a story of a gentleman, who, ii> 
 an impulse of passion, overcame the virtue 
 of a young woman. When she said to him, 
 *' I am afraid we have done wrong !" h« an- 
 swered, "Yes, we have done wrong;— for 1 
 would not debaxich her mind.^^ 
 
 t Prayers and Meditations, p. 192. 
 
 it will be instructive, as well as gratify- 
 ing to the curiosity of my readers, to 
 record a few circumstances, on the au- 
 thenticity of which they may perfectly 
 rely, as I have been at the utmost pains 
 to obtain an accurate account of his last 
 illness, from the best authority. 
 
 Dr. Heberden, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. 
 Warren, and Dr. Butter, physicians, ge- 
 nerously attended him, without accept- 
 ing any fees, as did Mr. Cruikshank, 
 surgeon ; and all that could be done from 
 professional skill and ability was tried, 
 to prolong a life so truly valuable. He 
 himself, indeed, having, on account of 
 his very bad constitution, been perpetu- 
 ally applying himself to medical inqui- 
 ries, united his own efforts w ith those of 
 the gentlemen who attended him ; and 
 imagining that the dropsical collection 
 of water which oppressed him might be 
 drawn off by making incisions in his 
 body, he, with his usual resolute defiance 
 of pain, cut deep, when he thought that 
 his surgeon had done it too tenderly §. 
 
 About eight or ten days before his 
 death, when Dr. Brocklesby paid him 
 his morning visit, he seemed very low 
 and desponding, and said, " I have been 
 as a dying man all night." He then 
 emphatically broke out in the words of 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 " Canst thou not minister to a mind dis- 
 eased ; 
 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain; 
 
 And, with some swt-et oblivious antidote. 
 
 Cleanse the stuff 'd bosom of thai perilous 
 stuff. 
 
 Which weighs upon the heart?'' 
 
 To which Dr. Brocklesby readily 
 swered from the same great poet : 
 
 tn- 
 
 - therein tlie patient 
 
 Must minister to himseiC' 
 Johnson expressed himself much satisfied 
 with the application. 
 
 On another day, after this, when talk- 
 ing on the subject of prayer. Dr. Brock- 
 lesby repeated from Juvenal, 
 
 " Orandum at, ut sit mens sana in corpore 
 sano,^' 
 
 and so on to the end of the tenth satire ; 
 but in running it quickly over, he hap*, 
 pened, in the line, 
 •' Qui spalin7ii vilce extremnm inter munera 
 pona (,'''' 
 
 § This bold experiment, Sir John Hawkins 
 has related in such a manner as to suggest a 
 charge against Johnson of intentiouafly has- 
 tening his end ; a charge so very inconsistent 
 with his character in every respect that it is 
 injurious even to refute it, as Sir John has 
 thought it necessary to do. It is evident, that 
 what Johnson did in hopes of relief indicateil 
 an extraordinary eagerHCSs to retard his dis- 
 solution. 
 
612 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 to pronounce supremuin for extremum ; 
 at which Johnson's critical ear instantly 
 took offence, and discoursing vehemently 
 on the nnmetrical effect of such a lapse, 
 he showed himself as full as ever of the 
 spirit of the grammarian. 
 
 Having no other relations*, it had 
 been for some time Johnson's intention 
 to make a liberal provision for his faith- 
 ful servant, Mr. Francis Barber, whom 
 he looked upon as particularly under his 
 protection, and whom he had all along 
 treated truly as an humble friend. Hav- 
 ing asked Dr. Brocklesby what would be 
 a proper annuity to a favourite servant, 
 find being answered that it must depend 
 on the circumstances of the master ; and 
 that, in the case of a nobleman, fifty 
 pounds a year was considered as an ade- 
 quate reward for many years' faithful 
 service ; — " Then (said Johnson) shall I 
 be 7iobiHssimus, for I mean to leave 
 Frank seventy pounds a year, and I de- 
 sire you to tell him so." It is strange, 
 however, to think, that Johnson was not 
 free from that general weakness of being 
 averse to execute a will, so that he de- 
 layed it from time to time; and had it 
 not been for Sir John Hawkins's repeat- 
 edly urging it, I think it is probable that 
 his kind resolution would not have been 
 fulfilled. After making one, which, as 
 Sir John Hawkins informs us, extended 
 no further than the promised annuity, 
 Johnson's final disposition of his pro- 
 perty was established by a Will and 
 
 * [Tlie aiithonr in a former page has shown 
 the injiisrice of Sir John Hawkins's ciiarge 
 a;?ainst Julinson, with respect to a person of 
 ihe name of Heely, whom he has inaccurately 
 represented as a relation of Johnson's. See 
 p. 600.— That Jolinson was anxious to dis- 
 cover whether anv of his rehtiions were livino; 
 is evinced by the followina: letter, written not 
 lon^ before lie made his Will : 
 
 " TO THE REV. DR. VYSE, IN LAMBETH. 
 " SIR, 
 
 «' I AM desirous to know wJieiher Charles 
 Scrimshaw of Woodsease (I think), in your 
 father's neighbourhood, he now living; what 
 i« his conditiot), and where he may be found. 
 If you can conveniently make anv inquiry 
 about him, and can do it w iihont delay, it will 
 be an act of great kindness to me, he being 
 very nearly related to me. I beg [vouj to 
 pardon this trouble. I am, sir, 
 
 ♦* Your most Inmilile servant, 
 
 *• Sam. Johnson." 
 " Bolt Court. Fleet Street, 
 Nov. 20, 1784.' 
 
 In conformity to the wi^h expressed in the 
 preceding letter, an inquiry was made, but no 
 descendants of Charles Scrimshaw or of his 
 sinters were discovered to be living. Dr. 
 Vvse informs me, that Dr. Johnson told him, 
 ""he was disappointed in the inquiries he had 
 made after his relations." There is therefore 
 no ifroiind whatsoever for su|)posing that he 
 Mas iinniin<lful of thcDi, or iieglected tiiem. 
 M.j 
 
 Codicil, of which copies are subjoin- 
 ed f. 
 
 f " Is THE NAME OF GOD. AmEN. I, SaMIEL 
 
 Johnson, being in full possession of my facul- 
 ties, but fearing' this night inav put an end to 
 my life, do ordain this my last Will and Tes- 
 tament. I bequeath to God a soul polluted 
 by many sins, but I hope purified by Jesus 
 Christ. — I leave seven hundred and fifty 
 pounds in the hands of Bennet l.angton. Esq,'; 
 three hundred pounds in the hands of Mr. 
 Barclay and Mr. Perkins, brewers: one hun- 
 flred and fifty pounds in the hands of Dr. Perrv, 
 Bishop of Dromore; one thousand pounds, 
 three percent, annuities in the publick funds; 
 and one hundred pounds now lying by me in 
 ready money: all these before mentioned 
 sums and property I leave, I say, to Sir Jo- 
 shua Reynolds, Sir John Hawkins, and Dr. 
 William Scott, of Doctors' Commons, in trust, 
 for the following uses:— That is to sav, to pav 
 to the representatives of the late "William 
 Innys, bookseller, in St. I'anl's Church Yard, 
 the sum of two hundred pounds; to Mrs. 
 W'hite, my female servant, one hundred 
 pounds stock in the three per cent, annuities 
 aforesaid. The rest of the aforesaid sums of 
 money and property, together wiih my books, 
 plate, and household furniture, I leave to the 
 before mentioned Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir 
 John Hawkins, and Dr. William Scott, also 
 in trust, to he applied, after paying my debts, 
 to the use of Francis Barber, my nian servant, 
 a negro, in such a manner as thev shall judge 
 most fit and available to his benefit. And" I 
 appoint the afoiesaid Sir Joshua Uevnolds, 
 Sir John Hawkins, and Dr. W illiara" Scott, 
 sole executors of this my last Will and Testa- 
 ment, hereby revoking all former wills and 
 testaments whatever. In witness whereof, 1 
 hereunto subscrihe my name, and affix my 
 seal this eighth day of^ December, 1784. 
 
 ""Sam. Johnson, (L.S.) 
 " Signed, sealed, published, declared, and 
 delivered, by the said testator, as his 
 last Will and Testament, in the pre- 
 sence of us, the word two being first 
 inserted in the opposite page. 
 
 " George Strahan. 
 '♦ John Desmoulins." 
 
 " By wa)' of Codicil to my last Will and 
 Testament, I. Samcel Johnson, give, devise, 
 and bequeath, my messuage or tenement 
 situate at Lichfield, in the county of Stafford, 
 with the appurtenances in the tenure and oc- 
 cupation of Mrs. Bond, of Lichfield aforesaid, 
 or of Mr. Hinchman, her under tenant, to mv 
 executors, in trust, to sell and dispose of the 
 same; and the money arising from such sale 
 I give and bequeath as follows, viz. to Tho- 
 mas anri Benjamin, the sons of Fisher John- 
 son, late of "Leicester, and Whiting, 
 
 daughter of Thomas Johnson, late of Coven- 
 try, and the grandaughter of the said Thomas 
 Johnson, one full and equal fourth part each; 
 but in case there shall be more grandauiifhters 
 than one, of the said Thomas Johnson, 'living 
 at the time of my decease, I give and be- 
 queath the part or share of that one to and 
 equally between snch grandanghters. I give 
 and bequeath to the Rev. Mr. Rogers, of 
 Berkley, near Fronie, in the county of Somer- 
 set, the sum of one hundred pounds, request- 
 ing him to apply the same towards the main- 
 teiiance of Elizabeth Heme, a lunatick. I also 
 gi\e and bequeath to my godchildren, the son 
 and daughter of iMaurilius Lowe, painter, 
 each of them one hundred pounrls of my 
 stork in the three per cen/.consoli<lated annu'- 
 ities, to be applied and disposed of by and at 
 
^TAT. 75. THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 The consideration of numerous papers 
 of vvhicli he was possessed seems to have 
 
 the discretion of my executors, in the educa- 
 tion or settlement in the world of them my 
 said legatees. Also I give and bequeath to 
 Sir John Hawkins, one of my executors, the 
 Annales Ecclesiastici of Baronius, and Holin- 
 shed's and Stowe's Chronicles, and also an 
 octavo Common Prayer Book. To Bennet 
 Lancfton, Esq. I give and bequeath my Folv- 
 siot Bible. To Sir Joshua Reynolds, my great 
 French Dictionary, by Martiniere, and my 
 own copy of my folio English Dictionary, of 
 the last revision. To Dr. William Scott, one 
 of my Executors, the Dictionnaire de Com- 
 merce, and Lectius's edition of the Greek 
 Poets. To Mr. Windham, Poetat Grseci He- 
 roici per Henricum Stephanum. To the Rev. 
 Mr. Strahan, vicar of Islington, in Middle-ex, 
 Mill's Greek Testament, Beza's Greek Testa- 
 ment, by Stephen?', all my Latin Bibles, and 
 my Greek Bible, by Wechelius. To Dr. He- 
 berden. Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Butter, and Mr. 
 Cruikshank, the surgeon who attended me, 
 Mr. Holder, inv apothecary, Gerard Hamil- 
 ton, Esq. Mrs. Gardiner, of Snow Hill, Mrs. 
 Frances Reynolds, Mr. Hoole, and the Reve- 
 rend Mr. Hoole, his son, each a book at their 
 election, to keep as a token of remembrance. 
 I also give and bequeath to Mr. John Des- 
 moulins, two hundred pounds consolidated 
 three per cent, annuities: and to Mr. Sastres, 
 the Italian Master, the sum of five pounds, to 
 be laid out in books of piety for his own use. 
 And wliereas (he said Bennet Langton hatli 
 agreed, in consideration of the sum of seven 
 hundred and fifty pounds, mentioned in my 
 will to be in his hands, to grant and secure 
 an annuity of seventy pounds payable during 
 the life of me and my seivant, Francis Ber- 
 ber, and the life of the survivor of us, to Mr. 
 George Siubhs in trust for us; my mind and 
 will is, that in case of my decease before the 
 said agreement shall be perfected, the said 
 sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds, and 
 the bond for securing rhe said sum, (hall go 
 to the said Francis Barber ; and I hereby give 
 and bequeath to him the same, in lieu ot the 
 bequest in his favour, contained in my said 
 will. And I hereby empower my Executors 
 to deduct and retain all expenses that shall 
 or may be incurred in the execution of my 
 said Will, or of this Codicil thereto, out of 
 such estate and effects as I shall die possessed 
 of. All the rest, residue, and remainder of 
 my estate and effects 1 give and bequeath to 
 my said execu:;or*, in trust for the said Fran- 
 cis Barber, liis Executors, and Administra- 
 tor*. Witness my hand and seal, this ninth 
 ■<lay of December, 1784. 
 
 " Sam. Johnson, (L. S.) 
 ■•' Signed, sealed, published, declared, and 
 delivered, by the said Samuel Johnson, 
 as and for a Codicil to his last Will 
 and Testament, in the presence of us, 
 who, in his presence, and at his re- 
 <iuest, and also in the presence of each 
 other, have hereunto subscribed our 
 names as witnesses. 
 
 " John Copkly. 
 *' William Gibson. 
 " Henry Cole." 
 
 Upon these testamentary deeds it is proper 
 to make a few observations. 
 
 His express declaration with his dyins 
 breath as a Christian, as it had often been 
 practised in such solemn writings, was of 
 r«al consequence from this great man, for the 
 conviction of a mind equally acute and strong 
 might well overbalance the doubts of others 
 
 G13 
 
 struck Johnson's mind witli a sudden 
 anxiety, and as they were in great con- 
 
 vvho were his contemporaries. The expres- 
 sion polluted may, to some, convey an impres> 
 sion of more than ordinary cont:imination; 
 but that is not warranted by its genuine 
 meaningj as appears from " 1 he Rambler," 
 No. 42. The same word is used in the will of 
 Dr. Sanderson, Bishop of Lincoln, who \va* 
 piety itsfclf. 
 
 His legacy of two hundred pounds to the 
 representatives of Mr. Innys, bookseller, in 
 St. Paul's Church Yard, proceeded from a 
 very worthy motive. He told Sir John Haw. 
 kins, that his father having become a bank- 
 rupt, Mr. Innys had assisted him with money 
 on credit to continue his business. " '\'\\ii 
 (said he) I consider as an obligation on me to 
 be t-rateful to his descendants." 
 
 The amount of his property proved to be 
 considerably more than he had suppoied it to 
 be. Sir John Hawkins estimates the bequest 
 to Francis Barber at a sum little short of fif- 
 teen hundred pounds, including an annuity 
 of seventy pounds to be paid to him by Mr. 
 Langton, in consideration of seven hundred 
 and fifty pounds, which Johnson had lent to 
 that gentleman. Sir John seems not a little 
 angry at this bequest, and mutters « a caveat 
 against oi^tentatious bounty and favour to 
 negroes." But surely when a man has money 
 entirely of his own' acquisition, especially 
 when he has no near relations, he may, with- 
 out blame, dispose of it as he pleases, and 
 with great propriety to a faithful servant. 
 Mr. Barber, by the recommendation of his 
 master, retired to Lichfield, where he might 
 pass the rest of his days in comfort. 
 
 It has been objected that Johirson has omit- 
 ted many of his best friend.*, when leavinsf 
 books to several as tokens of his last remem- 
 brance. The names of Dr. Adams, Dr. Tay- 
 lor, Dr. Burnoy, Mr. Hector, Mr. Murphy, ttie 
 authour of this work, and others who were 
 intimate with him, are not to be found in his 
 Will. This may be accounted for by consi- 
 dering that, as he was very near his dissolu- 
 tion at that time, he probably mentione<l such 
 as happened to occur to him; and that he 
 may have recollected, that he had formerly 
 shown others such proofs of his regard that 
 it was not necessary to crowd his Will with 
 their names. Mrs. Lucy Porter was much 
 displeased that nothing was left to her ; but 
 besides what 1 have now stated, she should 
 have considered, that she had left nothing to 
 Johnson by her Will, which was made during 
 his lifetime, as appeared at her decease. 
 
 His enumerating several persons in one 
 group, and leaving them " each a book at 
 their election," might possibly have given 
 occatiion to a curious question as to the order 
 of choice, had they not luckily fixed on dif- 
 ferent books. His library, though by no 
 means handsome in its appearance, was sold 
 by Mr. Christie, for two hundred and forty- 
 seven pounds nine shillings; many people 
 being aesiious to have a book which had be- 
 longed to Johnson. In many of them he had 
 written little notes: sometimes tender memo- 
 rials of his departed wife; as, " This was dear 
 Tettv's book:" sometimes occasional remarks 
 of different sorts. Mr- Lysons, of Clifford's 
 Inn, has favoured me with the two following: 
 
 In "Holy Rules and Helps to Devotion* 
 by Bryan Duppa, Lord Bi-hop of Winton," 
 " Preces quidam videtur diligenlur tractaise,- 
 spero non iuauditus." 
 
 In " The Rosicrucian infallible Axiomata, 
 by John Heydon, Gent." prefixed to which 
 are some verses addressed to the authouc 
 
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 614 
 
 fusion, it is much to be lamented that he 
 had not intrusted some faithful and dis- 
 creet person with the care and selection 
 of them ; instead of which, he, in a pre- 
 cipitate manner, burned large masses of 
 them, with little regard, as I apprehend, 
 to discrimination. Not that I suppose 
 we have thus been deprived of any com- 
 positions whicli he had ever intended for 
 the publick eye ; but from what escaped 
 the flames, I judge that many curious cir- 
 cumstances, relating both to himself and 
 ot'.ier literary characters, have perished. 
 
 Two very valuable articles, I am sure, 
 we have lost, which were two quarto 
 volumes, containing a full, fair, and most 
 particular account of his own life, from 
 his earliest recollection. I owned to him 
 that, having accidentally seen them, I had 
 read a great deal in them ; and, apolo- 
 gizing for the liberty I had taken, asked 
 him if I could help it. He placidly an- 
 swered, ** Why, sir, I do not think you 
 could have helped it." I said that I had, 
 for once in my life, felt half an inclina- 
 tion to commit theft. It had come into 
 my mind to carry olf those two volumes, 
 and never see him more. Upon my 
 inquiring how this would have affected 
 him, " Sir (said he), I believe I should 
 have gone mad *." 
 
 During his last illness, Johnson expe- 
 rienced the steady and kind attachment 
 of his numerous friends. Mr. Hoole has 
 drawn up a narrative of what passed in the 
 
 signed Amhr. Waters, A. !\I. Coil. Oxon. 
 " These Latin verses were wrilttn to Hobbcs ! 
 hy Bathnrst upon his Treatise on Human 
 
 ■Aattire, and have no relation to the book. 
 
 An oddfraud.''^ 
 
 [Francis Barber, Dr. Johnson's principal 
 legatee, died in the infirmary at Siaflfbrd, 
 after undergoing a painful operation, Feb. 13, 
 1801. M.] 
 
 * One of these volumes. Sir John Hawkins 
 informs ns, be put into his pockei; for which 
 tlie excuse he states i*, ihat he meant to pre- 
 fierve it from falling into the hamlsof a person 
 whom he describes so as to make it suffici- 
 ently clear who is meant; " having strong 
 reasons (said he) to suspect that this man 
 might find and make an ill use of the book." 
 Why Sir John should suppose that the gentle- 
 man alluded to would act in this manner, he 
 has not thought fit to explain. But what he 
 did was not approved of by Johnson; who, 
 upon being acquainted of it without delay by 
 a friend^ expressed great indignation, and 
 warmly insisted on the book being delivered 
 up; aiid, afterwards, in the supposition of his 
 missing it, without knowing by whom it had 
 been taken, he said, " Sir, l shouhl have 
 gone out ot the world distiusting half man- 
 kind." Sir John next day wrote a letter to 
 Johnson, assigning reasons for his conduct; 
 upon which Johnson observed to Mr. Langlon. 
 " Bishop Sanderson could not have dictated 
 a better letter. I could almost say, Melius 
 est sic pceniluisse quam non eiTasse.*^ The 
 auitatiori into which Johnson was thrown by 
 this incident probably made him hastily burn 
 those precious records which must ever be 
 rejretted. 
 
 1784. 
 
 visits which he paid him during that time, 
 from the 10th of November to the 13th of 
 December, the day of his death, inclusive, 
 and has favoured me with a perusal of it, 
 with permission to make extracts, which 
 I have done. Nobody was more atten- 
 tive to him than Mr. Langtonf, to whom 
 he tenderly said, Te teneam moriens 
 deficiente manu. And I think it highly 
 to the honour of Mr. Windham, that his 
 important occupations as an active states- 
 man did not prevent him from paying 
 assiduous respect to the dying Sage 
 whom he revered. Mr. Laugton informs 
 me, that, *' one day he found Mr. Burke 
 and four or five more friends sitting with 
 Johnson. Mr. Burke said to him, * I am 
 afraid, sir, such a number of us may be 
 oppressive to you.' — * No, sir (said John- 
 son), it is not so; and I must be in a 
 wretched state, indeed, when your com- 
 pany would not be a delight to me.' 
 Mr. Burke in a tremulous voice, expres- 
 sive of being very tenderly affected, re- 
 plied, * My dear sir, you have always 
 been too good to me.' Immediately af- 
 terwards he went away. This was the 
 last circumstance in the acquaintance of 
 those two eminent men." 
 
 The following particulars of his conver- 
 sation within a few days of his death, I 
 give on the authority of Mr. John Ni- 
 chols j : 
 
 t [Mr. Langton, whose name so often oc- 
 curs in these volumes, survived Johnson seve- 
 ral years. He died at Southampton, Dec. 18, 
 1801. M.l 
 
 I On the same undoubted authority, I give 
 a few articles, which should have been in- 
 serted in chronological order; but which, 
 now that they are before me, I should be 
 sorrv to omit: 
 
 •* In 1736, Dr. Johnson had a particular in- 
 clination to have been engaged as an assist- 
 ant to the Reverend Mr. Budworth, then head 
 master of the Grammar School, at Brewood, 
 in Staffordshire, 'an excellent person, wlio 
 possessed everv talent of a perfect instructor 
 of youth, in a degree wliich (to use the words 
 of one of the brightest ornaments of litera- 
 ture, the Reverend Dr. Hurd, Bi>hop of Wor-. 
 cester) has been rarely found in any of that 
 profession since the days of Quintilian.' Mr. 
 Budworth, ' who was less known in his life- 
 time, from that obscure situation to which the 
 caprice of fortune oft condemns the most ac- 
 complished characters, than his highest merit 
 deserve<l,' had been bred under Mr. Black- 
 well at Alarket Boswotth, where Johnson was 
 some time an usher; which might naturally 
 lead to the application. Mr. Budworth was 
 certainly no stranger to the learning or abili- 
 ties of Johnson, as he more than once lament- 
 ed his having been under the necessity of 
 declining the engagement, from an apprehen- 
 sion that the paralytick aflfection, under which 
 our great Philologist laboured through life, 
 might become the object of imitation or of 
 ridicule among his pupils." — Captain Bud- 
 worth, his grandson, has confirnteii to me this 
 anecdote. 
 
 " Among the early associates of Johnson 
 
.*TAT. 75. 
 
 He said, 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 CIS 
 
 that the Parliamentary 
 Debates were the only part of his wri- 
 tings which then gave him any compunc- 
 tion ; but that, at the time he wrote 
 them, he had no conception he was im- 
 posing upon the world, though they were 
 frequently written from very slender 
 materials, and often from none at all, — 
 the mere coinage of his own imagination. 
 He never wrote any part of his works 
 with equal velocity. Three columns of 
 the Magazine, in an hour, was no un- 
 common eflFort, which was faster than 
 most persons could have transcribed that 
 quantity. 
 
 *' Of his friend Cave he always spoke 
 with great affection. ' Yet (said he) 
 Cave (who never looked out of his win- 
 dow, but with a view to the Gentleman's 
 Magazine) was a penurious paymaster; 
 he would contract for lines by the hun- 
 dred, and expect the long hundred ; but 
 he was a good man, and always delighted 
 to have his friends at his table.' 
 
 " When talking of a regular edition of 
 his own works, he said, that he had 
 power (from the booksellers] to print 
 such an edition, if his health admitted 
 
 at St. John's Gate, was Samuel Boyse, well 
 known by his iueeniotis productions; and not 
 less noted for his impriulence. It was not 
 unusual for Boyse to be a customer to the 
 pawnbroker. Ou one of these occasions Dr. 
 Johnson collected a sum of money to redeem 
 his friend's clothes, which in two days after 
 were pawned again. • The sum (said John- 
 son) was collected by sixpences, at a time 
 when to me sixpence was a serious consider- 
 ation.' 
 
 " Speaking one day of a person for whom 
 he had a real friendship, but in whom vanity 
 was somewhat too predominant, he observed, 
 thiit * Kelly was so fond of displaying on his 
 sideboard the plate which he possessed that 
 he added to it his spurs. For my part (said 
 he), I never was master of a pair of spurs but 
 once; and they are now at the bottom of the 
 ocean. By the carelessness of Boswell's ser- 
 vant, they were dropped from the end of the 
 boat, on our return from the Isle of Sky.' " 
 
 The lale Reverend Mr. Samuel Badcock, 
 having been introduced to Dr. Johnson, by 
 Mr. Nichols, some years before his death, thus 
 expressed himself in a letter to that gentle- 
 man : 
 
 " How much I am obljoed to you for the 
 favour you did me in introducing me to Dr. 
 Johnson I Tantum vidi Virgilinm. But to 
 have seen him, and to have received a testi- 
 mony of respect from him, was enough, i 
 recollect all the conversation, and shall never 
 forget one of his expressions. — Speaking of 
 Dr. p*«*«*»* (whose writings, I saw. he 
 estimated at a low rate), he said, ' You nave 
 
 f)roved him as dedcient in probity as he is in 
 earning.'— 1 called him an ' Index scholar ;* 
 but he was not willing to allow him a claim 
 even to that merit. He said, ' that he bor- 
 rowed from those who had been borrowers 
 themselves, and did not know tbat the mis- 
 takes he adopted had been answered by 
 others.'— I often think of our short, but preci- 
 ous visit to this great man. I shall consider 
 it as a kind of a» era in my life." 
 
 but had no power to assign over any 
 edition, unless he could add notes, and 
 so alter them as to make them new 
 works ; which his state of health forbade 
 him to think of. * I may possibly live 
 (said he), or rather breathe three days, 
 or perhaps three weeks ; but find myself 
 daily and gradually weaker.' 
 
 " He said at another time, three or 
 four days only before his death, speak- 
 ing of the little fear he had of under- 
 going a chirurgical operation, * I would 
 give one of these legs for a year more of 
 life, I mean of comfortable life, not such 
 as that which I now suffer;' — and la- 
 mented much his inability to read during 
 his hours of restlessness. ' I used for- 
 merly (he added), when sleepless in bed, 
 to read like a Turk.' 
 
 " Whilst confined by his last illness, 
 it was his regular practice to have the 
 church service read to him, by some 
 attentive and friendly Divine. The Rev. 
 Mr. Hoole performed this kind oflice in 
 my presence for the last time, when, by 
 his own desire, no more than the litany 
 was read ; in which his responses were 
 in the deep and sonorous voice which 
 Mr. Boswell has occasionally noticed, 
 and with the most profound devotion that 
 can be iinagined. His hearing not being 
 quite perfect, he more than once inter- 
 rupted Mr. Hoole, with, ' Louder, my 
 dear sir, louder, I entreat you, or you 
 pray in vain!' — and, when the service 
 was ended, he, with great earnestness, 
 turned round to an excellent lady, who 
 was present, s.aying, * I thank you, ma- 
 dam, very heartily^ for your kindness in 
 joining me in this solemn exercise. Live 
 well, I conjure you ; and you will not 
 feel the compunction at the last which I 
 now feel.' " So truly humble were the 
 thoughts which this great and good man 
 entertained of his own approaches to 
 religious perfection. 
 
 '* He was earnestly invited to publish 
 a volume of Devotional Exercises ; but 
 this (though he listened to the proposal 
 with much complacency, and a large 
 sum of money was offered for it) he 
 declined, from motives of the sincerest 
 modesty. 
 
 ** He seriously entertained the thought 
 of translating Thuanus. He often talked 
 to me on the subject ; and once, in par- 
 ticular, when I was rather wishing that 
 he would favour the world, and gratify 
 his Sovereign, by a Life of Spenser 
 (which he said that he would readily 
 have done, had he been able to obtain 
 any new materials for the purpose), he 
 added, * I have been thinking again, sir, 
 of Thuanus: it would not be the labori- 
 ous task which you have supposed it. I 
 should have no trouble but that of die- 
 
GIG 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 tatiou, which would be performed as 
 speedily as an amanuensis could write.' " 
 It is to the mutual credit of Johnson 
 and Divines of different communions, 
 that although he was a steady Church of 
 England man, there was, nevertheless, 
 much agreeable intercourse between him 
 and them. Let me particularly name 
 the late Mr. La Trobe, and Mr. Hutton, 
 of the Moravian profession. His inti- 
 macy with the English Benedictines, at 
 Paris, has been mentioned ; and as an 
 additional proof of the charity in which 
 he lived with good men of the Romish 
 Church, I am happy in this opportunity 
 of recording his friendship with the 
 Reverend Thomas Hussey, D.D., His 
 Catholick Majesty's Chaplain of Em- 
 bassy at the Court of London, that very 
 respectable man, eminent not only for 
 his powerful eloquence as a preacher, but 
 for his various abilities and acquisitions. 
 — Nay, though Johnson loved a Presby- 
 terian the least of all, this did not pre- 
 vent hishavinga long and uninterrupted 
 social connection with the Reverend Dr. 
 James Fordyce, who, since his death, 
 hath gratefully celebrated him in a warm 
 strain of devotional composition. 
 
 Amidst the melancholy clouds which 
 hung over the dying Johnson, his charac- 
 teristical manner showed itself on differ- 
 ent occasions. 
 
 When Dr. Warren, in the usual style, 
 hoped that he was better; his answer 
 was, " No, sir ; yon cannot conceive 
 with what acceleration I advance towards 
 death." 
 
 A man whora he had never seen before 
 was employed one night to sit up with 
 him. Being asked next morning how 
 he liked his attendant, his answer was, 
 Not at all, sir: the fellow's an idiot; he 
 is as awkward as a turnspit when first 
 put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a 
 dormouse." 
 
 Mr. Windham having placed a pillow 
 conveniently to support liirn, he thanked 
 him for his kindness, and said, '* That 
 will do, — all that a pillow can do." 
 
 He repeated with great spirit a poem, 
 consisting of several stanzas, in four lines, 
 in alternate rhyme, which he said he had 
 composed some years before*, on occa- 
 sion of a rich, extravagant yuung gentle- 
 man's coming of age; si;t\iii<i he had 
 never repeated it but oiic:<j -iince he com- 
 
 * [In 17bO. See his Letter to Mrs. Tlirale, 
 dated Atifjusi 8, 1780: " You have heard in the 
 papers how ♦•♦is come to ajfe : I h.i\e 
 enclosed a short snni( ofcoug^rattilatinit, \«lik'h 
 VDU must not show to any body.— It is odd 
 ilrat it should come into any body's head. I 
 liope you will read it with candour; it is, I 
 l)( liev'e, one of the aulhour's first essays in 
 thill way of writin'/, and a bcjrinner is hIw«vs 
 to he trcati-d vMtli teii.leiiie<s." M.j 
 
 17S-J. 
 
 posed it, and had given but one copy of 
 it. That copy was given to Mrs. Thrale, 
 now Piozzi, who has published it in a 
 book which she entitles " British Svno- 
 nimy," but which is truly a collection of 
 entertaining remarks and stoiies, no mat- 
 ter whether accurate or not. Being a 
 piece of exquisite satire, conveyed in a 
 strain of pointed vivacity and humour, 
 and in a manner of which no other in- 
 stanoe is to be found in Johnson's wri- 
 tings, I shall here insert it : 
 
 Lons? expected one-and-twenty, 
 
 Ling-erin? year, at length is flown ; 
 Pride anil pleasure, pomp and plentv. 
 
 Great *** »*»», are now your owti. 
 Loosen'd from the Minor's tether. 
 
 Free to mort«:a§fe or to sell, 
 Wil<l as wind, and li?ht as feather, 
 
 Bid the sons of thrift farewell. 
 Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennie?, 
 
 All the names that banish care; 
 Lavish of your jjrandsiie's guineas. 
 
 Show the spirit of an heir. 
 Ail that prey on vice and folly, 
 
 Joy to see their quarry fly ;" 
 There the gamester, light and jollv. 
 
 There the lender, grave and sly." 
 Wealth, my lad, was made to wan-ler, 
 
 Let it wander as it will ; 
 Call the jockey, call the pander, 
 
 Bid them come and take their fili. 
 When the bonny blade carouses. 
 
 Pockets full, and spirits high— 
 What are acres! what are houses? 
 
 Only dirt, or wet or dry. 
 Should the guardian friend or mother 
 
 Tell the woes of wilful waste ; 
 Scorn their counsel, scoin their pother,— 
 
 You can hang or drown at last. 
 
 As he opened a note which his servant 
 brought to him, he said, " An odd thought 
 strikes me : — we shall receive no letters 
 in the grave." 
 
 He requested three things of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds : — To forgive him thirty pounds 
 which he had borrowed of him ; — to read 
 the Bible; — and never to use his pencil" 
 on a Sunday. Sir Joshua readily ac- 
 quiesced. 
 
 Indeed he showed the greatest anxiety 
 for the religious improvement of his 
 friends, to whom he discoursed of its 
 infinite consequence. He begged of Mr., 
 Hoole to think of what he had said, and 
 to commit it to writing ; and, upon being 
 afterwards assured that this was done, 
 pressed his hands, and in an earnest tone 
 thanked him. Dr. Brocklesby having 
 attended him with the utmost assiduity 
 and kindness as his physician and friend, 
 he was peculiarly desirous that this gen- 
 tleman shouki not entertain any loose 
 speculative notions, but be confirmed in 
 the truths of Christianity, and insisted 
 on his writing down in his presence, as 
 nearly as he could collect it, the import 
 of what passed on the subject; and Dr. 
 Brocklesby having complied with the 
 
/Etat. 75. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 request, he made him sign the paper, and 
 urged him to keep it in his own custody 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 Johnson, with that native fortitude 
 which, amidst all his bodily distress and 
 mental suffering, never forsook him, ask- 
 ed Dr. Brocklesby, as a man in whom 
 he had confidence, to tell him plainly 
 whether he could recover. ** Give me 
 (said he) a direct answer." The Doctor 
 having first asked him if he could bear 
 tlie whole truth, which way soever it 
 might lead, and being answered that he 
 could, declared that, in his opinion, he 
 could not recover without a miracle. 
 " Then (said Johnson) I will take no 
 more physick, not even my opiates ; for 
 I have prayed that I may ren<ler up my 
 soul to Gou unclouded." In this resolu- 
 tion he persevered, and, at the same 
 time, used only the weakest kinds of 
 sustenance. Being pressed by Mr. Wind- 
 ham to take somewhat more generous 
 nourishment, lest too low a diet should 
 have the very effect which he dreaded, 
 by debilitating his mind, he said, ** I 
 will take any thing but inebriating sus- 
 tenance." 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Strahan, who was 
 the son of his friend, and had been always 
 one of his great favourites, had, during 
 his last illness, the satisfaction of contri- 
 buting to soothe and comfort him. That 
 gentleman's house, at Islington, of which 
 he is Vicar, afforded Johnson, occa- 
 sionally and easily, an agreeable change 
 of place and fresh air ; and he attended 
 also upon him in town in the tlischarge 
 of the sacred offices of his profession. 
 
 Mr. Strahan has given me the agree- 
 able assurance that, after being in much 
 agitation, Johnson became quite com- 
 posed, and continued so till his death. 
 
 Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be sus- 
 pected of fanaticism, obliged me wiih 
 the following accounts : 
 
 " For some time before his death all 
 his fears were calmed and absorbed by 
 the prevalence of his faith, and his trust 
 in the merits and propitiation of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 " He talked often to me about the ne- 
 cessity of faith, in the sacrifice of Jesus, 
 as necessary beyond all good works 
 whatever for the salvation of mankind. 
 
 " He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke 
 and to read his sermons. I asked him 
 why he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian*. 
 
 * Tlie chiiiige of his sentiments with re-jard 
 to Dr. Clarke is thus moiuioucd to me in a 
 letter from the late Dr. Adams, Master of 
 Pembroke College, Oxford.—" The Doctor's 
 prejudices were tite sironjcest, and certainly 
 111 another sense the weakest that ever pos- 
 sessed a sensible man. You know his extreme 
 zeal for orthodoxy. But did you ever hear 
 
 617 
 
 ' Because (said he) he is fullest on the 
 propitiatory sacrifice.' " 
 
 Johnson having thus in his mind the 
 true Christian scheme, at once rational 
 and consolatory, uniting justice and mer- 
 cy in the Divinity, with the improve- 
 ment of human nature, previous to his 
 receiving the Holy Sacrament in ITis 
 apartment, composed and fervently ut- 
 tered this prayer t : 
 
 " Almighty and most merciful Father, 
 I am now, as to human eyes it seems, 
 about to commemorate for the last time, 
 the death of thy Son Jesus Christ, our 
 Saviour and Redeemer. Grant, O Lord, 
 that my whole hope and confidence may 
 be in his merits and thy mercy ; enforce 
 and accept my imperfect repentance; 
 make this commemoration available to 
 the confirmation of my faith, the estab- 
 lishment of my hope, and the enlarge- 
 ment of my charity ; and make liie 
 death of thy Son Jesus Christ effectual 
 to my redemption. Have mercy upon 
 me, and pardon the multitude of luy 
 oftVnces. Bless my friends ; have mercy 
 upon all men. Support me by thy Holy 
 Spirit in the days of weakness, and at 
 the hour of death ; and receive me at my 
 death to everlasting happiness, for the 
 sake of Jesus Christ. Amen." 
 
 Having, as has been already men- 
 tioned, made his will on the 8th and 9th 
 of December, and settled all his worldly 
 affairs, he languished till Monday, the 
 13th of that month, when he expired, 
 about seven o'clock in the evening, with 
 so little apparent pain that his attendants 
 hardly perceived when his dissolution 
 took place. 
 
 Of his last iTioments, my brother, Tho- 
 mas David, has furnished me with the 
 following particulars : 
 
 *' The Doctor, from the time that he 
 was certain his death was near, appeared 
 to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or 
 never fretful or out of temper, and often 
 said to his faithful servant, who gave me 
 this account, * Attend, Francis, to the 
 salvation of your soul, which is the ob- 
 ject of greatest importance:' he also 
 explained to him passages in the scrip- 
 
 what he told me himself? That he had made 
 it a rule not to admit Dr. Clarke's name in 
 his Dictionary. This, however, wore off. 
 At some distance of time he advi^ed with 
 n)e what books he should read in defence 
 of the Christian Religion. I recomuiendfd 
 ' Clarke's Evidences of Natural and Revealed 
 Religion,' as the be^t of the knid; and 1 find 
 in what is called his ' Prayt-rs and Medita- 
 tions,' that he was frequently employed in the 
 latter part of his time in reading Clarke s 
 Sermons." 
 
 t The RevereiMl Mr. Strahan took care to 
 have it preserved, and has inserted it in 
 " Pravers and Meditations," p. •^l-i. 
 
618 
 
 tdlk.ng upon religious subjects, 
 thp H." '^^^"['?>;' the 13th of December, 
 111? «"/vh.cli he died, a Miss Morris 
 daughter to a particular friend of his 
 
 helln r^ '^''^ -'^ ^•"«"^'^'' tl'at she 
 negged to be permitted to see the Doctor, 
 ^ivp t^ r^uf '^^••"estly request him to 
 his room r^i'^'""iV ^''^"^'^ >ventinto 
 ain Tv ' ^« '«,^ed by the young lady, 
 and delivered the message. The Doctor 
 'go'A "'"''•' *" the 'bed, and said 
 God bless you my dear!' These were 
 of tl ,7'''''^'- ''^ «P«ke.-His difficulty 
 of breathing increased till about seven 
 bpr^^nn'^Al^'' evening, when Mr. Bar- 
 be and Mrs. Desmoulins, who were 
 Mtting m the room, observing that the 
 
 TnVf'Vr^V" ^'•^^^'^'"g had ceased' 
 Avent to the bed, and found he was dead." 
 
 About two days after his death, the 
 following very agreeable account was 
 communicated to Mr. Malone, in a letter 
 by the Honourable John Byng, to whom 
 I am much obliged for graming me pe" 
 mission to introduce it in my work. 
 
 ^^ " DEAR SIR, 
 
 11?^^''^^ ^ ^^^ y®"» I have had a long 
 conversation with Cawston*, who sat up 
 witn ur. Johnson, from nine o'clock on 
 Sunday evening till ten o'clock on Mon- 
 
 2a?hp!"?'"'"^; . ^"^' ^•""•" ^^hat I can 
 gathei from him, it should seem, that 
 iJ». Johnson was perfectly composed, 
 lAP^ •'" ^^P®' ^"^ resigned to deafli. 
 A the interval of each hour they assisted 
 him to sit up in his bed, and move his 
 |egs, which were in much pain: when 
 be regularly addressed himself to fervent 
 fJK''^'*"^,^''*^"Sh sometimes his voice 
 th.t ti' i"* '^"'« "^^e'" ^'d during 
 cTJr'^' ^^^ ^"'y sustenance he re' 
 ceived was cider and water. He said 
 his mind was prepared, and the time to 
 ms dissolution seemed long. At six in 
 the morning, he inquired tlie hour, and 
 on being informed, said that all went on 
 legularly, and he felt he had but a few 
 Hours to live. 
 
 *' At ten o'clock in the mornina he 
 parted from Cawston, saying, 'You 
 should not detain Mr. Windham's ser 
 vant:— I thank you; bear my remem- 
 brance to your master.' Cawston says, 
 mat no man could appear more collected 
 more devout, or less terrified at the 
 "?"IV'.* ^f the approaching minute. 
 
 ihis account, which is so much more 
 agreeable than and somewhat different 
 ''■*^'V >?"*'*' ''^* eiven 118 the satisfaction 
 of lunking that that great man died as 
 be lived, full of resignation, strengthened 
 in faith, and joyful in hope." 
 
 wlndham"^'** "'^ ^'^^^ Honourable William 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 ir&4. 
 
 A few days before his death he had 
 asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of his 
 executors, where he should be buried ' 
 and on being answered, " Doubtless in 
 
 sS'" "'^"" ^'•'^y'" ^eemed?o fSl " 
 satisfaction very natural to a Poet; and 
 indeed, m my opinion, very natural to 
 every man of any imagination w o Ls 
 lV"-A'^i ?*^P"'^''^« i» ^'hich he can be 
 laid with his fathers. Accordingly, upon 
 lZ^^/:,^-''T^^'^^' his remain were 
 edPfi.1 "^ '? that noble and renowned 
 r..a. h'. ^"l^^'^*- his grave was placed a 
 Uoif: ^^ stone, with this inscrip- 
 
 *V?A'^^'^'^^ Johnson, LL. D 
 
 Obiu xni die DecemOris, 
 
 Anno Domini 
 
 M. Dec. LXXXIV. 
 
 Mlatis sua lxxv." 
 
 His funeral was attended by a resDect- 
 
 s.S "T.K^' ""^ '^l' ^'■'^»^^' Particularly 
 such of the members of The Literary 
 Club as were then Jn town ; and was 
 also honoured with the presence of seve- 
 ral of the Reverend Chapter of Westmin- 
 
 lV?\v-^!.', ^°'f/' ?'' J^^^Ph Banks, 
 Ml. Windham, Mr. Langton, Sir Charles 
 gunbury^and Mr. Colman, bore his pall. 
 His schoolfellow. Dr. Taylor, performed 
 the mournful office of reading the burial 
 service. 
 
 I trust I shall not be accnsed of affec- 
 tation, when I declare that I find myself 
 unable to express all that I felt upon the 
 loss of such a " Guide, Philosopher, and 
 l^riendf." I shall, therefore, not say 
 one word of my own, but adopt those of 
 an eminent friend j, which he uttered 
 with an abrupt felicity, superior to all 
 
 t On the subject of Johnson I may adopt 
 be wordsof Sir John Hnirington, conceriX 
 b 8 venerable Tutor and Di,1oesan, Dr. John 
 hiiil, Bishop of Bath and Wells: "wbo hath 
 given me some lielps, mote bones, all encou- 
 ragements in my best studies; to whom I never 
 came but I grew more roligious; from uhom 
 
 ^f h,.f^i'*^"r' ''"^ ' P^t^'' '^^tf'r instructed. 
 Ol him therefore, my acquaintance, mv friend 
 
 be marvel ed; if I speak frankly, it is not lo 
 »^..i''*/"V'' •»»'' tf'ougb I speak^'partiallv i? 
 rf t"J'«, pardoned." ^ugcB Anliq„<r,-\o\. 
 I. p. 136. riiere is one cinumstance in Sir 
 Johns cliaracter of Bisbon Still which is 
 pecuharlv applicable to Johnson: " He be- 
 
 :,„ 7 "Hi'iivauii; III juiiiison: •• Me be- 
 
 » Jrf l"f '^*"J^''* a dispnter that the iearnedest 
 were af aid to dispute with bim: and he. 
 hnding bis own strength, could not stick to 
 warn them in tbeir arguments to take heed to 
 
 heir answers, like a perfect fencer that will 
 tell aforeband in which button be will eive 
 the Teiiew, or likft a cunning chess player 
 «lMt will apF.oint aforeband with which pawn 
 )bid '" " ^'^^^^ ^^ "'" ^'^'^ ^''^ mate," 
 
 :[t,*»e late Right Hon. William Gerrard 
 Hamilton, who bad been intimately acquaint- 
 ed with Dr. Johnson near thirty vears. He 
 70t7 '" I-on'^o''. Ji'ly 16, 1796, in his 691 h or 
 
;Etat. 75. 
 
 studied compositions : — " He has made 
 a chasm, which not only nothing can fill 
 up, but which nothing has a tendency to 
 fill up. — Johnson is dead. — Let us go to 
 the next best:— there is nobody; no 
 man can be said to put you in mind of 
 Johnson." 
 
 As Johnson had abundant homage paid 
 to him during his life *, so no writer in 
 
 * Besiiie the Dedications to hjm by Dr. 
 Goldsrnitli, the Reverend Dr. Franklin, and 
 tlie Reverend Mr. Wilson, which 1 have nien- 
 tioned according^ to their dates, there was 
 one by a lady, of a versification of " Aningait 
 and Ajut," and one by the ingenious Mr. 
 Walker, of his " Rhetorical Grammar.'' 1 
 have introduced into this work several com- 
 pliments paid to him in the writing^s of his 
 contempor.tries; but the number of them is 
 so great that we may fairly say that there 
 was almost a general tribute. 
 
 Let me not be forgetful of the honour done 
 to him by Colonel Myddleton, of Gwaynynog, 
 near Denbieh ; who, on the banks of a rivulet 
 in his paik,"where Johnson delighted to stand 
 anil repeat verses^ erected an" urn with the 
 following inscription : 
 
 " This spot was often dignified by the 
 
 presence of 
 
 Samuel Johnson, LL. D. 
 
 Whose moral writings, exactly conformable 
 
 to the precepts of Christianity, 
 
 Gave ardouf to Virtue and confidence to 
 
 Iruth." 
 
 As no inconsidtrable circumstance of his 
 fame we must reckon the extraordinary zeal 
 of the artists to extend and perpetuate his 
 image. 1 can enumerate a bust by Mr. Nol- 
 lekeus, and the many casts which are made 
 from if, several pictures by Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, from one of which, in the possession of 
 the Duke of Dorset, Mr. Humphrey executed 
 a beautiful miniature in enimel: one by 
 Mrs. Frances Reynolds, Sir Joshua's sister: 
 one by Mr. Zoffanij; and one by Mr. Opie; 
 and the follo^^ing engravings of his portrait : 
 
 1. One by Cooke, from Sir Joshua, for the 
 Proprietors' editiou of his folio Dictionary. — 
 
 2. One from ditto, by ditto, for their quarto 
 edition.— 3. One from Opie, by Heath, for 
 Harrison's edition of his Dictionary. — 4. One 
 from Nollekens' bust of him, by Bartolozzi, for 
 Fielding's quarto edition of his Dictionary. — 
 5. One'smali, from Harding, by Trotter, for 
 his " Beauties." — 6. One small, from Sir 
 Joshua, by Trotter, for his " Lives of the 
 Poets.'' — 7. One small, from Sir Joshua, by 
 Hall, for the " Rambler."— S. One small, from 
 an original drawing, in the possession of Mr. 
 John 5»imco, etched by Trotter, for another 
 edition of his " Lives of the Poets."— 9. One 
 small, no painter's name, etched by Taylor, 
 for his " Johusoniana."— 10. One fo'lio whole 
 length, with his oak stick, as described in 
 Boswell's " Tour," drawn and etched by 
 Trotter.— II. One large mezzotinlo, from Sir 
 Joshua, by Douifhty.- 12. One large Roman 
 liead, from Sir Joshua, by Marchi.— 13. One 
 octavo, holding a book to his eye, from Sir 
 Joshua, by Hall, for his works.— 14. Onesmall, 
 from a drawing from the life, and engraved 
 
 by Trotter, for his Life jiublished by Kears- 
 ley.— IS.Oue large, from Opie, by Mr. Town- 
 ley (brother of Mr. Townley, of ihe Commons), 
 an ingenious artist, who resided some time at 
 Berlin, and has the honour of being engraver 
 to his Majesty the King of Prussia. This is 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 619 
 
 this nation ever had such an accumula- 
 tion of literary honours after his death. 
 A sermon upon that event was preached 
 in St. Mary's church, Oxford, before the 
 University, by the Reverend Mr. Agut- 
 ter, of Magdalen College f- The Lives, 
 the Memoirs, the Essays, both in prose 
 and verse, which have been published 
 concerning him would make many vo- 
 lumes. The numerous attacks too upon 
 him I consider as part of his consequence, 
 upon the principle which he himself so 
 well knew and asserted. Many who 
 trembled at his presence were forward 
 in assault when they no longer appre- 
 hended danger. When one of his little 
 pragmatical foes was invidiously snarl- 
 ing at his fame at Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
 table, the Reverend Dr. Parr exclaimed, 
 with his usual bold animation, " Ay, now 
 that the old lion is dead, every ass thinks 
 he may kick at him." 
 
 A monument for him, in Westminster 
 Abbey, was resolved upon soon after his 
 death, and was supported by a most re- 
 spectable contribution ; but the Dean and 
 Chapter of St. Paul's having come to a 
 resolution of admitting monuments there, 
 upon a liberal and magnificent plan, that 
 Cathedral was afterwards tixed on as the 
 place in which a cenotaph should be 
 erected to his memory : and in the ca- 
 thedral of his native city of Lichfield, a 
 smaller one is to be erected j. To corn- 
 
 one of the finest mezzotintos that ever was 
 executed ; and what renders it of extraordi- 
 nary value, the plate was destroyed after 
 four or five impressions only were taken off. 
 One of them is in the possession of Sir Wil- 
 liam Scott. Mr. Townley has lately been 
 prevailed with to execute and publish another 
 of the same, that it may be more generally 
 circulated among the admirers of Dr. Johnson. 
 —16. One large, from Sir Joshua's first pic- 
 ture of him, by Heath, for this work in quarto. 
 — 17. One octavo, by Baker, for the octavo 
 edition.— 18. And one for •* Lavater's Essays 
 on Physiognomy," in which Johnson's coua- 
 tenance is analysed upon the principles of 
 that fanciful writer.— There are also several 
 seals with his head cut on them, particularly 
 a very fine one by that eminent artist, Ed- 
 ward Kurch, Esq. 'R. A. in the possession of 
 the younger Dr. Charles Burney. 
 
 Let me add, as a proof of the popularity of 
 his character, that there are copper pieces 
 struck at Birmiuerh^m, with his head im- 
 pressed on them, which pass current as half- 
 pence there and in the neighbouring parts of 
 the country. 
 
 t It is not yet published.— In a letter to me, 
 Mr. Agutter says, " My sermon before the 
 University was more engaged with Dr. John- 
 son's »tora^ than his intellectual chardcter. It 
 particularly examined his fear of death, and 
 suggested several reasons for the apprehen- 
 sions of the good and the indifference of the 
 infidel in their last hours; this was illustrated 
 by contrasting the death of Dr. Johnson 
 and Mr. Hume : the text was Job, xxi. 22 — 
 
 I [This montiment has since been erected. 
 
620 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 pose his epitaph could not but excite the 
 warmest competition of genius *. If lau- 
 dari (i laudato viro be praise wiiich is 
 highly estimable, I should not forgive 
 myself were I to omit the following 
 sepulchral verses on the anthour of The 
 English Dictionary, written by the 
 Right Honourable Henry Flood t : 
 
 It consists of a Medallion, with a tablet be- 
 neatli, on which is this inscription : 
 
 "The friends of Samuel Johnson, LL. D. 
 
 A native of Lichfield, 
 
 Erected this Monument, 
 
 As a trihute of respect 
 
 To the memory of a man of extensive learning', 
 
 A distinguished moral writer, and a sincere 
 
 Christian. 
 
 He died Dec. i:J, 1784, aged 75." M.] 
 
 * The Reverend Dr. Parr, on Heine re- 
 quested to nndeiiake it, thus expressed him- 
 self in a letter to William Seward, Esq. 
 
 " I leave this mighty task to some hardier 
 and some ahler writer. The variety and 
 splendour of Johnson's attainments, the pe- 
 culiarities of his character, his private vir- 
 tues, and his literary f)ublications, fill me with 
 confusion and dismay when I reflect upon the 
 confined and difficult species of composition 
 in which alone they can be expressed, with 
 propriety, upon his monument." 
 
 But I understand that Ibis trreat scholar, 
 and warm admirer of Johnson, has yielded to 
 repeated solicitations, and executed the very 
 dilficult undertakine. 
 
 [Dr. Johnson's Monument, consisting of a 
 Colossal figure leaning asrainsi a column (but 
 not very strongly resembling him), has since 
 the death of our aulhour been placed in St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, bavins: been first opened to 
 publick view, Feb. 23, 1796. The Epitaph was 
 written by the Rev. Dr. Parr, and is as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 A 1^ Q 
 
 SAMVELI-IOHNSOX 
 
 GRAMMATICO * ET -CRITICO 
 
 SCHIPTORVM • ANfiLlCORVM ' LITTERATE •PERITO 
 
 POETAK • LVMINIBVS ' SENTENTIARVM 
 
 ET " PONDERIBVS * VERBORVM ' ADMIRABILI 
 
 MAGI3TRO • VIRTVTIS * GRAV18S1MO 
 
 HOMINI • OPTIMO • ET * SINOVLARIS • EXEMPLI 
 
 QVI • VIXIT • ANN • LXXV ' MENS ' II ' DIEB * XIIII. 
 DECESSIT * IDIB * DECEMBR * ANN * CHRIST ' CIO 
 
 l.UC* LXXXIIII 
 
 BEPVLT • IN • AED ' SANCT ' PETR ' WESTM0NA8- 
 
 TER1EN3 
 
 XIII • KAL • lANVAR 'ANN' CHRIST' CU * I3CC 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 AMICI • ET • SODALES ' LITTERARII 
 
 PECVNIA 'CON LATA 
 
 H • M • FACIVND • CURAVER. 
 
 On a scroll in his hand are the following 
 vvords: 
 ENMAKAPE22inONr2NANTAEl02EI- 
 
 HAMOIBH 
 
 On one side of the mominient— Faciebat 
 
 Joh annes Ba con, ScvLnoR, Ann. Christ. 
 
 ui^DCC.LXXXXV. 
 
 The Subscription for this monument, which 
 cost eleven hundred fcuineas, was begun by 
 the Literary Club, and completed by the aid 
 of Dr. JohoHon'a other friends and admirers. 
 M.l 
 
 t To prevent any mi«>conception on this 
 
 " No need of Latin or of Greek to grace «j 
 Our Johnson's memory, or inscribe 1 
 grave; 
 His native language claims this mourn(| 
 space. 
 To pay the inunortality he gave." 
 
 The character of Samuel Johnson hailt 
 I trust, been so developed in the course 
 of this work that they who have honoured 
 it with a perusal may be considered as 
 well acquainted with him. As, however, 
 it may be expected that I should collect 
 into one view the capital and distinguish- 
 ing features of this extraordinary man, I 
 shall endeavour to acquit myself of that 
 part of my biographical undertaking +, 
 however difficidt it may be to do that 
 which many of my readers will do better 
 for themselves. 
 
 His figure was large and well formed, 
 and his countenance of the cast of an 
 ancient statue; yet his appearance was 
 rendered strange and somewhat uncouth, 
 by convulsive cramps, by the scars of 
 that distemper which it was once ima- 
 gined the royal touch could cure, and by 
 a slovenly mode of dress. He had the 
 use only of one eye; yet so much does 
 mind govern and even supply the defi- 
 ciency of organs that his visual percep- 
 tions, as far as they extended, were 
 un coin in only quick and accurate. So 
 morbid was his temperament that he 
 never knew the natural joy of a free 
 and vigorous use of his limbs: when he 
 walked, it was like the struggling gait of 
 one in fetters; when he lode, he had no 
 command or direction of his horse, bat 
 
 subject. Mr. Malone.by whom these lines were 
 oblufingly communicated, requests me to add 
 the following remark : 
 
 " Injustice to the late Mr. Flood, now him- 
 self wanting and highly meriting an epitaph 
 from his country, to w'hich his transcendeut 
 talents did the highest honour as well as the 
 most important service, it should be observed 
 that thc>e lines were by no means intended 
 as a regular monumental inscription for Dr. 
 Johnson. Had he undertaken to wtite an 
 appropriated and discriminative epitaph for 
 that excellent and extraordinary man, those 
 who knew Mr. Flood's vigour of mind will 
 have no doubt that he would have produced 
 one worthy of his illustrious subject. But the 
 fact was merely this; In Dec. I7S9, after a 
 large subscription had been made for Dr. 
 Johnson's moniunent, to which Mr. Flood 
 liberally contributed, Mr. Malone happened 
 to call on him at his house in Berners Street, 
 and the conversation turninij on the proposed 
 monument, Mr. Malone maintained that the 
 epitaph, by v»homsoever it should be written, 
 ought to be in Latin. Mr. Flood thought dif- 
 ferently. The next morning, in the postscript 
 to a note an another subject, be mentioned 
 that he continued of the same opinion as on 
 the preceding d;iy, and subjoined the lines 
 above given.'' 
 
 X As I do not see any reason to give a dif- 
 ferent character of my' illustrious rriend now 
 from what I formerly gave, the greatest part 
 of the sketch of him in my *' Journal of a Tour 
 to the Hebrides" is here adopted. 
 
Mr At. 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 621 
 
 was carried as if in a balloon. That witli 
 his constitution and habits of life he should 
 have lived seventy-five years is a proof 
 that an inherent vivida vis is a powerful 
 preservative of the human frame. 
 
 Man is, in general made up of contra- 
 dictory qualities: and these will ever 
 siiow tliemselves in strange succession 
 where a consistency, in appearance at 
 least, if not in reality, has not been at- 
 tained by long habits of philosophical 
 discipline. In proportion to the native 
 vigour of the mind, the contradictory 
 qnaiilies will be the more prominent, 
 and more difiicult to be adjusted ; and, 
 therefore, we are not to wonder that 
 Johnson exhibited an eminent example 
 of this remark which I have made upon 
 human nature. At different times he 
 seemed a different man in some respects ; 
 not, however, in any great or essential 
 article upon which he had fully employed 
 his mind, and settled certain principles 
 of duty, but only in his manners, and in 
 the display of argument and fancy in his 
 talk. He was prone to superstition, but 
 ■not to credulity. Though his imagina- 
 tion might incline him to a belief of the 
 marvellous and the mysterious, his vigor- 
 ■ous reason examined the evidence with 
 jealousy. He was a sincere and zealous 
 Christian, of high Church of England 
 and monarchical principles, which he 
 would not tamely suffer to be questioned ; 
 and had, perhaps, at an early period, 
 narrowed his mind somewhat too much, 
 both as to religion and politicks. His 
 being impressed with the danger of ex- 
 treme latitude in either, though he was 
 of a very independent spirit, occasioned 
 his appearing somewhat unfavourable to 
 the prevalence of that noble freedom of 
 sentiment which is the best possession of 
 man. Nor can it be denied that he had 
 many prejudices ; which, however, fre- 
 quently suggested many of his pointed 
 sayings, that rather show a playfulness 
 of fancy than any settled malignity. He 
 was steady and inflexible in maintaining 
 the obligations of religion and morality ; 
 both from a regard for the order of 
 society, and from a veneration for the 
 Great Source of all order; correct, nay, 
 stern in his taste ; hard to please, and 
 easily offended ; impetuous and irritable 
 in his temper, but of a most humane and 
 benevolent heart*, which showed itself 
 not only in a most liberal charity, as far 
 as his circumstances would allow, but in 
 a thousand instances of active benevo- 
 
 * In the O'la PorlrUa, a collection of 
 F.s«ajs ptibli^lied at Oxfonl, there is an admi- 
 rable paper upon the character of Johnson, 
 written by the Reverend Dr. Hume, the last 
 excellent Bishop of Norwich. The following 
 4<as.sai>e is euiuienlly hai)py :— " To reject 
 
 lence. He was affiicted with a bodily 
 disease, which made him often restless 
 and fretful J and with a constitutional 
 melancholy, the clouds of which dark- 
 ened the brightness of his fancy, and 
 gave a gloomy cast to his whole course 
 of thinking : we, therefore, ought not to 
 wonder at his sallies of impatience and 
 passion at any time ; especially when 
 provoked by obtrusive ignorance or pre- 
 suming petulance; and allowance must 
 be made for his uttering hasty and satiri- 
 cal sallies even against his best friends. 
 And, surely, when it is considered that, 
 " amidst sickness and sorrow," he ex- 
 erted his faculties in so many w'orks for 
 the benefit of mankind, and particularly 
 that he achieved the great and admirable 
 DiCTiOAARY of our language, we must be 
 astonished at his resolution. The solemn 
 text, " of him to whom much is given, 
 much will be required," seems to have 
 been ever present to his mind, in a 
 rigorous sense, and to have made him 
 dissatisfied with his labours and acts of 
 goodness, however comparatively great; 
 so that the unavoidable consciousness of 
 his superiority was, in that respect, a 
 cause of disquiet. He suffered so much 
 from this, and from the gloom which 
 perpetually haunted him and made soli- 
 tude frightful, that it may be said of him, 
 " If in this life only he had hope, he 
 was of all men most miserable." He 
 loved praise when it was brought to him ; 
 but was too proud to seek for it. He 
 was somewhat susceptible of flattery. 
 As he was general and uncon fined in his 
 studies, he cannot be considered as mas- 
 ter of any one particular science ; but lie 
 had accumulated a vast and various col- 
 lection of learning and knowledge, which 
 was so arranged in his mind as to be 
 ever in readiness to be brought forth. 
 But his superiority over other learned 
 men consisted chiefly in what may be 
 called the art of thinking, the art of using 
 his mind ; a certain continual power of 
 seizing the useful substance of all that he 
 knew, and exhibiting it in a clear and for- 
 cible manner; so that knowledge, which 
 we often see to be no better than lumber 
 in men of dull understanding, was, in 
 him, true, evident, and actual wisdom. 
 His moral precepts are practical; for 
 they are drawn from an intimate ac- 
 quaintance with human nature. His 
 maxims carry conviction; for they are 
 founded on the basis of common sense, 
 and a very attentive and minute survey 
 of real life. His mind was so full of 
 
 wisdom because tlie person of liim who cotii- 
 municates it is uncouih and his manners are 
 inelegant;— what is ir, but to throw away h 
 pineapple, and assign for a reason the rongli- 
 ness of its coat !" 
 
022 
 
 iina^jery that he mitjht have been perpe- 
 tually a poet; yet it is remarkable that, 
 however rich his prose is in this respect, 
 his poetical pieces in general have not 
 much of that splendour, but are rather 
 distinguished by strong sentiment and 
 acute observation, conveyed in harmoni- 
 ous and energetick verse, particularly in 
 heroick couplets. Though usually grave, 
 and even awful, in his deportment, he 
 possessed uncommon and peculiar powers 
 of wit and humour ; he frequently in- 
 dulged himself in colloquial pleasantry ; 
 and the heartiest merriment was often 
 enjoyed in his company ; with this great 
 advantage, that it was entirely free from 
 any poisonous tincture of vice or im- 
 piety, it was salutary to those who shared 
 in it. He had accustomed himself to 
 such accuracy in his common conversa- 
 tion * that he at all times expressed his 
 thoughts with great force and an elegant 
 choice of language, the effect of which 
 was aided by his having a hnid voice, 
 and a slow deliberate utterance. In him 
 were united a most logical head with a 
 most fertile imagination, which gave him 
 an extraordinary advantage in arguing : 
 
 THE LIFE OF DR) JOHNSON. 1784. 
 
 for he could reason close or wide, as he 
 saw best for the moment. Exulting in 
 his intellectual strength and dexterity, he 
 could, when he pleased, be the greatest 
 sophist that ever contended in the lists 
 of declamation ; and, from a spirit of 
 contradiction, and a delight in showing 
 his powers, he would often maintain the 
 wrong side with equal warmth and inge- 
 nuity ; so that, when there was an audi- 
 ence, his real opinions' could seldom be 
 gathered from his talk ; though, when he 
 was in company with a single friend, he 
 would discuss a subject with genuine 
 fairness ; but he was too conscientious to 
 make errour permanent and pernicious, 
 by deliberately writing it ; and, in all his 
 numerous works, he earnestly inculcated 
 what appeared to him to be the truth ; 
 his piety being constant, and the ruling 
 principle of all his conduct. 
 
 Sucli was Samubl Johnson, a man 
 whose talents, acquirements, and virtues 
 were so extraordinary that the more his 
 character is considered, the more he will 
 be regarded by the present age, and by 
 posterity with admiration and reve- 
 rence. 
 
   Though a perfect resemblance of Johnson 
 it not to be foiinrt in any age, parts of liis 
 character are admirably expressed by Claren- 
 don, in drawiner that of Loi-d Falkland, whom 
 the noble and hiasterly hi>torian describes at 
 his seat near Oxford: — "Such an immense- 
 ness of wit, such a solidity of judgment, so 
 infinite a fancy, bound in by a moH losfical 
 ratiocination. — His acquaintance was cnlti- 
 raled ))y ihe most polite and accurate men, so 
 that his house was a University in less vo- 
 lume ; whither they came, not so much for 
 repose as study, and to examine and refine 
 those grosser propositions, which laziness and 
 consent made current in cotiversation." 
 
 Bayle's account of Menage may also be 
 quoted as exceedingly applicable to the great 
 subject of this work. — " His illustrious friends 
 erected a very glorious monument to him in 
 the collection entitled Menagiaua. Those 
 who judge of things aright wiM confess that 
 this cullection is very proper to show the ex- 
 tent of genius and learnmg which was the 
 character of Menace. And I may be bold to 
 say, that the excellent works he publbihed will 
 not distingiiith him from other learned men 
 so advantageoiuly as this. To put>lish books 
 of great learning, to make Greek and Latin 
 verses, exceedingly well turned, is not a com- 
 mon talent, I own; neither is it extremely 
 rare. It is incorapjj^bl^roore difficult to find 
 
 
 men who can furnish discourse about an infi- 
 nite number of ihins:s, and who can diversify 
 them a hundred wa~ys. How many authouis 
 are there wiio are admired for their works, on 
 account of the vast learning that is displayed 
 in them, who are not able to sustain a con- 
 versation. Those who know Menage only by 
 his books might think he resembled those 
 learned men: but if you show the Menagiana, 
 you distinguish him from them, and make 
 him known by a talent which is given to very 
 few learned men. There it appears that he was 
 a man who spoke off-hand a thousand good 
 things. His memory extended to what was 
 ancient and modern; to tiie court and to the 
 city ; to the dead and to the living languages ; 
 to things serious and things. jocose; in a word, 
 to a thousand sorts of subjects. That which 
 appeared a trifle to some readers of the Me- 
 nagiana, who did not consider circum>lances, 
 caused admiration in other readers, who 
 minded the difference between what a man 
 speaks without preparation, and that which 
 he prepares for the press. And therefore, we 
 cannot sufficiently commend the care »hich 
 his illustrious friends took to erect a monument 
 so capable of giving him immortal glory. 
 They were not obliged to rectify what they 
 had heard him 8ay;'f(u, in so doing, they had 
 not been faithful historians of his conversa- 
 tion," 
 
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